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THE 



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WHOLE WORKS 




THE KEV. JAMES HEKVET.A. M. 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. — REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 
A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 
CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE NIGHT. — CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 
A WINTER-PIECE. — THEROK AND ASPA8I0. 
SERMONS. — MISCELLANEOUS TRACTS, AND LETTERS. 



EDINBURGH : 
THOMAS NELSON AND PETER BROWN. 




OF 



RECTOR OF \VESTON-FAVEI»L, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE. 



CONTAINING 



1835. 



SDINBURGH ; PillNTED BY A. BAT-FOUR AMD CO. KII>DRY STREET 



I 



CONTENTS. 



MEDITATIONS AND CONTEMPLATIONS. 



The Author's Life, 

Dedication, 

Preface, 

Meditations among the Tombs, 
Reflections on a Flower- Garden, 
A. Descant upon Creation, 
Contemplations on the Night, 



Page 

V 

XV 

xvi 
1 

2.5 
54 
65 

Contemplations on the Starry Heavens 96 
A Winter-Piece, . .128 

Theron and Aspasio, or, a Series of Dia- 
logues and Letters upon the most im- . 
portant and interesting Subjects, 137/ 
Aspasio Vindicated, . . 469 
Improvement of the Doctrine of Justifi- 
cation, . . . 565 
A Defence of Theron and Aspasio, 569 
Amendments of Theron and Aspasio, 616 
Marshall on Sanctification Recommend- 
ed, . . .619 

sermons on several important 
subjects. 

Serm. 

L & IL Many made righteous by the 

obedience of one, 625, 627 

III. The ministry of l econciliation, 631 

IV. The cross of Christ the Chris- 

tian's glory, . . 637 
V. The time of danger, . 645 
VT. The means of safety, . 653 
VII. The way of holiness, . 664 
Mr. Romaine's Sermon on Mr. Her- 
vey's death, . . . 672 



TRACTS ON SEVERAL INTERESTING 
SUBJECTS. 

Remarks on Lord Bolinghroke's Let- 
ters on the Study and Use of His- 
toryv . ... 687 

Considerations on the prevailing custom 
of visiting on Sundays, . 704 



Paga 

A Treatise on the Religious Education 

of Daughters, . . 706 

Preface to Burnham's Pious Memor- 
ials, . . . . 711 
Letter on Trail's Works, - 713 
Promises to be pasted on Bibles, . 714 
Letter to Richard Nash, Esq. . 715 
Rules and Orders of the Assembly for 

Christian Improvement, 717 
Rules and Orders of a Religious Socie- 
ty at Truro in Cornwall, . 719 
Hints for promoting Religion, . 723 
Mr. Hervey's Preface to Jenks's Medi- 
dations, . . . 724 

A COLLECTION OF RELIGIOUS LETTERS. 

The Preface, containing some farther 

anecdotes of the Author, . 729 

Let. 1. On human frailty, and the ex- 
cellency of virtue, . 733 

2. On the advantage of afflic- 

tions, . . 734 

3. On the last day, pride, and 

improvement of the com- 
munion, . . 735 

4. Reflections on the assizes, 736 

5. On Spiritual instruction from 

natural things, • 736 

6. Advice to one looking out for 

a trade, . . 739 

7. The character and dufy of a 

gospel minister, . 741 

8. On attending public worship, 

and the uncertainty of life, 744 

9. On the intercession of Christ, 74^ 

10. On the wonders of creation, 745 

11. Advice to new married per- 

sons, . . 746 

12. On going to a meeting of the 

clergy, . .747 

13. On the prospect of plenty, and 

distance from relations, 747 
14: On preaching the fulness of 

Christ, . . 748 



ii 



CONTENTS. 



LflT. 15. On the vanity of life, . 749 

16. Thoughts on different sub- 

jects, . .749 

17. On the nature and danger of 

worldly prosperity, . 750 

18. On a plentiful harvest, . 757 

1 9. On the fulness and suitableness 

of Christ, . . 758 

20. Christ the believer's refuge, 759 

21. On publishing his Medita- 

tions, . . 760 

22. The advantage of religious 

conversation, . .761 

23. Thoughts on some of the 

Thirty-nine Articles, 761 

24. On the personality and divini- 

ty of the Holy Ghost 766 

25. Thoughts on some books 770 

26. Proofs of the divinity of 

Christ, . . 770 

27. On the Holy Spirit's being the 

object of divine worship, 773 

28. On the imputation of Adam's 

first sin, . . 774 

29. Remarks on a passage of 

Scripture, . . 774 

30. Plan of his contemplations on 

the night ; of the study of 
the Holy Scriptures, 786 

31. Of promoting the spiritual 

improvement of infirmary 
patients, . . 788 

32. On the same subject, . 789 

33. On the death of friends, and a 

firm faith, . . 789 

34. His dislike of controversy, 791 

35. On publishing his Medita- 

tions, . . .792 

36. On the plan of a Christian 

Society, . _ . 792 

37. On levity in conversation, and 

attendance on public wor- 
ship, . . . 792 

38. On his Meditations, . 793 

39. On a poem, entitled, The 

Deity, . . .794 

40. The Christian's duty and 

triumph, . . 794 

41. Of the Holy Scriptures, 795 

42. An instance of Christian deli- 

cacy, . . 796 

43. Sympathy w^ith distress, 796 

44. A narrative of conjugal afflic- 

tion, . . 796 

45. The Bible to be chiefly stu- 

died, . . .797 

46. Of sanctified afflictions, 797 

47. On the benefit of afflictions, 797 

48. Condolence on death, . 799 

49. Of the Puritan doctrine, 800 

50. Of friendship, . . 800 

51. An hospitable turn, . 800 
^2. The evil of adulation, . 801 



Let. 53. Christ's presence at the mar- 
riage of Cana vindicated, 801 

54. Of acceptance with God, 805 

55. Of assurance and Charity, 805 

56. On the excellency of the 

Scriptures, . 806 

57. On the Sunday Thoughts, 809 

58. Encouragement to one in 

affliction, . . 809 

59. The duty and encouragement 

of a gospel minister, . 810 

60. On hospitality, . . 811 

61. On various subjects, . 812 

62. Of Zimmermannus, . 813 

63. His method of catechizing, 814 

64. Comfort under spiritual dis- 

tress, . . 814 

65. Application of salvation the 

work of the Divine Spirit, 815 

66. On diligence in the ministry, 815 

67. The laudable strife of a Chris- 

tian, . . 816 

68. The Christian spirit a char- 

itable one, , . 816 

69. Christian conversation, &c. 817 

70. Of the mystic writers, &c. 817 

71. Of self-elevation and assur- 

ance , . 818 

72. The comforts of Christianity a 

powerful motive to holi- 
ness, . . 818 

73. Faith in a suffering Saviour 

the foundation of a believ- 
er's comfort, . 819 

74. A faithful minister to be en- 

couraged, 819 

75. On Christian patience, 820 

76. On presenting his Medita- 

tions, . . 820 

77. On miscellaneous subjects, 820 

78. On the improvement of time, 821 

79. A caveat against desponden- 

cy, . . 821 

80. On cleaving to Christ, . 822 

81. A caveat against the fear of 

death, . . 823 

82. Comfort against the fear of 

judgment, . • 824 

83. The necessity of preaching 

Christ, . . 825 

84. On supply to a poor Chris- 

tian, . . . 826 

85. On persuasion of the divine 

mercy, • . 826 

86. The excellency of humility, 827 

87. On spiritual sloth, . 827 

88. On ministerial disesteem and 

success, . • 827 

89. Comfort against reproach, 82S 

90. On various subjects, . 82^- 

91. The evil of unbelief, « 8' 

92. The felicity of communion 

with Christ, . . 8^ 



CONTENTS. 



Let. 93. 
94. 

95. 

96. 

97. 

98. 

99. 
100. 
101. 

102. 

103. 

104. 

105. 
106. 
107. 

108. 
109. 
110. 
111. 

112. 

113. 

114. 
115. 
116. 

117. 
118. 
119. 
120. 

121. 
122. 

123. 
124. 
125. 
126. 

127. 
128. 

129. 
130. 
131. 
132. 



133. 

134. 
135. 



Page 

On miscellaneous subjects, S29 
The promise of God the 

Christian's shield, . 830 
Deliverance from trouble 

matter of praise, . 830 
Of Christ a vicarious sacrifice, 

&c. . . . 831 

On boldness in Christ's cause, 831 
On Christian conduct, . 832 
On vi^hat is called honour, 832 
On his father's distress, 832 
Christian humility exempli- 
fied, . . 833 
Christ the foundation of the 

Christian's joy, • 833 
Reconciliation to God pre- 
vious to our performing 
holy duties, • 834 

Of a companion for the sa- 
crament, . • 836 
Of Taylor on Original Sin, 837 
On the success of books, 838 
On Marshall on Sanctifica- 

tion, . . 839 

On minding religion in health, 840 
Sympathy in affliction, 
On obligations to a friend, 841 
Self-examination recommend- 

ed, . , . . 841 
Additions proposed to the 
Remarks on Lord Boliug- 
broke, . 842 

A plan of Theron and Aspa- 

U . . 846 

A criticism on Heb. vi. 2. 847 
On various subjects, . 848 
The difficulty of commenting 

on Scripture, . 849 

On esteeming the Bible, 850 
On different subjects, . 851 
On ancient History, . 851 
Charity to be prudently 

given, . ^ .852 

Of scriptural criticism, 852 
Of publishing Theron and 

Aspasio, . . 853 

On miscellaneous subjects, 853 
On the same subject, 854 
On his Theron and Aspasio,854 
On a chronological manu- 
script, . . 855 
On Hodge's Elihu, . 855 
On Fowler's Design of Chris- 
tianity, - 855 
On his Theron and Aspasio, 856 
On different books, . 856 
On his epistolary insolvency,857 
Mr. Walker's character, and 
of the rules of his religious 
society, . . 857 
How writings are successful, 858 
Remarks on some books, 858 
On the same subject, . 859 



Let. 135. 

137. 
138. 

139. 
140. 
141. 

142. 

143. 
144. 

145. 
146. 
147. 



148. 
149. 

150. 
151. 

152. 
153. 

154. 



155. 
156. 

157. 

158. 

159. 

160. 
161. 
162. 



163, 
164, 
165. 
166. 



167. 



168. 

169. 
170, 



The author's wishes for him- 
self, . . . 859 
Scriptural criticisms, . 859 
A specimen of Houbigant's 

criticisms, . . 860 
On the same subject, . 861 
On his Theron and Aspasio, 8(>3 
Comfort and advice to two 

malefactors, . 863 

Plan of a supplement to 

Theron and Aspasio, 865 
Advice to a physician, 866 
On the state of the saints 

after death, . 867 

On various subjects, . 868 
Of Saurin's sermons, • 869 
Burnham's behaviour at his 
death censured. The con- 
version of a libertine, 8G9 
The value of life, . 871 
Of Marshall's book. Scrip- 
ture criticisms, . 872 
On different subjects, 873 
On Christ's ability and wil- 
lingness to save, . 873 
How to manage controversy, 874 
A caution against the fear of 

man, . 675 
Why many learned men 
treat religion with indiffer- 
ence, ... 876 
On Bogatzky's Golden Trea- 
sury, . . 877 
On not remedying some 
grievances : and instances 
of plain dealing about reli- 
gious concerns, . 878 
On neglecting to preach 

Christ, . . • 879 
Some remarks on not preach- 
ing Christ, . . 880 
Plan of a supplement to 

Theron and Aspasio, 883 
On different subjects, 884 
On assurance of salvation, 885 
A doctrinal tenet censured. 
A character of some 
books, . . 885 

Character of some writings, 886 
On various subjects, . 887 
On the same subject, . 888 
On courage for the cause of 
Christ. The benefit of 
affliction exemplified, 888 
A sense of the love of Christ 
a strong consolation against 
the fear of death, . 889 
Unbelief the reigning sin of 

the nation, . 890 

Scriptural difficulties, 890 
Character of Grey's last words 
of David, . .891 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Let. 171, A character of some scriptur- 
al poems, . 891 

172. Marshall defended, . 892 

173. Of improving time, . 892 

174. A proof of a future state 

of happiness. Luther's 
hymn, . . 892 

175. On miscellaneous subjects, 894 

176. On the Earnest Invitation. 

A solemn prayer suited to 
it, . . . 894 

177. Comfort under afflictions. A 

character and extract of 
the Battle of the Sexes, 898 

178. Of being courageous for 

Christ, . . 898 

179. On different subjects, . 899 

180. The hope of glory a strong 

incitement to duty, 900 

181. On different subjects, . 900 

182. A caution against despair, 901 

183. Gospel doctrine tends not to 

licentiousness. Character 
of one not fit for being a 
companion, . 902 

184. On giving a rose to a lady, 905 
195. On different subjects, 905 

186. On the same subject, . 906 

187. Advice to physicians, 907 

188. On different subjects, 908 

189. Scripture criticisms, . 908 

190. Thoughts on the Letters on 

Theron and Aspasio, 909 

191. A Scripture criticism, 909 

192. On different subjects, . 910 



Page 

Let. 193. On profaning the Lord's day, 
reproof, different opinions, 
&c. . . 910 

194. On resignation, and an iui- 

tended visit, . 911 

195. On different subjects, 911 

196. On Mr. Wesley's unfair 

dealing, . . 912 

197. On Mr. Wesley's letter, 912 

198. On the comforts that attend 

religion, . . 913 

199. On Mr. Wesley's letter, 913 

200. The excellency of the know- 

ledge of Christ, . 914 

201. On a week's preparation for 

the sacrament, . 914 

202. On his answer to Mr. Wes- 

ley, . . 915 

203. On the Letters on Theron 

and Aspasio, . 915 

204. On Witherspoon's Essay, 916 

205. Scripture criticisms, . 916 

206. On Fletcher's Purple Is- 

land, . . 917 

207. On Alsop's Anti-Sozzo, 919 

208. Caution against judging of 

men s states, . 920 

209. Gospel doctrines known by 

their fruits, . . 921 
Jacobi Hervey de libro Jobi epis- 

tola ad Carolum Thayer, 925 
A translation of this letter, 925 
On the death of the Reverend 

Mr. James Hervey, . 928 
Character of Mri Hervey's Writ- 
' ings, r ( . i 928 



LIFE 

or 

THE REV. JAMES HEIIVEY. 



A IVEGARD to eminent writings, which dis- 
play genius, learning, orthodoxy, and piety, 
naturally excites a desire to be acquainted 
with the writer; and this desire is the 
stronger, when these writings are not only 
tioily excellent in themselves, but are uni- 
versally admired, eagerly read by good peo- 
ple of all denominations, and calculated to 
promote the best interests of mankind. 
Hence one desires to know the author in 
private life, how he spent his time, how he 
sustained his character as a public teacher 
of religion, what influence the doctrines of 
grace, which he so warmly inculcated on 
others, had on his own heart and conver- 
sation ; and finally, how he closed the last 
scene. Abundant satisfaction as to aJl these 
particulars will be obtained from the fol- 
lowing account. 

Mr. James Hervey was born on Fri- 
day the 26th of February 1713-14, at Hard- 
ingstone, a country village, one mile from 
Northampton, his father being then minister 
of the parish of Colli ngtree, within two 
miles of Hardingstone. His first instruc- 
tion was from his mother, who taught him 
his letters, and to read. Under her tuition 
he continued till he was seven years of age, 
when he was sent as a day-scholar to the free 
grammar-school at Northampton, of which 
the Rev. Mr. Clarke, vicar of St. Sepulchre's 
in the said town, was at that time master. 

At this school he remained till he was 
seventeen years old, and learned the Latin 
and Greek languages ; in which his genius 
and memory would have enabled him to have 
made a much earlier progress, if it had not 
been prevented by his schoolmaster, who 
would not suffer him, or any other of his 
scholars, to learn faster than his own son. 
Whilst Mr. Hervey was at school, though 
he showed a remarkable dexterity at the 
innocent games usual among children, yet 
he had a perfect indifference for the acqui- 
sitions he made by his skill in these games, 
which he practised only for exercise and 
amusement. 



In the year 1731, at the age of seven- 
teen, he was sent by his father to the uni- 
versity of Oxford, and entered of Lincoln 
college there, under the tuition of the Rev. 
Mr. Hutchins, now Doctor, and rector of 
that college. He resided in the university 
seven years, and took the degree of Bache- 
lor of Arts. The first two or three years 
were spent by him with some degree of in- 
dolence, or rather less application to his 
studies than he afterwards used. But in 
1733, about his nineteenth year, becoming 
acquainted with some persons who began 
to distinguish themselves by their serious 
impressions of religion, and their zeal for 
the promotion of it, he was engaged by their 
influence in a stricter attachment both to 
piety and learning. He made himself mas- 
ter of Dr. James Keill's Anatomy, Dr. 
Durham's Physico- theology and Astro- 
theology, the Spectacle cle la Nature (Nature 
Displayed) as translated by Mr. Humph- 
reys ; which last work he read with a pe- 
culiar satisfaction. Nor was he less de- 
lighted by the Essay on Pope's Odyssey, 
written by the Rev. Mr. Spence, now pre- 
bendary of Dmham ; to which elegant and 
judicious discourse Mr. Hervey often ac- 
knowledged, that he owed more of his im- 
provement in style and composition, than 
to any other which he had ever read. 

In 1734, at the persuasion of a much 
valued friend, he began to learn the He- 
brew language without any teacher, by the 
Westminster Grammar itself : but soon 
found that Grammar too concise and diffi- 
cult for the instruction of a learner ; and 
therefore then despaired of ever attaining a 
competent knowledge of the Hebrew, 
though he afterwards made himself so 
thorough a master of that sacred language. 

It appears, from his letters to his sister in 
1733 and 1734, that though he then showed 
a pious and serious turn, yet these letters 
either speak a language different from free 
grace, for which we find he was afterwards 
so powerful an advocate, or at least, they 
treat very confusedly of it. The truth is, 



LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. 



vi 

he was tlien a stranger to, and had strong 
preposessions against, the doctrine oT justi- 
fication by faith in imputed righteousness ; 
and he acknowledges, in a note on Ids Des- 
cant upon Creation, that Mr. Jenks's excel- 
lent treatise, entitled. Submission to the 
Righteousness of God, was the instrument 
of removing his prejudices, and reducing 
him to a better judgment. 

He entered into holy orders as soon as 
his age and the canons of the church would 
allow ; and though the precise time of his 
taking orders cannot be ascertained, yet it 
appears to have been in the end of the year 
] 736, or beginning of 1737; at least, it 
appears from one of his letters, that he had 
a curacy in the beginning of the latter year. 
Whilst he was at Oxford he had a small 
exhibition of about L.20 a-year ; and, when 
he was ordained, his father pressed him very 
much to take some curacy in or near Ox- 
ford, and to hold his exhibition ; but this he 
would by no means comply with, thinking 
it an injustice to detain it after he was in 
orders, from another person who might more 
want the benefit of that provision. On his 
leaving Oxford in 1736, he went to his fa- 
ther, and became his curate. He afterwards 
went to London ; and, after staying some 
time there, became curate at Dummer. Here 
he continued about twelve months ; and 
upon his leaving that curacy, in the year 
1738, he was invited and went to Stoke- 
Abbey, in Devonshire, the seat of his wor- 
thy friend, the late Paul Orchard, Esq. 
Here he lived upwards of two years, in great 
esteem and friendship with that worthy gen- 
tleman, who valued him very much for his 
piety. A remarkable proof of the great 
regard he had for him on that account, he 
showed on the following occasion ; — When 
his eldest son, the present Paul Orchard, 
Esq. to whom the second volume of the 
Meditations is dedicated, was to be baptized, 
he insisted that Mr. Hervey should be one 
of his godfathers, that he might have an eye 
to his Christian education ; and this he did 
in preference to many gentlemen of large 
estates in the neighbourhood, who would 
have thought themselves honoured to have 
stood sponsors for Mr. Orchard's son. 

In the year 1740 he undertook the curacy 
of Biddetbrd, fourteen miles from Stoke- 
Aubey, where he lived greatly beloved by 
his people. His congregation was large, 
though his stipend was small ; his friends, 
therefore, made a collection yearly for him, 
which raised his income to L.60 a-yeai", so 
highly did they esteem him. At Biddeford 
he was curate about two years and a half; 
a!ul remained so until there was a new rec- 
tor of that church, who dismissed Mi\ Her- 
vey from his curacy, against the united re- 
quests of his parishioners, who offered to 
niaiiitau) liim at their own expense. Dur- 



ing the time that Mr. Hervey lived in the 
west, viz. from 1738 till the latter end of 
1743, his family heard very little of him, by 
reason of the great distance he was from 
them ; though he laboured diligently in the 
service of his Master. Here it was that he 
planned his Meditations, and probably wrote 
some part of them..- He says, in his first 
volume of Meditations, that it was on a ride 
to Kilkhampton, in Cornwall, that he went 
into the church, where he lays the scene of 
his Meditations among the Tombs. 

In August 1743, or thereabouts, he re- 
turned from Biddeford to Weston- Fa veil, 
leaving behind him many disconsolate 
friends, and officiated as curate to his fa- 
ther. Here he paid the greatest attention 
to his duty, and faithfully preached the gos- 
pel of Christ. 

The first of his writings which raised 
the attention of the public, was his Medita- 
tions among the Tombs, Reflections on a 
Flower-garden, and a Descant upon Crea- 
tion, published in February 1745-6. Of 
this kind of writing, we had befoi-e an ex- 
ample from no less a man than the great 
philosopher Mr. Boyle, in his Occasional 
Reflections on several subjects, written in 
his younger years. 

Mr. Hervey's performance was so well - 
received by the public, that it has already 
passed through about twenty editions in 
London, besides many surreptitious ones in 
Scotland and Ireland. A second volume, 
containing Contemplations on the Night 
and Starry Heavens, and a Winter- Piece, 
was published in December 1 747. 

In June 1750, his health being much 
impaired by his great attention to duty, and 
his family and friends judging that the 
change of air might be of benefit to him, 
they formed a design, which they executed, 
of conveying him to London, under a pre- 
tence of his riding a few miles in a friend's 
post-chaise, who was going thither ; and of 
which he pleasantly complains in a letter, 
dated June 28, 1750, to a friend, upon his 
arrival there. 

He staid in London until April or May 
1752; during which time he was visited 
with a severe sickness, which had well nigh 
put a period to his life. But he recovered; 
and, upon his father's death in 1752, he re- 
turned to Weston, where he constantly re- 
sided till his death. 

Mr. Hervey took his degree of Master of 
Arts at Cambridge in 1752, when he en- 
tered at Clai-ehall ; and as he was of suffi- 
cient standing at Oxford, he staid only the 
few days required by the statutes to perform 
the university exercise. 

It may be thought strange, that he who 
had refused to hold his exhibition at Ox- 
ford along with a curacy, should, upon his 
father's death, accept of the two livings of 



LIFE OF THE KEY. JAMES HERVEY. 



vii 



Weston- Fa veil and Collingtree, and hold i 
them daring his life. It was very far from 
being his choice, and it was what he had 
for a long time refused to do. He was de- 
termined against being a plm-alist ; and not- 
withstanding his father kept him at Oxford, 
with a design that he should take his degree 
of Master of Arts, and constantly urged him 
to do it, yet he could not be persuaded to 
yield to such a request, though he was of a 
sufficient standing to have taken the same, 
looking upon that step as a qualification in- 
tended for his future holding both his fa- 
ther's livings. AVTien his father died, he 
remained determined to have W eston-Favell 
only ; and this he frequently declared to his 
family and friends, and refused to accept of 
Collingtree, or to qualify himself for the 
same ; insomuch that it was in danger of 
lapsing to the bishop. But at length, 
through the earnest and constant entreaties 
of his family, and of his friends, who, un- 
known to him, had sent to and procured 
from Oxford the necessary certificates of 
his being a Bachelor of Arts, in order to his 
taking his Master's degree at Cambridge, he 
was, after much importunity, prevtuled on to 
comply with their requests, hoping that he 
might be thereby enabled to do so much the 
more good : and, when he waited upon Dr. 
Thomas, the then bishop of Peterborough, 
for institution to Collingtree, which was 
near six months after he had been inducted 
to Weston-Favell, he said to him, " 1 sup- 
pose your Lordship will be surprised to see 
James Hervey come to desire your Lord- 
ship to permit him to be a pluralist ; but I 
assure you, I do it to satisfy the rejx^ated 
solicitations of my mother and my sister, 
and not to please myself." 

In November 1752 he published his Re- 
marks on Lord Bolingbroke's Letters on 
the Study and Use of Histoiy, so far as 
they relate to the History of the Old Tes- 
tament, and especially to the case of Noah 
denouncing a curse upon Canaan ; in a Let- 
ter to a Lady of Qudity. 

The year following, having been called 
upon to preach, on the 10th of May, the 
sermon at the visitation of the Rev. Dr. 
John Browne, archdeacon of Northampton, 
at All-Saints' church in that town, he per- 
mitted it, the same year, for the benefit of 
a poor diseased child, to be printed, under 
the title of The Cross of Christ, the Christ- 
ian's Glory. He had preached before this 
another sermon at the same church, v/hich 
l>e liad been solicited to print, but could not 
then be prevailed upon to do it. Since his 
death, it has been published under the title 
of the Mystery of Reconciliation, &c. 

The same year he wrote a recommenda- 
tory preface to Burnham's Pious Memorial, 
or the Power of Rel igion on the Mind in 
Sickness and in Death ; exemplified by the 



experience of many eminent persons at those 
important seasons. 

His Theron and Aspusio, published in 
January 1755, in thi'ee volumes octavo, met 
with the same approbation from the public 
as his Meditations ; and the demand for 
this work likewise was very uncommon, it 
having passed through thj-ee editions in one 
year. 

In 1756, Mr. Hervey being informed of 
the design of reprinting the Gospel Mystery 
of Sanctification, by the Rev. Mr. Walter 
Marshall, and of prefixing to it, by way of 
recommendation, what he had said in its 
favour in Theron and Aspasio, he wrote a 
letter, dated Nov. 5, 1756, to his bookseller, 
giving his consent, and enlarging on that 
recommendation. This he did the more 
readily, as Mr. Marshall's book might (for 
so he has declared) be looked upon as no 
improper supplement to the dialogues and 
letters contained in Theron and Aspasio. 

His Theron and Aspasio was attacked 
by several writers, particularly by Mr. Ro- 
bert Sandeman, a congregational preacher 
at Edinburgh, in a book entitled Letters on 
Theron and Aspasio ; wherein the doctrine 
of the gospel, under the title of the popular 
doctrine, is most abominably misrepresent- 
ed, and itg tendency aspersed. The Armi- 
nians, too, objected to that work ; and Mr. 
John Wesley in particular wrote against it. 
Mr. Cudworth wrote a defence of Theron 
and Aspasio ; and Mr. David Wilson, mi- 
nister of the Scots congregation in Bow 
Lane, London, published a book, entitled 
Palsemon's Creed Reviewed, &c., in which 
he \dndicates Mr. Hervey's doctrine, and 
exposes that of Mr. Sandeman. 

Mr. Her\ey's own defence of Theron 
and Aspasio against the objections of Mr. 
John Wesley, was transcribed fair for the 
pre-s from his short-hand copy, within a few 
pages ; and v.'ould have been published in 
a volume of the same size with Theion 
and Aspasio, had he lived a few weeks 
longer. The manuscript was left in the 
possession of his brother, ^Mr. William 
Hervey, wine merchant in Miles' Lane, 
London ; who published it in 1766, for the 
reasons given by him in a preface prefixed 
to it. 

In August 1757, Mr. Hervey obliged 
the public with three sermons, preached by 
him on the late public fast-days ; to which, 
in the third edition, in 1759, were added 
his visitation sermon, preached in 1753, his 
posthumous sermon on the ministry of re- 
conciliation, and his considerations on the 
prevailing custom of visiting on Sundays, 
In a posterior edition of these, were given 
his remarks on Lord Bolingbroke's letters, 
and a treatise on the religious education of 
daus^hters. 

In the same year, likewise, he published 



viii 



LIFE OF THE REV. 



JAMES HERVEY. 



a new edition of his favourite author, Mr. 
Jenks's Meditations, in two volumes octavo ; 
to which he wrote a very strong recommen- 
datory preface, showing the use of those 
meditations, and the reasons for such re- 
publication.* 

He intended to have wrote a treatise on 
gospel holiness, as a supplement to Theron 
and Aspasio, and actually wrote a very ex- 
cellent and judicious plan of it, which he 
communicated in letters to some of his cor- 
respondents ; but he did not live to finish 
it, to the very great loss of the public. 

His labours both in his ministerial office 
and in his study, were pursued by him as 
long as possible, under the disadvantage of 
a very weak constitution of body ; which, 
together with the severity of his last illness, 
he supported not only with incredible pa- 
tience, but without a single expression of 
peevishness. That illness had long been 
coming on him, but greatly increased in the 
beginning of October 1758, and grew very 
formidable in the December following. For, 
on Sabbath the third of that month, in the 
evening, after prayer in his family, he seemed 
to be arrested by the messenger of death ; 
so that the united assistance of his sister 
and servant with difficulty enabled him to 
get up stau-s into his room, from whence he 
never came down. His illness gaining 
ground every day, he soon became sensible 
that his end was approaching. He had 
frequent and violent retm-ns of the cramp, 
which gave him most acute pain. He had 
likewise a hectic cough, which afflicted him 
so grievously in the night, that he could 
seldom lie in bed till fourf in the morning ; 
and was often obliged to rise at two, espe- 
cially as opium (how much soever guarded 
by other medicines) would not agree with 
him. On the 15tli of that month he com- 
plained of a pain in his side ; for which, at 
his own desire, he was bled, though his 
physician, Dr. Stonehouse, in whom he 
placed the greatest confidence, had objected 
to it, apprehending him too weak to bear 
any evacuation of that kind. When the 
surgeon came, he could scarcely perceive 
any pulsation, and therefore took away no 
more than four ounces of blood ; intimating 
to his relations and friends, that the case 
was desperate, and that he had blooded him 
very unwillingly, and merely to satisfy Mr. 
Hervey's desire, who had some hope that 
the pain might possibly be relieved by it. 
His cm'ate, the Rev. Mr. Abraham Mad- 
dock, being much with him in the afternoon 
of that day, Mr. Hervey spoke to him in 



« This Preface, with that to Bumham's Pious Me- 
morials, his letter to the publisher of Marshall on 
Sanctification, one to the publisher of Mr. Traill's 
works, &c. are annexed to his tracts in this edition. 

t When Mr. Hervey was in tolerable health, he 
rarely lay in bed aftrr six, even in the winter ; and 
ro3f! still earlier in the summer. 



strong and pathetic terms of his assurance 
of faith, and of the great love of God in 
Christ. " Oh !" said he, "what has Christ, 
how much has Christ done for me ; and 
how little have I done for so loving a Sa- 
viour ! If I preached even once a- week, it 
was at last a burden to me. I have not 
visited the people of my parish as I ought 
to have done, and thus preached, as it were, 
from house to house. I have not taken 
every opportunity of speaking for Christ." 

These expressions being accompanied 
with tears, which were too visible not to be 
observed ; and lest his tears should be mis- 
interpreted, as they had been conversing 
about his expected end, and of his assurance 
of happiness, he proceeded thus -. " Do not 
think that I am afraid to die. I assure you 
I am not. I know what my Saviour hath 
done for me, and I wish to be gone. But 
I wonder and lament to think of the love of 
Christ in doing so much for me ; and how 
little I have done for him." And in an- 
other conversation, discoursing likewise of 
his approaching dissolution, which he did 
with the utmost calmness and serenity ; and 
of the little which we know of God's word, 
he said, " How many precious texts are there 
big with the most rich truths of Christ, 
which we cannot comprehend, which we 
know nothing of j and of those we do know, 
how few do we remember ! Montis textua- 
rius est bonus theologus — a good textuary is a 
good divine ; and that is the armour, the 
word of God is the sword. Those texts 
are the weapons which I must use when that 
subtle spirit, that ai ch adversary of mankind, 
comes to tempt and sift me in my last con- 
flict. Surely I had need be well provided 
vi^ith these weapons ; I had need have my 
quiver full of them, to answer Satan with 
texts out of the word of God, when he as- 
saults me. Thus did Christ when he was 
tempted in the wilderness." 

On the 19th the pains of his body abated, 
and he grew drowsy and lethargic ; but, in 
the night following, his immediate death 
was apprehended. 

The next day, the 20th, he was visited by 
Dr. Stonehouse, who declared, that in his 
opinion Mr. Hervey could not live above 
three or four days ; and happening to speak 
of the many consolations through Christ 
which a good man enjoys in the prospect 
of death, and discoursing on the emptiness 
of worldly honour to an immortal, and on 
the unprofitableness of riches to the irreli- 
gious, Mr. Hervey replied, " True, doctor, 
true, the ordy valuable treasures are in hea- 
ven. What would it avail me now to be 
archbishop of Canterbury? Disease would 
show no respect to my mitre. That prelate* 



* The late Dr. Thomson Seeker, who died August 
3, 17G3. 



LIFE OF THE REV 

is not only very great, but, I am told, 
he has religion really at heart. Yet, it is 
godliness, and not gi-andeur, that will avail 
him hereafter. The gospel is offered to 
me, a poor country parson, the same as to 
his Grace. Christ makes no difference 
betvveeen us. Oh ! why then do ministers 
thus neglect the charge of so kind a Saviour, 
fawn upon the great, and hunt after worldly 
preferments with so much eagerness, to the 
disgrace of our order? These, these are 
the things, doctor, and not our poverty or 
obscurity, which render the clergy so justly 
contemptible to the worldlings. No M^onder 
the service of our church, grieved I am to 
say it, is become such a formal lifeless 
thing, since it is, alas ! too generally executed 
by persons dead to godliness in all their 
conversation ; whose indifference to reli- 
gion, and worldly-minded behaviour, pro- 
claim the little regard they pay to the doc- 
trines of the Lord who bought them." 

When the Doctor was going away, Mr. 
Hervey, with great tenderness, obsei-ved to 
him, that as not long ago he had a danger- 
ous fall from his horse, by which he was 
much bruised, and as he had been lately ill, 
and then looked very pale, he hoped he 
would think on these narrow escapes, so 
often fatal to others, as a kind of warning 
from God to him, and remember them as 
such ; adding, " How careful ought we to 
be to improve those years which remain, 
at a time of life when but few can remain 
for us !" 

The day before his death, Mr. Hervey 
went a few steps across his room ; but im- 
mediately finding his strength failing him, 
he sunk rather then fell down, his fall being 
broken by his sister, who, observing his 
weakness, ran and caught him : but he 
fainted away, and was in all appearance 
dead, it being a considerable time before any 
pulse could be perceived. When he came 
to himself, his brother, Mr. William Her- 
vey, who was come from London to \isit 
him, said, " We were afraid you was gone." 
He answered, " I wish I had." And well 
he might wish so, for his strength was quite 
exhausted, his body extremely emaciated, 
and his bones so sore, that he could not bear 
any one to touch him, when it was necessary 
to move him about. Yet, under all this 
calamity, he was ever praising God for his 
mercies, and for enduing him with patience. 

On the 25th (Christmas-day,) on which 
he died, Mr. Maddock paying him his 
morning visit, Mr. Hervey lifted up his 
head, and opened his eyes, as he sat in his 
easy-chair, (for he could not lie in bed,) to 
see who it was, and said, " Sir, I cannot 
talk with you." He complained much all 
this day of a great inward conflict which he 
had, laying his hand upon his breast, and 
saying, <' Oh ! you know not how great a 



JAMES HERVEY. i% 

conflict I have." During this he almost 
constantly lifted up his eyes towards heaven, 
with his hands clasped together in a praying 
form, and said, two or three times, " When 
this great conflict is over, then — " but said 
no more ; though it was understood he 
meant that then — he should go to rest. 

Dr. Stonehouse came to him about three 
hours before he expired. Mr. Hervey urged 
strongly and afljectionately to the Doctor 
the importance and care of his everlasting 
concerns, as here is no abiding place ; and 
entreated him not to be overcharged with 
the cares of this life, but to attend, amidst 
the multiplicity of his business, to " the one 
thing needful:" 

Which done, the poorest can no wants endure. 
And which not done, the richest must be poor.* 

Pope. 

The Doctor seeing the great difficulty 
and pain with which he spoke, (for he was 
almost suffocated with phlegm and frequent 
vomitings,) and finding by his pulse that 
the pangs of death were then coming on, 
desired that he would spare himself. " No," 
said he, " Doctor, no. You tell me I have 
but a few moments to live ; oh ! let me 
spend them in adoring our great Redeemer." 
He then repeated the 26th verse of Psalm 
Ixxiii. " Though my flesh and my heart fail 
me, yet God is the strength of my heart, and 
my portion for ever;" and he expatiated in 
a most striking manner on these words of 
Paul, 1 Cor. iii. 22, 23, " All things are 
yours ; life and death, for ye are Christ's." 
" Here," says ye, "is the treasure of a Chris- 
tian. Death is reckoned among this inven- 
tory ; and a noble treasure it is. How 
thankful am I for death, as it is the passage 
through which I pass to the Lord and Giver 
of eternal life ; and as it frees me from all 
the misery you now see me endure as long 
as God thinks fit ! for 1 know he will by and 
by, in his own good time, dismiss me from the 
body. These light afilictions are but for a 
moment, and then comes an eternal weight of 
glory! — Oh! welcome, welcome death! 
Thou mayest well be reckoned among the 
treasures of the Christian. To live is 
Christ, but to die is gain." After which, 
as the Doctor was taking his final leave of 
him, Mr. Hervey expressed great gratitude 
for his visits, though it had been long out 
of the power of medicines to cure him. He 
then paused a little, and with great serenity 
and sweetness in his countenance, though 
the pangs of death were upon him, being 
raised a little in his chair, repeated those 
words, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant 
depart in peace, according to thy" most holy 
and comfortable " word, for mine eyes have 

* Mr, Hervey used frequently to repeat those lines 
with such an emphasis, and sisnificant look, as con- 
veyed their impi,rtantaueaning in a niannei not tasilf 
to be forgot. 



X 



LIFE OF THE KEY. JAMES HERVEY. 



seen tliy precious salvation." " Here, Doc- ! 
tor, is my cordial ! What are all the cor- > 
dials given to support the dying, in compa- 
rison of that which arises from the promises \ 
of salvation by Christ ? This, this supports 
me." About three o'clock he said, " The 
great conflict is over. Now all is done." 
After which he scarce spoke any other 
words intelligibly, except now and then 
" precious salvation !" 

During the last hour he said nothing, but 
leaned his head against the side of an easy 
chair, and without a sigh, groan, struggle, or 
the least emotion in the world, he sbut his 
eyes, and died, between four and five in the 
afternoon, on Chrismas day, 1758, in the 
forty-fifth year of his age. God grant that 
we may all live the life, and die the death 
of the righteous, and that our last end may 
be like his ! 

When his body was conveyed to church, it 
was covered, by his express desire, with the 
poor's pall, and he was buried under the 
middle of the communion table, in the chan- 
cel of Weston-Favell church, on Friday, 
Dec. 28, in the presence of a numerous 
congregation, full of regret for the loss of 
so excellent a pastor. His funeral was in- 
deed a most awful and very aflTecting sight. 
Mr. Maddock, his curate, who buried him, 
was himself in tears., Some were wringing 
their hands, others sobbing, many were si- 
lently weeping, but all were inwardly and 
sincerely grieved, as their looks sufficiently 
testified ; and his attendants then bore a vi- 
sible witness, that he had not been altogether 
unserviceable in his generation. The poor 
thankfully acknowledged it ; and, as they 
looked into his grave, seemed to say withhi 
themselves, " There lies the man whose 
unwearied kindness was the constant relief 
of my various distresses ; who tenderly vi- 
sited my languishing bed, and readily sup- 
plied my indigent circumstances." Others, 
once ignorant and ungodly, looked at his 
grave, and seemed by their expressive sighs 
to say, " Here are the last remains of that 
sincere friend who watched for my soul. I 
tremble to think into what irretrievable ruin 
I might quickly have been plunged, had not 
his faithful admonitions and repeated ex- 
hortations, arrested me in the wild career. 
I was then unacquainted with the gospel of 
peace ; but now, enlightened by his instruc- 
tions, I see the all-sufficiency of my Saviour. 
His discourses are still warm on my heart, 
and I trust will be more and more operative 
on my life. 

It may be truly said of Mr. Hervey, that 
few lives have ever been more heavenly, 
and few deaths more triumphant. He died 
in the Lord, and is now at rest, where even 
the wicked cease from troubling. His 
name is recorded in the annals of eternity ; 
and the honours conferred on him by Christ 



will for ever continue blooming and incor- 
ruptible in the world of glory. 

His character, both in his public and 
private capacity, was of the most exemplary 
kind. 

As a minister, he performed all the duties 
of that office with the greatest strictness. 
In the pulpit he was earnest and fervent, 
and showed that he felt the efficacy of what 
he preached. Nor did he think it sufficient 
to preach on the Lord's day only, but set up 
a weekly lecture every Wednesday evening, 
at Weston- Favell church, which was very 
well attended. His zeal for the performance 
of his duty was, however, for some time 
before he died, much interrupted by the ill 
state of his health, which would not permit 
him personally to take due care even of the 
parish of Weston, where he resided — a cir- 
cumstance that gave him inexpressible con- 
cern. The last two or three years of his 
life he could scarce do any thing more than 
preach once on the Lord's day, when people 
for many miles aroimd flocked to hear him. 
His Wednesday evening lecture at seven, 
he discontinued for the last year. He had 
not been able to preach for some time at 
Collingtree,* or to visit his parishioners at 
their own houses, as his custom had been ; 
but he encouraged them to come to him, 
and to converse freely on the subjects re- 
lating to their eternal interests ; and on such 
occasions he would speak with a force and 
propriety peculiar to himself. He would 
frequently lament his inability to serve his 
people, comparing himself to a bleeding 
disabled soldier, and only not slain. 

He always preached without notes, ex- 
cept on some very particular occasion ; but 
his method was judicious, clear, and not en- 
cumbered with too many subdivisions. His 
weakness having rendered him, for several 
months before his death, incapable of speak- 
ing to his congregation as usual, he short- 
ened his discourses, and took a most useful 
method of inculcating his instructions ; for, 
after he had expounded his text, and divided 
his sermon into two beads, (rarely into more, 
and never exceeding three,} he would speak 
briefly, and, at the conclusion of each head, 
enforce what he had said by a pertinent text 
of Scripture, desiring his congregation (which 
was generally very numerous) to turn to 
their Bibles, and double down that text. 
" Now," added he, " my dear brethren, if 
you forget my sermon, you cannot forget 
God's word in this text, unless you wilfully 
throw yoiu: Bibles aside. Show these to 
your children, or the absent part of your fa- 
mily, when you return home." Then he 



* Weston-Favell and Collingtree, the two family 
livings, are within five measured miles of each otlier ; 
which Mr. Hervey and his curate used to attend al- 
ternately, till his ill health confined him entirely to 
Weston-Faveli. 



LIFE OF THE EF . JAMES IIERVEY. 



xi 



gave a striking exhortation, and at the end j c 
of it another text for them to double down ; ] 
so that they had always three texts ; in order \ 
to their finding of which, he paused in the I 
pulpit two or three minutes. This method i 
was attended v^dth another good effect ; it J 
obliged the generality of his hearers to bring f 
their Bibles along with them; for those who i 
were without a Bible lost the benefit of the 1 
texts, and were unemployed, while the ma- i 
jority who had one were very busy in look- i 
ing for the passages referred to in his ser- 1 
men. 

He endeavoured as much as possible to 1 
divest himself, in his public discourses, of < 
his usual elegancy of style, and to adapt his ' 
language to the lowest capacity. In this he 
followed the example of Luther, who, in 
his Table-talk, says, " If in my preaching I 
were to pay a regard to Philip Melancthon, 
and other learned divines, then I should do 
little good. 1 preach in the plainest man- 
ner to the illiterate, and that gives content 
to all. Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, I spare 
till we learned ones come together." Mr. 
Hervey thought perspicuous language and 
evangelical doctrine of much more import- 
ance to Jiis parishioners, than elaborate or 
ornamented discourses ; though few men 
living, perhaps, were more capable of satis- 
fying a polite or learned audience. 

His method of catechising children in 
church, and of speaking to them in private, 
w^as very engaging and useful. He would 
put little questions to them, after they had 
repeated the words of the catechism ; as for 
instance, " Well, my little maid, let me hear 
if you understand what you said. If you do 
understand the meaning of these words, you 
will then be able to answer the questions 1 
shall put to you." He would at these times 
ask not only such questions as were suitable 
to the words of the catechism, but also such 
as would strike at the capital vices of his 
parishioners, yet without giving personal of- 
fence. 

He did not forget that he was a minister 
in tiis house ; for he worshipped God with 
his family twice a-day. He supped at eight 
every night, and at nine he expounded a text 
of Scripture for about a quarter of an hour, 
and seldom longer, except when some friend 
was present, to whom he thought his dis- 
course might be useful, or when particularly 
requested to enlarge. After this he con- 
cluded with prayer. 

He breakfasted at nine ; and about eight 
ne called his family together, and required 
each of his servants to repeat by heart the 
text which he had explained the preceding 
evening, and then he would recapitulate his 
exposition ; by which method both his text 
and commentary were im'printed on their 
memories. After this he had prayers. 

In the afternoon, when he was culled 



down to tea, he used to bring his Hebrew 
Bible or Greek Testament with him, and 
would speak (as he was ever studious how 
he might promote the glory of God and im- 
prove time) either upon one or more verses, 
as occasion offered, in the most instructive 
and entertaining manner imaginable. And 
in the summer season he woidd now and 
then drink tea, when his health would per- 
mit him, with some of his most serious pa- 
rishioners ; and then five or six of the neigh- 
bours were invited, and Mr. Hervey's con- 
versation was remarkably affecting, as he 
had a happy talent at spiritualizing almost 
every incident, and was naturally of a most 
obliging and cheerful disposition. 

He was a member of an assembly formed 
for Christian improvement, which was es- 
tablished in his neighbourhood on the 7th 
of July 1747, and constantly attended it so 
long as he was able to ride to the place of 
meeting. A short account of the rules of 
this assembly is given at the end of his 
Tracts, together with two prayers composed 
by him for the use of the members thereof. 

In the exercise of his charity, Mr. Her- 
vey chose to clothe the poor, rather than 
give them money ; and he would get some 
judicious person to buy linen, coarse cloth, 
stockings, shoes, &c. for them at the best 
hand ; alleging, that the poor could not pur- 
chase on such good terms ^ iiat they want- 
ed, at the little shops, and with small sums 
of money. " I am," said he, " God's stew- 
ard for the poor, and I must husband the 
little pittance I have to bestow upon them, 
and make it go as far as possible." But 
when money would be really serviceable to 
a family, as to a prudent housekeeper dis- 
tressed by sickness or misfortunes, he would 
give five or more guineas at a time, taking 
care that it should not be known whence 
the money came. Pope's compliment to 
]\Ir. Allen of Bath might be justly applied 
to him, who would 

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. 
He was particulaily desirous of getting 
the advice of a physician (or at least of some 
; judicious apothecary) for the sick poor ; 
; and was very ready to procure them the best 
, medicines — a most beneficial sort of charity 
[ to mankind, and in which it were to be 
■ wished he had many imitators. He would 
' frequently petition such physicians of his 
- acquaintance in different parts of the king. 

dom, as he apprehended thus charitably dis- 
t posed, to give their advice occasionally,. 
I when they rode through a town, to suet 
; poor creatures as the clergyman of the place, 
J or some substantial inhabitant, should re- 
s commend as real objects of compassion, 
t Mr. Hervey would then, with great plea- 
r sure, and with as much grntitude to tlie phy- 
sician as if done to himself defray the ex- 
1 pense of what medicines wcie wanted- He 



xii 



LIFE OF THE REV. 



JAMES IIERVEY. 



greatly disapproved indeed of the clergy's 
attempting to give medicines to their pa- 
rishioners ; as he judiciously inferred, that it 
was impossible for them to do it with the 
requisite judgment. *' Let my brethren," 
he would say, " give them wine, bread, or 
beer, and get good spoon-meats made for 
them ; but medicines are of too important a 
nature to be given indiscriminately." He 
observed, that by his own method the sick 
poor had the very best medicines, as the 
physician saw them himself, and bought 
them very cheap, because the apothecary, 
knowing they were for charitable uses, 
charged the physician for them no more 
than prime cost, with some little allowance 
merely for his trouble in compounding 
them ; and as the physician knew what dis- 
eases were curable, there was no waste of 
medicines in fruitless attempts to cure cases 
which, though actually incurable, persons 
of less judgment could not pronounce to be 
so. 

He gave away a great number of good 
books, with suitable instructions for their 
use, and especially Bibles. In the blank 
leaf ha frequently wrote something capable 
of making an impression, or else stuck in a 
printed paper relating to the promises of 
God in and through Jesus Christ, or to 
creation, preservation, and redemption.* 

All the future profits of his works he has 
left to some of the charitable uses above 
specified, except his Meditations ; the copy 
of which he had sold, after it had passed 
through several editions : which sale of the 
copy, and the profits of the former impres- 
sions, amounted to about L,700, all of which 
he gave away in charity. He said, that it 
was devoted to God, and that he would on 
no account apply it to worldly uses ; that 
he wrote not for profit or fame, but to serve 
the cause of God ; and as Providence had 
blessed his attempt, he thought himself 
bound to relieve the distresses of his fellow- 
creatures with it. 

In any expenses relating to himself he 
was extremely frugal, that he might be libe- 
ral to others ; and it was always his desire 
to die just even with the world. I will 
be my own executor," said he ; and, as he 
died on Christmas-day, his fund expired 
almost with his life. What little remained, 
he desired might be given in warm clothing 
to the poor in that severe season. 

To these instances of his charity, we may 
properly add an incident, which, how trifling 
soever in itself, yet affords a very strong 
proof, not only of the benevolence of his 
heart, but of his regard to practical religion, 
and to the doing of every good work within 
his power, 

A day or two before his death, when he 



was reduced to such extreme weakness as 
to be unable to read, and could with diffi- 
culty speak, a little account being settled 
with him by a friend, on the balance of 
which he received 18s. looking on the money 
with great indifference, he expressed him- 
self to this effect : " I would gladly dispose 
of this small sum in such manner as may 
do most good. It is the only act which I 
now am, and probably the last that I shall 
be, able to perform. Give yourself the 
trouble of looking amongst these books, 
and you will find Mr. Richards' pamphlet ; 
at the latter end of which are, I remember, 
some Hints concerning the means of pro- 
moting religion in ourselves or others, which 
(even with some additions and improve- 
ments which you might easily make) will 
not fill more than a sheet of paper,* and, 
if stuck up or framed, might be particularly 
useful in that form. Let, then, such a 
number of them be printed and given away 
as this money will admit of." His orders 
were properly executed ; and the evidences 
of such an angelic temper were equally 
matter of edification and comfort to his 
friend, as this charitable legacy, if we may 
so call it, will be to all who receive and 
rightly use it. 

This incident affords a striking evidence 
of the happy fruits and efijects of his favour- 
ite doctrine, and strong expressions of the 
all-sufficient righteousness of Christ as the 
sole requisite to justification before God 
and acceptance with him, and shows that 
indeed his faith wrought by love. No man 
had ever a greater disregard for money, 
which he esteemed unworthy of his notice 
on any other account than as it furnished 
him with the means of doing good. Surely 
we may here borrow the sentiment and 
expression of the celebrated Mr. Pope, and 
justly conclude, that 

He felt his ruling passion strong in death. 

Mr. Hervey was indeed too negligent of 
his dress, which, though it could not in the 
least lessen the respect paid to him in his 
own parish and neighbourhood, where he 
was so well known, yet he would unques- 
tionably have avoided it if he had lived in 
a public scene, where the decency and pro- 
priety of appearance are of much greater 
importance. 

In learning he was inferior to few. Greek 
was almost as familiar to him as his native 
language. He was a great master of the 
classics ; and, in the younger part of his 
life, had written some copies of verses, 
which showed no contemptible genius for 
poetry. He had a critical knowledge of 
the Hebrew tongue, and delighted in it. 

With respect to his private capacity, he 
was never known to be in a passion. He 



* See a copy of this printed paper among his Tracts. 



» The Hints, &c. are subjoined to the Tracts. 



LIFE p3? THJE UBT. JAMES HEUVEY. 



lived as in heaven. No worldly concern 
(though he sometimes met with very trying 
ones) ever affected him. His humihty 
rendered him invidnerable. When he was 
misrepresented and calumniated, he would 
say, " Oiu: enemies are sometimes our best 
friends, and tell us truths ; and then we 
should amend our faults, and be thankful 
for such information ; and if what they say 
be not true, and only spoken through ma- 
lice, then such persons are to be considered 
as diseased in their minds, and we should 
pray for them. They are to be pitied," 
says he, " and I might be as justly angry 
with a man who is diseased in his body." 

All this he spoke with humility, serious- 
ness, and sweetness ; for it was the lan- 
guage of his heart, and not of affectation. 
In his ordinary transactions with others, he 
was ever cheerful, punctual, just, and can- 
did to persons of every denomination. 

He frequently wrote religious letters to 
his acquaintances, according to their diffe- 
rent circumstances, in the most amiable 
and convincing manner ; and he seemed to 
make it almost an invariable rule, not to 
write a letter on any occasion, without at 
least one pious sentence* in it ; and that 
not introduced in a forced and awkward 
manner, but interwoven so as to appear 
naturally to arise from the subject. Of 
this kind some specimens may be seen in 
the note at the bottom of the page.f 

Notwithstanding Mr. Hervey lived a 
very holy and exemplary life, preaching 
Jesus Christ and him crucified, and incul- 
cating the practice of real religion and holi- 
ness in heart and life, yet his enemies (for 
strange as it is, even Mr. Hervey himself, 
the most inoffensive of men, had enemies) 
have not scrupled to assert, that " his tenets 
were dishonourable to (jod, subversive of 
all gospel-holiness, destructive even of com- 
mon morality, and very injurious to society 
itself, by making men melancholy, and re- 
gardless of business." These were the 
very words of an abusive and anonymous 
letter sent to him by the post ; on which 



* Nulla dies sine linea, nulla epistola sine Christo, 
were Mr. Harvey's maxims. 

t These specimens are taken from hasty message- 
cards, or billets, to some of his intimate friends. 

" When I see my dear friend, we will talk about 
the contents of his last. My money is Christ's, and 
I only desire that he will give me benevolence to dis- 
pose of it willingly, discretion to bestow itprudently. 
I hope you have quite recovered, and adopted the 
Psalmist's resolution, Psalm cxvi. 8, 9. What do 
you think is the meaning of that remarkable expres- 
sion, " I will walk before the Lord ? " 

In another biUet to a person about retiring from 
business, he writes, — Thanks for your Witsius de 
CEconomia Foederum. The time, I hope, is coming, 
when you will have leisure to read, a heart to relish, 
and a tongue to display such precious doctrines." 

In another he writes, — 

" Let us all remember, my dear friend, that time is 
tipon the wing; eternity is at our door; therefore 
what we do for our blessed Master we must do 
quickly." 



' that meek and most excellent man observed 
■ to an intimate friend, with all his usual 
mildness, " Indeed this gentleman may be 
said, I think, to write at random. Surely 
he has never read my work. If I knew 
where to direct to him, I should desire him 
to turn to what I have advanced in the 
ninth paragraph of my Contemplation on 
the Starry Heavens ; and such a reply, I 
would hope, might convince him of his 
mistake." 

Some of Mr. Hervey's friends thought 
he carried the Calvinistical tenets so far, 
that consequences disadvantageous to reli- 
gion might be deduced from them, and which 
he himself, instead of assenting to them, 
would have startled at and rejected with 
abhorrence. The fact is, the doctrine he 
delivered in his writings is purely scriptural, 
and agreeable to that contained in all the 
confessions of the refonned churches ; and 
is so far from having a tendency to weaken 
the obligations to purity and holiness of 
life, that it promotes them in the most 
effectual manner, and has the most happy 
influence on morality. When persons of 
judgment have pointed out to him some 
expressions that were liable to be misunder- 
stood in that respect, he alv/ays disavowed 
any such meaning ; and affirmed, that the 
fault was not in the evangelical doctrines so 
much insisted on by him, but in the misap- 
prehension, ignorance, or inattention, of 
those who abused them to licentiousness. 
He would then add, he was ready to alter 
or retract any sentiment or expression which 
he apprehended to be reaDy objectionable ; 
but that to make things equally clear to 
every one's apprehension, or to have the 
same effect upon every one's mind, was an 
impracticable attempt ; that he professed 
himself a Calvinist, and that, consequently, 
the Arminians would not relish some things 
he advanced, though what he wrote was 
exactly conformable to the church articles, 
which are Calvinistical ; yet he hoped they 
would not reject the whole, because they 
could not, in every point, concur with him ; 
and that his writings in general might be 
useful, how much soever some of his par- 
ticular (though truly scriptural) opinions 
might be doubted or censured. And on this 
head let us hear Mr. Hervey himself. He, 
in a letter written by him a very little before 
his happy death, thus expresses himself: 
" Do they who deny faith, and extol their 
good works, distinguish themselves by the 
practice of them ? I will be bold to say, 
that, on an impartial examination, the ma- 
jority will be found on the side of those 
who embrace the doctrine of the imputa- 
tion of Christ's righteousness, and who ex- 
pect salvation by him alone." 

Of the compliments publicly paid to his 
piety and genius, it wiU be sufficient to in. 



xiv 



LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. 



sert a paragraph from the Northampton 
Mercury, which may be seen at the bottom 
of the page ;* and the following eulogium 
extracted from the Rev. Mr. Dodd's poem 
on the Epiphany. 

—Thou Hbrvbt, too, 

Whose yiage and soul alike breathe humblest love 

To thy adored fiedeemer, thou hast shown 

That piety and polish'd elegance 

May well together suit; and while remains 

Or piety or elegance, thy works, 

Like genuine gold, the touchstone will abide, 

And grateful to thy countiymen remain : 

Oh ! may I to my lov/ly strains derive 

Some merit from the friendship of thy name ; 

Strains, whose exalted subject fills thy heart 

So constant with delight ; and from thy tongue 

In converse pours such streams of eloquence. 

That the wrapt hearer wonders at his fears 

Of death ere-while, and glowing with the love 

Of Jesus, caught from thee, longs to behold 

His Saviour in the clouds : for who can stand 

Amidst the sweetness of Arabian groves. 



* On Christmas-day, in the afternoon, died, in the 
45th year of his age, the Rev. Mr. James Hervey, 
rector of Weston-Favell, near Northampton, and au- 
thor of the Meditations among the Tombs, Flower 
Garden, &c. He was one of the most eminent in- 
stances of the power of Christianity upon the human 
mind. In his ministerial province he was pious, fer- 
vent, and indefatigable. In his ordinary connexions 
with the community he was ever cheerful, conscien- 
tiously punctual in all his dealings, and amiably can- 
did to persons of every denomination. To his chari- 
ties he set no bounds, scarcely leaving himself the 
mere requisites of his station. Under the severest 
trials of infirmity, for several years he displaved the 
liighest example of fortitude, serenity, patience, and 
an entire resignation to the divine will. His writings 
most abundantly evidence his learning and ingenuity : 
But, reader, it is not the acquisitions of his under- 
standing, but the improvements of his heart, and his 
confidence in the great Redeemer, which will now 
avail this most excellent man. 



And not bear thence some fragrance ? — Valued friend. 
Proceed; and (thy too feeble strength renew'd) 
May to hoar age thy journey be prolong' d. 
And strew'd each step with blessings to mankind ! 

We shall close this account of Mr. Her- 
vey 's life with the folio whig elegy on him. 

Urania, speak ! in pensive numbers tell 
How Zion trembled when great Hervey fell ! 
When fail'd his strength, and when his pulse beat low. 
Tell how she mourn'd to see the impending blow ! 
O thou, to whom all sacred themes belong. 
Pour forth the sweetly melancholy song ! 

' ' Alas ! grim death hath shot the fatal dart. 
Which long seem'd pointed at his languid heart ; 
The insatiate tyrant, crown'd with funeral gloom. 
In triumph drags him to the hollow tomb ! 
Who now so well can paint the blooming flower. 
Or preach from sepulchres at midnight hour ? 
Who now so well the starry heavens scan. 
And read the lectures nature meant for man ? 
No more his voice a careless world can move, 
Or tell the wonders of redeeming love ; 
No more shall thousands round nis pulpit throng, 
To hear the heavenly precepts of his tongue ; 
For lo ! above this gross impurer air. 
Released from every pain and every care. 
He soars aloft (angelic hosts his guide) 
On wings new plumed, which ne'er before he t: ied. 
With rapid speed his golden pinions rise 
Through starry planes, and sKim the empyrean skies. 
And now, where sparkling portals wide display 
The blissful regions of etenial day. 
His Lord receives him 'midst celestial choirs. 
Who crown his head, and strike their golden lyres : 
Through heaven's glad courts the greeting anthems 
roll. 

And joys new blooming feast his ravish'd soul; 

Joys which to tell all eloquence is faint. 

And which the loftiest muse can never paint." 



* The reader may be assured, that these verses 
were wrote by a very serious and well-disposed young 
man, apprentice to a Jersey comber, in the town of 
Northampton, in a low station of life, and of no li- 
beral education ; whose mind, by Mr. Hervey's preach- 
ing and writings, had been very early impressed with 
the sacred ardour of piety and poetry. 



TO 



MISS — T 



Madam, 

These Reflections, the one on the deep- 
est, the other on the gayest, scenes of Na- 
ture, when they proceeded privately from 
the pen, were addressed to a Lady of the 
most valuable endowments, who crowned 
^ all her other endearing qualities by a fervent 
love of Christ, and an exemplary conformity 
to his divine pattern. She, alas ! lives no 
longer on earth, unless it be in the honours 
of a distinguished character, and in the 
bleeding remembrance of her acquaint- 
ance. 

It is impossible. Madam, to wish you a 
richer blessing, or a more substantial happi- 
ness, than that the same spirit of unfeigned 
faith, the same course of undetiled religion, 
which have enabled her to triumph over 
death, may both animate and adorn your 
life. And you will permit me to declare, 
that my chief inducement in requesting your 
acceptance of the following Meditations, 
now they make a public appearance from 
the press, is, that they are designed to cul- 
tivate the same sacred principle, and to pro- 
mote the same excellent practice. 

Long, Madam, may you bloom in all the 
vivacity and amiableness of youth, like the 
charming subject of one of these Contem- 
plations. But, at the same time, remember, 
that with regard to such inferior accom- 
plishments, you must one day fade (may it 
prove some very remote period !) like the 



moumful objects of the other. This con- 
sideration will prompt you to go on as you 
have begim, in adding the meekness of wis- 
dom, and all the beauties of holiness, to the 
graces of ai» engaging person, and the re- 
finements of a polite education. 

And might — O ! might the ensuing hints 
furnish you with the least assistance in pro- 
secuting so desirable an end ; might they 
contribute in any degree to establish your 
faith, or elevate your devotion ; they would 
then administer to the author such a satis- 
faction as applause cannot give, nor censure 
take away — a satisfaction which I should 
be able to enjoy, even in those awful mo- 
ments when all that captivates the eye is 
sinking in darkness, and every glory of this 
lower world disappearing for ever. 

These wishes, IVIadam, as they are a 
most agreeable employ of my thought, so 
they come attended with this additional 
circumstance of pleasm-e, that they are also 
the sincerest expressions of that very great 
esteem with which I am, 

Madam, 

Yoiu" most obedient most humble servant, 
JAMES HERVEY. 

Weston-Favell, near Northampton, 
May 2(), 1746. 



PREFACE. 



The first of these occasional Meditations 
begs leave to remind my readers of their 
latter end ; and would invite them to set, 
not their houses only, but, which is inex- 
pressibly more needful, their souls in order ; 
that they maybe able, through all the in- 
termediate stages, to look forward upon 
their approaching exit without any anxious 
apprehensions ; and when the great change 
commences, may bid adieu to terrestrial 
things, with all the calmness of a cheerful 
resignation, with all the comforts of a well- 
grounded faith. 

The other attempts to sketch out some 
little traces of the all-sufficiency of our 
Redeemer for the grand and gracious pur- 
poses of everlasting salvation ; that a sense 
of his unutterable dignity and infinite per- 
fections may incite us to regard him with 
sentiments of the most profound veneration, 
to long for an assured interest in his merits 
with all the ardency of desire, and to trust 
in his powerful mediation with an affiance 
not to be shaken by any temptations, not 
to be shared with any performances of our 
own. 

I flatter myself, that the thoughts con- 
ceived among the tombs may be welcome 
to the serious and humane mind ; because, 
as there are few who have not consigned 
the remains of some dear relations, or ho- 
noured friends, to those silent repositories, 
so there are none but must be sensible, that 
this is the house appointed for all living, 
and that they themselves are shortly to 



remove into the same solemn mansions. 
And who would not turn aside for a while 
from the most favourite amusements, to 
view the place where his once loved com- 
panions lie ? who M^ould not sometimes 
survey those apartments, where he himself" 
is to take up an abode till time shall be no 
miOre ? 

As to the other little essay, may I not 
humbly presume, that the very subject it- 
self will recommend the remarks ? For 
who is not delighted with the prospect of 
the blooming creation, and even charmed 
with the delicate attraction of flowers ? 
Who does not covet to assemble them in 
the garden, or wear them in a nosegay? 
Since this is a passion so universal, who 
would not be willing to render it produc- 
tive of the subhmest improvement ? This 
piece of holy fnigality I have ventured to 
suggest, and endeavoured to exemplify, in 
the second letter ; that while the hand is 
cropping the transient beauties of a flower, 
the attentive mind may be enriching itself 
with solid and lasting good. And I cannot 
but entertain some pleasing hopes, that ^e 
nicest taste may receive and relish religious 
impressions when they ai'e conveyed by 
such lovely monitors ; when the instructive 
lessons are found, not on the leaves of some 
formidable folio, but stand legible on the 
fine sarcenet of a narcissus ; when they 
savour not of the lamp and recluse, but 
come breathing from the fragrant bosom of 
a jonquil. 



MEDITATIONS 



AMONG 

THE TOMBS, 

IN 

LETTER TO A LADY. 



Madam/ 

Travelling lately into Cornwall, I hap- 
pened to alight at a considerable village in 
that county ; where, finding myself under an 
unexpected necessity of staying a little, I 
took a walk to the church.* The doors, 
like the heaven to which they lead, were 
wide open, and readily admitted an unwor- 
thy stranger. Pleased with the opportunity, 
I resolved to spend a few minutes under the 
sacred roof. 

In a situation so retired and awful, I 
could not avoid falling into a train of medi- 
tations, serious and mournfully pleasing ; 
which, I trust, were in some degree profita- 
ble to me, while they possessed and warmed 
my thoughts j and if they may administer 
smf satisfaction to you, Madam, now they 
ure recollected, and committed to writing, I 
shall receive a fresh pleasure from them. 

It was an ancient pile : reared by hands, 
that ages ago w^ere mouldered into dust. — 
Situate in the centre of a large burial-groimd, 
remote from aU the noise and hurry of tu- 
multuous life — The body spacious, the 
structure lofty ; the whole magnificently 
plain. A row of regular pillars extended them- 



* I had named, in some former editions, a particu- 
lar church, viz. Kilkhampton ; where several of the 
monuments, described in the following pages, really 
exist. But, as I thought it convenient to mention 
some cases here, which are not, according to the best 
of my remembrance, referred to in any inscriptions 
there : I have now omitted the name, that imagination 
might operate more freelj;, and the improvement of 
the reader be consulted, without any thing that should 
looK lik£ a variation from truth a^nd fact. 



selves through the midst, and supported 
the roof with simplicity and with dignity.—.^ 
The light that passed through the windows, 
seemed to shed a kind of liuninous obscuri- 
ty ; which gave every object a grave and 
venerable air. — The deep silence added to 
the gloomy aspect, and both heightened by 
the loneliness of the place, greatly increased 
the solemnity of the scene — A sort of re- 
ligious dread stole insensibly on my mind, 
while I advanced all pensive and thougLiful, 
along the inmost aisle. Such a dread as 
hushed every ruder passion, and dissipated 
all the gay images of an alluring world. 

Having adored that eternal Majesty, who, 
far from being confined to temples made 
with hands, has heaven for his throne, and 
the earth for his footstool ; — I took particu- 
lar notice of a handsome altar-piece, present- 
ed, as I was afterwards informed, by the 
master-builders of Stow ;* out of gratitude, 
I presume, to that gracious God, who carri- 
ed them through their work, and enabled them 
to "bring forth their top-stone with joy." 

O ! how amiable is gratitude \ especially 
when it has the supreme Benefactor for its 
object. I have always looked upon grati- 
tude, as the most exalted principle that can 



* The name of a noble seat belonging to the late 
Earl of Bath, remarkable formerly tor its excellent 
workmanship and elegant furniture ; once the princi- 
pal resort of the quality and gentry of the west ; but 
now demolished, laid even with the ground, and scarce 
one stone left upon another. — So that com may grow, 
or nettles spring where Stow lately stood, 

B 



2 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



actuate tlie heart of man. It has something 
noble, disinterested, and (if I may be allow- 
ed the term) generously devout. Repen- 
tance indicates our natiu-e fallen, and prayer 
turns chiefly upon a regard to one's self. 
But the exercises of gratitude subsisted in 
paradise, when there wss no fault to deplore ; 
and will be perpetuated in heaven, when 
" God shall be all in all." 

The language of this sweet temper is, " I 
am unspeakably obliged ; what return shall 
I make ?" — And surely, it is no improper 
expression of an unfeigned thankfulness to 
decorate our Creator's courts, and beautify 
"the place where his honour dwelletli." Of 
old, the habitation of his feet was glorious ; 
let it not now be sordid or contemptible. It 
must grieve an ingenious mind, and be a re- 
proach to any people, to have their own 
houses wainscotted with cedar, and painted 
with Vermillion, while the temple of the 
Lord of hosts is destitute of every decent 
ornament. 

Here I recollected and was charmed wdth 
Solomon's fine address to the Almighty, at 
the dedication of his famous temple. With 
immense charge, and exquisite skill, he had 
erected the most rich and finished structure 
that the sun ever sa^v. Yet upon a review 
of his work, and a reflection on the trans- 
cendent perfections of the Godhead, how he 
exalts the one, and abases the other ! The 
building was too glorious for the mightiest 
monarch to inhabit ; too sacred for unhal- 
lowed feet even to enter, yet infinitely too 
mean for the Deity to reside in. It was, 
and the royal worshipper ackno-vvledged it to 
be, a most marvellous vouchsafement in un- 
created excellency, to " put Ins name there." 
The whole passage breathes such a delica- 
cy, and is animated with such a sublimity of 
sentiment, that I cannot persuade myself to 
pass on without repeating it.* But will God 

* 1 Kings vii. 27. But will — A fine abrupt begin- 
ning, most significantly describing the amazementand 
rapture of the royal prophet's mind ! — God : he uses 
no epithets where writers of inferior discernment 
would have been fond to multiply them ; but speaks 
of tlie Deity as an incomprehensible Being, whose per- 
fections, and glories are exalted above all praise- 
Dwell r To bestow on sinful creatures a propitious 
look, to favour them with a transient visit of kindness, 
even this were an unutterable obligation : Will he then 
vouchsafe to fix his abode among them, and take up 
Iris stated residence with them ? — Indeed ; A word in 
this connexion, peculiarly emphatical ; expressive of 
a condescension wonderful and extraordinary, almost 
beyond all credibility. — Behold : intimating the con- 
tinued or rather the increasing surprise of the speak- 
er, and awakening the attention of the hearer.— Be- 
hold ! the heaven. The spacious concave of the fir- 
mament, that v,^ide extended azure circumference, in 
•which worlds uimumbered perform their revolutions, 
is too scanty an apartment for the Godhead. — Nay the 
heaven of heavens; those vastly higher tracks which 
lie far beyond the limits of human survey, to which 
OUT very' thoughts can hardly soar; even these (un- 
bounded as they are) cannot afford an adequate habi- 
tation for Jehovah ; even these dwindle into a point 
when compared with the infinitude of his essence ! 
even these " are as nothing before him." — Hov/ much 
less proportionate is this poor diminutive speech, 
which 1 nave been erecting and embellishing, to so 
august a Presence, so immense a Majesty, 



indeed d^vell on earth ? Beliold ! the hcaven> 
and heaven of heavens cannot contiiin thee ; 
how much less this house that I have build- 
ed ? — Incomparable saying, worthy the 
wisest of men. Who would not choose to 
possess such an elevated devotion, rather 
than to own all the glittering materials of 
that sumptuous edifice ? 

We are apt to be stmck with admiration 
at the stateliness and grandeur of a master- 
ly performance in architectiu-e, and perhaps, 
on a sight of the ancient sanctuary, shoukl 
have made the superficial observation of the 
disciples, " What manner of stones, and what 
buildings are here !" — But what a nobler 
turn of thought, and juster taste of things 
does it discover, to join wth Israel's king, 
in celebrating the condescension of the divine 
Inhabitant ! That the high and lofty One, 
who fills immensity with his glory, should, 
in a peculiar manner, fix his abode there [ 
should there manifest an extraordinary de- 
gree of his benedictive presence ; permit sin- 
ful mortals to approach his majesty, and pro- 
mise "to make them joyfid in his house of 
prayer!" — This should more sensibly affect 
oiu- hearts, than the most curious arrange- 
ment of stones can delight our eyes. 

Nay the everlasting God does not disdain- 
to dwell in our souls by Ms holy Spirit, and' 

to make even our bodies his temple Tell 

me, ye that frame critical judgments, and ba- 
lance nicely the distinction of things : " is 
this most astonishing or most rejoicing ?" — 
He humbleth himself, the scripture assurer 
us, even to behold the things that are in 
heaven.* It is a most condescending fa- 
vour, if HE pleases to take the least approv- 
ing notice of angels and archangels, when 
they bow down in homage from their celes-- 
tial thrones ; will he then graciously regard, 
A\dll he be united, most intimately united, to 
poor, polluted, breathing dust? — O ! unpar- 
alleled honour ! Invaluable privilege ! Be 
this my portion, and I shall not covet crowns, 
nor envy conquerors. 

But let me remember M^hat a sanctity of 
disposition, and uprightness of conversation, 
so exalted a relation demands ; Remember 
this, " and rejoice with trembling."- — Durst 
I commit any iniquity, wlfile I tread these 
hjiUowed courts ? Gould the Jewish High- 
Priest allow himself in any known trans- 
gression, while he made that solemn yearly 
entrance into the holy of holies ;f and stood 
before the immediate presence of Jehovah ? 
No, truly. In such circumstances, a think- 
ing pei'son must shudder at the most remote 
solicitation to any wilful ofi'encei I should 
now be shocked at the least indecency of be- 
haviour, and am apprehensive of every ap- 
pearance of eviL And why do we not car- 
ry this holy jealousy into all our ordinary 



* Psalm cxii.-G. f H^b. ix. 7 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



3 



life ? Why do we not in every place rever- 
ence ourselves ;* as persons dedicated to the 
Divinity, as linng temples of the Godhead ? 
For, if we are real, and not merely nominal 
Christians, the God of glory, according to 
his own promise, dwells in us, and v/alks in 
iisf — O ! that this one doctrine of our reli- 
gion might operate, with an abiding efficacy, 
upon our consciences ; it would be instead 
of a thousand laws to regulate our conduct ; 
instead of a thousand motives to quicken lis in 
his holiness. Under the influence of such a 
con\dction, we should study to maintain a 
purity of intention ; a dignity of action ; and 
to walk worthy of that transcendently ma- 
jestic Being, who admits us to a fellowship 
with himself, and v,i.th. his Son Jesus 
Christ. 

The next thing which engaged my atten- 
tion, was the lettered floor : the pavement 
somewhat like Ezekiel's roll, was VvTitten 
over from one end to the other. I soon per- 
ceived the comparison to hold good in ano- 
ther respect ; and the inscri})tions to be mat- 
ter of " mourning, lamentation, and woe."! 
They seemed to comt ray obsen'ation ; si- 
lently in\'iting me to read them And what 

would these dumb monitors inform me of? 
. — " That beneath their little circumferences 
were deposited such and such pieces of clay, 
wliich once lived, and moved, and talked ; 
that they had received a charge to preserve 
thek names, and were the remaining trustees 
of their memorv'." 

Ah ! said I, is such my situation ? The 
adorable Creator around me, and tlie bones 
of my fellow creatures under me ! Surely, 
then, I have great reason to cry out, with 
the revering patriarch, Hcvv dreadful is this 
place ![| Seriousness and devotion become 
this house for ever : I\Iay I never enter it 
lightly or irreverently ; but with a profound 
awe, and godly fear ! 

Oh ! that they v/ere wise : § said the in- 
spired penman. It was his last vrish for his 
dear people ; he breathed it out, and gave up 
the ghost — But what is wisdom ? It con- 
sists not in refined speculations, accurate re- 
searches into natui'e, or an universal acquaint- 
anc-e mth historj'. The di^•ine lawgiver set- 
tles this important poiiit in his next aspira- 
tion : Oh ! that they understood this ! That 
they had right apprehensions of their spuitual 
interests, and eternal concerns ! that they had 
eyes to discern, and inclinations to pursue 



* PANTAN DE MALIS AISCHUTREO SE 

AUTON, was the favourite maxim of Pythagoras, and 
supposed to be one of the best moral precepts ever 
given to the Heathen world, "With what superior 
force, and very singular advantage, does the argument 
take place m the Christian Scheme ! where we are 
taught to rerard ourselves, not inerelv as intellectual 
bemgs, that have reason for our monitor, but as con- 
secrated creatures, who have a God of the most con- 
Siumnate perfection ever with us, ever in us. 

t 2 Chron. vi. 16. + Ezek. ii. 10. 

fi Gen. xxviii. 17, § Deut. xxx. 20. 



the things which belong to their peace i— 
But how shall they attain this valuable knoAV- 
ledge ? I send them not, adds the illustrious 
teacher, to tm-n over all the volumes of liter- 
ature : they may acquire, and much more 
expeditiously, this scene of life, by consider- 
ing their latter end. This spark of heaven 
is often lost under the glitter of pompous 
erudition, but shines clearly in the gloomy 
mansions of the tomb. DroA\Tied in this gen- 
tle whisper amidst the noise of mortal aiiiairs, 
but speaks distinctly in the retirements of 
serious contemplation — Behold ! how pro\i- 
dentially I am brought to the school of wis- 
dom !•* The grave is the most faithful mas- 
ter ;f and these instances of mortality, the 

most instructive lessons Come then calm 

attention, and compose my thoughts : come, 
thou celestial Spirit, and enlighten my mind ; 
that I may so peruse these a-svful pages, as 
to "become vdse imto salvation." 

Examining the records of m.ortality, I 
foimd the memorials of a promiscuous mul- 
titude.:}: They were huddled, at least they 
rested together, without any regard to rank 
or seniority. None were ambitious of the 
u]opermost rooms, or chief seats in this house 
of mourning. None entertained fond and 
eager expectations of being honourably greet- 
ed in their darksome cells. The man of 
years and experience, reputed as an oracle in 
his generation, was content to lie dowm at 
the feet of a babe. In this house appointed 
for all liA-ing, the servant was equally accom- 
modated, and lodged in the same stoiy with 
his master. The poor indigent lay as soft- 
ly, and slept as soundly, as the most opulent 
possessor. All the distinction that subsist- 
ed, was a grassy hillock, boun-d with osiers ; 
or a sepulchi-al stone ornamented with im- 
ager)-. 

Why then, said my working thoughts, 
Oh ! why should we raise such a mighty 
stir about superiority,- and precedence, when 
the next remove will reduce us all to a state 
of equal meanness ? Why shoidd we exalt 
oiu'selves, or debase others ; since we must 
all one day be upon a common level, and 
blended together in the same undistingiushed 
dnst ? Oh ! that this consideration might 
humble my owti and other's pride ; and sink 
our imaginations as low- as our habitation 
will shortly be ! 

Among these confused relics of humanity, 
there are without doubt, persons of contraiy 
interests, and contradicting sentiments : But 



* The man who wise, who sick of gaudy scenes, 
Is led by choice to take his fav'rite waik 
Beneath death's gloomy, silent, c>-pres3 shades, 
Unpierc'd by vanity's fantastic ray ! 
To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, 
Visit his vaults, and dvr'ell among the tombs ! 

Niffht Thoughts. 
t ait the great teacher, death. Pope, 
± Mista sen-am acjuvenum densautur funera, 

Hor. 



4 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE 1 OMBS. 



death, like some able days-man, has laid his 
hands on the contending parties, and brought 
all their differences to an amicable conclu- 
sion. * Here enemies, sworn enemies, dwell 
together in unity. They di'op every embit- 
tered thought, and forget that they once were 
foes. Perhaps their crumbling bones mix 
as they moulder ; and those who, while they 
lived, stood tdoof in irreconcilable variance, 
here fall into mutual embraces, and even in- 
corporate with each other in the grave.— 
Oh ! that we might learn from these friend- 
ly ashes, not to perpetuate the memory of 
injuries ; not to foment the fever of resent- 
ment ; nor cherish the turbulence of pas- 
sion ; that there may be as little animosity 
and disagreement in the land of the living 
as there is in the congregation of the dead ! 
— But I suspend for a while such general 
obser\'ations, and address myself to a more 
particidar inquiry. 

Yonder white stone, emblem of the inno- 
cence it covers, informs the beholder of one, 
who breathed out its tender soul almost in 
the instant of receiving it. Thei'e the peat?e- 
ful infant, without so much as knowing what 
labour and vexation m€an,f " lies still and 
is quiet ; it sleeps, and is at rest." Staying 
only to wash away its native impurity in the 
laver of regeneration, it bid a speedy adieu 
to time and terrestrial things — "WTiat did the 
Mttle hasty sojourner find, so forbidding and 
disgustful in our upper world, to occasion its 
precipitant exit ? It is written, indeed, of its 
suffering Saviour, that when he had tasted 
the vinegar mingled with gall, he woidd not 
drink -. \ And did our new come stranger be- 
gin to sip the cup of life ; but perceiving the 
bitterness, tiuTi away its head, and refuse the 
draught ? Was this the cause why the v/ary 
babe only opened its eyes ; just looked on 
the light ; and then ^vithdrew into the more 
inviting regions of undisturbed repose ? 

Happy voyager ; no sooner launched, than 
arrived at the haven. § — But more eminently 
happy they, who have passed the waves and 
w^eathered all the storms of a troublesome 
and dangerous world ; who, " through many 
tribulations have entered into the kingdom 
of heaven ;" and thereby brought honour to 
their divine Convoy, administered comfort 
to the companions of their toil, and left an 
instructive example to succeeding pilgrims. 

Highly favoured probationer ! accepted 
without being exercised-! It was thy pecu- 
liar privilege not to feel the slightest of those 



* Hi motus animorum, atqne hasc certamina tanta, 
Pulveris exiguijactu compressa qmescent, 

Virg. 

t Job. iii. 13. 

i Matt. XXV ii. 34. 

§ Happy the babe, who privileg'd by fate 
To shorter labour and a lighter weight, 
Receiv'd but yesterday the gift of breath f 
Order'd to morrow to return to death. 

Pnor's Sol. 



evils which oppress thy sm*viving kindred ; 
which frequently fetch groans from the most 
manly fortitude, or most elevated faith ; the 
arrows of calamity, barbed with anguish, are 
often fixed deep in our choicest comforts. 
The fiery darts of temptation, shot from the 
hand of hell, are always flying in showers 
around oiu- integrity. To thee, sweet babe, 
both these distresses and dangers were alike 
unkno^^'^l. 

Consider this, ye mourning parents, and 
dry up yoiu' tears. Why should you lament 
that your little ones are crowned with vic- 
tory, before the sword was drawn, or the con- 
flict begun ? — Perhaps the supreme dispose? 
of events foresaw some inevitable snare of 
temptation forming, or some dreadful storm 
of adversity impending. And why shoidd 
you be so dissatisfied with that kind pre- 
caution, which housed your pleasant plant, 
and removed into shelter a tender flower, be- 
fore the thunders roared j before the light- 
nings flew ; before the tempest poured its 
rage? — O remember, they are not lost, but 
taken away from the evil to come.* 

At the same time let sm'vivors, doomed 
to bear the heat and burden of the day, for 
their encouragement, reflect — that it is more 
honourable to have entered the lists, and to 
have fought the good fight before they come 
off conquerors. They who have borne the 
cross, and submitted to afflictive provi- 
dences, with a cheerful resignation, have 
girded up the loins of their mind, and per 
formed their Master's will, with an honest 
and persevering fidelity ; — these, having glo- 
rified their Redeemer on earth, wlU proba- 
bly be as stars of the first magnitude in 
heaven. They will shine with brighter 
beams, be replenished with stronger joys, in 
their Lord's everlasting kingdom. 

Here lies the grief of a fond mother, and 
the blasted expectation of an indulgent fa- 
ther.— The youth grew up like a well wa- 
tered plant : he shot deep, rose high, and 
bid fair for manhood ; but just as the cedar 
began to tower, and promised ere long to be 
the pride of the wood, and prince among 
the neighbouring trees : — ^behold the axe is 
laid mito the root ; the fatal blow struck ; 
and all its branching honours tumbled to the 
dust, — and did he fall alone ? No : the hopes 
of his father that begat him, and the plea- 
sing prospects of her that bare him, fell, and 
were crushed together with him. 

Doubtless, it woiUd have pierced one's 
heart to have beheld the tender parents fol- 
lowing the breathless youth to his long home^ 
perhaps drowned in tears, and aU overwhelm- 
ed with sorrow^s, they stood like weeping 
statues, on this very spot, — methinks, I see 
the deeply distressed mourners attending the 



* Isa. Ivii. 2. 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



5 



sfeil solemnity ; how tliey wring their hands, 
and pour tioods from their eyes !-^Is it fan- 
cy ? or do I really hear the passionate mo- 
ther, in an ag«ny of affliction, taking her fi- 
lial leave of the darling of Iter soid ? Dumb 
she remained, while the awful obsequies 
were performing ; du'aib \\ith. grief, and 
learaiig- ttpon the partner of her wees. Hut 
now the inward anguish struggles for vent ; 
it grows too big to be repressed, S^ie ad- 
vances to the brink of the grave. All her 
sold is in her eyes. She fastens one look 
more upon the dear doleftd object, before 
the pit shuts its mouth upon him, and as 
she looks she cries ; — in bi'oken accents, in- 
terrupted by many a rising sob, she cries ; 

FareweH, my son ! m.y son ! my only be- 
loved ! Would to God I had died for thee ! 
— Farewell my cliild ! and farewell, all my 
ejfTtlily happiness — I shall never more see 
good in the land of the living — Attempt 
not to comfort me — I ^\ill go mourning all 
my days, till my gray hairs come do^TO A\dth 
S01TOW to the grave." 

From this affecting representation, let 
parents be convinced how highly it -concerns 
them to cultivate the morals, and secure the 
immortal interests of their children. If you 
really love the ofepring of your own bodies ; 
if your bowels yearn over those amiable 
}>]edges of t^onjugal endearment ; spare no 
pains, give all diligence ; I entreat you to 
*' bring them up in the nurture and admoni- 
tion of the Lord." Then may you have 
joy in their life, or consolation in their death. 
If their span is prolonged, their unblama- 
ble and usefid conduct will be the staff of 
vour age, and a balm for declining nature. 
Or, if the number of their years be cut off in 
tfr.e midst, you may commit their remains to 
the dust, with much the same comfortable 
expectations, and with infinitely more exalt- 
ed views, than you send the survivors to 
places of genteel education. You may com- 
mit them to the dust with cheering hopes of 
receiving them again to your arms, inexpres- 
sibly improved in every noble and endearing 
accomplishment. 

It is certainly a severe trial, and much 
more afflictive than I am able to imagine, to 
resign a lovely blooming creature, sprung 
from yom- own loins, to the gloomy recesses 
of corruption. Thus to resign him after 
having been long dandled upon your knees, 
united to your affections by a thousand ties 
of tenderness, and now become both the de- 
light of your eyes, and the support of yoiu- 
family ! — to have such a one tarn from yoiu: 
bosom, and thrown into darkness, doubtless 
it must be like a dagger in your hearts, — 
But, O ! how much more cutting to yon, 
and confounding to the child, to have the 
soul separated from God ; and for shameful 
ignorance or early impiety consigned over to 
places of eternal torment ! How would it 



aggravate your distress, and add a distracting 
emphasis to aU your sighs, if you should fol- 
low the pale corpse with these bitter reflec- 
tions ! — " This dear creature, though long 
ago capable of kno^^ing good from evil, is 
gone out of the world before it had learned 
the great design of coming into it. A short- 
lived, momentary existence it received from 
me : but no good instructions, no holy ad- 
monitions, nothing to further its well-being 
in that everlasting stette, upon which it is 
now entered. The poor body is consigned 
to the coffin, and carried out to consume 
away in the cold and silent grave. And 
what reason have I to suppose that the pre- 
cious soul is in a better condition ? May I 
not justly fear, that, sentenced by the righte- 
ous Judge, it is going, or gone away into the 
pains of endless punishment ! — Perhaps, 
while I am bewailing its untimely departure, 
it may be cursing in utter darkness, that ever 
to be deplored, that most -calamitous day, 
when it was bom of such a careless vmgodly 
parent as I have been." 

Nothing, I think, but the gna wings of 
that worm which never dies, can equal the 
anguish of these self-condemning thoughts. 
The tortiu-es of a rack must be an easy suf- 
fering compared with the stings and horror 

of such a remorse How earnestly do I 

wish that as many as are entrusted A\'ith the 
management of children, would take timely 
care to prevent these intolerable scourges of 
conscience, by endeavouring to conduct their 
minds into an early knowledge of Christ, 
and a cordial love of his truth ! 

On this hand is lodged one whose sepul- 
chral stone teUs a most pitiable tale indeed ! 
Well may the little images, reclined over the 
sleeping ashes, hang doT\'n their heads \\ith 
that pensive air ! None can consider so 
mournful a story without feeling some 

touches of sympathizing concern His age 

twenty-eight ; his death sudden ; himself cut 
down in the prime of life, amidst all the vi- 
vacity and vigour of manhood^ while " his 
breasts were full of milk, and his bones 
moistened \\dth marrow." — Probably he en- 
tertained no apprehensions of the evil hour. 
And indeed, who could have suspected that 
so bright a sun should go do^vn at noon ? 
To human appearance, his hill stood strong. 
Length of days seemed written in his san- 
guine countenance. He solaced himself 
with, the prospect of a long, long series of 

earthly satisfactions "WTien lo ! an xmex- 

pected stroke descends ! descends from that 
mighty arm, wliich " overturneth the moun- 
tains by their roots ; and cmshes the ima- 
ginary hero, before the m.oth ;"* as quick- 



* Job IV. LO. Ad iustar, ad modum, tinas 

1 retain this interpretation, both as it is mostsuit- 

able to my purpose, and as it is patronized by some 
eminent commentators ; especially the celebrated 
.Schultens. Though I cannot but give the preference 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



6 

ly, and more easily, than our fingers press 
such a feeble fluttering insect to death. 

Perhaps the nuptial joys were all he 
thought on. Were not such the breathings 
of his enamoured soul ? " Yet a very little 
while, and I shall possess the utmost of my 
wishes. I shall call my charmer mine ; and 
in her enjoy Avhatever my heart can crave." — 
In the midst of such enchanting views, had 
some faithful friend but softly reminded him 
of an opening grave, and the end of all 
things ; how unseasonable would he have 
reckoned the admonition ! Yet, though all 
warm with life, and rich in visionary bliss, 
he was even then tottering upon the brink of 
both." — Dreadful vicissitude ! to have the 
bridal* festivity turned into the funeral so- 
lemnity. Deplorable misfortune ! to be ship- 
\\Tecked in the very haven ! and to perish 
even in sight of happiness ! — What a me- 
morable proof is here of the fraility of man, 
in his best estate ! Look, O, look on this 
monument, ye gay and careless ? Attend 
to this date ; and boast no more of to-mor- 
row ! 

WTio can tell, but the bride-maids, girded 
with gladness, had prepared the marriage- 
bed ! had decked it with the richest covers, 
and dressed it in pillows of down ? When, 
— Oh ! trust not in youth or strength, or in 
any thing mortal ! for there is nothing cer- 
tain, nothing to be depended on, beneath the 
imchangeable God.^ — Death, relentless death, 
is making him another kind of bed in the 
dust of the earth. Unto this he must be 
conveyed, not with a splendid procession of 
joyous attendants : but stretched in the 
gloom.y hearse, and followed by a train of 
mourners. On this he must take up a lone- 
ly lodging, nor ever be released, till " the 
heavens are no more." — In vain does the con- 
senting fair one put on her ornaments and 
expect her spouse. Did she not, like Si- 
sera's mother, look out of the lattice : chide 
the delay of her beloved ; and wonder v.'hy 
his chariot was so long in coming ?" Lit- 



to the opinion of a judicious friend, who would ren- 
der the passage more hterally, " Before the face of a 
moth," making it to represent a creature so exceed- 
ingly frail, that even a moth flying against it may 
dash it to pieces. — Which besides its closer correspon- 
dence with the exact import of the Hebrew, presents 
us with amuch finer image of the most extreme imbe- 
cility. For it certainly implies a far greater degree of 
weakness, to be crushed by the feeble flutter of the 
feeblest creature, than only to be as easily crushed as 
that creature, by the hand of man. — Ths French ver- 
sion is very expressive and beautiful, a la rencontre 
d'un vermisseau. 

* A distress of this kind is painted in very affecting 
colours, by Pliny, in an epistle to Mercellinus : O 
triste plane acerbumque funus ? O m.orte ipsa mortis 
tempus indignius ! Jam destinata erat egregio juveni, 
jam electus nuptiarum dies ; jam nos advocati. Quod 
gaiidium quo moerore mutatum est ! Non possum 
expiraaere verbis, quantum animo vulnus acceperim 
quum audivi Fundanum ipsum (ut multa luctuosa 
dolor invenit) praecipientim, quo.d in vestes, mar- 
ganit-is. gemmas, fuevat erogaturus, hoc in thura, et 
unguenta, et odores, impenderetus. 



tie thinking, that the intended bridegroom 
had for ever done with transitory things : 
that now everlasting cares employ his mind, 
without one single remembrance of his 
lovely Lucinda ! — Go, disappointed virgin ! 
go, mourn the uncertainty of all created 
bliss ? Teach thy soui to aspire after a sure 
and immutable felicity ! For the once gay 
and gallant Fidelio sleeps in other embraces, 
even in the icy arms of death ! forgetful, 
eternally forgetful, of the world — and thee. 

Hitherto one is tempted to exclaim against 
the king of terrors, and call him capricious- 
ly cruel. He seems, by beginning at the . 
wrong end of the register, to have inverted, 
the laws of nature. Passing over the couch 
of decrepit age, he has nipped infancy in its 
bud ; blasted youth in its bloom ; and torn up 
manhood in its fidl maturity Terrible in- 
deed are these providences, yet not imsearch- 
able the counsels : 

For us they sicken, and for us they die.* 

Such strokes must not only grieve the Tela- . 
fives, but surprise the whole neighbourhood. 
They sound a powerful alarm to heedless 
dreaming mortals, and are intended as a re- 
medy for our carnal security. Such pass- 
ing bells incidcate loudly our Lord's admo- 
nition : " Take ye heed ; watch, and pray ; 
for ye know not when the time is." — We. 
nod like intoxicated creatures, upon the very 
verge of a tremendous precipice. These 
astonishing dispensations are the kind mes- 
sengers of heaven, to rouse us from our 
supineness, and quicken us into timely cir- 
cumspection. I need not surely accommo- 
date them with language, nor act as their 
interpreter. Let every one's conscience be 
awake, and this will appear their awful 
meaning : — " O ye sons of men, in the 
midst of life you are in death. No state, 
no circumstances, can ascertain your preser- 
vation a single moment. So strong is the 
tyrant's arm, that nothing can resist its 
force ; so true his aim, that nothing can 
elude the blow. Sudden as lightning, some- 
times is his arrow laimched : and wounds 
and kills in the twinkling of an eye. Never 
promise yoiu-self safety in an expedient but 
constant preparation. The fatal shafts fly so 
promiscuously, that none can guess the next 
victim. Therefore, " be ye always ready ; for 
in such an hour as ye think not, the final 
summons cometh." 

Be ye always ready ; for in such an hour 
as ye think not. Important admonition ! 
Methinks it reverberates from sepulchre to 
sepulchre ; and addresses me with line upon 
line, precept upon precept. The reiterated 
warning, I acknowledge, is too needful ; may 
co-operating grace render it effectual ! The 



* Night Tiiouijhts. 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



.7 



ei6iilentous truth, tliougii worthy to be en-' 
graved on the tables of a most tenacious me- 
-niory, is but sliglitly sketched on the tran- 
sient flow of passion. We see our neigh- 
bours fall, we turn pale at the shock ; and 
ieel, perhaps, a trembling dread. No soon- 
er are they removed from our sight, but 
driven in the whirl of business, or lulled in 
:the languors of pleasure, we forget the pro- 
vidence, and neglect its errand. The im- 
ipression niade on our unstable minds, is like 
the trace of an arrow through the penetrat- 
ed air, or the path of a keel in the furrowed 
Avave. Strange stupidity I To cure it, ano- 
ther monitor bespeaks me, from a neighbour- 
ing stone. It contains the narrative of an 
.unhappy mortal, snatched from liis friends, 
^md hurried to the awful bar ; without leisure, 
,either to take a last farewell of the one, or 
•to put up so much as a single prayer prepa- 
f.itory for the other ; killed, according to the 
4isual expression, by a sudden stroke af casu- 
.alty. 

Was it then a random blow? Doubtless 
the stroke came from an aiming, though in- 
Tivsible hand. Ood presideth over the ar- 
anies of heaven ; God ruleth among the in- 
ihabitants of the earth ; and God conducteth 
Avhat men call chance. Nothing, nothing 
fcomes to pass througli a blind and undis- 
iceming fatality. If accidents happen, they 
fiappen according to the exact foreknow- 
ledge, and conformably to the determinate 
'Counsels of eternal vv-isdom. The Lord, 
with whom are the issues of death, signs the 
waiTant, and gives the high commission. 
The seemingly fortuitous disaster, is only 
•ihe agent, or the instrument appointed to ex- 
ecute the supreme decree. When the im- 
pious monarch was mortally wounded, it 
■seemed to be a casual shot. A certain man 
<lrew a bow at a venture. * — At a venture as 
'he thought. But his hand was strengthen- 
ed by an omnipotent aid, and the shaft le- 
velled by an unerring eye. So that what we 
term casualty, is really providence, accom- 
plishing deliberate designs, but concealing its 
own interposition — How comforting this 
reflection ! Admirably adapted to soothe the 
throbbing anguish of the mourners, and com- 
-pose their spirits into a quiet submission ! 
Excellently suited to dissipate the fears of 
,godly survivors and create a cfdm intrepidity 
oven amidst innumerable perils ! 

How thin is the partition between this 
world and another ! How short the transi- 
tion from time to eternity ! The partition 
jiothing more than the breath in our ncs- 
tj-ils ; and the transition may be made iii the 
twinkling of an eye — Poor Chreiunylus, I 
•remember, arose from the diversions of a 
card-table, and dropt into the dwellings of 



darkness. One night Corinna was aU gaie- 
ty in her spirits, all finery in her apparel, at 
a magnificent ball. The next night, she 
lay pale and stiff, an extended corpse, and 
ready to be mingled with the mouldering 
dead. Young Atticus lived to see his am- 
ple and commodious seat completed, but not 
to spend one joyous hour under the stately 
roof. The sashes were hung to admit the 
day ; but the master's eyes were closed in end- 
less night. The apartments were fiu^nished 
to afford refreshment or invite repose ; but 
their lord rests in the more peaceful cham- 
bers of the tomb. The gardens were plan- 
ned, and a thousand elegant decorations de- 
signed ; but, alas ! their intended possessor 
is gone down to " the place of skidls is 
gone down to tho valley of the shadow of 
death. 

"^Vliile I am recollecting, many, I question 
not, are experiencing the same tragical vicis- 
situde. The eyes of that sublime Being — 
Who sits upon the circle of the earth, and 
views all its inhabitants with one compre- 
hensive glance — even now behold many tents 
in afiliction ; such affliction as ovenvhelm- 
ed the Egyptians in that fatal night, when 
the destroying angel sheathed his arrows in 
all the pride of their strength Some sink- 
ing to the floor from their easy chair; and 
deaf even to the most pierchig shrieks of 

their distracted relations Some giving up 

the ghost, as they sit retired, or lie reclined 
under the shady arbour to tiiste tfife sweets 
of the flowery scene — Some as they sail, as- 
sociated with a party of pleasure, along the 
dancing stream, and through the laughing 
meads. Nor is the grim intruder mollified 
though wine and music flow around. Some 
intercepted as they are returning home ; and 
some intemipted, as they enter upon an im- 
portant negotiation — Some arrested with 
the gain of injustice in their hands : and 
some sm-prised in the veiy act of lewdness, 
or the attempt of cruelty. 

Legions, legions of disasters, such as no 
prudence can foi-esee, and no care prevent, 
lie in Avait to accomplish oiu- doom. A. 
starting horse may throw his rider ; may at 
once dash his body against the stones, and 
fling his sold into the invisible world. A 
stack of chimneys may tumble into the street, 
and crush the unwaiy passenger under the 
ruins : even a single tile, dropping from the 
roof, may be as fatal as the fall of the whole 
structure — So frail, so veiy attenuated is 
the thread of life, that it not only bursts be- 
fore the storm, but breaks even at a breeze. 
The most common occurrences, those from 
v.'hich we suspect not the least harm, may 
prove the weapons of our destruction. A 
giaiie-stone, a despicable fly, may be more 
moi cal than Goliath, with all his fornn'dable 
arinour. ^Nay, if God give command, our 
very comfort^ become killing. Tho aii' ws 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



8 

breathe, is our bane ! and the food we eat, 

the vehicle of death That hist enemy has 

unnumbered avenues for his approach : yea, 
lies entrenched in our very bosom, and holds 
his fortress in the seat of our life. The 
crimson fluid, which distributes health, is 
impregnated with the seeds of death. * Heat 
may inflame it, or toil oppress it, and make 
it destroy the parts it was designed to cher- 
ish. Some unseen impediment may obstruct 
its passage, or some unknown violence may 
divert its course : in either of which case it 
acts the part of a poisonous draught, or a 
deadly stab. 

Ah ! in what perils is vain life engag'd ? 

What slight neglects, what trivial faults destroy 

The hardiest frame ! of indolence, of toil. 

We die ; of want, of superfluity. 

The all surrounding heaven, the vital air. 

Is big with death. 

Since then we are so liable to be dispossess- 
ed of this earthly tabernacle, let us look upon 
ourselves only as tenants at will ; and hold 
ourselves in perpetual readniess to depart at 
a moment's warning. Without such an ha- 
bitual readiness, we are like wretches that 
sleep on the top of a mast, while a horrid 
gulf ya^'V'^ls, or furious waves rage below. 
And where can be the peace, what the satis- 
faction of such a state ! Whereas, a prepar- 
ed condition will inspire a cheerfulness of 
temper, not to be displayed by any alarming 
accident, and create a firmness of mind, not 
to be overthrown by the most threatening 
dangers. When the city is fortified with 
walls, furnished with provision, guarded by 
able and resolute troops ; what have the in- 
habitants to fear ? what may they not enjoy? 
So, just so, or rather by a much siu*er band, 
are connected the real taste of life, and the 
constant thought of death. 

I said, our very comforts may become 
killing — And see the truth inscribed by the 
hand, sealed with the signet of fate. The 
marble, which graces yonder pillar, informs 
me, that near it are deposited the remains 
of Sophronia ; the much lamented Sophro- 
nia, who died in child-bed. — How often 
does this calamity happen ? The branch 
shoots, but the stem withers. The babe 
springs to light ; but she that bare him 
breathes her last. She gives life, but gives 
it ( O pitiable consideration ! ) at the ex- 
pense of her own ; and becomes at once a 
mother and a corpse — Or else, perhaps, she 
expires in severe pangs, and is herself a 
tomb for her infant ; while the melancholy 
complaint of a monarch's woe is the epitaph 
for them both ; ' The children are come to 



» As man, perhaps the moment of his breath. 
Receives the lurking principles of death, 
The young disease, that must subdue at length, 
Grov.'e with his growth, and strengthens with his 
strength. Pope's Ethics. 



the birth, and there is not strength to bring 
forth,'* — Less to be lamented in my opin- 
ion, this misfortune than the other. Better 
for the tender stranger, to be stopped in the 
porch, than to enter only to converse with 
aflSiction. Better to find a grave in tiie 
womb than to be exposed on a hazardous 
world, without the guardian of its infantile 
years, without the faithful guide of its 
youth. 

This monument is distinguished by its 
finer materials, and more delicate append- 
ages. It seems to have taken its model 
from an affluent hand, directed by a gene- 
rous heart, which thought it could never do 
enough for the deceased. It seems, also, 
to exhibit an emblematical picture of So- 
phronia's person and accomplishments. Is 
her beauty, or, what is more than beauty, 
her white robed innocence, represented by 
the snowy colour? The siirface smoothly 
polished, like her amiable temper, and en- 
gaging manners. The whole elegantly adorn- 
ed, without either extravagant pomp, or sor- 
did negligence ; like her undissemblcd good- 
ness, remote from the least ostentation, yet 
in all points exemplary. But ah ! how vain 
were all these endearing charms ! How vain 
the lustre of thy sprightly eye ! How vain 
the bloom of thy bridal youth ! How vain 
the honours of thy superior birth ! How un- 
able to secure the lovely possessor from the 
savage violence of death ! How inefiectua, 
the universal esteem of thy acquaintance ; the 
fondness of thy transported husband j or 
even the spotless integrity of thy character, 
to prolong thy span, or procure thee a short 
reprieve ! — The concurrence of all these 
circumstances reminds me of those beauti- 
ful and tender lines. 

How lov'd how valu'd once, avails thee not : 

To whom related, or by whom begot. 

A heap of dust alone remains of thee : 

•Tis all thou art !— and all the proud shall be If 

Pope's Miscell. 



* Isaiah xxxvii. 3. 
t These verses are inscribed on a small, but elegant 
monument lately erected in the great church at Nor- 
thampton ; which, in the hierogyphical decorations, 
corresponds with the description introduced above. In 
this circumstance particularly, that it is dedicated to 
the memory of an amiable woman, Mrs. Anne, Stonk- 
HOusB, the excellent wife of my worthy friend, Dr. 
Stonjchouse; who has seen all the power of that 
healing art, to which I, and so many others, havebeen 
greatly indebted, failing in their attempts to preserve 
a life dearer to him than his own. 

Nee prosunt domino que profunt onmibus, artes. i 

Ovid. 

No longer his all-healing art avails ; 
But every remedy its Master fails. 

In the midst of his tender distress, he has sought some 
kind of consolation, even from the sepulchral marble, 
by teaching it to speak, at once his esteem for her me- 
mory ; and his veneration for that religion, which she 
so eminently adorned. Nor could this be more signi- 
ficantly done, than by summing up her character, in 
that concise, but comprehensive sentence, A sincebb 
cHRisTiAw. Concise enough to be the motto for a 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



Yet thougli unable to divert the stroke, 
Christianity is sovereign to pluck out the 
sting of death. Is not this the silent language 
of those lamps which burn ; and of that 
heart which flames ; of those palms which 
flourish; and of that cro^vn which glitters, 
in the well imitated and gilded marble ? Do 
they not, to the discerning eye, describe the 
vigilance of her faith ; the fervency of her 
devotion ; her victory over the world ; and 
the celestial diadem, which the Lord, the 
righteous Judge, shall give her at that day.* 

How happy the husband, in such a sharer 
of his bed, and partner of his fortunes ! their 
inclinations were nicely tuned xmisons, and 



yet, as comprehensive as the most en- 
larged spTiereoif personal, social, and religious worth, 



moummg nng 

ipnereo , , _ 

For whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever thmgi 



are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report ;" are 
they not all included in that grand and noble aggre- 
gate—A Sincere Christian ! 

The first lines, considered in such a connexion, are 
wonderfully plaintive and pathetic ; 

How lov'd, how valu'd once, avails thee not ; 
To whom related, or by whom begot. 

They sound, at least in my ears, like the voice of sor- 
row mingled with admiration. The speaker seems to 
have been lost, for a while in melancholy contempla- 
tion ; suddenly breaks out in this abrupt encommm, 
then melts into tears, and can proceed no farther. Yet 
in this case, how eloquent is silence ! While it hints 
the universal esteem which attended, and the superior- 
ity of birth which distinguished the deceased wife ; it 
expresses beyond all the pomp of words, the yearning 
affection, and heart-felt affliction, of the surviving 
husband. Amidst the group of monumental marbles, 
which are lavish of their panegyric, this, 1 think, re- 
sembles the incomparable address of the painter ; who 
having placed round a beautiful expiring virgin, her 
friends in all the agonies of grief, represented the un- 
equalled anguish of the father with far greater liveli- 
ness and strength, or rather with an inexpressible em- 
phasis, by drawing a veil over his face. 

If the last lines are a wild departure from the beaten 
tract of our modern epithets, and the very reverse of 
their high-flown compliments, 

A heap of dust alone remains of thee ! 
'Tis all thou art ! and all the proud shall be, — 

they are not without a precedent, and one of the most 
consummate kind. Since they breathe the very spirit 
of that sacred elegy, in which all the heart of the hero 
and the friend seems to be dissolved; " How are the 
mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished !" 
2 Sam. i. 27. They remind the reader of that awful 
lesson which was originally dictated by the supreme 
Wisdom ; " Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt 
return." Gen. iii. 19.— They inculcate, with all the 
force of the most convincing evidence, that solemn ad- 
monition delivered by the prophet; "Cease ye from 
man, whose breath is in his nostrils ; for wherein is 
he to be accounted of?" Isa. ii. 22. 

That no reader, however inattentive, might mistake 
the sense and design of this part of the last line, 

'Tis all thou art ! 

it is guarded above and beneath.— Above is an expand- 
ed book, that seems to be waved with an air of tri- 
umph, over the emblem of death ; which we cannot 
but suppose to be the volume of inspiration, as it ex- 
hibits a sort of abridgment of its whole contents, in 
those animated words, " Be ye not slothful but follow- 
ers of them, who through faith and patience inherit 
the promises," Heb. vi. 12.— Beneath, that every part 
might be pregnant with instruction, are these striking 
reflections ; worthy the consideration of the highest 
proficient in knowledge and piety, yet obvious to the 
understanding of the most untaught reader: Life, how 
short ! Eternity, how long !— May my soul learn the 
forcible purport of this short lesson in her contracted 
span of time ! and all eternity will not be too long to 
rejoice in having learned it. 

* Tim. iv,«. 



all their conversation was harmony. How 
silken the yoke to such a pair, and what 
blessings were tvdsted with such bands ? 
Every joy was heightened, and every care 
alleviated. Nothing seemed wanting to 
consummate their bliss, but a hopeful pro- 
geny rising aroimd them ; that they might 
see themselves multiplied in their little ones ; 
see their mingled graces transfused into their 
offspring ; and feel the glow of their affec- 
tion augmented, by being reflected from their 
children. " Grant us this gift," said their 
united prayers, " and our satisfactions are 
crowned, we request no more. " 

Alas ! how blind are mortals to future 
events ? how unable to discern what is real- 
ly good !* Give me children, said Rachel, 
or else I die.f An ardour of impatience al- 
together imbecoming, and as mistaken as it 
was Unbecoming. She dies not by the disap- 
pointment, but by the accomplishment of 
her desire. If children are to parents, like 
a flowery chaplet, whose beauties blossom 
with ornament, and whose odoiu*s breathe de- 
light ; death or some fell misfortune, may 
find means to entAvine themselves \nth the 
lovely wreath. Whenever our souls are 
poured out, with passionate importunity, af- 
ter any inferior acquisition, it may be tndy 
said, in the words of our divine Master, Ye 

know not what ye ask Does Providence 

withhold the thing that we long for ? It de- 
nies in mercy ; and only withholds the oc- 
casion of our misery, if not the instrument of 
our ruin. With a sickly appetite we often 
loathe what is wholesome, and hanker after our 
bane. Where imagination dreams of unmin- 
gled sweets, there experience frequently finds 
the bitterness of woe. 

Therefore may we covet immoderately, 
neither this nor that form of earthly felici- 
ty ; but refer the whole of our condition to 
the choice of unerring wisdom. May we 
learn to renounce oiu* o\vn wll, and be ready 
to make a sacrifice of our warmest wishes, 
whenever they run counter to the good plea- 
sxire of God. For indeed, as to obey his 
laws is to be perfectly free, so to resign oiu*- 
selves to his disposal, is to establish our own 
happiness, and to be seciu-e from fear of 
evil. 

Here a small and plain stone is placed 
upon the ground, purchased, one would ima- 
gine, from the little fund, and formed by the 
hand of frugality itself. Nothing costly ; 
not one decoration added ; only a very short 
inscription ; and that so effaced, as to be 
scarcely intelligible. — Was the depository 
unfaithful to its trust ? Or were the letters 



* Nescia mens hominum fati, fortisque futura ! 
Turno tempus erit, magno cum optaverit emptum, 
Intactum Pallanta, et cum spoila ista diemque 
Orderit. 

Virg, 

. t Gen- XXX. 1. 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



worn; by tlie frequent resort of the surviving 
family, to moiu'n over the grave, and revive 
the remembrance of a most vabiable and be- 
loved relative ? — For I perceive upon a 
tOoser inspection, that it covers the remains 
of a father — A religious father, snatched 
from his growing offspring, before they were 
settled in the world, or so much as their prin- 
ciples fixed by a thorough education. 

This, sure, is the most complicated dis- 
tress, that has hitherto come under our con- 
pideration. The solemnities of such a dying 
chamber, are some of the most melting and 
melancholy scenes imaginable — There lies 
tlie affectionate husband ; the indulgent par- 
ent ; the faithful friend ; and the generous 
master. He lies in the last extremities, 
and on the very point of dissolution. Art 
has done its all. The raging disease mocks 
the power of medicine. It hastens with re- 
sistless impetuosity, to execute its dreadfid 
errand; to rend asunder the silver cord of 
life, and the more delicate tie of social at- 
tachment and conjugal affection. 

A servant or two, from a revering dis- 
tance, cast many a wishfvd look, and condole 
their honoured m.aster in the language of 
sighs. The condescending mildness of his 
commands was wont to produce an alacrity 
©f obedience, and render their service a 
pleasure. Now the remembrance of both 
embitters their grief, and makes it trickle 
plentifully down their honest cheeks. — His 
friends, who have so often shared his joys, 
and gladdened his mind with their enliven- 
ing converse, are now miserable comforters. 
a" sympathizing and mourning pity is all the 
relief they are able to contribute, uidess it 
be augmented by their silent prayers for the 
divine succour, and a word of consolation 
suggested from the scriptures.* — Those 
poor innocents, the children croud around 
the bed ; drowned in tears, and almost fran- 
tic with grief, they sob out their little souls, 
jtnd passionately cry, " Will he leave us? 
leave us in a helpless condition ! leave us to 
an injurious world !" 

These separate streams are all united in 
the distressed spouse, and overwhelm her 
breast with an impetuous tide of sorrows. In 
her, the lover weeps, the wife mourns, and 
all the mother yearns. ' To her, the loss is 
beyond measure aggravated, by months and 
j^ears of delightful society, and exalted friend- 
ship Wliere, alas ! can she meet with such 

unsuspected fidelity, or repose such unreserv- 
ed confidence ? where find so discreet a coun- 
sellor, so improving an example, and a guard- 



* Texts of scripture proper for such an occasion, 
containing promises — of support under affliction. Lam. 
iii. 32. Heb. xii. G. 2 Cor. iv. 17.— of pardon, Isa. 
i. 18. Isa. liii.5. 1 John ii. 1,2. Acts x. 43.— of 
Justification, Rom. v. 9. Rom. viii. 33, 34, 2 Cor. v. 
21 —of victory over death, Psa!. xxiii. 4. Psal. Ixxiii. 
2ri. 1 Cox XV. 56, .57. — ofahappv rcsuncctioJij John 
vi> m 2 Cor. V. 1 liev. vii. ¥>, 17- 



ian so sedulously attentive to the interests-of 
herself, and her children ? See ! how she 
hangs over the languishing bed ; most tender- 
ly solicitous to prolong a life, important and 
valuable, far beyond her own ; or, if that be 
impracticable, no less tenderly officious to 
soothe the last agonies of her dearer self. 
Her hands, trembling under direful appre- 
hensions, wipe the cold dews from the livid, 
cheeks ; and sometimes stay the sinking 
head on her gentle arms, sometimes rest it 
on her com.passionate bosom — See ! how 
she gazes, with a speechless ardour on 
the pale countenance, and meagre features ! 
Wliiie all her soft passions beat unutter- 
able fondness, and her very soid bleeds with 
exquisite anguish. 

The sufferer, all patient and adoring, sub- 
mits to the divine will ; and, by submission, 
becomes superior to his afiiiction. He is 
sensibly touched with the disconsolate state 
of his attendants, and pierced with an anxi- 
ous concern for his wife and his children ; 
his wife, who will soon be a destitute wi- 
dow: his children, who will soon be help- 
less orjihans. Yet, " though cast dowi, 
not in despair." He is greatly refreshed by 
his trust in the everlasting covenant and his 
hope of approaching glory. Religion gives 
a dignity to distress. At each interval of 
ease, he comforts his very comforters ; and 
suffers with all the majesty of woe. 

The sold, just going to abandon the totter- 
ing clay, collects all her force, and exerts her 
last efforts. The good man raises himself 
on his pillow ; extends a kind hand to his 
servants, who are bathed in tears ; takes an 
affecting farewell of his friends ; clasps his 
wife in a feeble embrace ; kisses the dear 
pledges of their mutual love ; and then pours 
all that remains of life and strength, in the 
follo\^dng words ; — " I die, my dear child, 
ren : But God, the everlasting God, will be 
with you Though you lose an earthly pa- 
rent, you have a Father in heaven, who 

lives for evermore Nothing, nothing but 

an unbelieving heart, and irreligious life, can 
ever separate you from the regards of his 
providence — from the endearments of his 
love." 

He could proceed no farther. His heart 
was fidl ; but utterance failed — After a 
short pause, prom.pted by affectionate zeal, 
\vith difficulty, great difficidty, he added— 
" You the dear partner of my soid ; you are 
now the only protector of our oq^hans — I 
leave you imder a weight of cares — But 
God, who defendeth the cause of the ^vidow, 
— God, whose promise is faithfulness, and 
truth — God hath said, I will never leave 
thee, nor forsake thee.* — This redves my 
drooping spirits, let this support the wife of 



* Ilel). xiii. 5. 



MEDITATIOINS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



my bosom And now, O Father of com- 
passions, into tliy hands I commend my spi- 
rit Encouraged by thy promised goodness, 

I leave my fatherless " 

Here he fainted ; fell back upon the bed ; 
and lay for some minutes, bereft of his sen- 
ses. As a taper upon the very point of ex- 
tinction, is som.etimes suddenly rekindled, 
and leaps into a quivering flame ; so life, be- 
fore it totally expired, gave a parting strug- 
gle, and once more looked abroad from the 
opening eye-lids. He would fain have spoke ; 
fain have uttered the sentence he began. 
More than once he essayed ; but the organs 
of speech were become like a broken vessel, 
and nothing but the obstructing phlegm rat- 
tled in his throat ; his aspect, however, 
spoke alFection inexpressible. With all the 
father, all the husband, still living in his 
looks, he takes one more view of those dear 
children, whom he had often beheld with a 
parental triumph. He tiu"ns his dying eyes 
on that beloved woman, whom he had never 
beheld but with a glow of delight. Fixed 
in this posture, amidst smiles of love, and 
under a gleam of heaven, they shine out 
their last. 

Upon this, the silent sorrow bursts into 
loud laments. They weep, and refuse to be 
comforted. Till some length of time had 
given vent to the excess of passion ; and the 
consolations of religion had staunched their 
bleeding woes. Then, the afliicted family 
search for the sentence, which fell unfiidsh- 
ed from those loved, those venerable and 
pious lips. They find it recorded by the 
prophet Jeremiah, containing the direction 
of infinite Avisdom, and the promise of un- 
bounded goodness : " Leave thy fatherless 
children : I ^\dll preserve them alive : and 
let thy widows trust in me."* — This now is 
the comfort of their life, and the joy of their 
heart. They treasure it up in their memo- 
ries. It is the best of legacies, and an inex- 
haustible fund. A fund, wlfich will supply 
all their wants, by entailing the blessing of 

heaven on all their honest labours They 

are rich, they are happy, in this sacred pledge 
of the divine favour. They fear no evil ; 
they want no good ; because God is their 
portion and their guardian God. 

No sooner turned from one memento of 
my ow, and memorial of another's decease, 
but a second, a third, a long succession of 
these melancholy monitors crowd upon my 
sight.f — That which has fixed my observa- 
tion, is one of a more grave and sable aspect 
than the former, I suppose it preserves the 
relics of a more aged person. One would 
conjecture, that he made somewhat of a figure 
in bis station among the living, as his rnonu- 



* Jer x!ix. 11. 

i riurima mortis in-r-go.— J'!';;?-. 



11 

ment does among the funeral marbles. Let 
me draw near, and inquire of the stone. 
" Who or what is beneath its surface ?" — 1 
am informed, he was once the ower of a 
considerable estate : which was much im- 
proved by his own application and manage- 
ment : that he left the v/orld in the busy 
period of life, advanced a little beyond the 
meridian. 

Probably, replied my musing mind, one of 
those indefatigable drudges, who rise early, 
late take rest, and eat the bread of careful- 
ness, not to secure the loving-kindness 
of the Lord, not to make provision for any 
reasonable necessity, but only to amass to- 
gether ten thousand times more than they 
can possibly use. Did he not lay schemes 
for enlarging his fortime, and aggrandizing 
his family ? Did he not pm^^ose to join 
field to field, and add house to house, till his 
possessions were almost as vast as his de- 
sires ? That, then, he woidd* sit do\^Ti and 
enjoy what he had acquired, breathe a while 
from his toilful pursuit of things temporal, 
and, perhaps, think a little of things eter- 
nal. 

But see the folly of worldly ■v\-isdom ! How 
silly, how childish is the sagacity of (what 
is called) manly and masterly pnidence, when 
it conti'ives more solicitously for time, than 
it provides for eternity ! How strangely 
infatuated are those subtile heads which 
vreary themselves in concerting measm^es 
for phantoms of a day, and scarce bestow a 
thought on everlasting realities ! — when every 
wheel moves on smoothly ; when all the 
well-disposed designs are ripening apace for 
execution ; and the long expected crisis of 
enjoyment seems to approach ; behold ! God 
from on high laughs at the Babel-builder. 
Death touches the bubble and it breaks ; it 
drops into nothing. The cob-web, most 
finely spun indeed, but more easily dislodg- 
ed, is swept away in an instant ; and aU the 
abortive projects are biuied in the same 
grave with their projector. So true is that 
verdict which the wisdom from above passes 
on these successful unfortunates, " They 
walk in a vain shadow, and disquiet them- 
selves in vain."f 

Speak ye that attended such a one in liis 
last minutes ; ye that heard his expiring 
sentiments, did he not cry out, in the lan- 
guage of disappointed sensuality, " O death ! 
how terrible is thy approach to a man im- 
mersed in secvJar cares, and void of all con- 
cern for the never ending hereafter ? AVliere, 
alas ! is the profit, where the comfort of en- 
tering deep into the knowledge, and of being 
dexterous in the dispatch of earthly affairs. ; 



* — Hr.c mente laborem, 
Scse serre, senes ut in otia tutu recedant, 
Aiut, cum sibi fint congesta cibaria.— H(M-. 
t I'sr.lin xxxix. 6. 



12 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



since I have all the while neglected the one 
thing needful ? Destructive mistake ! I have 
been attentive to every inferior interest. I 
have laid myself out on the trifles of a mo- 
ment, but have disregarded heaven ; have 
forgot eternal ages ! Oh ! that my days." — 
Here, he was going on to breathe some fruit- 
less wishes, or to form I know not what in- 
effectual resokitions. But a sudden convul- 
sion shook his nerves ; disabled his tongue; 
and, in less than an hour, dissolved his 
frame. 

May the children of this world be warned, 
by the dying words of an unhappy brother ; 

and gather advantage from his misfortune 

Why should they pant with such impatient 
ardour : after white and yellow earth, as if 
the universe did not afford sufficient for every 
one to take a little ! Why should they lade 
themselves with thick clay, when they are 
to " run for an incorruptible crown, and 
press towards the prize of their high calling ?" 
Why should they overload the vessel, in 
w^hich their everlasting all is embarked ; or 
fill their arms with superfluities, when they 
are to swim for their lives ? Yet so prepos- 
terous is the conduct of those persons, who 
are all industry, to heap up an abundance of 
the wealth which perisheth, but scarce so 
much as faintly desirous of being rich to- 
wards God. 

O that we may walk from henceforth 

, through all these glittering toys, at least 
with a wise indifference, if not with a su- 
perior disdain ! Having enough for the con- 
veniencies of life, let us only accommodate 
ourselves with things below^ and lay up our 

treasures in the regions above Whereas, 

if we indulge an anxious concern, or lavish 
an inordinate care, on any transitory posses- 
sions, we shall rivet them to our affections 
with so firm an union, that the utmost sever- 
ity of pain must attend the separating stroke. 
By such an eager attachment to what will 
certainly be ravished from us, we shall only 
ensure to ourselves accumulated anguish, 
against the agonizing hour, we shall plant, 

-aforehand, our dying pillow with thorns.* 

Some, I perceive, arrived at threescore 
years and ten, before they made their exit : 
nay, some few resigned not their breaths, 
till they had numbered fourscore revolving 
harvests — These, I would hope, "remem- 
bered their Creator in the days of their 
youth," before their strength became labour 
and sorrow ; — ^before that low ebb of lan- 
guishing nature, when the keepers of the 

-house tremble, and those that look out of 
the windows are darkened ;f when even the 



* Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ; 
A broken reed at best, but oft a spear ; 
On its^harp point peace bleeds, and hope expires, 
' yiight Thought,'!, No. III. 

+ Eccl. xii. 3, h. I need not remind my reader, that 
by the former of these figurative expressions is signi- 



lighting do\vn of the grasshopper is a burden 
on the bending shoulders, and desire itself 
fails in the bstless lethargic soul; — before 
those heavy hours come, and those tiresome 
moments draw nigh in which there is too 
much reason to say, " We have no pleasure 
in them ; no improvement from them." 

If their lamps were imfurnished with oil, 
how unfit must they be, in such decrepit cir- 
cumstances, to go to the market and buy !* 
For, besides a variety of disorders arising 
from the enfeebled constitution, their cor- 
ruptions must be surprisingly strengthened, 
by such a long covu^e of irreligion. Evil 
habits must have struck the deepest root ; 
must have twisted themselves with every fi- 
bre of the heart, and be as thoroughly in- 
grained in the disposition, as the soot in the 
Ethiopian's complexion, or the spots in the 
leopard's skin. If such a one, under such 
disadvantages, surmounts all the difficulties 
which lie in his way to glory, it must be a 
great and mighty salvation indeed. If such 
a one escapes destruction, and is saved at 
the last, it must, without all peradventure, 
be — ^so as by fire.f 

This is the season which stands in need of 
comfort, and is very improper to enter upon 
the conflict. The husbandman should now 
be putting in his sickle or eating the fruit of 
his labours ; not beginning to break up 

the groimd or scatter the seed Nothing, it 

is true, is impossible wdth God ; he said, 
" Let there be light, and there was light" in- 
stantaneous light, diffused as quick as thought 
through aU the dismal dominion of prime- 
val darkness. At his command a leprosy, 
of the longest continuance, and of the ut- 
most inveteracy, departs in a moment. He 
can, in the greatness of his strength, quicken 
the wretch, who has lain dead in trespasses 
and sins, not four days only, but fourscore 
years. Yet trust not, O trust not, a point 
of such inexpressible importance, to so 
dreadfid an uncertainty. God may suspend 
his power; may -withdraw his help ; may 
swear in his wrath, that such abuses of his 
long-suffering shall "never enter into his rest." 

Ye therefore, that are vigorous in health, 
and blooming in years, improve the precious 
opportunity. Improve your golden hours to 
the noblest of all purposes^ such as may 
render you meet for the inheritance of the 
saints in light, and ascertain your title to a 
state of immortal youth, to a crown of eter- 
nal glory — Stand not all the prime of your 
day idle ; trifle no longer with the offers of 
this immense felicity ; but make haste, and 



fied the en^jvated state of the hands and arms ; by 
the latter, the dimness of the eyes, or the total loss of 
sight ; that taken in connexion with other parts of 
the chapter, they exhibit in a series of bold and lively 
metaphors, a description of the various infirmities at- 
tendant on old age. 

* Matt. XXV. <). I 1 Cor iii, 15. 



MEDITATIONS AM 



ONG THE TOMBS. 



13 



dtilay* not the time to keep God's command- 
ments. While you are loitering in a gay in- 
sensibility, death may be bending his bow, 

and marking you out for speedy vdctims 

Not long ago, I happened to spy a thought- 
less jay. The poor bird was idly busied in 
dressing his pretty plumes, or hopping care- 
lessly from spray to spray. A sportsman 
coming by, observes the feathered rover. 
Immediately he lifts the tube and levels his 
blow. Swifter than whirlwind flies the lea- 
den death ; and in a moment, lays the silly 
creature breathless on the ground. — Such, 
such may be the fate of the man, who has a 
fair occasion of obtaining grace to-day, and 
wantonly postpones the improvement of it, 
till to morrow. He may be cut oflE" in the 
midst of his folly, and ruined for ever while 
he is dreaming of being wise hereafter. 

Some, no doubt, came to this their last re- 
treat full of piety, and full of days ; " as a 
shock of corn, ripe with age and laden with 
plenty, cometh in, in his season."f — These 
were children of light and wise in their ge- 
neration ; wise with that exalted wisdom 
which cometh from above ; and with that 

enduring wisdom which lasts to eternity 

Rich also they were, more honourably and 
permanently rich than all the votaiies of 
mammon. The wealth of the one has made 
itself wings, and is irrecoverably gone ; while 
the wretched acquirers are transmitted to 
that place of penmy and pain, where not 
so much as one drop of water is allowed to 
cool their scorching tongues, the stores of 
the other still abide with them ; will never 
depart from them ; but make them glad 
for ever and ever in the city of their God. 
Their treasures were such as no created 
power could take away, such as none but in- 
finite beneficence can bestow, and (comfort- 
able to consider!) such as I, and every in- 
digent longing sinner may obtain treasures 
of heavenly knowledge, and saving faith ; 
treasiu-es of atoning blood and imputed right- 
eousness. 

Here| lie their bodies in " peaceful ha- 



* May I be permitted to recommend, as a treasure 
of fine sentiments. Dr. Lucas' Inquiry after Happi- 
ness; and, as a treatise particularly apposite to my sub- 
ject, that part of his inquiry which displays themethod, 
and enumerates the advantages of improving life, or 
living much in a little time. Chap. iii. p. 158. — An 
author, in whom the gentleman, the scholar, and the 
Christian are remarkably united. — A performance, 
which in point of solid argument, unaffected piety, 
and a vein of thought amazingly fertile, has few su- 
periors. Insomuch that 1 know not how to wish my 
reader a more refined pleasure, or a more substantial 
blessing, than to liave the maxims of this entertain- 
ing and pathetic ^viiter's little piece, wove into the 
ver\' texture of his heart. Unless I might be allowed 
to wish, that the writer himself had interspersed the 
glorious peculiarities of the gospel (on which our hap- 
piness so much depends) a little more liberally through 
all his works. 

+ Job v 26. 

5: Some, I know, are offended at our burying corpses 
within the church, and exclaim against it as a very 
great impropriety and indecency. But this, I imagine. 



bitations, and quiet resting places." Here 
they have throA^Ti off every burden, and are 
escaped from every snare. The head aches 
no more ; the eye forgets to Aveep ; the flesh 
is no longer racked with acute, nor wasted 
with lingering distemper. Here they re- 
ceive a final release from pain, and an ever- 
lasting discharge from sorrov/. Here dan- 
ger never threatens them with her terrifying 
alarms ; but tranquillity softens their couch, 
and safety guards theii'repose. — Rest then, ye 
precious relics, Avithin this hospitable gloom ; 
rest in gentle slumbers, till the last trumpet 



proceeds from an excessive and mistaken delicacy. 
Let proper care be taken to secure from injurv' the 
foundations of the building, and to prevent the exhal- 
ation of any noxions effluvia from the putrefying 
flesh ; and I cannot discover any inconveniences attend- 
ing this practice. 

The notion, that noisome carcases (as they are call- 
ed) are very unbecoining a place consecrated to religi- 
ous purposes, seems to be derived fjom the antiquat- 
ed Jewish canon ; whereby it was declared, that a dead 
body imparted defilement to the person who touched 
it, and polluted the spot where it was lodged. On 
which account the Jews were scrupulously careful to 
have their sepulchres built at a distance' from their 
houses, and made it a point of conscience, not to suf- 
fer burial places to subsist in the city. 1 ut as thia 
was a rite purely ceremonial, it seems to be entirely 
superseded by the gospel dispensation. 

I camiot forbear thinking, that under the Christian 
economy, there is a propriety and usefulness in the 
custom. — Usefulness, because it must render our so- 
lemn assemblies more venerable and awful. For,, 
when we walk over the dust of our friends, or kneel 
upon the ashes of our relations, this awakening circum-' 
stance must strike a lively im.pression of our own mor- 
tality. And what consideration can be more effectual 
to make us serious and attentive in hearing, earnest 
and importunate in praying. 

As for the fitness of the usage, it seems perfectly 
suitable to the design of those sacred edifices. They 
are set apart for God : not only to receive his worship- 
pers, but to preserve the furniture for holy ministra- 
tions, and what is in a peculiar maimer appropriated 
to the divine Majesty. Are not the bodies of the saints 
the Almighty's property ? Were they not once the ob- 
jects of his tender love ? Are they not still the objects 
of his special care ? Has he not given commandment 
concerning the bones of his elect.; and charged the 
ocean, and enjoined the grave, to keep them till that 
day? When rocks biignt with gems, or mountains 
rich with mines, are abandoned to the devouring flames, 
will not these be rescued from the fiery ruin ! will not 
these be translated into Jehovah's kingdom, and con- 
jointly with the soul, made " his jewels," made " his 
peculiar treasure ;" made to " shine as the brightness 
of the firmament and the stars for ever and ever." 

Is not Christ the Lord of our bodies ? Are they not 
bought with a price; bought not with corruptible 
things, as silver and gold, but with his divinely pre- 
cious blood ? And i^ the blessed Jesus purchased the 
redemption of our bodies at so infinitely dear a rate, 
can it enter into our hearts to conceive, that he should 
dislike to have them reposed under his own habitation ? 
— Oncemore; Are not the bodies of the faithful "tem- 
ples of til e Holy Ghost ?" and is there not upon this suj)- 
position, an apparent propriety, rather than the least 
indecorum, in committing those temples of flesh; to 
the temples made with nands? They are vessels of 
honour; instruments of righteousness ; and, even when 
broken by death, like the fragments of a golden bowl, 
are valuable, are worthy to be laid up in the safest, 
most honourable repositories. 

Upon the whole, since the Lord Jesus has purchas- 
ed them at the expense of his blood ; and the blessed 
Spirit has honoured them with his indwelling pre- 
sence; since they are right dear in the sight of the 
adorable Trinity, and undoubted heirs of a glorious 
immortality; why should it be thought a thing im- 
proper to admit them to a transient test in their 
heavenly Father's house? Why may they not lie 
down and sleep, in the outer courts ; "since they are 
soon to be introduced into the inmost mansions of 
everlasting honour and joy ? 



14 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMES. 



ehall give the Aveicome eigiial, and sound 
aloud througli all your silent mansions, 
" Arise, shine ; for your light is come, and 
the glory of the Lord is risen upon you." 
( Isa. Ix. 1.) 

To those, how calm was the evening of 
life ! In what a smiling serenity did their 
sun go doATO ! When their flesh and their 
heart failed, how reAdving was the remem- 
brance of an aU-sufl&cient Redeemer ; once 
dying for their sins, now risen again for their 
justification ! How cheering the well ground- 
ed hope of pardon for their transgressions, 
and peace with God through Jesus Christ 
our Lord ! How did this assuage the agonies, 
and sweeten the bitterness of death ! — Where 
noAV is wealth, with aU her golden moun- 
tains ? Where is honour with her proud 
trophies of reno-svn ? "VVliere are all the vain 
pomps of a deluded world ? Can they inspire 
such comfort, can they administer any sup- 
port in this last extremity ? Can they com- 
pose the affrighted thoughts, or buoy up the 
departing soul, amidst all the pangs of dis- 
solution ? — The followers of the Lamb 
seem pleased and triumphant even at their 
last gasp. " God's everlasting arms are un- 
derneath" (Deut. xxxiii. 27.) their fainting 
heads. His spirit whispers peace and con- 
solation to their consciences. In the strength 
of these heavenly succours, they quit the 
field, not captives but conquerors j with 
** hopes full of immortality." 

And now they are gone — The struggles 
of reluctant nature are over. The body 
sleeps in death, the squl launches into the 
invisible state — But who can imagine the 
delightful surprise, when they find them- 
selves surrounded by guardian angels, instead 
of weeping friends ? How securely do they 
wmg their way, and pass through unknown 
worlds imder the conduct of those celestial 
guides. — The vale of tears is quite lost. 
Fai-eweU, for ever, the realms of woe, and 
range of malignant beings ! They arrive on 
the frontiers of inexpressible felicity. They 
" are come to the city of the living God ;" 
while a voice, sweeter than music in her 
softest strains, sweet as the harmony of 
hymning seraphim, congratulates their arri- 
val, and bespeaks their admission : " Lift up 
your heads, O ye gates ; and be ye lift up, 
ye everlasting doors, that the heirs of gloiy 
may enter in." 

Here then let us leave the spirits and soids 
of the righteous, escaped from an entang- 
ling wilderness, and received into a paradise 
of delights ! escaped from the territories of 
disquietude, and settled in regions of unmo- 
lested security ! Here they sit down with. 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom 
of their Father. Here they mingle v.dth an 
iimumerable company of angels, and rejoice 
giroimd the throne of the Lamb ; rejoice in 
the fmition of present felicity, and in the 



assured expectation of an iiiconceivable a<i- 
dition to their bliss ; v/hen God shall call 
the heavens from above, and the earth, that 
he may judge his people.* 

Fools account their life madness, and their 
end to be without honour ; but they are 
numbered among the children of God, and 
their lot, their distinguished and eternal lot, 
is among the saints !f However, therefore, 
an undisceming world may despise, and a 
profane world vilify the truly religious ; ])e 
this the supreme, the invariable desii'e of my 
heart ! " Let me live the life, and die the 
death of the righteous. Oh ! let my latter 
end, and future state be like theirs." 

What figure is that Avliich strikes my eye, 
from an eminent part of the wall 7 It is not 
only placed in a more elevated situation 
than the rest, but carries a m.ore splendid 
and sum.ptuoas air than ordinary. Swords 
and spears, mm"dering engines, and instru- 
m.ents of slaughter, adorn the stone with a 
formidable magnificence — It proves to be 
the monument of a noble warrior. 

Is such respect, thought I, paid to the 
memory of this brave soldier, for sacrificing 
his life to the public good ? — Then what 
honours, what immortal honours, are due to 
the great captain of our salvation ? who, 
though Lord of the angelic legions, and su- 
preme commander of all the heavenly hosts, 
A\iUingly offered himself a bleeding propitia- 
tion for sinners. 

The one died being a mortal, and only 
pelded up a life v/hich was long before for- 
feited to divine justice ; which m.ust soon 
have been suiTendered as a debt to natm-e, if 
it had not fallen as a prey to war. — But 
Chi-ist took flesh and gave up the ghost, 
though he was the great I am ; the fountain 
of existence, who cidls happiness and im- 
mortality all his own. He who thought it 
no robbery to be equal with God, he, whose 
outgoings were from everlasting ; even he 
was made in the likeness of man, and cut ofF 
out of the land of the living. Wonder, O 
heavens ! be astonished, O earth ! He died 
the death, of whom it is witnessed, that he, 
^is " the true God, and eternal life." (1 John 
V. 20.) 

The one exposed himself to peril in the 
service of his sovereign and his coimtry ; 
which, though it was glorious to do, yet 



* Seneca's reflections upon the state of holy souls 
delivered from the burden of the flesh, are sparkling 
and fine; yet very indistinct and empty, compared 
with the particulars mentioned above, and with many 
others that might be collected from scripture. In hoc 
tam procelloso, et in omnes tempestates exposito navi- 
gantibus mari nuUus portus, nisi mortus est. Ne 
itaque invideris fratri tuo ; quiescit. Tandem liber, 
tandem tutus, tandem eternus est. Fruitoi:, nunc 
aperto et libero coelo ; ex humili et depresso in cum 
em cuit locum qui solutas vinculis animus beato reci- 
pit sinu; et nunc omnia, rerum natura liona cum 
summa voluptate percipit. Sen. ad Polyb. 

t Wisdom V. 4, 5. 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS: 



15 



would liave been ignominious, in such cir- 
cumstances to have declined — But Clirist 
took the field, tliough lie was the blessed 
and only potentate, the King of kings, and 
Lord of lords. Christ took the field, though 
he was sure to drop in the engagement ; and 
put on the harness, though he knew before- 
hand that it must reek with his blood. That 
prince of heaven resigned his royal person, 
not barely to hazard but to the ine^dtable 
stroke ; to death, certain in its approach, 
and armed vnth all its horrors — And for 
whom ? Not for those who were in any de- 
gree deserving -. but for his own disobedient 
creatures ; for the pardon of condemned 
malefactors, for a band of rebels, a race of 
traitors, the most obnoxious and inexcusable 
of all criminals ; whom he might have left to 
perish in their iniquities, mthout the least im- 
peachment of his goodness, and to the dis- 
play of his avenging justice. 

The one, it is probable, died expeditious- 
ly ; was suddenly wounded, and soon slain. 
A bullet lodged in his heart, a sword sheath- 
ed in his breast, or a battle-axe cleaving the 
brain, might put a speedy end to his m.isery ; 
dispatch him " as in a moment." — Wliereas 
the dinne Redeemer expired in tedious and 
protracted torments. His pangs were as 
lingering, as they were exquisite. Even in 
the prelude to his last sufFeiing, what a load 
'of sorrows overwhelmed his sacred humani- 
^ty ! till the intolerable pressm-e wTung blood, 
instead of sweat from every pore ; till the 
crimson flood bathed liis body, stained all 
-his raiment, and tinged the very stones — 
' But when tlie last scene of the tragedy com- 
menced; when the executioner's hammer had 
nailed him to the cross, O ! how many dis- 
mal hours did that amiable and illustrious 
suflferer hang ; a spectacle of woe to God, to 
angels, and to men ! his temples mangled ^vith 
the thorny crown ! his hands and feet cleft 
with the rugged irons ! his flesh covered with 
wounds smarting and agonizing in every 
nerve ! and his soul, his very soul, pierced 
with pangs of unutterable distress ! — So long 
he hung, that nature, through all her domin- 
ions, was throwm into sympathizing commo- 
. tions. The earth coidd no longer sustain 
such barbarous indignities without trembling, 
nor the sun behold them wdthout horror. 
Nay, so long did he hang in this extremity' 
©f tortm-e, that the alarm reached even the 
remote regions of the dead — Never, O my 
' soul, never forget the amazing truth : The 
lamb of God was seized, was bound, A^'as 
slaughtei^d with the utmost inhumanity, 
and endured death in aU its bitterness, for 
"thee ! His murderers, studiously cruel, so 
guided the fatal cup, that he tasted eveiy 
" drop of its gall, before he drank it off to the 
very dregs. 

Once again : the one died like a hero, and 
^eli -gallantly in the field of battle. But 



died not Christ as a fool dieth!* Not on 
the bed of honoiu:, with scars of gloiy on his 
breast ; but like some execrable miscreant, on 
a gibbet ! with lashes of' the vile scourge on 
his back ! Yes, the blessed Jesus bowed his 
expiring head on the accursed tree, suspend- 
ed between heaven and earth, as an outcast 
from both, and unworthy of either. 

What suitable retiu"ns of inflamed and 
adoring devotion, can we make to the Holy 
One of God, thus dying, that we might live? 
dpng in ignominy and anguish, that we 
might live for ever in the heights of joy, and 
sit for ever on thrones of glory. — Alas ! it 
is not in us, impotent, insensible mortals, td 
be duly thankful. He only who confers 
such inconceivable rich favours, can enkin 
die a proper warmth of grateful affection. 
Then build thyself a monument, most gra- 
cious Immanuel, build thyself an everlasting 
monument of gratitude in our souls. In- 
scribe the memory of thy matchless benefi- 
cence not with ink and pen, but with that 
precious blood which gushed from thy 
wounded veins. Engrave it, not with the 
hammer and chisel, but ^^^th that sharpened 
spear, which pierced thy sacred side. Let it 
stand conspicuous and indelible, not on out- 
ward tables of stone, but on the verj- inmost 
tables of our hearts. 

One thing more, let me observe before I 
bid adieu to this entombed warrior, and his 
garnished sepulchre. How mean are those 
ostentatious methods of bribing the vote of 
fame, and piu'chasing a little posthumous re- 
no^Mi ! What a poor substitute for a set of 
memorable actions, is polished alabaster, or 
the mimicry of sculptured marble !' The real 
excellency of this bleeding patriotf is writ- 
ten on the minds of liis countiymen ; it 
would be remembered with api)laii&e, so 
long as the nation subsists, without this ar- 
tificial expedient to perpetuate it And 

such, such is the monument I would Avish 
for myself. Let me leave a memorial in 
the breasts of my fellow- creatures. Let 
sm-^didng friends bear witness that I have 
not lived to myself alone, nor been alto- 
gether imserviceable in my generation. O ! 



* 2 Sam. iii. 33. Of this indignity our Lord com- 
plains, " i\re ye come out as against a tliief ?" Matth. 
XX vi. 55. 

t Sir 1 evil Granville, slam in the civil wars at an en- 
gagement with the rebels.— ft may possibly be some en- 
tertainment to the reader, to subjoin Sir Bevil's char- 
acter, as it is drawn by that celebrated pen which wrote 
the history of those unfortunate times. — " That which 
would have clouded any victory, says the noble histor- 
ian, and made the loss of others less spoken of, was the 
death of Sir Bevil Granville. He was indeed an excel- 
lent person, whose activity, interest, and reputation, 
were the foundation of what had been done in Corn- 
wall : his temper and affections so public, that no ac- 
cident which happened, could inake any impression 
upon him ; and his example kept others from taking 
any thing ill, or at least seeming to do so. In a word, 
a brighter courage, and a gentler disposition, were 
never married together, to make the most cheerful and 
imiocent conversation,— Ci'ar. Hist. Reb. vol. 11^ ' 



16 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



let an uninterrupted series of beneficent offi- 
ces be the inscription, and the best interests 
of my acquaintance the plate that exhibits 
it. 

Let the poor, as they pass by my grave, 
point at the little spot, and thankfully ac- 
knowledge, — " There lies the man, whose 
unwearied kindness was the constant relief of 
my various distresses ; who tenderly visited 
my languishing bed, and readily supplied my 
indigent circumstances. How often were 
his counsels a guide to my perplexed thoughts, 
and a cordial to my dejected spirit ! It is 
owing to God's blessing on his seasonable 
charities, and prudent consolations, that I 
now live, and live in comfort." — Let a per- 
son, once ignorant and ungodly, lift up his 
eyes to heaven, and- say within himself, as he 
walks over my bones, " Here are the last 
remains of that sincere friend, who watched 
for my soul. I can never forget with what 
heedless gaiety I was posting on in the 
paths of perdition ; and I tremble to think, 
into what irretrievable ruin I might quickly 
have been plunged, had not his faithful ad- 
monitions met me in the wild career. I was 
unacquainted with the gospel of peace, and 
had no concern for its unsearchable trea- 
sm-es ; but now, enlightened by his instruc- 
tive conversation, I see the all-sufficiency of 
my Saviour ; and, animated by his repeated 
ejdiortations, I count aU things but loss that 
I may win Christ. Methinks, his discourses, 
seasoned with religion, and blessed by grace, 
still tingle in my ears ; are still warm on my 
heart ; and, I trust, wiU be more and more 
operative, till we meet each other in the 
house not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens." 

The only infallible way of immortaliz- 
ing oiu: characters, a way equally open to 
the meanest and most exalted fortune, is 
" to make oiu- calling and election sure ;" 
to gain some sweet evidence, that our names 
are written in heaven. Then, however 
they may be disregarded, or forgotten among 
men, they will not fail to be had in everlast- 
ing remembrance before the Lord This 

is of all distinctions far the noblest ; this 
will issue in never dying-renown. Am- 
bition, be this thy object, and every page of 
scripture will sanctify the passion ; even 
grace itself will fan thy flame. — As to 
earthly memorials, yet a little while, and 
they are all obliterated. The tongue of 
those, whose happiness we have zealously 
promoted, must soon be silent in the coffin. 
Characters cut with a pen of iron, and com- 
mitted to the solid rock, wUl, ere long, 
cease to be legible.* But as many as are 
inroUed " in the Lamb's book of Life," he 
himself declares, shall never be blotted out 



♦ Data sunt ipsis quoque fata sepulchris.— /mu. 



from those annals of eternity. (Rev. iii. 5.) 
When a flight of years has mouldered the 
triumphal column into dust ; when the brazen 
statue perishes, under the corroding hand of 
time ; those honours stUl continue ; still 
are blooming and incorruptible, in the world 
of glory. 

Make the extended skies your tomb : 

Let stars record your worth ; 
Yet know, vain mortals, all must die. 

As nature's sickliest birth. 

Would bounteous heav'n indulge my pray'r, 

I frame a nobler choice ; 
Nor living, wish the pompous pile ; 

Nor dead, regret the loss. 

In thy fair book of life divine. 

My God, inscribe my name ; 
There let it fill some humble place, 

Beneath the slaughter'd Lamb. 

Thy saints, while ages roll away, 

In endless fame survive ; 
Their glories o'er the wrongs of time, 

Gr.eatly triumphant live. 

Yonder entrance leads, I suppose, to the 
vault. Let me turn aside and take one 

view of the habitation, and its tenants 

The sullen door grates upon its hinges ; not 
used to receive many visitants, it admits me 
with reluctance and murmurs. — Whatmean- 
eth this sudden trepidation, while I descend 
the steps, and am visiting the pale mansions 
of the dead? — Be composed my spirits: 
there is nothing to fear in these quiet cham- 
bers ; here, even " the wicked cease from 
troubling." 

Good heavens ! what a solemn scene ! 
how dismal the gloom ! Here is perpetual 

darkness, and night even at noon-day How 

doleful the solitude ! Not one trace of cheer- 
ful society ; but sorrow and terror seem to 

have made this their dread abode Hark ! 

how the hollow dome resounds at every 
tread. The echoes, that long have slept, 
are awakened, and whisper along the walls. 

A beam or two finds its way through the 
grates, and reflects a feeble glimmer from the 
nails of the coffins. So many of those sad 
spectacles, half concealed in shades, half 
seen dimly by the baleful twilight, add a 
deeper horror to these gloomy mansions. — I 
pore upon the inscriptions, and am just able 
to pick out, that these are the remains of 
the rich and renowned. No vulgar dead 
are deposited here. The most illustrious, 
and right honoiurable, have claimed this for 
their last retreat. And indeed, they retain 
somewhat of a shado\vy pre-eminence. They 
lie, ranged in mournful order, and in a sort 
of silent pomp, under the arches of an ample 
sepulchre : while meaner corpses, without 
much ceremony, " go do^vn to the stones of 
the pit." 

My apprehensions recover from their sur- 
prise. I find here are no phantoms, but 
such as fear raises. However, it stil] 
amazes me, to observe the wonders of thifii 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



17 



iietlier world. Those who received vast 
10 venues, and called whole lordships their 
own, are here reduced to half a dozen 
feet of earth, or confined in a few sheets of 
lead. Rooms of state and sumptuous fur- 
niture, are resigned for no other ornament 
than the shroud, for no other apartment 
than the darksome niche. Where is the 
star that blazed upon the breast ; or the 
coronet that glittered round the temples ? 
The only remains of departed dignity are, 
the weather-beaten hatchment, and the tat- 
tered escutcheon. I see no splendid re- 
tinue surrounding this solitary dwelling. 
The lordly equipage hovers no longer about 
the lifeless master. He has no other at- 
tendant than a dusty statue ; which, while 
the regardless world is as gay as ever, the 
sculptor's hand is taught to weep. 

Those who gloried in high bom ances- 
tors, and noble pedigree, here drop their 
lofty pretensions. They acknowledge kind- 
red with creeping things, and quarter arms 
with the meanest reptiles. They say to 
corruption. Thou art my father ; and to 
the worm. Thou art my mother and my 

sister Or should they still assume the 

style of distinction, alas ! how impotent 
were the claim ! how apparent the ostenta- 
tion ! it is said by their monument, here lies 
the great ! how easily is it replied by the 
spectator ? — False marble ! Where ! No- 
thing but poor and sordid dust lies here. 
Mortifying truth ! sufficient, one would 
think, to wean the most sanguine appetite 
from this transitory state of things ; from 
its sickly satisfactions, its fading glories, its ' 
vanishing treasures. 

For now, ye lying vanities of life ! 
Ve ever tempting, ever cheating train ! 
Where are ye now, and what is your amount ?* 

What is all the world to these poor 
breathless beings? — What are their plea- 
sures ? A bubljle broke What their ho- 
nours ? A dream that is forgotten What 

the sum-total of their enjoyments below ? 
Once, perhaps, it appeared to inexperience 
and fond desire, something considerable ; 
but now death has measured it with his 
line, and weighed it in his scale ; what is 
the upshot ? Alas ! it is shorter than a span, 
lighter than the dancing spark, and driven 
away like the dissolving smoke. 

Indulge my soul, a serious pause. Re- 
collect all the gay things that were wont to 
dazzle thine eyes, and inveigle thy affections. 
Here examine those baits of sense ; here 
form an estimate of their real value. Sup- 
pose thyself first among the fiivourites of 
fortune, who revel in the lap of pleasiu-e, 
who shine in the robes of honom-, and 
swim in tides of inexhaiisted riches ; yet 



• Thomson's Winter, line 210 last edit. 



how soon would the passing-beU proclaim 
thy exit ' and when once that iron call has 
summoned thee to thy future reckoning, 
where would all these gratifications be? 
At that period, how will all the pageantry 
of the most affluent, conspicuous, or lux- 
urious circumstances, vanish into empty 
air ! — And is this a happiness so passion- 
ately to be coveted ? 

I thank you, ye relics of sounding titles, 
and magnificent names ; ye have taught me 
more of the littleness of the world, than 
all the volumes of my library. Your no- 
bility, arrayed in a winding-sheet ; your 
grandeur, mouldering in an urn ; are the 
most indisputable proofs of the nothingness 
of created things. Never, surely, did Pro- 
vidence write this important point, in such 
legible characters, as in the ashes of my 
Lord, or on the corpse of his Grace.* — 
Let others, if they please, pay their obse- 
quious court to your wealthy sons ; and ig- 
nobly fawn, or anxiously sue for prefer- 
ments ; my thoughts shall often resort, in 
pensive contemplation, to the sepulchre of 
their sires ; and learn from their sleeping 
dust — to moderate my expectations from 
mortals ; to stand disengaged from every 
undue attachment to the little interests of 
time — to get above the delusive amuse- 
ments of honour, the gaudy tinsels of wealth, 
and all the empty shadows ^f a perishing 
world. 

Hark ! what sound is that ? — In such a 
situation, every noise alarms — Solemn and 
slow it breaks again upon the silent air — It 
' is the striking of the clock, designed, one 
would imagine, to ratify all my serious me- 
ditations. Methinks it says Amen, and 
sets a seal to every improvhig hint. It tells 
me. That another portion of my appointed 
time is elapsed. One calls it, " The knell 
of my departed hours." It is the watch- 
word to vigilance and activity. It cries, in 
the ear of reason, " Redeem the time. 
Catch the favourable gales of opportunity : 
O ! catch them while they breathe ; before 
they are irrecoverably lost. The span of 
life shortens continually. Thy minutes 
are all upon the wing, and hastening to be 
gone. Thou art a borderer upon eternity, 
and making incessant advances to the state 
thou art contemplating." May the admo- 
nition sink deep into an attentive and obe- 
dient mind ! May it teach me that heaven- 
ly arithmetic of " numbering my days, and 
applying my heart unto wisdom I" 

I have often walked beneath the impend- 
ing promontory's craggy cliff ; I have some- 
times trod the A^ast spaces of the lonely de- 
sert, and penetrated the inmost recesses of 



* —Mors sola satetur 
Quantuia sint hominum corpusciila.— Jju'. 
C 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



}'8 

the dreary cavern ; but never, never behold 
nature lowering, with so tremendous a 
form ; never felt such impressions of awe, 
striking cold on my heart, as under these 
black-browed arches, amidst these mouldy 
walls, and surrounded by such rueful ob- 
jects: where melancholy, deepest melan- 
choly, for ever spreads her raven-wings 

Let me now emerge from the damp and 
dreadful obscurity. — Farewell, ye seats of 
desolation, and shades of death ! — Gladly I 
revisit the realms of day. 

Having cast a superficial view upon these 
receptacles of the dead, curiosity prompts 
my inquiry to a more intimate survey. 
Coidd we draw back the covering of the 
tomb ; could we discern what those are 
now, who once were mortals ; — oh ! how 
would it surprise and grieve us ! Surprise 
tis, to behold the prodigious transformation 
which hag taken place on every individual ; 
grieve us, to observe the dishonour done to 
our nature in general within these subter- 
raneous lodgments ! 

Here the sweet and winning aspect, that 
wore perpetually an attractive smile, grins 
horribly a naked, ghastly skull. — The eye, 
that outshone the diamond's brilliancy, and 
glanced its lovely lightnings into the most 
guarded heart, alas I where is it ? Where shall 
we find the rolling sparkler ! — How are all 
its sprightly beams eclipsed, totally eclipsed ! 
—The tongue, that once commanded all the 
sweetness of harmony, and all the powers of 
eloquence, in this strange land has " J'orgot 
its cunning." Where are now those strains 
of melody, which ravished our ears ? Where 
is that flow of persuasion, which carried 
captive our judgments ? The great master 
oHanguage, and of song, is become silent 
as the night that surrounds him. — The 
pampered flesh, so lately clothed in purple 
and fine linen, how is it covered rudely with 
clods of clay ! There was a time when 
the timorously nice creature would scarce 

adventure to set a foot upon the ground, 
for delicateness and tenderness," (Deut. 
xxTiii. 50.) bat is now enwrapped in clam- 
my earth, and sleeps on no softer a pillow 
than the rugged gravel stones. — Here " the 
strong men bow themselves ;" the nervous 
arm is unstrung : the brawny sinews are 
relaxed ; the limbs, not long ago the seats of 
vigour and actinty, lie down motionless ; 
and the bones which were as bars of iron, 
are crumbled into dust. 

Here the man of business forgets all his 
favourite schemes, and discontinues the 
pursuit of gain. Here is a total stand to 
the circulation of merchandize, and the hur- 
ry of trade. In these solitary recesses, as 
in the building of Solomon's temple, is 
heard no sound of the hammer and axe. 
The winding-sheet and the coffin are the 
utmost bound of all earthly devices j *' Hi- 



therto may they go, but no fartlier." — Here 
the sons of pleasure take a final farewell 
of their dear delights. No more is the 
sensualist anointed with oil, or crownetf 
with rosebuds ; he chants no more to the 
melody of the viol, nor revels any longer at 
the banquet of wine. Instead of sumptu- 
ous tables and delicious treats, the poor 
voluptuary is himself a feast for fattened 
insects ; the reptile riots in his flesh, " the 
worm feeds sweetly on him." ( Jobxxiv.20./ 
— Here also beauty fails ; bright beauty 
drops her lustre here. O ! how her roses 
fade, and her lilies languish in this bleak 
soil ! How does the grand leveUer pour 
contempt upon the charmer of our hearts I 
How turn to deformity, what captivated the 
world before ! 

Could the lover have a sight of his once 
enchanting fair one, what a startling aston- 
ishment would seize him !— " Is this the ob- 
ject I not long ago so passionately admired I 
I said she was divinely fair, and thought her 
somewhat more than mortal. Her form was^ 
symmetry itself ; every elegance breathed in- 
her air ; and all the graces waited on her mo- 
tions It was music when she spoke, but 

when she spoke encouragement, it was little 
less than rapture. How my heart danced 
to those charming accents ! — And can that 
which some wrecks ago was to admiration 
lovely, be now so insufferably loathsome ! — 
Where are those blushing cheeks ; where the 
coral lips ; where that ivory neck, on which 
the curling jet in such glossy ringlets flow- 
ed ; with a thousand other beauties of per- 
son, and ten thousand delicacies of action ?* 
— Amazing alteration ! delusory bliss ! — 
Fondly I gazed upon tlie glittering meteor ; 
it shone brightly, and I mistook it for 
a star, for a permanent and substantial good. 
— But how is it fallen ! fallen from an orb 
not its own ! and all that I can trace on 
earth, is but a putrid mass." 

Lie, poor Florello, lie deep as thou dost 
in obscure darkness. Let night with her 
impenetrable shades, always conceal thee. 
May no prying eye be witness to thy dis- 
grace; but let thy surviving sisters think 
upon thy state, when they contemplate the 
idol in the glass. "When the pleasing images 
rise gracefully to view, siu-rounded with a 
world of charms : and flushed with joy at 
the consciousness of them all ; — then, in 
some minutes of temptation and danger, 
when vanity uses to steal into the thoughts ; 
— then let them remember what a veil of 
horror is drawn over a face, which was once 
beautiful and brilliant as theirs. Such a 
seasonable reflection might regulate the la- 



* Quo fugit Venus ! Heo I quove color ? deceiis 
Quo motis ? Quid habet iliius, iliius, 
Qu£e spirabat amores. 
Quae me surpuerat mihi ? — Hor, 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



19 



bours of the toilet, and create a more earn- j 
est solicitude to polish the jewel, than to ! 
varnish the casket. It might then become 
their highest ambition, to have the mind 
decked with divine virtues, and dressed after 
the amiable pattern of their Redeemer's ho- 
liness. 

And would this prejudice their persons, 
or depreciate their charms ? — Quite the re- 
verse ; it would spread a sort of heavenly 
glory over the finest set of features, and 
heighten the loveliness of every other en- 
gaging accomplishment — And what is yet 
a more inviting consideration, these flowers 
would not wither with nature, nor be tar- 
nished by time : but would open continual- 
ly into richer beauties, and flourish even in 
the winter of age — But the most incom- 
parable recommendation of these noble 
qualities is, that from their hallowed relics 
as from the fragrant ashes of the phoenix, 
will ere long arise an illustrious form, bright 
as the wdngs of angels, lasting as the light of 
the new Jerusalem. 

For my part, the remembrance of this 
sad revolution shall make me ashamed to 
pay my devotion to a shrine of perishing 
flesh, and afraid to exi)ect all my happiness 
from so brittle a joy. It shall teach me, 
not to think too highly of well proportion- 
ed clay, though formed in the most elegant 
mould, and animated with the sweetest soul. 
'Tis heaven's last, best, and crowning gift, 
to be received with gratitude, and cherished 
with love, as a most valuable blessing ; not 
worshipped with the incense of flattery, and 
strains of fulsome adoration, as a goddess. 
— It will cure, I trust, the dotage of my 
eyes : and incline me always to prefer the 
substantial " ornaments of a meek and vir- 
tuous spirit," before the transient decora- 
lions of white and red on the skin. 

Here I called in my roving meditations 
from their long excursion on this tender 
subject. Fancy listened a while to the so- 
liloquy of a lover ; now judgment resumes 
the reins, and guides my thoughts to more 
' near and self-interesting inquiiies. — How- 
ever, upon a re\'iew of the whole scene, 
crowded with spectacles of mortality and 
trophies of death, I could not forbear smit- 
ing my breast, and fetching a sigh, and la- 
menting oxer the noblest of all visible be- 
ings, lying in ruins under the feet of " the 
pale horse, and his rider." (Rev. vi. 8.) 
I could not forbear that pathetic exclama- 
tion, " O ! thou Adam, what hast thou 
done !" (2 Esdr. vii. 41. > What desolation 
has thy disobedience wrought in the earth ! 
See the malignity, the ruinous malignity, 
of sin ! Sin has demolished so many stately 
structm-es of flesh ; sin has made such havoc 
among the most excellent ranks of God's 
lower creation ; and sin (that deadly bane of i 
our nation) would have plunged our better ] 



j part into the execrable horrors of the nether- 
! most hell, had not our merciful Mediator in- 
terposed, and given himself for our ransom. 
— Therefore, what grateful acknowledg- 
ments does the whole world of penitent sin- 
ners owe ; what ardent retiu-ns of love will 
a whole heaven of glorified believers pay to 
such a friend, benefactor and deliverer ! 

Musing upon these melancholy objects, 
a faithful remembrancer suggests from with- 
in — " Must this sad change succeed in me 
also ? Am I to draw my last gasp, to be- 
come a breathless corpse, and to be what I de- 
plore ?* Is there a time approaching, when 
this body shall be carried out upon the bier, 
and consigned to its clay-cold bed ? while 
some kind acquaintance, perhaps, may drop 
one parting tear ; and cry, alas ! my brother, 
— Is the time approaclung ?" — Nothing is 
more certain. A degree, much surer than 
the law of the Medes and Persians, has ir 
revocably determined the doom. 

Should one of these ghastly figures burst 
from his confinement, and start up in fright- 
ful deformity before me ; — should the hag- 
gard skeleton lift a clattering hand, and 
point it full in my view ; — should it open 
the stifljened jaws, and mth a hoarse tre- 
mendous miu-miu", break this profound si- 
lence ; — should it accost me, as Samuel's 
apparition addressed the trembling king. — 
" The Lord shall deliver thee also into the 
hands of death ; yet a little while, and thou 
shalt be with me."f — The solemn warning, 
delivered in so striking a manner : must 
strongly impress my imagination ; a message 
in thunder would scarce sink deeper. Yet 
there is abundantly greater reason to be 
alarmed by that express declaration of the 
Lord God Almighty, " Thou shalt surely 
die." — Well then, since sentence is passed, 
since I am a condemned man, and know not 
when the dead wan'ant may arrive let me 
die to sin, and die to the world, before I die 
beneath the stroke of a righteous God. Let 
me employ the little uncertain interval of 
respite from execution, in preparing for a 
happier state and a better life ! that, when 
the fatal moment comes, and I am com- 



* I pass, with melancholy state, 
By all these solemn heaps of fate; 
And think, as soft and sad I tread, 
Above the venerable dead. 
" Time was, like me, they life possess'd. 
And time will be when I shall rest." Parnel. 
t 1 Sam. xxxviii. 19. On this place, the Dutch 
translator of tlie Meditatioiis has added a note ; to 
correct, very probably, what he supposes a mistake. 
On the same supposition, I presume, the compilers of 
our rubric, ordered the last verse of Ecclus. xlvi. to be 
omitted, in the daily service of the church. But that 
the sentiment hinted above, is strictly true ; that it 
was Samuel himself (not an infernal spirit, personat- 
ing the prophet) who appeared to the female necro- 
m.ancer at Endor : appeared not in compliance with 
any diabolical incantation, but in pursuance of the di- 
vine commission ; this, I think, is fully proved in the 
Historical Account of the life of David, Vol. 1. chap. 
I 23. 



MEDITATKJNS AJNlOKG THE TOMBS. 



rnaiided to shut ray eyes upon all things 
here below, I may open them again, to see 
iny Saviour in the mansions above. 

Since this body, Avhich is so fearfully 
and wonderfully made, must fall to pieces in 
the grave ; since I must soon resign all my 
bodily powers to darkness, inactivity and 
corruption : let it be my constant care to 
use them well, while I possess them ! — Let 
my hands be stretched forth to relieve the 
needy, and always be " more ready to give 
than to receive." — Let rny knees bend in 
deepest humiliation before the throne of 
grace ; while my eyes are cast down to the 
earth in penitential confusion, or devoutly 
looking up to hea\'en for pardoning mercy ! 
— In every friend-ly interview, let the "law 
of kindness dwell on my lips ;" or rather if 
the seriousness of my acquaintance permits, 
let the gospel of peace flow frorti my tongue. 
O I that I might be enabled in every public 
concoiu'se, to lift up my voice like a trum- 
pet ; and pour abroad a more joyful sound 
than its most melodious accents, in pro- 
claiming the glad tidings of free salvation ! 
— Be shut, my ears, resolutely shut, against 
the malevolent whispers of slander and the 
contagious breath of filthy talking ; but be 
swift to hear the instructions of wisdom, be 
all attention when your Redeemer speaks ; 
imbibe the precious truths, and convey them 
carefully to the heart. — Carry me, my feet, 
to the temj/le of the Lord-; to the beds of 
the sick, and houses of the poor. May all 
my members, devoted entirely to ray divine 
l\iaster, be the willing instruments of pro- 
moting his glorj'. 

Then, ye embalmers, you may spare your 
pains ; these works of faith and labours of 
love ; these shall be my spices and perfumes. 
Enwrapped in these, I would lay me gently 
down, and sleep sweetly in the blessed Je- 
sus ; hoping that God will " give command- 
ment concerning my bones ;" and one day 
ii^tch them up from the dust, as silver from 
the furnace purified, — " I say not seven 
times, but seventy times seven." 

Here my contemplation took wing ; and, 
in an instant alighted in the garden adjoin- 
ing to Mount Calvary. Having viewed the 
abode of my deceased fellow-creatures, me- 
thought I longed to see the place where our 
Lord lay. And, oh Avhat a marvellous 
spectacle was once exhibited in this memor- 
able sepulchre ! He* " who clothes him- 
self Avith light, as with a garment ; and 
vv'alks upon the wings of the wind ;"f He 
was pleased to wear the habiliments of mor- 



* Darkness his curtain and his bed the dust, 
Tho' sun and stars are dust beneath his throne. 

Night Thoughts. 
t The sacred scriptures, speaking of the Supreme 
Being, say— He walketh upon the v/aves of the sea,,to 
denote his uncontrollable power. Job. ix. 8.— He | 



tality, and dwelt among the prostrate dea(f. 
— Who can repeat the wondrous truth too- 
often ? Who can dwell upon the transport- 
ing theme too long? He who sits enthron- 
ed in glory, and diffuses bliss among all the- 
heavenly hosts, was once a pale and bloody 
corpse, and pressed this little spot. 

O death ! how great was thy triumph in 
that hour! Never did thy gloomy realms- 
contain such a prisoner before. — Prisoner, 
did I say ? ISo ; he was more than conquer- 
or. He arose far more mightily than Sam- 
son, from a transient slumber, broke dowir 
the gates, and demolished the strongholds 

of those dark dominions And this, O 

mortals, this is our only consolation and 
security. Jesus has trod the dreadful path, 
and smoothed it for our passage. — Jesus 
sleeping in the chambers of the tomb, has- 
brightened the dismal mansion, and left au- 
inviting odour in those beds of dust. The 
dying Jesus (never let the comfortable tintli- 
depart from your minds) is your sure protec-^ 
tion, your unquestionable passport through, 
the territories of the grave. Believe in him, 
and they shall prove a "highway to Sion ;"' 
shall transmit you safe to paradise. Believe 
in him ; and you shall be no losers, but lui- 
speakable gainers, by your dissolution. For 
hear what the oracle of heaven says upon 
this important point, Whoso believeth iii' 
me, shaJl never die." (John xi. 26.) — What 
sublime and emphatical language is this I 
Thus ranch, at least, it must import ; — 
" The nature of that last change shall 
be surprisingly altered for the better. It 
shall no longer be inflicted, as a puinsh- 
ment ; but rather be vouchsafed as a bless- 
ing. To such persons, it shall come attend- 
ed with such a train of benefits, as will ren- 
der it a kind of happy impropriety, to call it 
dying. Dying [ No ; 'tis then they truly 
begin to live. Their exit is the end of their 
fraUty, and their entrance upon perfection.. 
Their last groan is the prelude to life and 
immoitality." 

O ye timorous souls, that are terrified at 
the sound of the passing-beU ; that turn pale 



wall^eth in the circuit of heaven^ tt> express the im- 
mensity of his -presence. Job xxii. 14. — He walketh 
upon the wings of the wind, to signify the amazing 
swiftness of his operation, Psal. civ. 3.— In which 
last phrase> there is, 1 think, an elegance and em- 
phasis, not taken notice of by our commentators, and 
yet unequalled in any writer. — Not he flieth ; he run- 
neth ; but he walketh ; and that on the very wings of 
the wind ; one of the most impetuous elements, rous- 
ed into its vitmost rage, and sweeping along with in- 
conceivable rapidity.. A tumult in nature, not to be 
described, is the comj)osed and sedate work of the 
Deity. A speed not to be m.easured, is (with rever- 
ence I use the expression, and to comport vi-ith our 
low methods of conception) the solemn and majestic 
foot-pace of Jehovah.— How flat are the following 
lines, even in the great master of lyric song, 
Ocyor cervis, et agentenimbos 
Ocyor Furo, 

when compared v.-ith this inimitable stroke of diviae 
poetry !— He walketh iipon the wings of the wind. 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



21 



fit the sight of an opened grave ; and can 
scarce behold a coffin, or a skull, without a 
shuddering horror ; ye that are in bondage to 
the grisly tyrant, and tremble at the shak- 
ing of his iron rod ; cry mightily to the Fa- 
ther of your spirits, for faith in his dear 
Son. Faith will free you from your sla- 
very.* Faith will embolden you to tread 
on (this fiercest of) serpents, (Lukex. 19.) 
-Old Simeon, clasping the child Jesus in the 
«rms of his flesh, and the glorious Mediator 
in the arras of his faith, departs with tran- 
ijuillity and peace. That bitter persecutor 
Saul, having \vor\ Christ, being found in 
.Christ, longs to be dismissed from cum- 
brous clay, and kindles into rapture at the 
prospect of dissolution, (Phil. i. 23. 2 
■ Tim. iv- 7, 8.) Methinks I see another 
of Immanuel's followers, trusting in his Sa- 
viour, leaning on his Beloved, go down to 
the silent shades with composure and alac- 
rity, (2 Pet. i. 14.) In this powerful name, 
an innumerable company of sinful creatures 
Jhave set up their banners ; and " overcome 
-through the blood of the Lamb." Author- 
ized by the Captain of thy salvation, thou 
.also mayest set thy feet upon tlie neck of 
this king of terrors. Furnished with this 
iintidote, thou also mayest play around the 
hole of the asp, and put thy undaunted hand 
x>n this cockatrice den, (Isa. xi, 8.) Thou 
-niavest feel the viper fastening to thy mor- 
tal part, and fear no evil : Thou shalt one 
^day shake it off by a joyful resurrection, and 
suffer no harm, (Acts xxviii. 35.) 

Resurrection ! that cheering word eases 
-my mind of an anxious thought, and solves 
a most momentous question. I was going 
ito ask, " V/herefore do all these corpses lie 
here, in this abject condition ? Is this their 
final state ? Plas death conquered ? and 
will the tyrant hold captivity captive ? How 
rlong wilt thou forget them, O Lord ? For 
.ever?" — No, saith the voice from heaven, 
.the word of divine revelation: The righte- 
ous are all '' prisoners of hope ;" (Zech. ix 
J 2.) There is an hour (an awful secret 
that, and known only to all-foreseeing wis-- 



• Death's terror is the mountain faith removes ; 
'Tis faith disarms destruction— 
Beheve, and look with triumph on the tomb. 
These and some other quotations I am proud to bor- 
row from the Night Thoughts, especially from Night 
the Fourth ; in which energy of language, sublimity 
of sentiment, and the most exquisite beauties of poe- 
try are the least perfections to be admired. Almost 
every line glows with devotion, rises into the most 
exalted apprehensions of the adorable Hedeemer, and 
is animated with the most lively faith in his all-suffi- 
cient mediation. The author of this excellent per- 
formance has the peculiar felicity of ennobling all the 
.strength of style, and every delicacy of imagination, 
with the grand and momentous truths of Christiani- 
ty. These thoughts give the highest entertainment 
to the fancy, ancl impart the noblest improvement to 
the mind ; they not only refine our taste, but prepare 
lis for death, and ripen us for glory. 1 never take up 
this admirable piece, but I am ready to cry out, — Te- 
cum vivere amem, tecum oheani liliens, i.e- " Inspire 
me with such a spiiit, and life shall be deliglitfisl, nor 
death itse'f unweltonie." 



dom) an appointed hour there is, when an 
act of grace will pass the great seal above, 
and give them an universal discharge, a ge- 
neral delivery from the abodes of corrup- 
tion. Then shall the Lord Jesus descend 
from heaven, with the shout of the archan- 
gel, and the trump of God. Destruction 
itself shall hear his call, and the obedient 
grave give up her dead. In a moment, in 
the twinkling of an eye, they shake off the 
sleep of ten thousand years, and spring 
forth, like the bounding roe, " to meet their 
Lord in the air." 

And, O ! with what cordial corgratula- 
ti-ons, what transporting endearments, do the 
soul and body, those affectionate compan- 
ions, re-imite ! Btit with how much greater 
demonstrations of kindness, are they both 
received by their compassionate Redeemer ! 
The Ancient of days, who cosnes in tin; 
clouds of heaven, is their friend, their fa- 
ther, their bridegroom. He comes ^itii 
irresistible power, and infinite glory. But 
they have nothing to fear from his majestic 
appearance. Those ti'emendous solemni- 
ties, vrhich spread desolation and a.stoni^h- 
ment through the universe, serve only to in- 
flame their love, and lieigliten their hopes. 
The Judge, the awfid Judge, 'midst all his 
magnificence and splendour, vouchsafes to 
confess their names, votichsafes to comme- 
morate their fidelity, before all the inhabi- 
tants of the skies, and the whole assembled 
world. 

Hark] the thunders are hushed. See ! 
the lightnings cease their rage, the angelic 
armies stand in silent suspense ; the whole 
race of Adam is wrapt in pleasing or anx- 
ious expectation. — And now that adorable 
person, whose favour is better than life, 
whose acceptance is a crouTi of glory, lifts 
up the light of his counteioance upon the 
righteous. He speaks ; and vv'hat ravish- 
ing words proceed from his gracious lips ! 
What ecstasies of delight they enkindle in 
the breasts of the faithful ! " I accept you, 
O my people ! Ye are they that believed 
in my name. Ye are they that renounced 
yourselves, and are complete in me. I see 
no spot or blemish in you : for ye are 
washed in my blood, and clothed with my 
righteousness. Renewed by my Spirit, ye 
have glorified me on earth, and have been 
faithful unto death, (^ome, then, ye ser- 
vants of holiness, enter into the joy of your 
Lrord. Come, ye children of light, ye bless- 
ed of my Father, receive the kingdom that 
shall never be removed ; wear the crown 
which fadeth not away, and enjoy pleasures 
for evermore !" 

Then it will be one of the smallest privi- 
leges of the righteous, that they shall lan- 
guish no more ; that sickness will never 
again show her pale countenance in their 



22 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



dwellings.* Death itself, will be "swallow- 
ed up in victory." That fatal javelin which 
has drank the blood of monarchs, and finds 
its way to the hearts of all the sons of Adam, 
shall be utterly broken. That enormous 
scythe, which has struck empires from their 
root, and swept ages and generations into 
oblivion, shall lie by in perpetual useless- 
ness. Sin also which filled thy quiver, 
thou insatiate archer! — sin, which strung 
thy arm with resistless vigour, which point- 
ed all thy shafts with inevitable destruc- 
tion — sin, will then be done away. What- 
ever is frail or depraved, will be thrown 
off with our grave-clothes. All to come 
is perfect holiness, and consummate happi- 
ness ; the term of whose continuance is 
eternity. 

O Eternity! eternity! how are our nobles, 
our boldest, our strongest thoughts lost and 
overwhelmed in thee ! Who can set land- 
marks to limit thy dimensions, or find plum- 
mets to fathom thy depths ! Arithmeticians 
have figures to compute all the progressions 
of time; Astronomers have instruments 
to calculate the distances of the planets ; but 
what numbers can state, what lines can 
gauge, the lengths and depths of eternity ? 
" It is higher than heaven ; what canst 
thou do? deeper than hell; what canst 
thou know ? The measure thereof is long- 
er than the earth, broader than the sea." 
(Jobxi. 8, 9.) 

Mysterious, mighty existence ! A sum 
not be lessened by the largest deductions ; 
an extent not to be contracted by all possi- 
ble diminutions ! None can truly say, after 
the most prodigious waste of ages, " So 
much of eternity is gone." For when mil- 
lions of centuries are elapsed, it is but just 
commencing; and when millions more have 
run their ample round, it will be no nearer 
ending. Yea, when ages, numerous as the 
bloom of spring increased by the her- 
bage of summer, both augmented by the 
leaves of autumn, and all multiplied by the 
drops of rain, which drown the winter — 
when these, and ten thousand times ten 
thousand more — more than can be repre- 
sented by any similitude, or imagined by 
any conception ; — when all these are revolv- 
ed and finished, eternity, vast, boundless, 
amazing eternity, will only be beginning. 

What a pleasing, yet awful thought is 
this ! full of delight, and full of dread. O 
may it alarm our fears, quicken our hopes, 
and animate all our endeavours ! Since we 
are soon to launch into this endless and in- 
conceivable state, let us give all diligence 



* Isaiah, speaking of the new Jerusalem, mentions 
this as one of its impunities. The inhabitants there- 
of shall no more say, I am sick. Another clause in 
its royal charter runs thus, God. shall wipe away all 
tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more 
death, neither sorrow nor crying; neither shall there 
bo aiiy more pain. Isa. xxxiii/24. Rev. xxi. 4. 



to secure our entrance into bliss — Now liet 
us give all diligence, because there is no 
alteration in the scenes of futurity. The 
wheel never turns ; all is steadfast and im- 
moveable beyond the grave. Whether we 
are then seated on the throne, or stretched 
on the rack, a seal Mall be set to our con- 
dition, by the hand of everlasting mercy, 
or inflexible justice. — The saints always 
rejoice amid the smiles of heaven ; their 
harps are perpetually tuned ; their triumphs 
admit of no interruption. — The ruin of 
the wicked is irremediable. The fatal sen- 
tence, once passed, is never to be repealed. 
No hope of exchanging their doleful ha- 
bitations. But all things bear the same 
dismal aspect for ever and ever. 

The wicked — My mind recoils at the 
apprehension of theii* misery.* It has 
studiously waved the fearful subject, and 

seems unwilling to pursue it even now 

But, 'tis better to reflect upon it for a few 
minutes, than to endure to eternal ages. 
Perhaps, the consideration of their aggra- 
vated misery may be profitably terrible ; 
may teach me more highly to prize the Sa- 
viour, who, " delivers from going do^vn to 
the bottomless pit ;" may drive me, like 
the avenger's sword, to this only city of 
refuge for obnoxious sinners. 

The wicked seem to lie here, like male- 
factors in a deep and strong dungeon, re- 
served against the day of trial. — " Their 
departure was without peace." Clouds of 
horror sat lowring upon their closing eye- 
lids, most sadly foreboding " the blackness 
of darkness for ever." When the last sick- 
ness seized their frame, and the inevitable 
change advanced ; when they saw the fatal 
arrows fitting to their strings ; saw the dead- 
ly archer aiming at their heart; and felt 
the envenomed shaft fastened in their vi- 
tals. — Good God! what fearfulness came 
upon them ! what horrible dread over- 
whelmed them. How did they stand shud- 
dering and aghast upon the tremendous 
precipice ? excessively afraid to plunge into 
the abyss of eternity, yet utterly unable to 
maintain their standing on the verge of life. 

O ! what pale reviews, what startling 
prospects conspire to augment their sor- 
rows ! They look backward, and behold, 
a most melancholy scene ! Sins unrepented 
of, mercy slighted, and the day of grace 
ending. — They look forward, and nothing 
presents itself but the righteous Judge, the 
dreadful tribunal, and a most solemn reck- 
oning They roll around their afl^righted 

eyes on attending friends. — If accomplices 
in debauchery, it sharpens their anguish, 
to consider this further aggravation of their 
guilt, that they have not sinned alone, but 



* Animus meminisse horret luctuque refugit.— 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



23 



tlra"\\ni others into the snare. If religious 
acquaintances, it strikes a fresh gash into 
their hearts to think of never seeing them 
»ny more, but only at an unapproach- 
able distance separated by the unpassable 
^ulf. 

At last, perhaps, they begin to pray. Find- 
ing no otlier possible ^^'ay of relief, they are 
^constrained to apply unto the Almighty ; 
with trembling lips and a faltering tongue, 
they cry unto that sovereign Being, " who 
kills and makes alive," — But why have 
they deferred, so long deferred, their ad- 
dresses to God ? Why have they despised 
all his counsels, and stood incorrigible un- 
der his incessant reproofs? How often 
have they been forewarned of these terrors, 
and most importunately entreated to seek 
the Lord, while he might be found? — I 
wish they may obtain mercy at the eleventh, 
at the last hour. I -wish that they may be 
snatched from the jaws, the opened, the 
gaping, the almost closing jaws of damna- 
tion. But, alas ! who can tell, whether af- 
fronted Majesty will lend an ear to their 
complaint ? whether the holy One will 
work a miracle of grace in behalf of such 
transgressors ? He may, for aught any mor- 
tal knows, " laugh at their calamity, and 
inock when their fear cometh." 

Thus they lie, groaning out the poor 
remains of life ; their limbs bathed in 
sweat ; their hearts struggling with con- 
vulsive throes ; pains insupportable throb- 
bing through every pulse ; and inniuner- 
able darts of agony transfijcing their con- 
science. 

In that dread moment how the frantic soul 
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement : 
Runs to each avenue ; and shrieks for help ; 
But shrieks in vain I how wishfully she looks 
On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! 
. A little longer, yet a little longer, 

O ! might she stay, to wash away her crimes. 
And fit her for her passage! Mournful sight ! 
Her very eyes weep blood ; and every groan 
She heaves, is big with horror; but the foe, 
Like a staunch murd'rer steady to "his purpose, 
Pursues her close tlirough every lane of life. 
Nor misses once the track, but presses on ; 
Till forc'd at last to the tremendous verge. 
At once she sinks.* 

If this be the end of the ungodly, " My 
soul, come not thOu into their secret ! Unto 
their assembly, mine honour, be thou not 
uniteil !" — How awfully accomplished is 
that prediction of inspired wdsdom ! " Sin, 
though seemingly sv>'eet in the commission, 
yet at last it biteth like a serpent, and sting- 
eth like an adder." 

Happy dissolution ; were this the pe- 
riod of their woes, But, alas I all these 
ti ibidations are only the " beginning of 
sorrows ;" a small drop only from that cup 
of trembling, which is mingled for their 



* See a valusl-'.e Patun, er-titicd Tlic Grave. 



futiure portion. — No sooner has the last 
pang dislodged their reluctant souls but 
they are hurried into the presence of an in- 
jured angry God ; not under the conduct- 
ing care of beneficent angels, but exposed 
to the insults of accursed spirits, who lately 
tempted them, now upbraid them, and will 
for ever torment them. — Who can imagine 
their confusion and distress, when they stand, 
guilty and inexcusable, before their incensed 
Creator ? They are received with frowns : 
" The God that made them, has no mercy 
on them." (Isa. xxvii. 11.) The Prince 
of peace rejects them wdth abhorrence. He 
consigns them over to chains of darkness, 
and receptacles of despair, against the se- 
verer doom, and more public infamy, of the 
great day. Then all the vials of wrath 
will be emptied upon these wretched crea^ 
tures. The law they have violated, and the 
gospel they have slighted ; the power they 
have defied, and the goodness they have 
abused ; will all get themselves honour in 
their exemplary destruction. Then God, 
the God to whom vengeance belongeth, 
will draw the arrow to the \ery head, and 
set them as the mark of his inexorable dis- 
pleasure. 

Resurrection will be no privilege to them ; 
but immortality itself their everlasting curse. 
— Would they not bless the grave, " that 
land where all things are forgotten ;" and 
wish to lie eternally hid in its deepest 
gloom ? But the dust refuses to conceal 
their persons, or to draw a veil over their 
practices. They must also awake ; must 
arise ; must appear at the bar : and meet 
the Judge : a judge before whom " the pil- 
lars of heaven tremble, and the earth melts 
away ;" a Judge once long-sulfering and 
very compassionate, but novv' unalterably 
determined to teach stubborn off'enders, — 
what it is to provoke the Omnipotent God- 
head ; what it is to trample upon the blood 
of his Son, and off'er despite to all the gra- 
cious overtm'es of his Spirit. 

O ! the perplexit)' ! tlie distraction ! that 
must seize the impenitent rebels, Avhen they 
are summoned to the great tribunal ! What 
will they do in this day of severe visitation ! 
this day of final decision — Where ? how ? 
whence can they find help ? — To which of 
the saints will they turn ? whither betake 
themselves for shelter or for succoirr ? 
Alas ! it is all in vain ; it is all too late. 
— Friends and acquaintances know them 
no more ; men and angels abandon them 
to their approaching doom ; even the Me- 
diator, the Mediator himself deserts them 
in this dreadful hour.— To fly, it will be 
impracticable : to justify themselves, still 
more impossible; and now to make any 
su})plications, utterly unavailable. 

Behold ! the books are opened ! the se- 
1 crets of all hearts are disclosed ! the hid- 



24 



MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



den things of darkness are brought to ligbt ! 
How empty, how ineffectual now, are all 
those refined artifices, with which hypo- 
crites imposed upon their fellow creatures, 
and preserved a character in the sight of 
men ! — the jealous God, who has been 
about their path, and about their bed, and 
espied out all their ways, " sets before them 
the things that they have done." They 
cannot answer him one in a thousand, nor 
stand in the awful judgment. The heavens 
reveal their iniquities, and the earth rises 
■up against them. (Job xx. 27.) They are 
speechless with guilt, and stigmatized with 
infamy before all the armies of the sky, 
and all the nations of the redeemed. — What 
a favour would they esteem it, to hide 
their ashamed heads in the bottom of the 
ocean, or even to be buried beneath the 
ruins of the tottering world ! 

If the contempt poured upon them be 
thus insupportable, how will their hearts 
endure, when the sword of infinite indigna- 
tion is unsheathed, and fiercely waved 
around their defenceless heads, or pointed 
directly at their naked breasts ! How mu5t 
the wretches scream with wild amazement, 
and rend the very heavens with their cries, 
when the right aiming thunderbolts go 
abroad ! go abroad with a dreadful commis- 
sion, to drive them from the kingdom of 
glory ; and plunge them — not into the sor- 
rows of a moment, or the tortures of an 
hour, but into all the restless agonies of un- 
quenchable fire, and everlasting despair.* 

Misery of miseries ! too shocking for re- 
flection to dwell upon. But if so dismal 
to foresee, and that at a distance, together 
with some comfortable expectation of es- 

ca])ing it O ! how bitter, inconceivably 

bitter, to bear mthout any intermission, or 
any mitigation, through hopeless and eter- 
nal ages ! 

V/ho has any bowels of pity ? "VVTio has 
any sentiments of compassion ? Who has 
any tender concern for his fellow creatures ? 
Who ? in God's name, and for Christ's sake, 
let him show it by warning every man, and 
beseeching every man, to seek the Lord 
while he may be found ; to throw down the 
arms of rebellion, before the act of indem- 
inty expires ; submissively to adore the 
Lamb, while he holds out the golden scep- 
tre — Here let us act the friendly part to 
mankind ; here let the whole force of our 
benevolence exert itself : in exhorting rela- 
tions, acquaintance, neighbours, whomso- 
ever we may probably influence, to take the 
wings of faith unfeigned, or repentance un 



delayed, and flee away from this MTath to 
come. 

Upon the whole, what stupendous disco- 
veries are these ! Lay them up in a faithful 
remembrance, O my soul. Recollect them 
with the most serious attention, when thou 
liest down, and when thou risest up. When 
thou walkest ; receive them for thy com- 
panions ; when thou talkest, listen to them 
as thy prompters ; and whatever thou dost, 
consult them as thy directors — Influenced 
by these considerations, thy views will 
greaten, thy affections be exalted, and thou 
thyself raised above the tantalizing power 
of perishing things. Duly mindful of these, 
it will be the sum of thy desires, and the 
scope of thy endeavours, to gain the appro- 
bation of that sovereign Being, who wall 
then fill the throne, and pronounce the de- 
cisive sentence. Thou wilt see nothing 
worth a wish, in comparison of having his 
will for thy nde ; his glory for thy aim ; 
and his Holy Spirit for thy ever actuating 
principal. 

Wonder, O man ; be lost in admiration, 
at those prodigious events, which are com- 
ing upon the universe ; events, the great- 
ness of which nothing finite can measure ; 
such as will cause whatever is considerable 
or momentous in the annals of all genera- 
tions, to sink into littleness or nothing. 
Events (Jesus prepare us for their ap- 
proach ! defend us, when they take place ! ) 
big w>th the everlasting fates of all the liv- 
ing and all the dead* — I must see the graves 
cleaving, the sea teeming, and swarms un- 
suspected, crowds unnumbered, yea, multi- 
tudes of thronging nations, rising from both. 
— I must see the world in flames, must 
stand at the dissolution of all terrestrial 
things : and be an attendant on the burial of 
nature. I must see the vast expanse of the 
sky wrapt up like a scroll ; and the incar- 
nate God issuing forth from light inacces- 
sible, with ten thousand times ten thousand 
angels, to judge both men and devils — I 
must see the curtain of time drop ; see all 
eternity disclosed to view, and enter upon a 
state of being, that wiU never, never have 
an end ! 

And ought I not (let the vainest imagin- 
ation determine ; ought I not) to try the 
sincerity of my faith, and take heed to my 
ways ? Is there an inquiry, is there a care, 
of greater, of equal, of comparable impor- 
tance ? — Is not this an infinitely pressing 
call, to see that my loins are girded about, 
my lamp trimmed, and myself dressed for 
the Bridegroom's appearance : that, wash- 
ed in the fountain opened in my Saviour's 



Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 
And rest can never dwell ; hope never comes. 
That comes to all ; but torture without end 
Still urges, and a fiery deluge fed 
With pver bxirning sulphur uiiconsumed. — Milton. 



Great day of dread decision, and despair ' 
At thought of thee, each subhmary wish 
Lets ffo its eager grasp and quits the hold. 

^ « i Tf might f. 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



25 



side, and clad with the marriage-garment, 
wove by his obedience, I may be found, in 
peace, unblameable, and unreproveable. — 
Otherwise, how shall I stand with boldness, 
when the stars of heaven fall from their 
orbs ? how shall I come forth erect and 
courageous, when the earth itself reels to 
and fro like a drunkard? (Isa. xxiv. 20.) 
how shall I look up with joy and see my 
salvation drawing nigh, when the hearts of 
millions and millions fail for fear. 

Now, Madam, lest my meditations set in 
a cloud, and leave any unpleasing gloom upon 
your mind ; let me once more turn to the 
brightening prospects of the righteous. A 
^dew of them and their delightful expecta- 
tions, may serve to exhilarate the thoughts 
which have been musing upon melancholy 
subjects, and hovering about the edges of 
infernal darkness ! just as a spacious field, 
arrayed in cheerful green, relieves and re- 
invigorates the eye which has fatigued it- 
self by poring upon some minute, or gazing 
upon some glaring object. 

The righteous seem to lie by in the bo- 



som of the earth, as a waiy pilot in some 
well sheltered creek, till all the storms, 
which infest this lower world, are blown 
over. Here they enjoy safe anchorage, are 
in no danger of foundering, amidst the waves 
of prevailing iniquity, or of being ship- 
wrecked on the rocks of any powerful temp- 
tation. But ere long we shall behold them 
hoisting their flag of hope ; riding before a 
sweet gale of atoning merit, and redeeming 
love ; till they make with all the sails of 
an assured faith, the blessed port of eternal 
life. 

Then may the honoured friend to whom 
I am writing, rich in good works, rich in 
heavenly tempers, but inexpressibly lichei 

in her Saviour's righteousness Oh ! may 

she enter the harbour, like a gallant stately 
vessel, returned successful and victorious 
from some grand expedition, with acclama- 
tions, honoiu- and joy ! while my little bark, 
attendant on the solemnity, and a partaker 
of the triumph, glides humbly after ; and 
both rest together in the haven, — the wish- 
ed-for blissful haven, of perfect security, 
and everlustuig repose. 



REFLECTIONS 

ON A 

FLOWER-GARDEN, 

IN A 

LETTER TO A LADY. 



Madam, 

Some time ago, my meditations took a turn 
among the Tombs ; they visited the awiul 
and melancholy mansions of the dead ;* and 
you was pleased to favoiu* them with your 
attention — May I now beg the honour of 
your company, in a more inviting and de- 
lightfid excursion, in a beautiful Flower- 
Garden, where I lately walked, and at once 
regaled the sense, and indulged the fancy ? 



* " Discourses on the vanity of the creature which 
represent the barrenness of every thing in this world, 
and its incapacity of producincr any solid or substan- 
tial happiness, are useful.— Those speculations also 
which show the bright side of things, and lay forth 
those innocent entertainments, which are to be met 
with among the several objects that encompass us, 
are no less beneficial," Spcct. vol. v. No. 393. Upon 
tlfec plan of these obsorvativoiis, the preceding and lol- j 
lowing reflections are formed. 



It was early in a summer-morning, when 
the air was cool, the earth moist, the whole 
face of the creation fresh and gay. The 
noisy world was scarce awake. Business 
had not quite shook off his sound sleep ; and 
riot had but just reclined his giddy head. 
All was serene, all was still, every thing 
tended to inspire tranquillity of mind, and 
invite to serious thought. 

Only the wakeful lark had left her nest, 
and was mounting on high, to salute the 
opening day. Elevated in the air, she 
seemed to call the laborious husbandman to 
his toil, and all her fellow songsters to 
their notes — Earliest of birds, said I, com- 
panion of the dawn, may I always rise at 
j thy voice ! rise to olfer the matin-song, 



26 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



and adore that beneficent Being, "whomak- 
eth the outgoings of the morning and even- 
ing to rejoice." 

How charming to rove abroad at this 
«weet hour of prime ! to enjoy the calm of 
nature, to tread the dewy lawns, and taste 
the unrifled freshness of the air ! 

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, 
With charm of earliest birds.* 

What a pleasure do the sons of sloth 
loose ! Little, ah ! little is the sluggard sen- 
sible how delicious an entertainment he 
foregoes, for the poorest of all animal grati- 
ficationsif - . 

The greyness of the dawn decays gra- 
dually. Abundance of ruddy streaks tinges 
the fleeces of the firmament ; till at length 
the dappled aspect of the east is lost in one 
ardent and boundless blush — Is it the sur- 
mise of imagination, or do the skies really 
redden with shame to see so many supinely 
stretched on tlieir drowsy pillows ? Shall 
man be lost in luxurious ease ? Shall man 
waste these precious hours in idle slumbers ! 
while the vigorous sun is up, and going on 
his Maker's errand? while all the feathered 
choir are hymning their Creator, and paying 
their homage in harmony ? — No. Let 
him heighten the melody of the tuneful 
tribes, by adding the rational strains of de- 
votion. Let him improve the fragrant ob- 
lations of natiu-e, by mingling with the ris- 
ing odours the more refined breath of praise. 

It is natural for man to look upward, to 
throw his first glance upon the objects that 
are above him. 

Strait toward heav'n my wondering eyes I turned, 
And gaz'd awhile the ample Sky. § 

Prodigious theatre ! where lightnings 
dart their fire, and thunders utter their voice ; 
where tempests spend their rage, and worlds 
unnumbered roll at large ! — O ! the great- 
ness of that mighty hand, which meteth 
out this amazing circumference with a span ! 
Oh ! the immensity of that wonderful Be- 
ing, before whom this unmeasurable extent 
is no more than a point ! And, oh ! (thou 
pleasing thought ! ) the unsearchable riches 
of that mercy which is greater than the hea- 
vens 1 ( Psal. cviii. 4.) is more enlarged and 
extensive, in its gracious exercise than these 



* Milt. Par. Lost. Book iv. line 641. 

t See ! how revelation and reason, the scriptures, 
and the classics, unanimously exhott to this most be- 
neficial practice. They both invite us to early rising, 
by the most engaging motives, and the most alluring 
representations. 

Come my beloved, let us gO forth into the fields ; 
let us lodge in the villages. Let us get up early to the 
vineyards ; let us see if the vine flourish, whether the 
tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth. 
Song vii. 11, 12, 

Luciferi prirao cum sidere, frigida rura 

Garpamus, dura mane novum Sum gramina canent, 

Et ros in tenera necori gratissimus herba est. 

Virg. Georfi: III. 

J Oa homini sublime dedit, ccDlumque tueri 
Jussit, et erectos ad sidera tollere vultiss. — Ovid. 

§ Milt. Par. Lost, book viii, line 257. 



illimitable tracts of air, and sea, and firnm- 
ment! which pardons crimes of the most 
enormous size, and the most horrid aggra- 
vations ; pardons them in consideration of 
the Redeemer's atonement, with perfect' 
freeness and the utmost readiness ! more 
readily, if it were possible, than this all-sur- 
rounding expanse admits, within its cir- 
cuit, a ridge of mountains, or even a grain 
of sand. 

Come hither, then, ye awakened trem- 
bling sinners. Come* weary and heavy 
laden with a sense of your iniquities. Con- 
demn yourselves. Renounce all reliance, 
on any thing of your own. Let your trust 
be in the tender mercy of God, for ever and 
ever. 

In them hath he set a tabernacle for the 
sun, (Psal. xix. 4.) Behold him coming 
forth from the chambers of the east. See ! 
the clouds, like floating ctu'tains, are thrown 
back at his approach. With what refid- 
gent majesty does he walk abroad! How 
transcendently bright is his countenance, 
shedding day and inexhaustible light through 
the universe ! Is there a scene, though fin- 
ished by the most elaborate and costly re- 
finements of art, " comparable to these il- 
lustrious solemnities of opening sunshine ? 
Before these all the studied pageantry of the 
theatre, the glittering economy of an assem- 
bly, or even the heightened ornam.ents of a 
royal palace, hide their diminished heads, and 
shrink into nothing." — I have read of a per- 
son so struck with the splendours of this no- 
ble luminary, that he imagined himself made 
on purpose to contemplate its glories. O ! 
that Christians would adopt this persuasion, 
and transfer it to the Sun of Righteousness ! 
Thus applied, it would cease to be a chi- 
merical notion, and become a most impor- 
tant truth. For sure I am, it is the su- 
preme happiness of the eternal state. And 
therefore may well be the ruling concern 
of this present life, to know the only true 
God, and Jesus Christ whom he hath sent. 



* The lines which follow are admirably descriptive 
of the spirit and practice hinted above. In them de- 
sire pants; prayer wrestles; and faith, as it were, 
grasps the prize : — I take leave to transplant them 
into this place ; and I could wish them a better, a more 
conspicuous situation than even their own or their 
native soil. Their native soil is no other than the 
lamentations of a sinner, written by Mr. Sternhold. 
Notwithstanding the unpromising genius of the per- 
formance, I think we may challenge the greatest 
masters to produce any thing more spirited and im- 
portunate ; more full of nature, or more flushed with 
life. 

Mercy, good Lord, mercy I crave; 

^J'his is the total sum ; 
For mercy. Lord, is all my suit; 
Lord, let thy mercy come. 
The short sentences; — not a single copulative; — 
the frequent repetition of the Divine name;— the 
almost incessant reiteration of the blessing, so pas- 
sionately desired, and inexpressibly needed: — This 
is the genuine language of ardour ; these are beauties 
obvious to every eye, and cannot fail either to please 
tr.c judicious taste, or to edify the gracious heait. 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 



27 



— Nor do I stand alone in this opinion. 
The very best judge of whatever is vahiable 
in science, or perfective of our nature ; a 
judge who formed his taste on the maxims 
of paradise, and received the finishings of 
his education in the third heavens ; this 
judge determines to know nothing but Je- 
sus Christ, and him crucified. He possess- 
ed, in his own person, the finest, the most 
admired accomplishments ; yet pronounces 
them no better than dung, in comparison 
of the super-eminent excellency of this 
saving knowledge. ( Phil. iii. 8. ) 

Methinks I discern a thousand admirable 
properties in the sun. It is certainly the 
best material emblem of the Creator. 
There is more of God in its lustre, energy, 
and usefulness, than in any other visible be- 
ing. To worship it as a deity was the least 
inexcusable of all the heathen idolatries. 
One scarce can wonder, that fallen reason 
should mistake so fair a copy for the ador- 
able originiil. No comparison in the whole 
took of sacred wisdom, pleases me more 
than that which resembles the blessed Jesus, 
to yonder regent of the day ;* who now ad- 
vances on his azure road, to scatter light 
and dispense gladness through the nations. 

What were all the realms of the world, 
but a dungeon of darkness, without the 
beams of the sun ? All their fine scenes, 

hid from our view, lost in obscurity In 

vain we roll around our eyes in the mid- 
night gloom. In vain we strive to behold 
the features of amiable nature. Turn whi- 
ther we will, no form or comeliness appears. 
All seems a dreary waste, an undistin- 
guished chaos, till the returning hours have 
unbarred the gates of light, and let forth 
the morn. Then what a prospect opens ! 
the heavens are paved with azure, and strew- 
ed with roses. A variety of the liveliest ver- 
dures array the plain. The flowers put on 
a glow of the richest colours. The whole 
creation stands forth, dressed in all the 
charms of beauty. The ravished eye looks 
round, and wonders. 

And what had been the condition of our 
intellectual nature, without the great Re- 
deemer, and his divine revelation ? — Alas ! 
what absurd and unworthy apprehensions 
did the Pagan sages form of God ! What 
idle dreams, what childish conjectures, were 
their doctrines of a future state ! — How 
did the bulk even of that favoured nation, 
the Jews, weary themselves in very vanity, 
to obtain peace and reconciliation with their 
offended Jehovah ! till Jesus arose upon 
our benighted minds, and brought life and 
immortality to light : till He arose, to en- 
lighten the wretched Gentiles, and to be 
the glory of his people Israel. 



* Unto yox! that fear my name, shall the Sun of 
ilighteousness arise with healing in his wings. Mai. 



Now, we no longer cry out with a rest- 
less impatience, Where is God my Maker? 
for we are allowed to contemplate the 
brightness of liis glory, and the express 
image of his person, in the face of Jesus 
Christ. Now, we no longer inquire, with an 
unsatisfied solicitude, "which is the way to 
bliss?" because Jesus has marked the path, 
by his shining example ; and left us an un- 
erring clue in his holy word Now, we have 

no more reason to proceed with misgiving 
hearts in our journey to eternity, or to ask 
anxiously as we go, " Who wiU roU away 
the stone, and open the everlasting doors? 
Who will remove the flaming sword, and 
give us admission into the delights of para- 
dise ?" For it is done, all done by the Cap- 
tain of our salvation. Sin he has expiated, 
by the unblemished sacrifice of himself. 
The law he has fulfilled, by his perfect 
obedience. The sinner he transforms, by 

his sanctifying spirit In a word, he hath 

both presented us with a clear discovery of 
good things to come ; and administered to 
us an abundant entrance into the final en- 
joyment of them. 

Whenever, therefore, we bless God for the 
circling seasons, and revolving day, let us 
adore — thankfully adore — him, for the more 
precious appearance of the Sun of Righ- 
teousness, and his glorious gospel. With- 
out which, we should have been groping 
even to this hour, in spiritual darkness, and 
the shadow of death ; without which we 
must have wandered in a maze of inextrica- 
ble uncertainties ; and have " stumbled up- 
on the dark mountains" of error, till we fell 
into the bottomless pit of perdition. 

Without that grand enlivening principle, 
what were this earth, but a lifeless mass ? 
a rude lump of inactive matter? The trees 
could never break forth into leaves, nor the 
plants spring up into flowers. We should no 
more behold the meadows mantled over with 
green, nor the vallies standing thick with com. 
Or, to speak in the beautiful language of a 
prophet, (Hab. iii. 17.) " No longer would 
the fig-tree blossom, nor fruit be in the 
vine : The labour of the olive would fail, 
and the fields could yield no meat : The 
flocks must be cut off from the fold, and 

there would be no herd in the stalls The 

sun darts its beams among all the vegeta- 
ble tribes, and paints the spring, and enriches 
the autumn. This pierces to the roots of 
the vineyard and the orchard j and sets 
afloat these fermenting juices, which, at 
length, burst into floods of wine, or bend 
the boughs with a mellow load. — Nor are 
its favours confined to the upper regions, 
but distributed into the deepest recesses of 
creation. It penetrates the beds of metal, 
and finds its way to the place of sapphires. 
It tinctures the seeds of gold that are ripen- 
iiig into ore j and throws a brilliancy into 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLO WER- GARDEN. 



the water of the diamond, that is hardening 
on its rocks. In short, the beneficial agen- 
cy of this magnificent luminary is inexpres- 
sible. It beautifies and impregnates univer- 
sal nature. *' There is nothing hid from the 
heat thereof." 

Just in the same manner were the ra- 
tional world dead in trespasses and sins, 
without the reviving energy of Jesus Christ. 
He is "the resurrection and the life:" the 
overflowing fountain of the one, and the 
all-powerful cause of the other. The se- 
cond Adam is a quickening spirit, and all 
his saints live through him. He shines up- 
on their affections, and they shoot forth in- 
to heavenly graces, and aboi*nd in the fruits 
of righteousness. Faith unfeigned, and love 
undissembled, those noblest productions of 
the renewed nature, are the effect of his 
operation on the mind. Not so much as 
one divine disposition could spread itself, 
not one Christian habit unfold and flourish, 
without the kindly influences of his grace. 

As there is no fruitfulness, so likewise 
no cheerfulness, without the sun.* — ^VTien 
that auspicious sovereign of the day diffuses 
the mildness of his morning-splendour, he 
creates an universal festival. Millions of 
glittering insects awake into existence and 
bask in his rays. The birds start from 
their slumbers, and pour their delighted 
souls in harmony. The flocks, with bleat- 
ing accents hail the welcome blessing. The 
lierds, in lowing murmurs, express their 
hoarser acclamations. The valleys ring 
with rural music ; the hiUs echo back the 
artless strains. AU that is vocal, joins in 
the general choir ; all that has breath, exults 
in the cheering influence : — Whereas, was 
that radiant orb extinguished, a tremendous 
gfloom woifld ensue, and horror insupporta- 
ble. Nay, let it only be eclipsed for a few 
minutes, and all nature assumes an air of 
sadness. The heavens put on a kind of 
mourning. The most sprightly animals 
hang dowTi their dejected heads. The song- 
sters of the grove are struck dumb. Howl- 
ing beasts roam abroad for prey ; ominous 
birds come forth and screech ; the heart of 
man fails, or a sudden pang seizes the fore- 
boding mind — So, when Christ hides away 
his face, when faith loses sight of that con- 
solation of Israel ! how gloomy are the pros- 
pects of the soul ! Our God seems to be a 
consuming fire, and oiu: sins cry loudly for 
vengeance. The thoughts bleed inwardly, 
the Christian walks heavily ; all without is 
irksome, aU within is disconsolate. Lift 
up then, most gracious Jesus, thou nobler 
day-spring from on high ; O lift up the 



• " The Eun, which is as the great soul of the uni- 
verse, and produces all the necessaries of life, has a 
7)articular irtfluence in cheerint^ the mind of man, 
and making the heart glad."— Sj/ccf. y<iL v. So. 307. 



light of thy coimtenance upon thy people ! 
Reveal the fiflness of thy mediatorial suffi- 
ciency ; make clear our title to this great 
salvation : and thereby impart 

What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, 
The soul's cahn sun-slune, and the heart-felt joy. 

Pope's Eth. E'p. 

In one instance more, let me pursue the si- 
militude. The sun, I observe, pours his lus- 
tre all around, to every distance, and in every 
direction. Profusely liberal of his gifts, he il- 
luminates and cheers aU the ends of the earth, 
and the whole compass of the skies. The east 
reddens with his rising radiance, and the west- 
em hills are gilded with his streaming splen- 
dours. The chiUy regions of the north are 
cherished by his genial warmth, while the 

southern tracts glow with his fire Thus 

are the influences of the Sun of Righteous- 
ness, diffusive and unconfined. The gener- 
ations of old felt them, and generations yet 
unborn vdW. rejoice in them. The merits 
of his precious death extended to the first, 
and will be propagated to the last ages of 
mankind. May they, ere long, visit the re- 
motest climates, and darkest corners of the 
earth ! Command thy gospel, blessed Jesus, 
thy everlasting gospel, to take the \vings of 
the morning, and travel with yonder sun. 
Let it fly upon strong pinions among every 
people, nation, and language ; that where 
the heat scorches, and the cold freezes, thou 
mayest be known, confessed, and adored ; 
that strangers to thy name, and enemies to 
thy doctrine, may he enlightened with the 
knowledge, and won to the love of thy 
truth ! O ! may that best of eras come ; 
that wished-for period advance, when all the 
ends of the world shall remember them- 
selves, and be turned unto the Lord ; and all 
the kindreds of the nations worship before 
him! (Psal. xxii. 27.) 

From the heavens we retire to the earth. 
— Here the drops of dew like so many li- 
quid crystals sparkle upon the eye.* How 
brilliant, and unsullied, is their lustre I 
How little inferior to the proud stone, which 
irradiates a monarch's crown ? They want 
nothing but solidity and permanency to equal 
them with the finest treasures of the jewel- 
ler's casket. — But here, indeed, they are 
greatly deficient ; short-lived ornaments, 
possessed of little more than a momentary 
radiance. The sun that lights them up, 
will soon exhale them. Within another 
hour, we may " look for their place, and 
they shall be away." O ! may every good 
resolution of mine, and of my flocks ; may 
our united breathmgs after God, not be like 
these transient decorations of the morning, 



• Now mom, her rosy steps in eastern clime 
Advancing, sow'd tlie earth with orient i>;'r>rl. — 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



but like the substantial glory of tbe grow- 
ing day ! The one shines more and more 
with augmented splendours : while the 
other, having glittered gaily for a few mo- 
ments, disappear, and are lost. 

How sensibly has this dew refreshed the 
vegetable kingdoms ! The fervent heat of 
yesterday's sun had almost parched the face, 
and exhausted the sweets of natiu-e. But 
what a sovereign restorative are these cool- 
ing distillations of the night ! How they 
gladden and inngorate the languishing herbs ! 
Sprinlded with these re\dving drops, their 
verdure deepens ; their bloom is new-flush- 
ed : their fragrance, faint or intermitted, be- 
comes potent and copious Thus does the 

ever blessed Spirit revive the drooping trou- 
bled conscience of a sinner. When that al- 
mighty Comforter sheds his sweet influence 
on the soul, displays the all-sufficient sacri- 
fice of a divine Redeemer, and " witnesses 
with our spirit," that we are interested in 
the Sa\aour, and, by this means are children 
of God ; then what a pleasing change en- 
s-ucs ! Former anxieties are remembered no 
more. Every uneasy apprehension vanishes. 
Soothing hopes and delightfiJ expectations 
succeed. The countenance drops its deject- 
ed mien ; the eyes brighten with a lively 
cheerfulness, while the lips express the 
heartfelt satisfaction in the language of 

thanksgiving and the voice of melody In 

this sense, merciful God, be as the dew un- 
to Israel ! " Pour upon them the continual 
dew of thy blessing." And, O ! let not 
my fleece be dry, while heavenly benedic- 
tion descends upon all aroimd. 

Who can number these pearly drops ? 
They hang on every hedge ; they twinkle 
from every spray, and adora the whole her- 
bage of the field. Not a blade of grass, not 
a single leaf, but wears the water)' pendants. 
So vast is the profusion, that it bafties the 
arithmetician's art — Here let the benevo- 
lent mind contemplate and admire that em- 
phatical scripture, which from this elegant 
similitude describes the increase of the 
Messiah's kingdom. The royal prophet, 
speaking of Christ, and foretelling the suc- 
cess of his religion, has this remarkable ex- 
pression,* " The dew of thy birth is of the 



* Psalm ex. 3. The most exact translation of this 
difficult passage, is I apprehend as follows: Prae 
rore utere aurorae, tibi est res juventutis vel prolis 
tuae. i. e. The dew of thy birth is larger, more copious, 
than the dew which proceeds from the womb of the 
morning. — I cannot acquiesce in the new version, be- 
cause that disjoins the womb of the morniflg from 
the dew of thy birth ; whereas thev seem to nave a 
clear affinity, and a close connexion. The womb of 
tne morning is, v/ith the utmost pertinency' applied 
to the conception and production of dews ; agreeably 
to a delicate line, in that great master of just de- 
scription and lively painting, Mr. Thomson. 

The meek ey'd morn appears, mother of dews. 

Summer. 

"We meet with a fine expression in the book of Job, 
' -which may serve to confirm this remark, and may il- 



womb of the morning that is. As the 
morning is the mother of dews ; produces 
them, as it were, from a prolific womb ; and 
scatters them with the most lavish abun- 
dance, over all the surface of the earth, so 
shall thy seed be. O thou everlasting Fa- 
ther ! by the preaching of thy word, shall 
such an innumerable race of regenerate chO- 
dren be bom unto thee, and prove an orna- 
ment and a blessing to all ages. Millions, 
millions of willing converts from eveiy na- 
tion under heaven, shall crowd into thy fa. 



lustrate the propriety of the phrase vised in this con- 
nexion; " Hath the rain a tather, or who hath be- 
gotten the drops of dew ?" It seems the oriental wri- 
ters delighted to repres€nt the dew as a kind of birth, 
as the ottspring of the morning. And if so, surely 
there could be no image in the whole compass of the 
universe better adapted to the Psalmist's purpose, or 
more strongly significant of those multitudes of pro- 
selytes, which were bom, not of blood, nor of the 
will of the fiesh, nor of the will of man, but of God, 
by the powerful energy of his word and spirit. Upon 
this supposition the whole verse describes 
The willing subjection, 

The gracious accomplishments, >of Christ's converts. 
And the vast number, ) 
q. d. In the day of thy power, when thy glorious 
gospel shall be published in the world, and' accompa- 
nied with marvellous efficacy, — in that memorable 
period, thy people discontinuingthe former oblations, 
commanded under the Mosaic law, shall devote them- 
selves as so many living sacrifices to thy honour, not 
constrained by force, but charmed with thy excel- 
lency, they shall come in volunteers to thy service, 
and be free-will-offerings in thy church. — Neither shall 
they be " empty vines," or bare professors ; but shall 
walk in all the beauties of holiness, and bring forth 
such amiable fruit, as will adorn the doctrine they 
embrace. — What is still more desirable, they shall be 
as numerous as they are willing and holy. Bom to 
thee in numbers, immense and inconceivable, ex- 
ceeding even the countless myriads of dew-drops, 
which are begotten by the night, and issue from the 
womb of the recent nioming. 

By this interpretation, the text, I think, is cleared 
of its obscurity, and appears both truly sublime, and 
perfectly just. 

May 1 be pardoned the digression, and acquitted 
from presumption, if on this occasion, I take leave 
to animadvert upon what seems harsh and unnatural 
in the common exposition of the last verse of this 
psalm ? All the commentators (as many at least as I 
have consulted) infonn their readers, that to drink of 
the brook in the way, signifies to undergo sufferings 
and death ; which, in my opinion, is a construction 
extremely forced, and hardly supportable; altogether 
remote from the import of such poetical forms of 
diction usual among the ( astern nations. In those 
sultry climes, nothing could be more welcome to the 
traveller than a brook streaming near liis paths. To 
quench his thirst and lave his feet in the cooling 
current, was one of the greatest refreshments imagin- 
able, and re-animated him to pursue his journey. 
For which reason, among others, brooks are a very 
favourite image with the inspired penman ; used to 
denote a situation fertile and delightful, or a state of 
pleasure and satisfaction ; but never, that 1 can recol- 
lect, to picture out the contrary condition of tribu- 
lation and distress. 

The water-floods, indeed, in the sacred writings, of- 
ten represent some imminent danger or grievous af- 
flirf:tion. But then thev are not— streams so calm, 
that they keep within their banks, and glide quietfy 
by the traveller's footsteps; so clear that they are fit 
for the wav-faring man's use, and invite his lips to a 
draught ; both which notions are plainly implied in 
the text. They are rather boisterous billows, bursting 
over a ship, or dashing themselves with dreadful im- 
petuosity upon the shore; or, sweeping inundations, 
which bear down all before them, and drown the neigh- 
bouring country. Besides, in these instances of hor- 
ror, we never find the words— He shall drink; which 
conveys a pleasing idea (unless when it relates to a 
cup, filled with bitter, intoxicating, or impoisoned 
liquors; a case quite different from that under coiw 



so 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



mily, and replenish thy church ; till they 
become like the stars of the sky, or the 
sands of the sea, for multitude ; or even as 
numberless as these fine spangles, which now 
cover the face of nature — Behold then, ye 
obstinately wicked, though you " are not ga- 
thered, yet will the Saviour be glorious." 
His design shall not miscarry, nor his labour 
prove abortive, though you render it of none 
effect with regard to yourselves. Think 
not that Immanuel will want believers, or 
heaven inhabitants, because you continue 
incorrigible. No : the Lamb that was slain, 
will " see of the travail of his sold, and be 
satisfied," in a never-failing series of faith- 
ful people below, and an immense choir of 
glorified saints above ; who shall form his 
retinue, and surround his throne, in shining 
and triumphant armies, such as no man can 
number 

Here I was reminded of the various ex- 
pedients which Providence, unsearchably 
wise, uses to fructify both the material and 
intellectual world. — Sometimes you shall 
have impetuous and heavy showers, burst- 
ing from the angry clouds. They lash the 
plains, and make the rivers foam. A storm 
brings them, and a deluge foUows them. — 
At other times these gentle dews are form- 
ed in the serene evening air ; they steal 
down by slow degrees, and with insensible 
stillness ; so subtile that they deceive the 
nicest eye ; so silent that they escape the 
most delicate ear ; and when fallen, so very 
light, that they neither bruise the tenderest, 
nor oppress the weakest flower, — very dif- 
ferent operations ! yet each concurs in the 
same beneficial end ; and both impart fer- 
tility to the lap of nature. 

So, some persons have I known reclaim- 
ed from the unfruitful works of darkness, 
by violent and severe means. The Almighty 



sideration,) but either, such words as import terror 
and astonishment, or else to rush upon, to overwhelm, 
and even to bury under the waves. 

Upon the whole, may not the passage more pro- 
perly allude to the influences of the Holy Ghost ? 
which were communicated in unmeasurable degrees 
to our great High Priest, and were in fact the cause of 
hissurmountingall difficulties.— These are frequently 
represented by waters : " Whoso believeth on me, 
out of his belly shall flow rivers of living waters." 
The enjoyment of them is described by drinking ; 
" He that drinketh of the water that I shall give him 
shall never thirst." — Then the sense may run in this 
well-connected and perspicuous manner. It is asked. 
How shall the Redeemer be able to execute the va- 
rious and important offices foretold in the preceding 
parts of the psalm; the Prophet replies. He shall 
cirink of the brook in the way. He shall not be left 
barely to his human nature, which must unavoidably 
smk under the tremendous work of recovering a lost 
world, but, through the whole course of his incarnate 
state, through the whole administration of his medi- 
atorial kindgom, shall be supported with omnipotent 
succours. He shall drink at the brook of Almighty 
power, and travel on in the greatness of an uncreated 
strength.— Therefore shall he lift up his head. By 
this means shall he be equal to the prodigious task, 
and superior to all opposition. By this means, shall 
he be thoroughly successful in whatever he under- 
takes, and greatly triumphant over all hisene-mies. 



addressed their stubborn hearts, as he ad- 
dressed the Israelites at Sinai, with light- 
ning in his eyes, and thimder in his voice. 
The conscience, smitwith a sense of guilt, 
and apprehensive of eternal vengeance, trem- 
bled through all her powers ; just as that 
strong mountain tottered to its centre. 
Pangs of remorse, and agonies of fear, pre- 
ceded their new birth. They were reduc- 
ed to the last extremities, almost overwhelm- 
ed with despair, before they found rest in 
Jesus Christ. — Others have been recovered 
from a vain conversation, by methods more 
mild and attractive. The Father of spirits 
applied himself to their teachable minds, in 
" a stiU and small voice." His grace came 
down, as the rain into a fleece of wool ; or, 
as these softening drops, which now water 
the earth. The kingdom of God took 
place in their souls, without noise or obser- 
vation. They passed from death unto life, 
from a carnal to a regenerate state, by 
almost imperceptible advances. The tran- 
sition resembled the growth of com.; was 
very visible when affected ; though scarce 
sensible, while accomplishing — O thou Au- 
thor and Finisher of our faith, recal us from 
our wanderings, and re-unite us to thyself ! 
Whether thou alarm us with thy terrors, or 
allure us with thy smiles ; whether thou 
drive us with^the scourge of conviction, or 
draw us with the cords of love ; let us, in 
any wise, return to thee ; for thou art our 
supreme good ; thou art our only happi- 
ness. 

Before I proceed further, let me ascend 
the terrace, and take one survey of the 

neighbouring country What a prospect 

rushes upon my sight ! How vast ! how 
various ! how " full and plenteous with all 
manner of store !" Nature's whole wealth ! 
—What a rich and inexhaustible magazine 
is here, furnishing subsistence for every 
creature ! Methinks I read in these spacious 
volumes, a most lively comment upon that 
noble celebration of the divine beneficence , 
He openeth his hand, and fiUeth all things 
living %vith plenteousness. 

These are thy glorious works. Parent of good ! 
Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, 
Thus wondrous fair ! Thyself how wondrous then . 

Milton. 

The fields are covered deep, and stand 
thick with corn. They expand the milky 
grain to the sun, in order to receive from 
his beams a more firm consistence, and a 
golden hue ; that they may be qualified to 
fill the barns of the husbandman with plen- 
ty, and his heart with gladness. 

Yonder lie the meadows, smoothed into a 
perfect level ; decorated with an embroid- 
ery of the gayest flovi'ers, and loaded with* 



» Iiijussa virescunt 

Graniina. Virg. 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 



31 



spontaneous crops of herbage; wliich, con- 
verted into hay, will prove a most commo- 
dious provision for the barrenness of win- 
ter ; will supply wdth fodder our serviceable 
animals, when all the verdure of the plain is 
killed by frosts or buried in snows. — A 
winding stream glides along the flowery 
margin, and receives the image of the bend- 
ing skies, and waters the root of many a 
branching willow. It is stocked, no doubt, 
with variety of fish, which afford a solitary 
diversion to the angler, and nourish for his 
table a delicious treat. Nor is it the only 
merit of this liquid element, to maintain the 
finny nations : it also carries cleanliness, 
and dispenses fruitfulness, wherever it rolls 
the crystal current. 

• The pastures with their verdant mounds, 
chequer the prospect, and prepare a stand- 
ing repast for our cattle. There " our 
oxen are made strong to labour, and our 
sheep bring forth thousands and ten thou- 
sands." There the horse acquires vigour, 
for the dispatch of our business ; and speed, 
to expedite our journeys. From thence 
the kine bring home their udders distended 
•with one of the richest and healthiest liquors 
in the world. 

On several spots a grove of trees, like 
some grand colonnade, erects its towering 
head. Every one projects a friendly shade 
for the beasts, and creates an hospitable 
lodging for the birds. Every one stands 
ready, to furnish timber for a palace, masts 
for a navy ; or with a more condescending 
courtesy, fuel for our hearths. — One of 
them seems skirted with a wild uncultivat- 
ed heath ; wiiich, like well-disposed shades 
in painting, tlirows an additional lustre on 
the more ornamented parts of the landscape. 
Nor is its usefulness, L'ke that of a foQ, re- 
lative only, but real. There several valua- 
ble creatiu-es are produced, and accommoda- 
dated without any expense or care of ours. 
There likewise spring abundance of those 
herbs, wdiich assuage the smart of our 
wounds, and allay the fiery tumults of the 
fever ; which impart floridity to oiu: circu- 
lating fluids, add a more vigorous tone to 
our active solids, and thereby repair the de- 
cays of our enfeebled constitutions. 

Nearer the houses w^e perceive an ample 
spread of branches ! not so stately as the 
oaks, but more amiable for their annual ser- 
vices. A little while ago, I beheld them ; 
"and all was one beauteous, boundless waste 
of blossoms. The eye marvelled at the 
lovely sight, and the heart rejoiced in the 
prospect of autumnal plenty. But now the 
blooming maid is resigned for the useful 
matron ; the flower is fallen, and the fruit 
swells out on every twig — Breathe soft, 
ye mnds ! O, spare the tender fruitage, ye 
surly blast ! Let the pear-tree suckle her 
juicy progeny, tUl they drop into our hajids 



and dissolve in our mouths. Let the plumb^ 
hang unmolested upon her boughs, till she 
fatten her delicious flesh, and cloud her po-^ 
lished skin with blue. And as for the 
apples, that stapple commodity of our or- 
chards, let no injiu-ious shocks precipitate 
them immatiu-ely to the ground ; till re- 
volving suns have tinged them with a mddy 
complexion, and concocted them into an ex- 
quisite flavour. Then, what copious hoards, 
of what burnished rinds, and what delight- 
ful relishes, will replenish the store-room : 
Some, to present us with an early enter- 
tainment, and refresh our palates amidst 
the sultry heats ; some, to borrow ripeness 
from the falling snows, and carry autumn 
into the depths of winter ; some, to adorn 
the salver, make a part of the dessert, and 
give an agreeable close to our feasts ;* 
others, to fill our vats with a foaming flood, 
which, mellowed by age, may sparkle in the 
glass, with a liveliness and delicacy little 
inferior to the blood of the grape. 

I observe several small inclosures, which 
seem to be apprehensive of some hostile 
visit from the north ; and therefore, are de- 
fended, on that quarter, by a thick wood or 
a lofty wall. At the same time, they cifl- 
tivate an uninterrupted correspondence with 
the south, and throw open their whole di- 
mensions to its friendly warmth. One, in 
particular, lies Avithin the reach of a distin- 
guishing views and proves to be a kitchen- 
giu-den. It looks, methinks, like a plain and 
frugtd republic. WTiatever may resemble 
the pomp of courts, or the ensigns of royal- 
ty, is banished from this humble commimi- 
ty. None of the productions of the oii- 
toiy affect finery, but all are habited with 
perfect decency. Here those celebrated 
qualities are eminently united, the utmost 
simplicity with the exactest neatness, f 

A skilful hand has parcelled out the 
wiiole ground into naiTow beds, and interven- 
ing alleys. The same discreet management 
has assigned to each verdant family a pecu- 
liar and distinct abode. So that there is no 
confusion amidst the greatest mvdtiplicity ; 
because every individual is associated vvith 
propriety, and all the tribes are ranged with 
regularity. If it be pleasing to behold their 
orderly situation, and their modest beauties ; 
how much more delightfid, to consider the 
advantages they yield! What a fund of 
choice accommodations is here ! what a 
source of wholesome dainties ! and all for 
the enjoyment of man. Why does the pars- 
ley, with her frizzled locks, shag the bor- 
der ; or, w^hy the celery, with her w^hiten- 
ing arms, perforate the mold, but to render 
his soups savoury ? The asparagus shoots 



Abovo 

Usque ad mala — 
t Simplex munii.itii&- 



—Har, 
■Hor. 



32 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



liis tapering stems to offer him the first 
fruits of the season ; and the artichoke 
spreads its turgid top, to give him a treat 
of vegetable marrow. The tendrils of the 
cucumber* creep into the sun ; and, though 
basking in its hottest rays, they secrete for 
their master, and barrel up for his use the 
most cooling juices of the soil. The beans 
stand firm, like files of embattled troops ; 
the peas rest upon their props, like so many 
companies of invalids ; while both re- 
plenish their pods with the fatness of the 
earth, on purpose to pour it on their ower's 
table — Not one species among all this va- 
riety of herbs is a cumberer of the ground. 
Not a single plant but it is good for food, 
or some way salutary. With so benefi- 
cent an economy are the several periods of 
their ministrations settled, that no portion 
of the year is left destitute of nourishing 
esculents. What is still more obliging, 
every portion of the year affords such escu- 
lents as are best suited to the temperature 
of the air, and the state of our bodies. 
Why then should the possessor of so valu- 
able a spot envy the condition of kings,f 
since he may daily walk amidst rows of 
peaceable and obsequious, though mute 
subjects. Every one of which tenders him 
some agreeable present, and pays him a 
willing tribute, such as is most happily 
adapted both to supply his wants, and to 
regale his taste ; to furnish him at once 
with plenty and with pleasure. 

At a distance, one descries the mighty 
hills. They have their huge ridges among 
the clouds ; and look like the barriers of 
kingdoms or the boundaries of nature. 
Bare and deformed as their surface may ap- 
pear, their bowels are fraught with inward 
treasures ! treasures lodged fast in the quar- 
ries, or sunk deep in the mines. From 
thence industry may draw her implements, 
to plough the soil, to reap the grain, and pro- 
cure every necessary convenience. From 
thence, art may fetch her materials to rear 
the dome, to swell the organ, and form the 
noblest ornaments of politer life. 

On another side, the great deep termi- 
nates the \dew. There go the ships ; there 
is that leviathan ; and there, in that world 
of waters, an inconceivable number of ani- 
mals have their habitation. This is the 
capacious cistern of the universe, which ad- 



• Virgil, with great conciseness, and equal proprie- 
ty, describes the cucunriber 

T'ortusque per herbam 

Cresceretin ventrera cucumis Georg. IV. 

Milton has (if we admit Dr. Bently's alteration, 
which is, I think, in this place, unquestionably just) 
almost translated the Latin poet, 

Forth crept 

The swelling? gourd.— Par. Lost, B. 7. 1- 320. 
♦ Hie rarum tamen in dumis olus, albaque circum 
Lilia verbenasque premens, vescumque papaver. 
Regnum aequebat opes animis ; seraque revertens 
Nocte doraum, dapibus mensas onerabat inemptis. 

Vir. Gcorff. I J'. 



mits as into a deep receptacle, and distri- 
butes as from a reservoir, whatever waters 
the whole globe. There is not a fountain 
that gushes in the unfrequented desert, 
nor a rivulet that flows in the remotest con- 
tinent, nor a cloud that swims in the highest 
regions of the firmament, but is fed by this 
all-replenishing source. The ocean is the 
grand vehicle of trade, and the uniter of 
distant nations. To us it is peculiarly 
kind, not only as it wafts into our ports the 
harvest of every climate, and renders our 
island the centre of traffic, but also as it se- 
cures us from foreign invasion, by a sort of 
impregnable entrenchment.* 

Methinks the view of this profuse mu- 
nificence inspires a secret delight, and kin- 
dles a disinterested good-will. While the 
" little hills clap their hands," and the luxu- 
riant " vallies laugh and sing," who can 
forbear catching the general joy? who is 
not touched with lively sensations of plea- 
sure ? While the everlasting Father is scat- 
tering blessings through his whole family, 
and crowning the year Avith his goodness, 
who does not feel his breast overflowing 
with a diffusive benevolence ? My heart, I 
must confess, beats high with satisfaction, 
and breathes out congratulatory wishes, uj)- 
on all the tenants of these rural abodes : 

Peace be within your walls, as well as 
plenteousness around your dwellings. " Live 
ye highly favoured ; live sensible of your 
benefits, and thankful to your benefactor. 
Look round upon these prodigiously large 
incomes of the fruitful soil, and call them 
(for you have free leave) all your own. 
— Only let me remind you of one very im- 
portant truth, let me suggest, and may you 
never forget that you are obliged to Christ 
Jesus for every one of these accommoda- 
tions, which spring from the teeming earth, 
and the smiling skies. For, 

1. Christf made them, when they were 



* Whose rampart was the sea. Nab. iii. 8. 

I hope this little excursion into the country will 
not be looked upon as a departure from my subject ; 
because a rural view, though no essential part of a 
garden, is yet a desirable appendage, and necessary to 
complete its beauty.— As usefulness is the most valua- 
ble property which can attend any production, this is 
the circumstance chiefly touched upon in the survey 
of the landscape. Though every piece of this exten- 
sive and diversified scene is cast m the most elegant 
mould, yet nothing is calculated merely for show and 
parade. You see nothing formed in the taste of the 
ostentatious obelisk, or insignificant pomp of the py- 
ramid. No such idle expenses were admitted into 
that consummate plan, which regulated the structure 
of the universe. All the decorations of nature are no 
less advantageous than ornamental; such as speak 
the Maker infinitely beneficent, as well as incompar- 
ably magnificent. 

t When I ascribe the work of creation to the Son, 
I wouH by no means be supposed to with-hold the 
same honour from the eternal Father, and ever-bless- 
ed Spirit. The acts of those inconceivably glorious 
persons are, like their essence, undivided and one. 
33ut I choose to state the important point in this man- 
ner, because this is the manifest doctrine of the new 
Testament, is the express belief of our church, and a 
most noble peculiarity of the gospel revelatioiv— I 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



33 



not — He fetched them up from utter dark- 
ness, and gave them both their being and their 
beauty. He created the materials of which 
they are composed, and moulded them into 
this endless multiplicity of amiable forms, 
and useful substances. He arrayed the 
' heavens with a vesture of the mildest blue, 
and clothed the earth in a livery of the gay- 
est green ; his pencil streaked, and his 
breath perfumed whatever is beautiful or 
fragrant in the universe. His strength set 
fast the mountains ; his goodness garnished 
the vales ; and the same touch which heal- 
ed the leper wrought the whole visible sys- 
tem into this complete perfection. 

2. Christ recovered them when they 
were forfeited. — By Adam's sin, we lost 
our right to the comforts of life, and fruits 
of the ground : his disobedience was the 
most impious and horrid treason against 
the King of kings. Consequently his 
vv^hole patrimony became confiscated; asvv^ell 
the portion of temporal good things, settled 
upon the human race during their minority ; 
as. that everlasting heritage reserved for 
their enjoyment when they should come to 
full ae:e. But the " seed of the woman," 
instantly interposing, took off the attainder, 
and redeemed the alienated inheritance. 
The first Adam being disinherited, the se- 
cond Adam was appointed heir of all 
things,* visible as well as invisible ; and we 
hold our possession of the former, we ex- 
pect an instatement in the latter, purely by 



choose it also, because I would take every opportuni- 
ty of inculcating and celebrating the divinity of the 
Redeemer : a truth which imparts an unutterable 
dignity to Christianity ; a truth, which lays an im- 
mbveab'e foundation for all the comfortable hopes of 
a Christian ; a truth which will render the mystery 
of our redemption, the wonder and delight of eter- 
nity ; and with this truth every one will observe, my 
assertion is inseparably connected. 

!f any one questions, whether this be the doctrine 
of our church, let the creed, which we repeat in our 
most solemn devotions, determine his doubt ; " I be- 
lieve," savs that form of sound words, " in one Lord 
.Jesus Christ, very God of very God, by whom all 
things were made." — If it be farther inquired, from 
whence the Nicene fathers derived this article of 
their faith? I answer, from the writings of the be- 
loved disciple, who lay on the Saviour's bosom ; and 
of that great apostle who had been caught up into the 
third heaven. John i. 3. Col. i. 16. 

* Heb. i. 2. — In this sense, at least, Christ is the 
Saviour of all men. The former and latter rain ; the 
precious fruits of the earth, food to eat, and raiment 
to put on ; — all these he purchased, even for his irre- 
claimable enemies. They eat of his bread, who lift 
up their heel against him. 

We learn from hence, in what a peculiar and en- 
dearing light the Christian has to contemplate the 
things that are seen. Heathens might discover an 
eternal power and infinite wisdom, in the structure 
of the universe ; heathens might acknowledge a most 
stupendous liberality, in the unreserved grant of the 
whole fabric, with all its furniture, to the service of 
man ; but the Christian should ever keep in mind his 
forfeiture of them, and the price paid to redeem them. 
He should receive the gifts of indulgent providence, 
as the Israelites received their law from the hand of 
a mediator ; or rather, to him they should come, not 
only issuing from the stores of an unbounded bounty ; 
but swimming (as it were) in that crimso;i tide, 
which streamed from Immanuel's veins. 



virtue of our alliance to him, and our union 
with him. 

3. Christ upholds them, which would 
otherwise tumble into ruin. — By him says 
the oracle of inspiraflon, all things consist.* 
His finger rolls the seasons round, and pre- 
sides over all the celestial revolutions. His 
finger winds up the wheels, and impels 
every spring of vegetative nature. In a 
word, the whole weight of the creation rests 
upon his mighty arm, and receives the whole 
harmony of its motion from his imerring 
eye — This habitable globe, with all its rich 
appendages, and fine machinery, could no 
more continue, than they could create them- 
selves. Start they would into instant con- 
fusion, or drop into their primitive nothing, 
did not his power support, and his wisdom 
regulate them every moment. In contbrm- 
ity to his will, they subsist steadfast and in- 
variable in their orders ; and wait only for 
his sovereign nod, to " fall away like water 
that runneth apace." 

4. Christ actuates them^f which would 

otherwise be lifeless and insignificant 

Pensioners they are, constant ])ensioners 
on his bounty ; and borrow their ail from 
his fulness. He only has life ; and what- 
ever operates, operates by an emanation 
from his all sufficiency. Does the grape 
refresh you with its enlivening juices ? It is 
by a wan-ant received, and virtue derived, 
from the Redeemer. Does bread strengthen 
your heart, and prove the staff of your life? 
Remember, that it is by the Saviour's ap- 
pointment, and through the efficacy of his 
operation. You are charmed with his me- 
lody, when the " time of the singing of 
birds is come, and the voice of the night- 
ingale is heard in our land." You taste his 
goodness in the luscious fig, the melting 
peach, a)id the musky flavoiu' of the apricot. 
You smell his sweetness in the opening 
honey-suckle, and every odoriferous shrub. 
Could these creatures speak for themselves 
they woidd, doubtless, disclaim all sufficien- 
cy of their own, and ascribe the whole hon- 
our to their Maker " We are servants," 

would they say, " of him who died for you. 
Cisterns oivly, dry cisterns in ourselves, we 
transmit to mortals no more than the un- 
created fountain transfuses unto us. Think 
not, that from any ability of our owii, we 



* Col. i. 17. I beg leave to recommend St. Chrysos- 

tom's pertinent and beautiful note upon the passage ; 
by which it will appear, that the sentiment of these 
sections is not merely a private opinion, but the avow- 
ed belief of the primitive church. 

t John V. 17. "My Father worketh hitherto and I 
work;" or, I exert that unremitting and unwearied 
energy, which is the life of the creation. — Thus the 
words are paraphrased by a masterly expositor, who 
has illustrated the life of our blessed Lord, in the 
most elegant taste of criticism, with the most amiable 
spirit of devotion, and without any mixture of the 
malignant leaven or low singularities of a party. See 
the Family Expositor, Vol. I. sect. 47. 



A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



S4 REFLECTIONS ON 

furnish you with assistance, or administer 
to your comfort. It is the divine energy, 
the divine energy alone, that works in us, 

and does you good We serve you, O ye 

sons of men, that you may love him who 
placed you in these stations. O ! love the 
Lord, therefore, all ye who are supported 
by our ministry ; or we shall groan with in- 
dignation and regret at. your abuse of our 
services. (Rom. viii. 22.) — Use us, and 
welcome ; for we are yours, if ye are Christ's. 
Crop our choicest beauties ; rifte all our 
treasures, accommodate yourselves Avith our 
most valuable qualities ; only let us be in- 
centives to gratitude, and motives to obe- 
dience." 

Ha\dng surveyed the spacious sky, and 
sent a glance round tiie inferior creadou, ic 
is time to descend from this eminence, and 
confine my attention to the beautiful spot 
below. — Here nature, always pleasing, 
every-where lovely, appears with peculiar 
attractions." Yonder she seems dressed in her 
dishabile ; grand, but irregular. Here she 
calls in her hand-maid, art ; and shines in 
all the delicate ornaments which the nicest 
cultivation i* able to convey. Those are 
her common apartments, where she lodges 
her ordinary guests ; this is her cabinet of 
curiosities, where she entertains her inti- 
mate acquaintance. — My eye shall often ex- 
patiate over those scenes of universal fertili- 
ty ; my feet shall sometimes brush through 
the thicket, or traverse the la^vn, or stroll 
along the forest-glade ; but to this delight- 
ful retreat shall be my chief resort. Thi- 
ther will I make excursions ; but here wiU I 
dwell. 

If, from my low procedure, I may form 
an allusion to the most exalted practices, I 
would observe, upon this occasion, that the 
celebrated Erasmus, and our judicious 
Locke, having trod the circle of the sciences, 
and ranged through the whole extent of hu- 
man literature, at length betook themselves 
solely to the Bible. Leaving the sages of 
antiquity, they sat incessantly at the feet of 
Jesus. Wisely they withdrew from that 
immense multiplicity of learning, from those 
endless tracts of amusing erudition, where 
noxious weeds are mixed with wholesome 
herbs : where is generally a much larger 
growth of prickly shrubs, than of fruitful 
boughs. They spent their most mature 
hours in those hallowed gardens, which 
God's ovm wisdom planted, which God's 
own Spirit watereth, and in which God's 
own Son is continually walking ; where he 
meeteth those that seek him, and revealeth 
to them the glories of his person, and the 
riches of his goodness. 

Thus would I finish the remainder of 
my days ! Having just tasted what they 
call the politer studies, I would now devote 
my whole application to the lively oracles. 



From other pursuits, I might glean, per- 
haps, a few scattered ears of low, of lean, of 
unsatisfactory instruction. From this, I 
trustto reap a harvest of the sublim est truths, 
the noblest improvements, and the purest 
joys. * Waft me then, O ! waft my mind to 
Sion's consecrated bowers. Let my thoughts 
perpetually rove through the awfully-pleas- 
ing walks of inspiration. Here grow those 
heaven-bom plants, the trees of Mfe and 
knowledge, whose ambrosial fruits we now 
may " take, and eat, and live for ever." 
Here fioAV those precious streams of grace, 
and righteousness, whose living waters 
" whosoever drinks, shall thirst no more." 
And what can the fables of Grecian song, 
or the finest pages of Roman eloquence, — 
what can they exhibit, in any degree com- 
parable to these matchless prerogatives of 
revelation ! — Therefore, though I should 
not dislike to pay a visit now and then ta 
my heathen masters, I would live with the 
prophets and apostles. With those I would 
cany on som^i occasional correspondence : 
but these should be my bosom-friends, my 
inseparable companions> " my delight, and 
my counsellors." 

What sweets are these, which so agreea- 
bly salute my nostrils ! They are the breath 
of the flowers, the incense of the garden. — 
How liberally does the jessamine dispense 
her odoriferous riches ! How deliciously 
has the woodbine embalmed this morning 
walk ! The air is all perfume — And is not 
this another most engaging argument to 
forsake the bed of sloth ? Who would lie 
dissolved in senseless slumbers, while so 
many breathing sweets invite him to a feast 
of fragrancy ! Especially considering that 
the advancing day will exhale the volatile 
dainties. A fugitive treat they are, prepar- 
ed only for the wakeful and industrious ; 
whereas, when the sluggard lifts his heavy- 
eyes, the flowers will droop, their fine scents 
be dissipated, and instead of this refreshing 
humidity, the air will become a kind of li- 
quid fire. 

With this very motive, heightened by a 
representation of the most charming pieces 
of morning scenery, the parent of mankind 
awakes his lovely consort. There is such a 
delicacy in the choice," and so much life in 
the description of these rural images, that I 
cannot excuse myself, without repeating the 

whole passage Whisper it some friendly 

genius, in the ear of every one, who is now 
sunk in sleep, and lost to all those refined 
gratifications ! 
Awake — The morning shines, and the fresh field 
Calls you — Ye lose the prime, to mark how spring 
The tender plants, how blows the citron grove ; 
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed ; 
! ow nature paints her colours ; how the bee 
Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweets f 



* Quicquid docetur, Veritas ; quicquid prascipitux 
bcnitas ; quicquid promittitur felicitas. 
t Milt. Par. Lost. Book V. line 28. 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



35 



How delightful is this fragrance ! It is 
distributed in the nicest proportion ; neither 
so strong as to oppress the organs ; nor so 
faint as to elude them — We are soon cloy- 
ed at a sumptuous banquet ; but this plea- 
sure never loses its poignancy, never paUs 
the appetite — Here luxury itself is inno- 
cent ! or rather in this case, indiUgence is 
incapable of excess. — This balmy entertain- 
ment, not only regales the sense, but cheers 
the very soul?* and instead of clogging elates 
its powers. It puts me in mind of that ever 
meijiorable sacrifice, which was once made 
in behalf of offending mortals. I mean the 
sacrifice of the blessed Jesus, when he offer- 
ed up himself unto God " for a sweet 
smelling savour." Such the Holy Spirit 
styles that wonderful oblation ; as if no 
image in the whole sensible creation was so 
proper to give us an idea of the ineffable sa- 
tisfaction, which the Father of mercies con- 
ceived from that unparalleled atonement, as 
the pleasing sensations which such rich per- 
fumes are capable of raising. " Thousands 
of rams, and ten thousand of rivers of oil," 
from an apostate world ; the most submis- 
sive acknowledgments, added to the most 
costly offerings, from men of defiled hands, 
and unclean lips ; what coidd they have ef- 
fected ? A prophet represents the " high and 
lofty one that inhabiteth eternity," turning 
himself away from such filthy rags ; turn- 
ing himself away with disdainfid abhorrence 
as from the noisome steam of a dimghill. 
(Amos V. 21, 22.) — But in Christ's imma- 
culate holiness, in Christ's consummate obe- 
dience, in Christ's most precious blood-shed- 
ding, with what an unimaginable complacen- 
cy does justice rest satisfied, and vengeance 
acquiesce ! — All thy works, O thou surety 
for ruined sinners ! all thy sufferings, O 
thou slaughtered Lamb of God ! as well as 
all thy garments, O thou Bi'idegroom of thy 
chiurch ! smell of myrrh, aloes, and cassia ! 
( Psal. xlv. 9. ) They are infinitely more grate- 
ful to the eternal Godhead, than the choic- 
est exhalations of the garden, than all the 
odours of the spicy east can be to the hu- 
man nostrils. 

As the altar of old sanctified the gift ; 
so this is the great propitiation, which re- 
commends the obnoxious persons, and im- 
profitable seryices of the believing world. 
In this may my soul be interested ! By this 
it may be reconciled to the Father ! — There 
is such a leprous depravity cleaving to my 
nature, as pollutes whatever I perform. My 
most profound adorations, and sincere acts 
of religion, must not presume to challenge a 
reward, but humbly implore forgiveness. f 



* Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart. Prov. 
xxvii. 9. 

t A writer of distiniruished superiority, thus ad- 
dresses the great observer cf actions, and searcher of 



Renouncing therefore, myself in every in- 
stance of duty ; disclaiming all shadow of 
confidence in any deeds of my OAvn,* may I 
now and evermore be accepted through the 
Beloved ! 

What colours, v>'hat charming colours are 
here ? These so nobly bold ; and those so 
delicately languid. What a glow is enkin- 
dled in some ! what a gloss shines upon 
others ! In one, methinks I see the ruby, 
with her bleeding radiance ; in another, the 
sapphire, with her sky-tinctured blue ; in all, 
such an exquisite richness of dyes, as no 
other set of paintings in the universe can 
boast.f — With what a masterly skill is everj* 
one of the var}dng tints disposed ! Here 
they seem to be thrown on with an easy 
dash of security and freedom. ; there th^y 
are adjusted by the nicest touches of art and 
accuracy. Those which form the ground, 
are always so judiciously chosen, as to heigh- 
ten the lustre of the superadded figtu-es ; 
while the verdure of the impalement, or the 
shadings of the foliage, impart nev/ liveli- 
ness to the whole. Indeed, whether they 
are blended or arranged, softened or con- 
trasted, they are manifestly imder the con- 
duct of a taste that never mistakes, a felici- 
ty that never falls short of the very perfec- 
tion of elegance — Fine, inimitably fine, is 
the texture of the web, on which these shin- 
ing treasures are displayed. What are the 
laboujs of the Persian looms, or the boast- 
ed commodities of Brussels, compared with 
these curious manufactures of natm'e ? 
Compared with these, the most admired 
chintzes woidd lose their reputation ; even 
superfine cambrics appear coarse as can- 
vass in their presence. 

What a cheering argument does our Sa- 
viour derive from hence, to strengthen our 
afiiance in God ! He directs us to learn a 
lesson of heaven depending faith, from every 



hearts, and vindicates my sentiments, while he so 
justly and beautifully utters his own. 

Look down, great God, with pity's softest eye. 
On a jioor breathing particle in dust. 
His crimes forgive; torgivehis virtues too, 
Those smaller faults, half converts to the right. 

Night-Thcita:hts, No.ix. 
* See pages 44 and 45, in the second edition of a 
most candid and evangelical little treatise, called 
Christianity the Great Ornament of Human Life. — "If 
Christians happily avoid the dangerous extreme, and 
too often fatal rock of a dead fruitless faith on the 
one hand, he (i. e, Satan) will endeavour, by all kinds 
of plausible insinuations, to split them on the oppo- 
site, viz. spiritual pride, and ostentation, and depend- 
ence on their works, as if these were the meritorious 
or procuring causes of all true peace, hope, consola- 
tion, and divine acceptance ; — Now, this self-depend- 
ence may be ranked among the most dangerous of the 
infernal politics, because the fatal potion lies deep 
and too often undiscemed." 

t Who can paint 

Like Nature ! Can imagination boast. 

Amid his gay creation, hues like these ? 

And can he mix them with that matchless skill. 

And lay them on so delicately fine. 

And lose them in each other, as appears 

In ev'ry bud that blov/s ? — Thom. Spring. 



REFLECTIONS ON A IXOl^EFx-GAKDEN. 



J:>:rfl that wings the air, and from every 
tiower that blossoms in the field. If Pro' 
vidence, with unremitted care, supj^orts 
those inferior creatm-es, and arrays these in 
sensible beings with so much splendour ; 
surely he will in no wise withhold from his 
elect children, " bread to eat, and raiment 
to put on." — Ye faithful followers of the 
Lamb, dismiss every low anxiety, relating 
to the needful sustenance of life. He that 
feeds the ravens from an inexhaustible ma- 
gazine, he that paints the plants with such 
surpassing elegance ; in short, he that pro- 
vides so liberally, both for the animal and 
vegetable parts of his creation, will not, 
cannot, neglect his own people. Fear not 
little flock, ye peculiar objects of Almighty 
love ; it is your Father's good pleasure to 
give you a kingdom. (Lukexii. 32.) And 
if he freely gives you an everlasting king- 
dom hereafter, is it possible to suppose that 
be will deny you any necessary convenien- 
cies here ? 

One cannot forbear reflecting in this 
place, on the too prevailing humour of being 
fond and ostentatious of dress.* What an 
abject and mistaken ambition is this. How 
unworthy the dignity of immortal, and the 
wisdom of rational beings ! Especially since 
these little productions of the earth have in- 



* Mr. Addison has a fine remark on a female war- 
rior celebrated by Virgil. He observes, that with all 
her other great qualities, this little foible mingled it- 
s-^lf. Because, as the poet relates, an intemperate 
I jndness for a rich and splendid suit of armour be- 
trayed her into ruia. In this circumstance our critic 
discovers a moral concealed ; this he admires as a 
neat, though oblique satire, on that trifling passion. — 
Spec, vol: 1, No. 15. 

I would refer it to the judicious reader, whether 
there is not a beauty of the same kind, but touched 
with a more masterly hand, in the song of Deborah- 
Speaking of Sisera's mother, the sacred eucharistic 
ode represents her as anticipating, in her fond fancy 
the victory of her son ; and indulging the following 
soliloquy.-i-Have they not sped ? have they not divid- 
ed the prey ? to Sisera a prey of divers colours ; a prey 
of divers colours of needle-work ; of divers colours of 
needle- work on both sides ; meet for the necks of 
them tliat take the spoil ? — She takes no notice of the 
signal service which her hero would do to his coun- 
try, by ([uelling so dangerous an insurrection. She 
never reflects on the present acclamations, the future 
advancement, and the eternal renown, which are the 
tribute usually paid to a conqueror's merit. She can 
conceive, it seeins, nothing greater than to be clad in 
an embroidered vesture ; and to trail along the 
around a robe of the ric-iest dyes. This is, in her 
imagination, the most lordly spoil he can win ; the 
most stately trophy he can erect. — It is also observa- 
ble, how she dwells upon the trivial circuinstance ; 
reiterating it again and again It has so charmed 
her ignoble heart, so entirely engrossed her little 
views, that she can think of nothing else, speak of 
nothing else, andean hardly ever desist from the dar- 
ling topic. — Is not this a' keen, though delicately 
couched censure, on that poor, contemptil)le, grovel- 
ling taste, which isenamoured with siiken finery, and 
makes the attributes of a butterfly the idol of its af- 
fections ' 

How conspicuous is the elevated and mingnificent 
spirit of that venerable mother in Israel, when view- 
ed in comparison with the lov/, the despicable turn of 
this Canaanitish lady ! — Such strong and beautiful 
contrasts, are, I think, some of the most striking ex- 
cellencies of poetic painting ; and in no book are they 
more frequently used, or expressed with greater life, 
than in the sacred volumes of inspiration. 



disputably the pre-eminence in such bnt- 
Avard embellishments — Go, clothe tbyseW 
with pui-ple and fine linen ; ti'ick thyself up 
in all the gay attire Avhich the shuttle or 
the needle can furnish ; yet know, to tlie 
mortification of thy vairity, that the native 
elegance of a common daisy* eclipses all 
this elaborate fineiy — -Nay, wert thou deck- 
ed like some illustrious princess, on her 
coronation day, in all the splendour of royal 
apparel ; couldst thou equal even Solomon, 
in the height of his magnificence and glo^ 
ry; yet would the meanest among the 
flowery populace outshine thee ; every dig- 
cerning eye would give the preference to 
these beauties of the groimdf — Scorn then 
to borrow thy recommendations from a neat 
disposition of threads and a curious arrange- 
ment of colours. Assume a becoming 
greatness of temper; let thy endowments 
be of the immortal kind ; study to be al](- 
glorious within ; be clothed with humility ; 
wear the ornament of a meek and quiet spl- 
it. | To say all in a word, put on the Lord 
Jesus Christ ; (Rom. xiii. 14.) let his 
blood be sprinkled upon thy conscience, and 
it shall be whiter than the virgin-snow ; le^t 
his righteousness, like a spotless robe, adom 
thy inner man, and thou shalt be amiable 
even in the most distinguishing eye of God. 
Let his blessed Spirit dwell in thy heart, 
and under his sanctifying operations thou 
shalt be made partaker of a divine nature. 

These are real excellencies ; truly noble 
accomplishments these. In this manner be 
arrayed, be beautified ; and thou wait not 
find a rival in the feathei-s of a peacock, or 
the foliation of a tulip. These will exait 
thee far above the low pretensions of lace 
and embroidery. These will prepare thee 
to stand in the beatific presence, and to 
take thy seat among the angels of light. 

What an enchanting situation is this! 
One can scarce be melancholy within the 
atmosphere of flowers. Such lively hues, 
and delicious odours, not only address them- 
selves agreeably to the senses ; but touch, 
with a surprising delicacy, the sweetest 
movements of the mind ; 

to the heart inspiring 



Vernal delight and j&y.^— Milton, book i\. 



* Peaceful and lowly in their native soil, 
They neither know to spin, nor care to toil ; 
Yet with confess'd magnificence deride 
Our mean attire and impudence «f pride. — Prior. 
t Mr. Cowley, with his usual brilliancy of imagina- 
tion, styles them stars of earth. 

t How beautifully does the prophet describe the 
furniture of a renewed and heavenly mind, under the 
similitude of a rich and complete suit of apparel'.' 
" I v/ill greatly rejoice in the Lord ; mj soul shall be 
joyful in my God ; for he hath clothed me with the 
garments of salvation; he hath covered me with the 
robe of righteousness, as a bridegTOom decketh him- 
self with ornaments, and as a bride adorneth her.;elf 
with her jevv'els " Isa, Ixi. 10. 

§ " I would have my reader endeavour to moralize 
:his natural pleasure of the sou , and to improve this 



UEFLECTIOXS ON A n.OWER-GARDP:N. 



. How <5f ten Lave I felt tliem dissipate the 
gloom of thought, and transfuse a sudden 
gaiety through the dejected spirit J I can- 
BOt wonder, that kings descend from their 
thrones, -to walk amidst blooming ivory and 
goM ; oj- retire from the most sumptuous feast, 
to be recreated %vith the more refined sweets 
of the garden. I cannot wonder that queens 
forego, for a while, the compliments of a na- 
tion, to receive the tribute of the parterre ; 
or withdraw from all the glitter of a court, 
to be attended with the more splendid equi- 
page of a bed of flowers. — But, if this be 
so pleasing, what transporting pleasure must 
arise from the fruition of uncreated excel- 
l^ncy ! O ! what unknown delight to en- 
ter into thy immediate presence, most bless- 
ed Lord God! to see thee,* thou King of 
Heaven and Lord of glory, no longer 
*' througb a glass darkly, but face to face !" 
to have all thy goodness, all thy greatness, 
s'.hine before us ; and be made glad for ever 
with the brightest discovery of thy perfec- 
tions, with the ineffable joy of thy counte- 
nance. 

. This we cannot bear, in our present im- 
perfect state. The effulgence of unveiled 
divinity would dazzle a mortal sight. Our 
feeble faculties would be overwhelmed with 
such a fulnes5 of superabundant bliss ; and 
must lie oppressed under such "an exceed- 
ing great, eternal weight of glory." But, 
" when this corruptible hath put on incor- 
mptiori," the powers of the soul will be 
greatly invigorated; and these earthly ta- 
|)ernacles will be " transformed into the 
likeness -of Christ's glorious body." Then, 
though (Isa. xxiv. 23.) "the moon shall 
i')e confounded, and the sun ashamed," 
when the Lord of hosts is revealed from 
heaven; yet shall his faithful people be en- 
abled to see him as he is (1 John iii. 2.) 
. Here then, miy wishes, here be fixed : be 
this your determined and invariable aim ; 
here, my affections, here give a loose to 
your whole ardour ; cry out in the lan- 
guage of inspiration. This one thing have I 



desired of the Lord, Avhich with incessant 
earnestness, I will require, that I may dwell 
in the celestial house of the Lord all the days 
of my future life, to behold the beauty of the 
Lord, (Psal. xxvii. 4. ) and to contemplate 
with wonder and adoration, — vnth unspeak- 
able and everlasting rapture, — all the attri- 
butes of tbe incomprehensible Godhead, 

Solom.on, a most penetrating judge of 
human nature, kno^^^ng how highly man- 
kind is charmed with the fine qualities of 
flowers, has figured out the blessed Jesus, 
that " fairest among ten thousand," by these 
lovely representatives. He styles Him* 
the rose of Sharon and the lilly of the val- 
lies :f like the first, full of delights and 
communicable graces ; like the last, exalted 
in majesty, and complete in laeauty. Ln 
that sacred pastoral, he ranges the creation ; 
borrows its most finished forms, and dips 
his pencil in its choicest dyes, to present 
us with a sketch of the amiabiencss of his 
person ! his amiableness, who is the light 
of the world; the glory of his church ; the 
only hope, tbe sovereign consolation of sin- 
ners ; and exalted, infinitely exalted, not 
only above the noblest comparison, but even 
above all blessing and praise." May I 
also make the same heavenly use of all sub- 
lunary e7ijoyments ! "Whatever is pleasur- 
able or charming below, let it raise my de- 
sire to those sublime delights which are 
above ; which will yield, not partial, but 
perfect felicit}' ; not transient, but never- 
ending satisfaction and joy Yes, my soul, 

let these beauties in miniature always remind 
thee of that glorious person in whom " dwells 
all the fulness of the Godhead bodily." Let 
these little emanations teach thee to thirst af- 
ter the eternal fountain. O ! may the crea- 
tures be the constant clue to the Creator ! 
For this is a certain truth, and deserv^es tliy 
frequent recollection, thj most * attentive 
consideration, that the whole compass of 
finite perfection is only a faint ray,j: shot 
from that immense source, is only a small 
drop, derived from that inexhaustible ocean 
of all good. 



vernal delight, as Milton calls it, into a Christian 
virtue. When we find ourselves inspired with this 
pleasing instinct, this secret satisfaction and compla- 
cency, arising from the beauties of the creation, let 
us consider to whom we stand indebted for all these 
entertainments of sense, and who it is that thus opens 
his hand, and fills the world v.'ith good. — Svxh p.n 
habitual disposition of mind consecrates every field 
and wood; turns an ordinary walkinto a morning or 
evening sacrifice; and will approve those transient 
gleams, which naturally brighten up and refresh the 
soul on such occasions, into an inviolable and perpe- 
tual state of bliss and happiness." 

Spertator, vol. v. No. 3(i4, 
* Isaiah represents the felicity of the righteous, in 
the everlasting world, by this elegant and amiable 
image : Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty. 
Milton touches the same subject ^vith wonderful ele- 
vation and majesty of thought. They 

wall? v/ith God, 

High in salvation and the ciimes of bliss, 
^'^'"r Is v/liich, litetho fiery cir, almost transport our 
a-.-iiectitms to those glorious abodes, Isa, xxxiii. !"■ 

Mi'.ton, XIX. \', /I'T . 



* Songii 1, 

Malus ut arboribus decori est, ut vitibus uvs 

Utque rosse campis, ut liTia vallibus alba. 

Sic Christus decus omne suis 

t By the lilly of the vallies, I apprehend, is meant, 
not the flower which commonly passes under that de- 
nomination, and is comparatively mean; bi't the 
grand, majestic garden lilly ; growing in a rich irri- 
guous soil, where it flourishes in the most ample man- 
ner and arrives at the highest perfection. The cir- 
cumstance of (he vallies, added by the sacred wi-iter, 
is significant, not of the species, but of the place. — 
This is by far the grandest interpretation, and most 
exactly suitable to the spiritual sense; which inti- 
mates that the blesse>/l Jesus delights to dwell, by the 
communications of the Spirit, in liximble hearts. — 
Lillium rallibus guadens. 
t Thou sittest above all heavens. 

To r.s invisible, or dimly seen 

In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 

Thy goodness be^'OJid iliounht, and powi r dM''T>e. 



SB- 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



What a sm'prising variety is observable 
among the flowery tribes ! How has the 
boimtiful hand of Pro^ddence diversified 
these nicest pieces of his workmanship ! 
and added the charms of an endless novelty 
to all their other perfections ? — Because a 
constant uniformity would soon render the 
entertainment tiresome or insipid ; there- 
fore, every species exhibits something new. 
The fashion spreads not from family to fa- 
mily ; but every one has a mode of its own, 
which is truly original. The most cursory 
glance perceives an apparent difference, as 
well as a peculiar delicacy, in the airs and 
habits, the attitude and lineaments of every 
distinct class. 

Some rear their heads with a majestic 
mien ; and overlook, like sovereigns or no- 
bles, the whole parterre. Others seem 
more moderate in their aims, and advance 
only to the middle stations ; a genius turn- 
ed for heraldry might term them the gentry 
of the border. While others, free from all 
aspiring views, creep unambitiously on the 
ground, and look like the commonalty of the 

kind Some are intersected wth elegant 

stripes, or studded with radiant spots. Some 
affect to be genteelly ppwdered, or neatly 
fringed ; while others are plain in their as- 
spect, unaffected in their dress, and content to 
please with a naked simplicity. Some assume 
a monarch's purple ; some look most becom- 
ing in the virgin's white ; but black, dole- 
ful black, has no admittance into the ward- 
Tohe of spring. The weeds of mourning 
would be a manifest indecorum, when na- 
ture holds an universal festival. She would 
now inspire none but delightful ideas, and 
therefore always makes her appearance in 
some amiable suit. * Here stands a M^ar- 
rior clad with crimson; there sits a ma- 
gistrate, robed in scarlet ; and yonder struts 
a pretty fellow, that seems to have dipped 
his plums in the rainbow, and glitters in all 
the gay colours of that resplendent arch. 
Some rise into a curious cup, or fall into a 
set of beautiful bells ; some spread them- 
selves in a swelling tuft, or crowd into a 
delicious cluster. — In some, the predomi- 
nant stain softens by the gentlest diminu- 
tions, till it has even stole away from itself. 
The eye is amused at the agreeable delu- 
sion : and we wonder to find ourselves insen- 
sibly decoyed into quite a different lustre. 
In others, you would think, the fine tinges 
were emulous of pre-eminence : disdaining 
to mingle, they confront one another with 
the resolution of rivals, determined to dis- 
pute ihe prize of beauty ; while each is im- 
proved, by the opposition, into the highest 
■«dvacity of complexion. 

Ho vv manifold are thy works, O Lord ! 



Nune formosissi muannus — Vu-gil. 



(Psal. civ. 24.) Multiplied, even to prodi- 
gy. Yet in wisdom, consummate wdsdom, 
hast thou made them all. — How I admire 
the vastness of the contrivance, and the 
exactness of the execution ! Man, feeble 
man, vnXh difficulty accomplishes a single' 
work ; hardly, and after many efforts, does 
he arrive at a tolerable imitation of some 
one production of nature. But the Al- 
mighty Artist spoke millions of substances 
into instantaneous being, the w^hole collec- 
tion wonderfully various, and each indivi- 
dual perfectly complete. — Repeated experi-. 
ments generally, I might say always, disco- 
ver errors or defects in our happiest inven- 
tions : nay, what wins our approbation at 
the present hom* or in this particular place, is 
very probably, in some remote period, or 
some distant clime, treated Avith contempt. 
Whereas these fine structures have pleased 
every taste, in every country, for almost six- 
thousand years. Nor has any fault* been 
detected in the original plan, nor any room 
left for the least improvement upon the first 
model. All our performances, the more 
minutely they are scanned, the more imper- 
fect they appear. With regard to these de- 
licate objects, the more we search into 
their properties, the more we are ravished 
with their graces ; they are sui-e to disclose 
fresh strokes of the most masterly skill, in 
proportion to the attention with which they 
are examined. 

Nor is the simplicity of the operation less 
astonishing than the accuracy of the work- 
manship, or the infinitude of the effects. 
Should you ask, " Where, and what are 
the materials that beautify the blooming 
world ? WTiat rich tints ; what splendid 
dyes ; what stores of shining crayons, stand 
by the heavenly limner, when he paints 
the robe of nature ?" It is answered, his 
powerful pencil needs no such costly appar- 
atus. A single principle, under his con- 
ducting hand, branches out into an immen- 
sity of the most varied and most finished 
forms. The moisture of the earth, and of 
the circumanbient air, passed through pro- 
per strainers, and disposed in a range of pel- 
lucid tubes ; this performs all the wonders, 
and produces all the beauties of vegetation. 
This creeps along the fibres of the low 
spread moss, and climbs to the very tops of 
the lofty waving cedars. This, attracted by 
the root, and circulating through invisible 
canals, this bursts into gems, expands itself 
into leaves, and clothes the forest with all 
its verdant honours — This onef plain and 
simple cause, gives birth to aU the charms 



* Eccl. iii. 14. I know that whatsoever God doth, 
it s'iiail be for ever ; nothing can be put to it, nor any 
thing taken from it. 

t "W^hen every several effect has a particular se- 
parate cause, this gives no pleasure to the spsctalor, 



REFLECTIONS ON A 



FLOWER-GARDEN. ^ ' m 



'^h\ch deck the youth and maturity of the 
year. This blushes in the eaxly hepatica, 
Imd flames in the late advancing poppy. 
This reddens into blood in the veins of the 
mulberry ; and attenuates itself into leafen 
^old, to create a covering for the quince. 
This breathes in all the fragrant gales of 
our garden, and weeps odorous gum in the 
^oves of Arabia — So v^onderful is oar 
Creator in counsel, and so excellent in 
working. (Isa. xxviii. 29.) 

In a grove of tulips, or a knot of pinks, 
one perceives a difference in almost every 
individual. Scai'ce any two are turned and 
tinctured exactly alike ; each allows him- 
self a little pecidiarity in his dress, though 
all belong to one family ; so that they are 
various, and yet the same. — A pretty em- 
blem this of the smaller differences between 
protestant Christians. There are modes in 
religion, which admit of variation, without 
prejudice to sound faith, or real holiness : 
iiist as the drapery, on these pictures of the 
spring, may be formed after a variety of 
patterns without blemishing their beauty, 
or altering their nature. Be it so then, 
that in some points of inconsiderable conse- 
quence, several of our brethren dissent ; 
yet let us all live amicably and sociably to- 
gether, for we harmonize in principles, 
though we vary in punctilios. Let us join 
in conversation, and intermingle interests ; 
■discover no estrangement of behaviour, and 
cherish no alienation of affection. If any 
strife subsist, let it be to follow our divine 
Master most closely, in humility of heart, 
and tinblameableness of life ; let it be to 
serve one another, most readily, in all the 
kind offices of a cordial friendship. Thus 
shal'l we be united, though distinguished ; 
united in the same grand fundamentals, 
though distinguished by some small circum- 
stantials ; united in one important bond of 
brotherly love, though distinguished by some 
slighter peculiarities of sentiment. 

Between Christians, whose judgments dis- 
agree only about a form of prayer, or man- 
ner of worship, I apprehend there is no 
more essential difference than between 
flowers which bloom from the same kind of 
seed, but happen to be somewhat diversified 

in the mixtiu-e of their colours Whereas, 

if one denies the divinity of our Lord Je- 
sus Christ, and degrades the incarnate God 
to the meanness of a mere creature : if 
another cries up the worthiness of human 
works, and depreciates the alone meritor- 
ious righteousness of the glorious Media- 
tor ; if a third addresses the incommunica- 



as not discovering contrivance. But that work is be- 
held with admiration and delight, as the result of 
deep counsel, which is complicated in its parts, and 
yet simple in its operations, where a great variety of 
cilacts are seen to arise from one principle ope/ating 
•uuiformly. ' — Abe^rnethi/ on (he Attiibiifes, 



ble honours to a* finite being, and bows to 
the image, or prays to the saint ; — these are 
errors extremely derogatory to the Redeem- 
er's dignity, and not a little prejudicial to 
the comfort of his people ; against these to 
remonstrate, against these to urge every 
argument, and use every dissuasive, be- 
speaks not the censorious bigot, but the 
friend of truth, and the lover of man- 
kind Whereas to stand neuter and silent, 

while such principles are propagated, would 
be an instance of criminal remissness, ra- 
ther than of Christian moderation. — For 
the persons, we will not fail to maintain a 
tender compassion ; we wall not cease to 
put up earnest intercessions : we will also 
acknowledge and love whatever is excellent 
and amiable in their character. Yet we 
dare not subscribe tkeir creed ; v/e must 
not secrete our strong reasons ; we cannot 
remit our assiduous but kind endeavours, if 
by any means we may reconcile them to a 
more scriptural belief, and a purer wor- 
ship. * 

Another remarkable circumstance, re- 
commending the flowery creation is their re- 
gular succession. They make not their 
appearance all at once, but in an orderly ro- 
tation. While a proper number of these 
obliging retainers are in A'\'aiting, the others 
abscond, but hold themselves in a posture 
of service, ready to take their turn, and fill 
each his respective station, the instant it 
becomes vacant. — The snow-drop, foremost 
of the lovely train, breaks her way through 
the frozen soil, in order to present her early 
compliments to her Lord ; dressed in the 
robe of innocency she steps forth, fearless 
of danger ; long before the trees have ven- 
tured to unfold their leaves, even while the 

icicles are pendant on our houses Next, 

peeps out the crocus, but cautiously, and 
with an air of timidity. She hears the 
howling blasts, and skulks close to her low 
situation. Afraid she seems to make loi'gc 
excursions from her root, while so many 
ruffian winds are abroad and scouring along 
the ether — Nor is the violent blast, in 
this shining embassy of the year ; which, 
with all the embellishments that would 
grace a royal garden, condescends to line 
our hedges, and grow at the feet of briers. 
Freely and without any solicitation, she 
distributes the bounty of her emissive sweets; 
while herself, with an exemplary humility. 



* In some former editions, I expressed myself, on 
this point unwarily and harshly. Hut my meaning, 
and real sentiments, were no other than those repre- 
sented above. — The reader, from such unguarded in- 
timations, might too naturally be led to conclude, 
that the author avows, and would stir up, a spirit of 
persecution. But this is a method of dealing with 
opponents in religious doctrines, which he disclaims 
as absurd, and abhors as iniquitous. He is for no 
force, but that of rational conviction, for no con- 
straint but that of affectionate persuasion. Thus, if 
you pleaf e, compel them to come ia. Luke xiv. 23. 



40 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



retires from sight, seeking rather to admin- 
ister pleasure than to win admiration."* 
Emblem, expressive emblem, of those mo- 
dest virtues which delight to bloom in ob- 
scurity, which extend a cheering influence 
to multitudes, who are scarce acquainted 
with the source of their comforts ! Motive, 
engaging motive, to that ever-active bene- 
ficence, which stays not for the importunity 
of the distressed, but anticipates their suit, 
and prevents them with the blessings of its 
goodness ! — The poor polyanthus, that late- 
ly adorned the border with her sparkling 
beauties, and transplanted into our windows, 
gave us a fiesh entertainment, is now no 
more. I saw her complexion fade ; I per- 
ceived her breath decay, till at length she 
expired, and dropt into her grave. Scarce 
Lave we sustained thi-> loss, but in comes the 
auricula, and more than retrieves it ; array- 
ed she comes in a splendid A-ariety of amia- 
ble forms ! with an eye of crj^stal, and 
garments of the most glossy satin ; exhal- 
ing perfume, and powdered with silver. 
A very distinguished procession this ! the 
favourite care of tlie florist ! Scarce one 
araono: them but is dignified with a charac- 
ter of renoATO, or lias the honour to repre- 
sent some celebrated toast. But these also, 
notwithstanding their illustrious titles, have 
exhausted their whole stock of fragrance, 
and are mingled with the meanest dust. 
— Who could forbear grieving at their de- 
parture, did not the tulips begin to raise 
themselves on their fine wands, or stately 
stalks ? They flush the parterre with one of 
the gayest dresses that blooming nature 
wears. Did ever beau or belle make so 
gaudy an appearance, in a birth-night suit. 
Here one may behold the innocent wanton- 
riess of beauty ! here she indulges a thou- 
sand freaks, and sports herself in the most 
charming diversity of colours ; yet I should 
wrong her, were I to call her a coquet, be- 
cause she plays her lovely changes, not to 
fnkindle dissolute affections, but to display 
her Creator's glory. Soon arises the ane- 
mone, encircled at the bottom with a spread- 
ing robe, and rounded at the top into a 
beautiful dome. In its loosely-flowing 
mantle, you may observe a noble negligence ; 
in its gently bending tufts, the nicest sym- 
metry. I would term it the fine gentleman 
of the garden; because it seems to have 
learned the singular address of imiting sim- 
plicity with refinement, of reconciling art 
with ease. The same month has the me- 
rit of producing the ranuncirlas : All bold 
and graceful, it expands the riches of its 
foliage ; -and acquires by degrees the loveli- 
est enamel in the world. As persons of in- 
trinsic worth disdain the superficial arts of 
recommendation practised by fops ; so this 



* Prcxlcsse quam conspicL 



lordly flower scorns to borrow any of its 
excellence from powders and essences. It 
needs no such attract! ves to reiider it the 
darling of the curious, being sufficiently en- 
gaging, from the elegance of its figure, the 
radiant variety of its tinges, and a certain 
superior dignity of aspect. Methinks na- 
ture improves in her operations : her latest 
strokes are most masterly. To croA^Ti the 
collection, she introduces the carnation, 
which captivates every eye with a noble 
spread of graces, and charms another sense 
with a profusion of exquisite odours. This 
single flower has centered in itself the per- 
fections of all the preceding ; the moment 
it appears, it so commands our attention, 
that we scarce regret the absence of the 
rest. The gilly-flower, like a real friend, 
attends you through all the vicissitudes and 
alterations of the season. While others 
make a transient visit only, this is rather an 
inhabitant than a guest in our gardens ; adds 
fidelity to complaisance. 

It is in vain to attempt a catalogue of 
these amiable gifts : there is an endless 
multiplicity in tl?eir characters, yet an inva- 
riable order "n their approaches. Every 
month, almost every week, has its peculiar 
ornaments ; not servilely copying the works 
of its predecessor, but forming, still form- 
ing, and still executing some new design. 
So lavish is the fancy, yet so exact is the 
process of nature. 

Here let me stand a while, to contem- 
plate this distribution of fio^vers, through 

the several periods of the year Were they 

all to blossom together, there would be at 
once a promiscuous throng, and at once a 
total privation ; we shoifld scarce have an 
opportunity of adverting to the dainty qua- 
lities of half, and must soon lose the agree- 
able company of them all. But now, since 
every species has a separate post to occupy, 
and a distinct interval for appearing, we 
can take a leisurely and minute survey of 
each succeeding set. We can view arid re- 
view their forms ; enter into a more inti- 
mate acquaintance with their charming 
accomplishments, and receive all those pleas- 
ing services which they are commissioned 
to yield. — This remarkable piece of eco- 
nomy is productive of another very valuable 
effect. It not only places in the most ad- 
vantageous light every particular communi- 
ty, but is also a sure provisionary resource 
against the frailty of the whole nation ; or, V 
to speak more truly, it renders the flowery 
tribes a sort of immortal corps,* whose suc- 
cessionary attendance never fails. For, 



* In allusion to the celebrated practice of the Per- 
sian kings, who maintained for their life-guard a 
body of troops called Immortal ; because it perpetu- 
ally subsisted ; for as soon as any of the men died, 
aiiother was immediately put into his place." 



REFLEGTIOxNS ON A 

though some are continually dropping, yet 
by this expedient, others are as continually 
rising, to beautify our borders, and prolong 
the entertainment. 

What goodness is this, to provide such a 
series of gratifications for mankind ! both to 
diversify, and perpetuate the fine collation ; 
to take care, that our paths should be in a 
manner incessantly strewed with flowers — 
And what wisdom to bid every one of these 
insensible beings know the precise jimctiu'e 
of their coming forth ! insomuch that no 
actor on a stage can be more exact in per- 
forming his part ; can make a more regular 
entry, or a more punctual exit. 

Who emboldens the dafl^odil to venture 
abroad in February, and to trust her flow- 
ery gold AAdth inclement and treacherous 
skies ? Who informs the various tribes of 
fruit-bearing blossoms, that vernal suns and 
a more genial warmth, are fittest for their 
dt^licate texture ? Who teaches the clove to 
stay, till hotter beams are prepared, to in- 
fuse a spicy richness into her odours, and 
tincture her complexion with the deepest 
crimson ? — Who disposes these beautifid 
troops into such orderly bodies, retarding 
some and accelerating others ? Who has in- 
structed them to file off, with such perfect 
regularity, as soon as the duty of their re- 
spective station is over ? And vv'hen one 
detachment retires, who gives the signal for 
another immediately to advance ? Who but 
that unerring Providence, which from the 
highest thrones of angels, to the very lowest 
degrees of existence, orders all things in 
" number, weight, and measure !" 

These, O my soul, are the regulations of 
that most adorable, that most beneficent 
Being, who bowed the heavens, came down 
to dwell on earth, and united the frailty of 
thy mortal nature, to all the glories of his 
Godhead, All the honour of this admira- 
ble establishment belongs to thy Ransom, 
thy Surety, thy Saviour. To Him it be- 
longs, who sustained the vengeance which 
thou hadst deserved, and wast doomed to 
^ suffer : who fulfilled the obedience, which 
thou wast obliged, but unable to perform, 
and who humbled himself (stupendous, in- 
effable, loving-kindness !) humbled himself 
to death, even the death of the cross — He 
formed this vast machine, and adjusted its 
nice dependencies. The pillars, that sup- 
port it, the embellishments that adorn it, 
and the laws that govern it, are the result 
of his imsearchable counsels. Oh ! the 
heights of his majesty, and the depths of 
his abasement ! 

Which shall we admire most, his essen- 
tial gi"eatness, or his free grace ? He creat- 
ed the exalted seraph, that sings in glory ; 
and every the minutest insect, that flutters 
in air, or crawls in dust. He marks out a 
path for all those globes of light, which tra- 



FLOWER-GARDEN. ^F 

vel the circuit of the skies ; and disdains " 
not to rear the violet from its lowly bed, or 
to plait the daisy which dresses our plains. 
So grand are his operations, yet so condes- 
cending his regards ! — If summer, like a 
sparkling bride, is brilliant and glorious in 
her apparel (what is this but a feeble reflec- 
tion of his uncreated effulgence ? If autumn, 
like a munificent host, opens her stores, and 
gives us all things richly to enjoy ; what is 
this, but a little taste of his inexhaustible 
liberality ? If thunders roar, you hear the 
sound of his trumpet ; if lightnings glare, - 
you see the launching of his glittering 
spear ; if " the perpetual hiUs be scattered 
and the everlasting mountains bowed," you 
behold a display — No says the prophet, 
you have rather the hiding of his power.* 
So immense is his power, so uncontrolla- 
ble, and inconceivable, that all these mighty 
works are but a sketch, in which more is 
concealed than discovered. 

Thus, I think, we should always view the 
visible system with an evangelical telescope, 
(if I may be allowed the expression) and 
with an evangelical microscope ; regarding 
Christ Jesus as the great projector and ar- 
chitect, who planned, and executed the 
amazing scheme. Whatever is magnificent 
or valuable, tremendous or amiable, should 
ever be ascribed to the Redeemer, This is 
the Christian's natural philosophy. With 
regard to this method of considering the 
things that are seen, we have an ins])ired 
apostle for our preceptor and precedent. 
Speaking of Christ, he says, " Thou Lord, 
hi the beginning hast laid the foundation of. 



* Hab. iii, 4, Nothing can bo more magnificently 
conceived, than the imagery of this whole chapter ; 
and upon the foot of our interpretation, nothing was 
evcj- more delicately and nobly turned, than the sen- 
timent of this clause. Other senses of the passage, 1 
acknowledge, may be assigned with equal propriety : 
But none, 1 think, can be imagined so majestic and 
sublime. As the original will fairly admit of it ; as 
it carries no disagreement with the context ; and ex- 
presses a most important, as well as undoubted truth ; 
I hope I may be permitted to use it at least by way 
of accommodation. — Especially, as it suggests one of 
the finest mottos imaginable, wherewith to inscribe 
all the visible productions of the Creator's liand. — 
When struck with astonishment we consider their 
grandeur, beauty, and consummate perfections ; let 
us, in justice to "their Author, apply the exalted re- 
flection of this sacred ode ; "In all these is the hidmg 
lather than an adequate display of his matcliless 
power. Though they challenge our praise, and sur- 
pass our comprehension ; yet are they by ro means 
the utmost exertions, but rather some slighter essays 
of omnipotent skill," — Milton, relating the overthrow 
of the fallen angels, introduces a grand circumstance, 
not much unlike the preceding. Messiah, unaided 
and alone, had utterly routed an innumerable host of 
apostate spirits. This was great and marvellous. 
But to create ajuster idea of the illustrious conquer- 
or, our poet beautifully adds. 

Yet half his strength he put not forth ! 

If we forget to make the same remark, when we con- 
template God in his works, we must necessarily form 
very scanty conceptions of that Supreme Being before 
1 whom all nations are as a " drop of a bucket, and are 
accounted as the small dust of the balance." 



42 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



the earth ; and the heavens are the work of 
thy hands." — Did we carefully attend to 
this leading principle, in all our examina- 
tions of natiu'e, it would doubtless be a most 
powerful means of enkindling our love and 
strengthening our faith.* For when I 
look round upon millions of noble sub- 
stances, and carry with me this transport- 
ing reflection, " The Maker of them all 
expired on a cross for me ;" how can I re- 
main any longer indifferent ? Must not the 
coldest heart begin to glow with gratitude ? 
— When I survey an immensity of the fin- 
est productions imaginable ; and remember 
that the Author of them all is " my right- 
eousness, and my redemption ;" how can I 
choose but repose the most cheerful confi- 
dence in such a Mediator? 

Let me add one more remark upon the 
admirable adjustment of every particular, 
relating to these fine colonies planted in the 
parterre. — With such accuracy and correct- 
ness is their structure finished, that any the 
least conceivable alteration would very much 
impair their perfection. Should you see, 
for instance, the nice disposition of the tu- 
lip's attire fly abroad, disorderly and irregu- 
lar, like the flaunting woodbine ; should the 
jessamine rear her diminutive head, on 
those grand columns which support the 
hollyhock ; should the erect and manly as- 
pect of the piony hang down with a pensive 
air like the flexile bells of the hyacinth ; 
should that noble plainness which distin- 
guishes the lily, be exchanged for the glit- 
tering fringes which edge the pink, or the 
gaudy stains which bedrop the iris j shoidd 



* The apostles, I observe, delight to use this me- 
thod of displaving the honours of the Redeemer, and 
establishing tlie faith of his people. — The beloved 
disciple, teaching that most precious doctrine, " of a 
Lamb slam to take away the sins of the world," in 
order to evince the sufficiency of Christ's sacrifice for 
thi^blessed purjiose, affirms, that all things were made 
bv him, and without him was not any thing, no, not 
so much as one single being made, John i. 3.— St. 
Paul, preaching the same glad tidings to the Colos- 
sians, and expressly maintaining that we have Re- 
demption through his blood ; seems to foresee an ob- 
jection of this kind ; " To expiate transgressions 
against an infinite Majesty, is a most prodigious act ; 
it must cost vastly more than any common surety can 
pay, to redeem a sinful world. What reason have we 
to believe that Jesus is equal to this mighty under- 
taking?" All possible reason, replies the apostle, 
from the dig"nity of his person, for he is the image of 
the invisible God, and from the greatness of his works, 
for by him all things were made. Consider tlie oper- 
ations of his hands, and you cannot doubt the atoning 
efficacy of his death. Col. i. 15, IC— The author of 
the epistle to the Hebrews falls exactly into the same 
train of arguing ; declaring that Christ Jesus has 

E urged our sins by the sacrifice of himself : he proves 
is ample ability for this tremendous office from his 
essential excellence, because he is the brightness of 
his Father's glory) and from his admirable works, be- 
cause he made the worlds, and upholdeth all things by 
the word of his power, Heb. i. 2, 3.— Which truth, 
as it is so i.ni.ortant in itself, of such signal comfort 
to Christians, and so particularly insisted on by the 
inspired writers, I hope I shall need no apology for 
an attempt to illustrate and enforce it, in a kind of 
evangelical descant upon Creation, annexed to these 
Reflections. 



those tapering pillars whicli arise in the 
middle of its vase, and tipt vnth golden i 
pendants, give such a lustre to the sur-' 
rounding pannels of alabaster, — should those' 
sink and disappear, like the chives which 
cover the heart of the anemone : — In many 
of these cases, would not the transposition 
be fantastical and awkward, in all to the ap- 
parent prejudice of every individual. 

Again, vnth regard to the time of their 
appearing, this circumstance is settled by a 
remarkable foresight and precaution. What 
would become of the sailor, if, in very 
stormy weather, he should raise a lofty mast, 
and crowd it with all his canvas ? Such ^ 
would be the ill effect, if the most stately 
species of flowers shoidd presume to come ' 
abroad in the blustenng months. Ah ! 
how woidd they rue the imprudent bold- 
ness ! Therefore, those only that shoot the '■ 
shortest stems, and display the smallest - 
spread of leaves, or, if you please, carry the 
least sail, are laimched amidst the blowing 
seasons. How injudiciously would the 
perfumer act, if he should unseal his finest ' 
essences, and expose them to the northern ' 
winds, or wintery rains! Our blooming 
artists of the aromatic profession, at least 
the most delicate among them, seem perfect- 
ly aware of the consequences of such a pro- 
cedure. Accordingly, they postpone the 
opening of their odoriferous treasures till a 
serener air, and more unclouded skies,* 
grant a protection to their amiable traffic, 
till they are inider no more apprehensions 
of having their spicy cells rifled by rude 
blasts, or drowned in incessant showers. 

What a striking argument is here for 
resignation, imfeigned resignation, to all 
the disposals of Providence ! Too often 
are our dissatisfied thoughts apt to find 
fault with divine dispensations. We ta- 
citly arraign our Maker's conduct, or ques- 
tion his kindness with regard to ourselves ; 
we fancy oiu- lot not so commodiousiy situ- 
ated, or our condition not so happily cir- 



* Casimir, in a very poetical manner, addresses 
himself to the dormant rose, and most prettily invites 
her to venture abroad, by the mention of these two 
circumstances. 

Siderum sacros imitata vultus, 

Quid latos dudum, Rosa ? DeUcatum 

EfFere tersis caput, O tepentis Filia ccelL 

Jam tibi nubes fugiunt aquosae, 

Quas fugant albis Zephyri, quadrigis ; 

Jam tibi mulcet Boream jocantis. Aura Favoni, 

Child of the summer ! charming rose ! 

No longer in confinement lie ; 
Arise to light, thy form disclose. 

Rival the spangles of the sky. 
The rains are gone, the storm.s are o'er ; 

W inter retires to make thee way ; 
Come then, thou sweetly blushing flow'r ! 

Come, lovely stranger, come away. 
The sun is dress'd in beaming smiles, 

To give thy beauties to the day ; 
Young zephyrs wait with gentlest gales. 

To fan thv bosom as they play. 



REFLECTIONS ON A 

cumstanced as if we had been placed in 
i=ome other station of life. — But let us be- 
hold this exquisitely nice regulation of the 
minutest plants, and be ashamed of our re- 
pining folly. Could any fibre in their com- 
position be altered, or one line in their fea- 
tures be transposed, ^dthout clouding some 
of their beauties ? Could any fold in their 
vestments be varied, or any link in their or- 
derly succession, be broken without injuring 
some delicate property ? And does not that 
all-seeing eye, which preserves so exact a har- 
mony among these pretty toys, maintain as 
watchful a care over his rational creatures ? 
Does he choose the properest season for the 
cowslip to arise, and drink the dews ? And 
can he neglect the concerns, or misjudge 
the conveniencies of his sons and daugh- 
ters ? He, who has so completely disposed 
whatever pertains to the vegetable econo- 
my, that the least diminution or addition 
would certainly hurt the finished scheme, 
does, without all peradventure, preside, with 
equal attention, over the interests of his own 
people. 

Be still then, thou uneasy mortal,* know 
that God is unerringly y/ise ; and be assur- 
ed, that amidst the great multiplicity of be- 
ings, he does not overlook thee. Thy Sa- 
viour has given me authority to assert, that 
thou art of far superior value in the es- 
timation of omnipotence than all the her- 
bage of the field. If his sacred will or- 
dains sickness for thy portion, never dare 
to imagine, that uninterrupted health woidd 
be more advantageous. If he pleases to 
withhold, or take away children, never pre- 
sume to conclude, that thy happiness is 
blasted, because thy hopes of an increasing 
family are disappointed. He that m.arshals 
all the starry host, and so accurately arranges 
every the meanest species of herbs ; He or- 
ders aU the peculiarities, all the changes of 
thy state, with a vigilance that nothing can 
elude, with a goodness that endureth for 
ever. Bow thy head, therefore, in humble 
acquiescence : rest satisfied that whatever 
is, by the appointment of Heaven,f is right, 
is best. 



* Permittasipsis expandere numinibus, quid 
Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris. 
Nam pro jucun lis aptissima puasque dabunt dii ; 
Carior est illis humo, quam sibi. — Juoen. 
Since all the do'.vnward tracts of time 

God's watchful eye surveys ; 
O ! who so wise to choose our lot. 

And regulate our ways ? 
Since none can doubt his equal love, 

Unmeasurably kind ; 
To his unerring gracious will 

Be ev'ry wish resign'd. 
Good when he givee, supremely good, 

Nor less, when he denies ; 
Ev'n crosses, from his sov'reign hand, 
Are blessings in disguise. 
- Whatever is, is right. — If Mr. Pope understands 
the maxim according to the liuiitation expressed 
tbove, he speaks a most undeniable and glorious 



FLOWER-GARDEN. 



43 



Among all the productions of the third 
creating day, this of flowers seems to be 
peculiarly designed for man. Man has the 
monopoly of this favoiu- ; it is conferred . 
upon him by a sort of exclusive charter. 
See the imperial cro\ATi, splendid and beau-, 
tifully grand ! See the tube rose, delicate 
and languishingly fair ! See all the pomp 
and glory of the parterre, where paint and 
perfume do wonders. Yet the inferior ani- 
mals are neither smit with their beauties, 
nor regaled with their odours : The horse 
never stands still to gaze upon their charms ; 
nor does the ox turn aside to browse upon 
their sweets. Senses they have to discern 
these curious objects in the gross, but no 
taste to distinguish or relish their fine ac- 
complishments Just so, carnal and unen- 
lightened men may understand the literal 
meaning of Scripture, may comprehend the 
evidences of its divine inspiration, yet have 
no relish of the heavenly truths it teaches, 
no ardent longing for the spiritual blessings 
it offers, and see " no form or comeliness" 
in the Saviour it describes, so as to render 
him the supreme desire of their soids. 

The chief end of these beautiful appear- 
ances, philosophers say, is to enfold and 
cherish the embryo seed; or to swathe the 
tender body during its infant state. But, 
whatever is the chief end of natiu-e, it is 
certain she never departs from the design of 
administering delight to mankind.* This 
is inseparably connected with her other 
views. — Were it only to secure a reproductive 
principle, what need of such elegant compli- 
cations ? "Why so much art employed, and 
so many decorations added ? Why should 
vestments be prepared richer than brocades, 
more delicate than lawns, and of a finer glow 



truth. But if that great poet includes whatever 
comes to pass through the wild and extravagant pas- 
sions of men, surely no thinking person, at least no 
Christian, can accede to his opinion. What God or- 
ders is wise, beyond all possibility of correction, and 
good, above all that we can ask or think. His decrees 
are the result of infinite discernment, and his dispen- 
sations the issues of unbounded benevolence. But 
man, fallen man, is hurried away by his lusts, into a 
thousand irregularities which are deplorably evil in 
themselves, and attended with consequences mani- 
festly pernicious to society. — Let the sentiment, there- 
fore, be restrained to the disposals of Heaven, and 
I must readily subscribe it. But if it be extended to 
the conduct o'f men, and the effects of their folly, 1 
think myself obliged to enter my protest against iu 
For whatever kindles the divine indignation — is cause 
of final ruin to the author — is strictly forbidden by 
God's holy word, is contrary to the whole design of 
his revealed v.-ill, and the very reverse of his essential 
caributes. This cannot possibly be right. This is 
most undoubtedly wrong. Omnipotence, indeed, can 
overrule it, and deduce good from it; but the very 
notion of overruling, supposes it to be absolutely 
wrong in itself. 

* " We find that the most important parts in the 
vegetable world, are those which are the most beau- 
tiful. These are the seeds by wliich the several races 
of plants are propagated and' continued, and which 
are always lodged in flowers or blossoms. Nature 
seems to hide her principal design, and to be indus- 
trious in makmg the earth gay aiid delightful, while 
she is carrying on her great work, and intent upon 
her own preservation." — Spectator, vol. v. No. 387. 



44 



REFLECTIONS ON 



A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



than tlie most admired velvets ? If the 
jrreat mother had no ather aim than barely 
to accommodate her little offspring, warm 
flannel, or homely fustian, would hav^e serv- 
ed her turn ; served it full as well as the 
most sumptuous tissue, or all the furniture 
of the mercer's shop. 

E\ndent then it is, that flowers were en- 
dued with such enchanting graces for the 
pleasure of man. In pursuance of this ori- 
ginal intention, they have always paid their 
court to the human race ; they still seem 
particularly solicitous of recommending 
themselves to our regard. The finest of 
each species crowd about our habitations, 
and are rarely to loe seen at a distance from 
our abodes. They thrive under our culti- 
vating hand and observing eye ; but degen- 
erate and pine away, if unregarded by their 

lord To win his attention, and deck his 

retreats, they hide their deformities under 
ground, and display nothing but the most 
graceful forms and engaging colo^irs, to his 
sight. To merit a farther degree of his es- 
teem, the generality of them dispense a de- 
lightful perfume. What is still more ob- 
liging, they* reserve their richest exhala- 
tions to embalm his morning and evening 
walks.f Because he usually chooses those 
cool hours to recreate himself among their 
blooming ranks ; therefore, at these hours, 
they are most lavish of their fragrance, and 
breathe out their choicest s])irits. 

O man, greatly beloved by the Creator ! 
the darling of Providence ! thou art distin- 
guished by his goodness ; distinguish thy- 
self also by thy gratitude. Be it thy one 
undivided aim to glorify him, who has 
been at so much expense to gratify thee ! — 
While all these inferior creatures in si- 
lent eloquence, declare the glory of God, 
do thou lend them thy tongue. Be 
thou the high-priest of the mute creation ; 
let their praises become vocal in thy songs. 
— Adore the supreme Benefactor, for the 
blessings he showers down upon every or- 
der of beings ; adore him for numberless 
mercies, which are appropriated to thyself ; 
but above all, adore him, for that noble gift 
of a rational and immortal soul This con- 
stitutes us masters of the globe, and gives 
us the real enjoyment of its riches. This 
discovers ten thousand beauties, which 
otherwise had been lost ; and renders them 
both a source of delights, and a nursery of 
devotion By virtue of this exalted princi- 
ple, we are qualified to admire our Maker's 



* The flow'rs. 

That open now their choicest bosom'd smells, 
Reserv'd from night, and kept f^r thee in store. 

Milton. 

f The twining jessamine, and the b ushing rose, 
With lavish grace their morning-scents disclose : 
The smelling (ub'rose and jonquil declare 
The stronger impulsa 01 aii evenin!j air. 

Priori Sol. 



works, and capable of bearing his illustrious " 
image ; bearing his illustrious image, not 
only when these ornaments of the ground 
have resigned their honours, but Avhen the 
gi'eat origin of day is extinguished in the 
skies, and aU the flaming orbs on high are 
put out in obscure darkness. — Then to sur- 
vive, to survive the ruins of one world, and 
to enjoy God — to resemble God — to be 
" filled with all the fulness of God," in 
another: — what a happiness, what an ines- 
timable'happiness is this ! Yet this is thy 
privilege, (barter it not for trifles of an 
hour I) this is thy glorious prerogative, O 
man ! 

O ! the goodness, the exuberant good- 
ness, of our God ! I cannot forbear celebrat- 
ing it once more, before I pass to another 

consideration How much should we 

think ourselves obliged to a generous friend, 
who should build a stately edifice, purely 
for our abode* ! but how greatly would the 



* I cannot persuade myself that the comparison is 
stretched beyond proper bounds, when carried to this 
pitch. It is "my steadfast opinion, that the world, at 
least this lower world, with its various appurtenances, 
was intended purely for man : that it is appropriated 
to him ; and that he {in subordination to God's glo- 
ry) is the end of its creation. Other animals, it is 
true, partake of the Creator's benefits, but then they 
partake, under the notion of man's domestics, or on 
the foot of retainers to ; as creatures which bear some 
relation to his service, and some way or other contri- 
bute to his good, so that still he is the centre of the 
whole ; or, as our incomparable Milton, equally mas- 
ter of poetry and divinity, expresses himself, All 
things li%'e for man. — Pnr.'Lost, book xi. ver. 161. 

Mi-. Pope, in his Ethic Epistles, is pleased to ex- 
plode this tenet, as the height of j'ticie and a gross 
absurdity. For my part, I see no reason for such a 
charge. With all submission to sosuperiora genius, 
it seems very remote from pride, to be duly sensible 
of favours vouchsafed, to contemplate them in all 
the extent of their munificence, and acknowledge 
them accordingly. I should rather imagine, that to 
contract their size, when they are immensely large ; 
to stint their number, when they are altogether in- 
numerable, that such a procedure savours more of 
insensibility, than our hypothesis of presumption, 
and has more in it of ingratitude than that of arro- 
gance. 

And how can it be deemed an absurdity, to main- 
tain that God gave us a world for our possession, 
when it is our duty to believe that he gave us his on- 
ly Son for our propitiation ? Sure, it can be neither 
difficult nor extravagant to suppose, that he designed 
the habitable globe, with its whole furniture, for our 
present use, since he withheld not his only child Je- 
sus, but freely delivered him up for our final salva- 
tion. 

Upon the whole, I cannot but conclude, that the 
attempt of our famous poet, is neither kind with re- 
gard to his fellow creatures, nor grateful with regard 
to his Creator ; neither is his scheme, in fact, true. 
The attempt not kind, with regard to man, because 
it robs him of one of the most delightful and ravish- 
ing contemplations imaginable. To consider the g eat 
Author of existence as having me in his eye when he 
formed universal nature, as contriving all things with 
an immediate view to the exigences of my particular 
state ; and making them all in such a manner as might 
be most conducive to mv particular advantage ; this 
must occasion the strongest satisfaction, whenever 
I cast a glance on the objects that surround me. Not 
grateful with regard to God, because it has the most 
direct tendency to diminish our sense of his kindness, 
and, by that means, to throw a damp upon our gra- 
titude. It teaches us to look upon om-selves as al- 
most lost among a crowd of other beings, or regard- 
ed only with an occasional and incidental beneficence, 
which must certainly weaken the disposition, and 
indeed slacken the ties, to the most adoring thankful- 



REFLECTIONS ON A 

obligation be increased, if tbe hand tliat 
built should also furnish it ! and not only 
furnish it with all that is commodious and 
comfortable, but ornament it also with 
whatever is splendid and delightful ! This 
has our most indulgent Creator done in a 
manner infinitely surpassing all we could 
^^^sh or imagine. 

The earth is assigned us for a dwelling — 
The skies are stretched over us, like a mag- 
nificent canopy dyed in the pm-est azure ; 
and beautified, now with pictures of float- 
ing silver, now with colourings of reflected 

crimson The grass is spread under us as 

a spacious carpet, wove with silken threads 
of green, and damasked with flowers of 

every hue The sun, like a golden lamp, 

IS hung out in the etherial vault ; and pours 
efloilgence all the day, to enlighten our 
paths. — "WTien night approaches, the moon 
takes up the friendly office ; and the stars 
are kindled in twinkling myriads, to cheer 
the darkness with their milder lustre, not to 
distm-b our repose by too intense a glare — 
The clouds; besides the rich paintings they 
hajig around the heavens, act the part of a 
shifting screen ; and defend us, by their 
seasonable interposition, from the scorching 
beams of summer. I\Iay we not also 
regard them as the great watering pote of 
the globe, which, wafted on the wirgs of 
the wind, dispense their moisture* evenly 



ness. To which I apprehend we may justly add, nei- 
ther is the scheme, in fact, true. For, not to men- 
tion what might be urged from the sure word of reve- 
lation, this one argument appears sufficiently conclu- 
sive. The world began with man, the world must 
cease with man; consequently, the grand use, the 
principal end of the world is, to subserve the interests 
of man. It is, on all sides, agreed, tJiat the edifice 
■was erected when man was to be furnished with an 
habitation, and that it will be demolished, when man 
has no further need of its accommodations. When 
he enters into the "house not made with hands, eter- 
nal in the heavens, the earth, and all the works that 
are therein, shall be burnt up." From which it seems 
a very obvious and fair deduction, that man is the fi- 
nal cause of this inferior creation. 

So that I think my readers and myself, privileged 
<uot to say, on the principles of gratitude, obliged) 
to use those lovely lines of our author, with a pro- 
priety and truth, equal to their elegance and beau- 
ty: 

For me kind nature wakes her genial pow'r. 
Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flow'r ! 
Annual, for me, the grape, the rose, renew 
The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew ; 
For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings ; 
For me, health gushes fiom a thousand springs. 

Eih. Ep.i. ver. 139. 

* This circumstance, amidst abundance of other 
delicate and edifying remarks upon the wonders of 
nature, is finely touched in the philosophical tran- 
sactions recorded in the book of Job, chap, xxxviii. 
15. — Who hath divided the water-course for the over- 
flowing of waters? The Hebrew is so pregnant and 
rich with sense, that no translation can do it justice. 
The following paraphrase, perhaps, may represent 
the principal ideas comprehended in the expressive 
original : Who hath branched out, and with admir- 
able judg.neut, disposed a variety of aqueducts for 
that immsnss collection of waters which float in the 
sky ? Who distributes those pendulous floods through 
all the bo ders of the earth ? distributes them not in 
dreadful cataracts, or promiscuous gluts of rain, but 
in kindly drops of refreshing showers, with as much 



FLOWER-GARDEN. 45 

through the universal g-arden ; and fructify 
with their showers, whatever our hand 
plants? — The fields are our exhaustless 

granary The ocean is our vast reservoir. 

— The animals spend their strength to dis- 
patch oiu- business ; resign their clothing to 
replenish our wardrobe ; and surrender their 
very lives to pro\dde for our tables. — In 
short, every element is a store-house of 
conveniences, every season brings us to 
choicest productions ; all nature is oiu ca- 
terer. — And which is a most endearing re- 
commendation of these favours, they are 
as lovely as they are useful. You observe 
nothing mean or inelegant. All is clad in 
beauty's fairest robe,* and regulated by pro- 
portion's nicest rule. The whole scene 
exhibits a fund of pleasures to the imagina- 
tion, at the same time that it more tharr 
supplies all our wants. f 

Therefore thou art inexcusable, O man, 
whosoever thou art, that rebellest against 
thy Tvlaker. He surrounds thee with un.- 
numbered benefits, and follows thee with 
an effusion of the richest, noblest gifts. He 
courts thy affections, he solicits thy grati- 
tude, by liberalities which are never inter- 
mitted, by a bounty wliich knows no limits. 
— Most blessed Lord, let this thy goodness, 
thy unwearied goodness, lead us to repent- 
ance. "Win us to thyself, thou fountain of 
felicity, by these sweet inducements. Draw 
us to our duty, thou God of om- salvation, by 
these "cords of love." 

What a living pictiue is here of the be- 
neficial effects of industry ! By industry and 
cultivation, this neat spot is an image of 
Eden. Here is all that can entertain the 
eye, or regale the smell. :f Whereas with- 
out cultivation, this sweet garden had been 
a desolate udlderness ; vile thistles had made 
it loathsome, and tangling briers inaccessi- 
ble. Without cultivation, it might have 
been a nest for serpents, and the horrid 
haunt of venomous creatures. But the 
spade and pruning knife, in the hand of in- 
dustry, have improved it into a sort of ter- 
restrial paradise. 



regularity and economy, as if they were conveyed by 
pipes from a conduit ?— To whom shall we ascribe 
that niceness of contrivance, which now eirats, now 
restrains them ; sometimes drives their humid train 
to one place, and sometimes to another j dispenses 
them to this soil in larger, to that in smaller com- 
munications : and, in a word, so manages the mighty 
fluid, that every spot is supplied in exact proportion 
to its wants, none destroyed by an undistinguished 
deluge. 

* Perhaps it was from such an observation that the 
Greeks, those critical and refined judges of things, 
expressed the mundane system, by a word which sig- 
nifies beauty. 

t " Those several living creatures, which are made 
for our service, or sustenance, at the same time eitlier 
fill the woods with music, furnish us with game, or 
raise pleasing ideas in us by the delightfulness of their 
appearance. Fountains, lakes, and rivers, are as re- 
freshing to the imagination as to the soil througli 
which they pass." — Spectator, vol. v. No. 387. 

i Oinnis copia narium.— Ifo/m-e 



46 



REFLECTIONS ON A 



FLOWER-GARDEN. 



How naturally does tliis lead our con- 
templation, to the advantages which flow 
from a virtuous education, and the miseries 
which ensue from the neglect* of it ! — The 
mind, without early instruction, will, in all 
probability, become like the " vineyard of 
the sluggard." If left to the propensities 
of its own depraved will, what can we ex- 
pect, but the most luxuriant growth of un- 
ruly appetites, which, in time may break 
forth in all manner of scandalous irregular- 
ities ? What ! — ^but that anger, like a prick- 
ly thorn, arm the temper with an untracta- 
ble moroseness ; peevishness, like a sting- 
ing nettle, render the conversation ii-ksome 
and forbidding ; avarice, like some choak- 
ing weed, teach the fingers to gripe, and the 
hands to oppress ; revenge, like some poi- 
sonous plant, replete with baneful juices, 
rankle in the breasts, and meditate mischief 
to its neighbour ; while unbridled lusts, like 
swarms of noisome insects, taint each rising 
thought, and render " every imagination of 
the heart only evil continually."— Such are 
the usual products of savage nature ! such 
the furniture of the uncultivated soul ! 

Whereas, let the mind be put under the 
" nurture and admonition of the Lord ;" let 
holy discipline clear the soil ; let sacred in- 
struction sow it with the best seed ; let 
skill and vigilance dress the rising shoots, 
direct the young ideas how to spread, the 
way^vard passions how to move — then, what 
a different state of the inner-man Avill quick- 
ly take place ; charity will breathe her 
sweets, and hope expand her blossoms ; the 
personal virtues display their graces, and the 
social ones their fruits :f the sentiments be- 
come generous ; the carriage endearing, the 
life honourable and useful, j: 

O I that governors of families and mas- 
ters of schools would watch, with a consci- 
entious solicitude, over the morals of their 
tender charge ! What pity is it that the ad- 
vancing generations should lose these inva- 
luable endowments through any supineness 
in their instructors ! — See ! Mdth what assi- 
duity the curious florist attends his little 
nursery ; he visits them early and late, fur- 
nishes them with the properest mould, sup- 



* Neglectis urenda filix inascitur agris. — Horace. 

^ This transformation of the heart, and renewal 
of the life, are represented in scripture, by similitudes 
very nearly allied to the image used above — God, by 
his sanctifying Spirit, will make the soul as a watered 
garden. Under the operation of this divine principle, 
the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. 
Whe ever it exerts the refining and ennobling energy, 
" instead of the thorn, shall come up the firr-tree ; 
and, instead of the brier, the myrtle-tree," Jer- xxxi. 
12. Isa. XXXV. 1, and Iv. 13. 

± . A teneris assuescere tanti est ! — Virg. 

The principles; we imbibe, and the habits we con- 
tract, in our early years, are not matters of small mo- 
ment, but of the utmost consequence imaginable. 
They not only give a transient or superficial tincture 
to our first appearance in life, but most commonly 
stamp the form of our whole future conduct, and 
even of our eternal state. 



plies them with seasonable moistiu"e, guards 
them from the ravages of insects, screens 
them from the injuries of the weather, marks 
their springing buds, observes them atten- 
tively through their whole progress, and 
never intermits his anxiety, till he beholds 
them blown into full perfection. — And shall 
a range of painted leaves, which flourish to- 
day, and to-morrow fall to the ground, — 
shall these be tended with more zealous ap^ 
plication than the exalted faculties of an im- 
mortal soul ! 

Yet trust not in cultivation alone. It is 
the blessing of the almighty Husbandman 
which imparts success to such labours of 
love. If God " seal up the bottles of hea- 
ven," and command the clouds to \\'ithho]d 
their fatness, the best manured plot be- 
comes a barren desert. And if He restain 
the dew of his heavenly benediction, all hu- 
man endeavours miscarry ; the i-ational plan- 
tation languishes ; our most pregnant hopes 
from youths of the most promising genius 
prove abortive. Their root will be as rot- 
tenness, and their blossoms will go up as 
dust. (Isa. V. 24.) Therefore, let parents 
plant, let tutors water, but let both look 
up to the Father of spirits for the desired 
increase. 

On every side, I espy several budding 
flowers. As yet they are like bales of su- 
perfine cloth from the packer's warehouse. 
Each is wrapt within a strong inclosure, 
and its contents are tied together by the 
firmest bandages. So that all their beauties 
lie concealed, and all their sweets are lock- 
ed up. — Just such is the niggardly wretch, 
whose aims are all turned inward, and 
meanly terminated upon himself, who makes 
his own piivate interest or personal plea- 
sure, the sole centre of his designs, and the 
scanty circumference of his actions. 

Ere long, the searching beams will opeii 
these silken folds, and draw them into grace- 
ful expansion. Then what a lovely blu^h 
will glow in their cheeks ; and what a balmy 
odour exhale from their bosoms ! So, when 
divine grace shines upon the mind, even the 
churl becomes bountifid ; the heart of stone 
is taken away, and a heart of flesh, a heart 
susceptible of the softest, most compassion- 
ate emotions, is introduced in its stead. O ! 
how sweetly do the social affections dilate 
themselves, under so benign an influence ! 
Just like those disclosing gems, under the 
powerful eye of day. The tender regards 
are no longer confined to a single object, but 
extend themselves into a generous concern 
for mankind, and shed liberal refreshments 
on all within their reach.* 



* The prophet, describing the charitable tempei-, 
very beautifully says, " If thou draw out thy soul to 
the hungry !"— This, 1 think may not improperly be 
illustrated by the circumstances observed above. The 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



47 



Arise then, thou Sun of Righteousness ; 
arise with healing under thy wings ; and 
transfuse thy gentle, but penetrating ray 
through all our intellectual powers. En- 
large every narrow disposition, and fill us 
with a diffusive benevolence. Make room 
in our breasts for the whole human race, 
and teach us to love all our fellow-creatures 
for their amiable Creator's sake. May we 
be pleased with their excellencies, and re- 
joice in their happiness, but feel their mis- 
eries as our own, and with a brother's sym- 
pathy, hasten to relieve them. 

Disposed at proper distances, I observe 
a range of strong and stately stalks. They 
stand like towers along the walls of a forti- 
fied city, or rise like lofty spires amidst the 
group of houses. They part at the top into 
several pensile spiky pods, from each of 
which we shall see a fine figure displacing 
itself ; rounded into a form which consti- 
tutes a perfect circle ; spread wide open, 
into the most frank and communicative air ; 
and tinged with the colour, which is so pe- 
culiarly captivating to the miser's eye. 

But the property I chiefly admire, is its 
passionate fondness for the sun. When 
the evening shades take place, the poor 
flower droops, and folds up its leaves. It 
mourns all the long night, and pines amidst 
the gloom, like some forlorn lover, banished 
from the object of his affections. No soon- 
er does providence open " the eye-lids of 
the morning," but it meets and welcomes 
the returning light ;* courts and caresses it 
all the day ; nor ever loses sight of the re- 
fulgent charmer, so long as he continues 
above the horizon. In the morning, you 
may perceive it presenting a golden bosom 
to the east ; at noon, it points upward to 
the middle sky ; in the evening, follows the 
same attractive influence to the west. 

Sm-ely nature is a book, and every page 
rich with secret hints. To an attentive 
mind, the garden turns preacher, and its 
blooming tenants are so many lively ser- 
mons. - What an engaging pattern, and 
what an excellent lesson have we here ! So, 
let the redeemed of the Lord look unto Je- 
sus, ( Heb. xii. 2. ) and be conformed to their 
beloved. Let us aU be heliotropes (if I 
may use the expression) to the Sun of 
Righteousness. Let our passions rise and 



opening of those buds into a large and extensive 
spread, is a pretty portrait of the amplitude of a gen- 
erous heart, which cannot shut up its compassion, or 
remain unconcerned at any human calamity. The 
freeness and copiousness with which the expanded 
flowers are continually pouring out their choicest 
essences, may represent the various acts of an un- 
wearied liberality, together with those endearin^^ 
words, and that cordial affection, which embalm, as 
it were, a gift, double its value ; and constitute, wliat 
the sacred penman styles, drawing out the soul, De- 
prompseris animam tuam, Isa. hdii. 10. 

* Ilia suum, quamvis radice tenetur, 

Vertitur ad Solem. Ovid, 



fall, take this course or that, as his word 
determines, as his holy example guides. 
Let us be so accommodated, both to his 
commanding and providential will, as the 
wax is turned to the imprinted seal ; or, as 
the aspect of this enan:oured flower, to the 
splendid star which creates our day. 

In every enjoyment, O thou watchful 
Christian, look unto Jesus ; receive it as 
proceeding from his love, and purchased by 
his agonies. * In every tribulation look unto 
Jesus ; mark his gracious hand, managing 
the scourge, or mingling the bitter cup ; at- 
tempering it to a proper degree of severity ; 
adjusting the time of its continuance ; and 
ready to make these seeming disasters pro- 
ductive of real good. In every infirmity 
and failing, look unto Jesus, thy merciful 
high priest, pleading his atoning blood, and 
making intercession for transgressors. In 
every prayer look xmto Jesus, thy prevail- 
ing advocate, recommending thy devotions, 
and "bearing the iniquity of thy holy 
things." (Exod. xxviii. 38. ) In every temp- 
tation, look unto Jesus, the author of thy 
strength, and captain of thy salvation, Avho 
alone is able to lift up the hands which hang 
do\ATi, to in\igorate the enfeebled knees, 
and make thee more than conqueror over all 
thy enemies ; but especially when the hour 
of thy departure approaches ; when " thy 
flesh and thy heart fail;" when aU the 
springs of life are ii'reparably breaking, then 
look unto Jesus with a believing eye.f 
Like expiring Stephen, behold him stand- 
ing at the right hand of God, on purpose to 
succour his people in this their last extremi- 
ty. Yes, my Christian fiiend, when thy 
journey through life is finished, and thou 
art arrived on the very verge of immor- 
tality ; when thou art just launched out in- 
to the invisible world, and aU before thee 
is vast eternity ; then, O then, be sure to 
look steadfastly unto Jesus ! " See by faith 
the Lord's Christ." View him as the on- 
ly way (John xiv. 6.) to the everlasting 
mansions, as the only door (Johnx. 9.) to 
the abodes of bliss. 

Yonder tree, which faces the south, has 
something too remarkable to pass without 
observation. Like the fruitful though fee- 
ble vine, she brings forth a large family of 
branches, but, unable to support them her- 
self, commits them to the tuition of a sunny 
wall. As yet the tender twigs have scarce 
gemmed their future blossoms. However, 
I may anticipate the well knowTi produc- 
tions, and picture to myself the passion- 
flower, which will, in due time, vnth a long 
and copious succession, adorn the boughs. 
I ^ 

* He sunk beneath our heavy woes. 
To raise us to his throne ; 
There's not a gift his hand bestows 
But cost his heart a groan. — Watts. 

I " Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the end* of 
the earth," Isa. xiv. 22. 



48 



REFLECTIONS ON 



A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



. I have read, in a Latin author, of flowers 
inscribed with the names of kings ;* but 
here is one emblozened Avith the marks of 
the bleeding Prince of Life. I read in the 
inspired writings, of apostolic men, who 
bore about in their bodies the dying of the 
Lord Jesus; (2 Cor. iv. 10.) but here is 
a blooming religioso, that carries apparent 
memorials of the same tremendous and fa- 
tal catastrophe. Who would have expect- 
ed to find such a tragedy of woe exhibited 
in a collection of the most delicate delights ? 
or to see Calvary's horrid scene pourtrayed 
on the softest ornaments of the garden? 
Is nature then actuated by the noble ambi- 
tion of paying commemorative honom'S to 
her agonizing Sovereign ? Is she kindly offi- 
cious to remind forgetful mortals of that 
miracle of mercy, which it is theiir duty to 
contemplate, and their happiness to believe ? 
Or, is a sportive imagination my interpre- 
ter ; and all the supposed resemblance, no 
more than the precarious gloss of fancy ? 
Be it so ; yet even fancy has her merit, 
when she sets forth, in such pleasing im- 
agery, the crucified Jesus. Nor shall I 
refuse a willing regard to imagination her- 
self, when she employs her creative powers 
to revive the sense of such unparalleled love, 
and prompt my gratitude to so divine a 
friend. 

That spiral tendril, arising from the bot- 
tom of the stalk, is it a representation of 
the scourge which lashed the Redeemer's 
unspotted flesh, and inflicted those stripes 
by which our souls are healed ! Or, is it 
twisted for the cord' which bound his hands 
in painful and ignominious confinement; 
those beneficent hands, which were inces- 
santly stretched out to unloose the heavy 
burdens, and to impart blessings of every 
choice kind ? — -Behold the nails which were 
^irenched m his sacred veins, and livetted 
his feet to the accursed tree ; those beauti- 
ful feet,f which always went about doing 
good ; and travelled far and near, to spread 
^he glad tidings of everlasting salvation. 
See the hammer, ponderous and massy, 
which- drove the rugged iron through shiv- 
ering nerves, and forced a passage for those 
dreadful wedges, between the dislocated 
bones. View the thorns, which encircled 
our royal Master's brow, and shoot their 
keen afflictive points into his blessed head. 
O the smart ! the racking smart ! when, 
instead of the triumphal laurel, or the odo- 
riferous garland, that pungent and ragged 
wreath was planted on the meek Messiah's 
forehead ! when violent and barbarous blows 



* Die, quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum 
Nascantur flores ? Virg, 

t " How beautiful are. the feet of him that bring- 
eth good tidings, that publisheth peace, that bring- 
eth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation J" 
Isa. lii, 7' 



of the strong Eastern cane,* struck ' the 
prickly croAvn, and fi.xed every thorn deep 
in liis throbbing temples. f There stand 
the disciples, ranged in the green empale- 
ment ; and forming a circle round the instru- 
ments of their great Commander's death. 
They appear like so many faithful adherents, 
who breathe a gallant resolution, either of de- 
fending their Lord to the last extremity, or 
of dropping honourably by his side. But 
did they give such proofs of zeal and fideli- 
ty in tbeir conduct, as their steady posture, 
and determined aspect, seem to promise ? 
Alas ! what is all human firmness, when 
destitute of succours from above, but an 
expiring vapour ? What is every saint, if un- 
supported by powerful grace, but an aban- 
doned traitor ! Observe the glory delineat- 
ed in double rays, grand with imperial pur- 
ple, and rich with aetherial blue. But, ah i 
how incapable are threads, though spun by 
summer's finest hand, though dyed in snows, 
or dipped in heaven, to display the imma- 
culate excellency of his human, or the inef- 
fable majesty of his divine nature ! Com- 
pared with these sublime perfections, the 
most vivid assemblage of colours fades in- 
to an unmeaning flatness ; the most charm- 
ing efiPects of light and shade are not oidy 
mere daubings, but an absolute blank. 

Among all the beauties which shine in 
sunny robes, and sip the silver dews, this, 
I think, has the noblest import, if not the 
finest presence. Were they aU to pass in 
review, and expect the award of superiority 
from my decision, I should not hesitate a 
moment. Be the prize assigned to this 
amiable candidate, which has so eminently 
distinguished, and so highly dignified her- 
self, by bearing such a remarkable resem- 
blance to the " righteous Branch, the Plant 
of renown."! While others appoint it a 
place in the parterre, I would transplant the 
passion flower, or rather transfer its sacred 
significancy to my heart. ' There let it 
bloom, both in summer and in winter ; 



* They took the reed, says the sacred historian, 
and smote him on the head; "and so, as it were, 
nailed down the thorns into his forehead and temples, 
and occasioned thereby exquisite pain, as well as a 
great effusion of blood." — Familx/ Expositor, vol. ii. 
sect. 188. — "It is most probable," adds the same ju- 
dicious critic, " this was a walking-staff, which they 
put into his hand as a sceptre ; for a bio wwith a slight 
reed would scarce have been felt, or have deserved a 
mention in a detail of such dreadful sufferings." 

t The smart attending this unparalleled piece of 
contempt and barbarity, must be inexpressiblysevere ; 
not only on account of the many painful punctures 
made in the flesh, but principally, because of the 
periosteum, an exquisitely sensible tegument of the 
bones, lying in those parts very near the external 
skin, must receive a multitude of terrible wounds, 
the anguish of which could not fail of being inflamed 
to an excess of rsge, by the continuance of so many 
thorny lanrets, in that extremely tender membrane; 
which, in such a case, 

• Trembling alive all o'er. 

Must smart antl agonize at every pore. 

t So the blessad Jesus is described. Jer. xxiii, & 
Eitek. xxxiv. 29. 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



49 



bloom in the most impressive characters, and 
with an undecaying lustre. That I also may 
wear, — wear on my very soul, the traces 
of Immanuel, pierced for my sins, and 
bruised for my transgressions. That I al- 
so may be crucified with Christ, ( Gal. ii. 
20.) at least in penitential remorse, and af- 
fectionate sympathy. That I may know 
the fellowship of his sufferings, (Phil. iii. 
10.) and feel all my evil affections wounded 
by his agonies, mortified by his death. 

There is another subject of the verdant 
kingdom, wnich, on account of its very un- 
common qualities, demands my particular 
notice. One so extremely diffident in her 
disposition, and delicate in her constitution, 
that she dares not venture herself abroad in 
the open air, but is nursed up in the warmth 
of a hot-bed, and lives cloistered in the 
cells of a green-house. But the most cu- 
rious peculiarity is, that of all her kindred 
species, she alone partakes of perceptive life ; 
at least, advances nearest to this more ex- 
alted state of being, and may be looked up- 
on as the link which connects the animal 
and the vegetable world. A stranger ob- 
serving her motions, would almost be in- 
duced to suspect that she is endued with 
some inferior degrees of consciousness and 
caution : For, if you offer to handle this 
sensitive plant, she immediately takes the 
alarm, hastily contracts her fibres, and, like 
a person under apprehensions of violence, 
withdraws from your finger in a kind of 
precipitate disorder. Perhaps the beauty 
of her aspect might be sullied, or the nice- 
ness of her texture discomposed, by the 
human touch. Therefore, like a coy virgin, 
she recedes from all unbecoming - familiari- 
ties, and will' admit no such improper, if 
not pernicious freedoms. 

Whatever be the cause of this unusual 
effect, it suggests an instructive admonition 
to the Christian. Such should be our ap- 
prehensive timorous care with regard to sin, 
and all, even the most distant approaches 
of vice. So should we avoid the very ap- 
pearance of evil, and stand aloof from every 
occasion of falling. If sinners entice, if 
forbidden pleasures tempt, or if opportimi- 
ty beckon, with the gain of injustice in her 
hand, O ! tmn from the gilded snare ; touch 
not the beauteous bane ; but fly, fly with 
haste, fly without any delay, from the be- 
witching ruin. Does anger draw near with 
her lighted torch, to kindle the flame of re- 
sentment in our breasts ? Does flattery ply 
our ears with her enchanting and intoxicat- 
ing whispers? would discontent lay her 
leaden hand upon our temper, and mould 
into our minds her sour leaven, in order to 
make us a burden to ourselves, and unami- 
able to others ? Instantly let us divert our 
attention from the dangerous objects ; and 
not so much endeavoiu- to antidote as to 



shun the moral contagion. Let us revolve 
in our meditations that wonderful meekness 
of our distressed Master, which, amidst the 
most abusive and provoking insults, main- 
tained an uniform tenor of unshaken sereni- 
ty. Let us contemplate that prodigious 
humiliation, which brought him, from an in- 
finite height above all worlds, to make his 
bed in the dust of death. Let us soothe 
our jarring, our uneasy passions, vv'ith the 
i-emembrance of that cheerfulness and re- 
signation, which rendered him in the deep- 
est poverty, unfeignediy thankful, and un- 
der the heaviest tribulations, m-ost submis- 
sively patient. 

Harbour not, on any consideration, the 
betrayer of your virtue. Always maintair 
a holy sensibility of soul. Be deaf, infie>? 
ibly deaf, to every beguiling solicitation. ] 
it obtrude into the unguarded heart, give it no 
entei-tainment, no, not for a moment. Tt* 
parley with the enemy, is to open a door 
for destruction. Our safety consists in 
flight ; and, in this case, suspicion is the 
truest prudence ; fear, the greatest bni- 
very. Play not on the brink of the pre- 
cipice ; flutter not around the edges' of the 
flame. Dally not with the stings of death. 
But reject, with a becoming mixture of so- 
licitude and abhorrence, the very first insin- 
uations of iniquity as cautiously as the smart- 
ing sore shrinks even from the softest hand, 
as constantly as this .jealous plant recoils 
the approaching touch.* 

Not long ago, these curious productions 
of the spring were coarse and misshapen 
roots. Had we opened the earth, and be- 
held them in their seed, how uncouth and 
contemptible had their appearance been ! 
But now they are the boast of nature, the 
delights of the sons of men, finished pat- 
terns for enamelling and embroidery, out- 
shining even the happiest strokes of the 
pencih They are taught to bloom, but 



* The prophet Isaiah, in an elegant and lively de- 
scription of the upright man, says, " He shal^eth his 
hands from holding of bribes;" and, I may add, from 
practising any kind of iniquity. The image, exceed- 
ingly beautiful and equally expressive, both illus- 
trates and enforces the doctrine of this whole section. 
— Shaketh his hands, just as a person would do, who 
happens to have burning coals fall into his lap, or 
some venomous creature fastening upon his flesh. 
In such a case, none would stand a moment to con- 
sider, or to debate with himself the expediency of the 
thing, he would instantly fling oft the pernicious in- 
cumbrance, instantly endeavour to disengage him- 
self from the clinging mischief. Isa. xxxiii. 15. 

I have represented the danger of not extinguishing 
immediately the very first sparks of temptation, in a 
variety of views. Lecause a proper behaviour in this 
conjuncture, is of such vast importance to the puri- 
ty, the safety, and the comfort of our minds. Be- 
cause I had the royal moralist in my eye, who, deter- 
ring his pupils from the path of the wicked, cries with 
an air of deep concern, and in the language of vehe- 
ment importunity, cries. Avoid it; pass not by it; 
turn from it, and pass away^ How strongly is tlie 
counsel urged, by being so frequently repeated, in 
such a remarkable diversity of concise and abrupt, 
consequently of forcible and pressing admonitions 
Prov. IV. 15. 

E 



50 



KE FLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



witli a very inferior lustre,* in the richest 
tapestries and most magnificent silks. Art 
never attempts to equal their incomparable 
elegancies ; but places all her merit in copy- 
ing after these delicate originals. Even 
those who glitter in silver, or whose cloth- 
ing is wrought of gold, are desirous to bor- 
row additional ornaments from a sprig of 
jessamine, or a little assemblage of pinks. 

Wliat a fine idea may we form from 
hence, of the resurrection of the just, and 
the state of their re-animated bodies ! As 
the roots even of our choicest flowers, when 
deposited in the ground, are rude and un- 
graceful ; but when they spring up into 
blooming life, are most elegant and splen- 
did ; so the flesh of a saint, when commit- 
ted to the dust, alas ! what is it? A heap 
of corruption ; a mass of putrefying clay. 
But when it obeys the great arch-angel's 
call, and starts into a new existence, what 
an astonishing change ensues what a most 
ennobling improvement takes place ! That 
which was sown in weakness is raised in 
all the vivacity of power. That which was 
sown in deformity, is raised in the bloom 
of celestial beauty. Exalted, refined, and 
glorified, it will shine " as the brightness 
of the firmament," when it darts the inimi- 
table blue, through the fleeces, — the snowy 
fleeces, of some cleaving cloud. 

Fear not, then, thou faithful Christian ; 
fear not, at the appointed time, to descend 
into the tomb. Thy soul thou mayest trust 
with thy omnipotent Redeemer, who is 
Lord of the unseen world ; " who has the 
keys of hell and of death." Most safely thou 
mayest trust thy better part, in those bene- 
ficent hands, whicb were pierced vidth nails, 
and fastened to the ignominious tree, for 
thy salvation. Witb regard to thy earthly 
tabernacle be not dismayed : it is taken 
down only to be rebuilt upon a diviner plan, 
and in a more heavenly form. If it retires 
into the shadow of death, and lies immured 
in the gloom of the grave, it is only to re- 
turn from a short confinement to endless 
liberty. If it falls into dissolution, it is in 
order to rise more illustrious from its ruins ; 
and wear an infinitely brighter face of per- 
fection and of glory, f 

Having now made my panegyric, let me 
next take up a lamentation for these love- 
liest productions of the vegetable world. 
For I foresee their approaching doom : Yet 
a little while, and all these pleasing scenes 



* The cowslip smiles in brighter yellow drest. 
Than that which "veils the nubil virgin's breast ! 
A fairer red stands blushing in the rose. 
Than that which on the bridegroom's vestment flows. 

Prior. 

t The wise, the just, the pious, and the brave. 
Live in their deaths, and flourish from the grave. 
Grain hid in earth, repays the peasant's care. 
And ev'ning suns set but" to rise more fair 



vanish ; yet a little whUe, and all the sweets 
of the breathing, all the beauties of the bloom- 
ing spring are no more. Every one of 
these amiable forms must be shrivelled to 
deformity, and trodden to the earth Sig- 
nificant resemblance this of all-created 
beauty. All flesh is grass ; like the green 
herbage liable and prone to fade. Nay, all 
the goodliness thereof, its fine accomplish- 
ments, and what the world universally ad- 
mires, is as the flower of the field, (Isa. xl- 
6.) which looses its gloss, decays, and per- 
ishes more speedily than the grass itself. Be- 
hold, then, ye brightest among the daugh- 
ters of Eve; behold yourselves in this 
glass. See the charms of your Persian 
eclipsed, by the lustre of these little flow, 
ers, and the frailty of your state represent- 
ed by their transient glories.* A fever 
may scorch those polished veins ; a con- 
sumption m.ay emaciate the dimpling cheeks ; 
and a load of unexpected sorrows depress 
those lively spirits. Or, should these dis- 
asters, in pity, spare the tender frame ; yet 
age, inexorable age, and wrinkles v/iil assur- 
edly come at last ; will wither all the fine 
features, and blast every sprightly grace. 

Then, ye fair, when those sparkling eyes 
are darkened, and sink in their orbs, when 
they are rolling in agonies, and swimming- 
in death, — ^how will you sustain the afQic- 
tibn ? how will you repair the loss ? Ap- 
ply your thoughts to religion ; attend to 
the one thing needful. Believe in, and 
imitate the blessed Jesus ; then shall your 
souls mount up to the realms of happiness, 
when the weU-proportioned clay is mingled 
witb its mean original. The light of God's 
countenance will irradiate, with matchless 
and consununate perfection, all their exalt- 
ed faculties. Cleansed entirely from every 
dreg of corruption, like some unsullied 



* The reader will excuse me, if I imitate rather 
than translate the following lines from Theocritus i 
if I vary one image, add another, and give a new 
turn to the whole. 

When snows descend, and robe the fields 

In winter's bright array ; 
Touch'd by the sun the lustre fades. 

And weeps itself away. 
When spring appears ; when violets blow,. 

And shed a rich perfume. 
How soon the fragrance breathes its last. 

How short-liv'd is the bloom ! 
Fresh in the morn the summer rose 

Hangs with'ring ere 'tis noon. 
We scarce enjoy tne balmy gift. 

But mourn the pleasure gone. 
With gliding fire, an ev'ning star 

Streaks the autumnal skies. 
Shook from the sphere, it darts away. 

And in an instant dies. 
Such are the charms that flush the cheek. 

And sparkle in the eye ; 
So, from that lovely finish'd form 

The transient graces fly. 
. To this the seasons, as they roll. 

Their attestations bring; 
They warn the fair ; their ev'ry rouad. 

Confirms the truth I sing. 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



51 



mirror, they will reflect the complete image 
of their Creator's holiness. O ! that you 
would thus dress your minds, and prepare 
for the immortal state ! Then from shining 
among your fellow-creatures on earth, you 
shall be translated, to shine around the 
throne of God. Then from the sweetness 
of our life, and the delight of our eyes here 
below, you shaU pass, by an easy transition, 
into angels of light ; and become " an ever- 
lasting excellency, the joy of all genera- 
tions." Yes; ye flowery nations ye must 
all decay. Yonder lily that looks like the 
queen of the gay creation ; see, how grace- 
fully it erects its majestic head ! What an air 
of dignity and grandeur ennobles its aspect ! 
For elevated mien, as well as for incom- 
parable lustre, justly may it be preferred to 
the magnificent monarch of the east. (Mat. 
vi. 29. ) But all stately, and charming as 
it is, it will hardly survive a few more days ; 
that unspotted whiteness must quickly be 
tarnished, and the snowy form defiled in 
the dust. 

As the lily pleases with the noble simpli- 
city of its appearance, the tulip is admired 
for the gaiety and multiplicity of its colours. 
What a profusion of dyes adoni its painted 
cup ! Its tinges are so glowing, its contrasts 
so strong, and the arrangement of them both 
so elegant and artful ! — It was lately the 
pride of the border, and the reigning beauty 
of the delightfid season. As exquisitely 
fine as the rainbow, and almost as extreme- 
ly transient ; it spread for a little moment 
its glittering plumage, but has now laid all 
its variegated and superior honours down. 
Those radiant stripes are blended, alas ! 
rudely blended, with common mould. 

To a graceful shape and blooming com- 
plexion, the rose adds the most agreeable 
perfume. Our nostrils make it repeated 
^dsits, and are never weary of drinking in its 
sweets. A fragrance so peculiarly rich and 
reviving transpires from its opening tufts, 
that every one covets its acquaintance. 
How have I seen even the accomplished 
Clarissa, for whom so many votaries lan- 
guish, fondly caressing this little flower. 
That lovely bosom, which is the seat of in- 
nocence and virtue ; whose least excellency 
it is to rival the delicacy of the purest snows, 
among a thousand charms of its own, thinks 
it possible to adopt another from the da- 
mask rose-bud — Yet even this universal 
favourite must fail. Its native balm can- 
not preserve it from putrefaction. Soon, 
soon must it resign all those endearing qua- 
lities, and hang neglected on its stem, or 
drop despised to the ground. 

One could wish, methinks, these most 
amiivble of the inanimate race, a longer ex- 
istence, but in vain, they fade almost as soon 
as they floiu"ish ; within less than a month 
their glories are extinct Let the sun take 



a few more journeys through the sky ; then 
visit this enchanting walk, and you will find 
nothing but a wretched wildemess of ragged 
or naked stalks — But (my soul exults in 
the thought) the garment of celestial glory 
which shall ere long array the re-animated 
body, wiU never wax old, the illustrious 
robes of a Saviour's consummate righteous- 
ness, which are appointed to deck the justi- 
fied spirit, are incorruptible and immortal. 
No moth can corrode their texture, no num- 
ber of ages sully their brightness. The 
light of day may be quenched, and all the 
stars sink in obscurity ; but the honours of 
"just men made perfect" are subject to no 
diminution, inextinguishing and unfading is 
the lustre of their crown. 

Yes, ye flowery nations, ye must all de- 
cay — Winter, like some enraged and iiTe- 
sistible conqueror, that carries fire and 
sword wherever he advances, that demolish- 
es tovms, depopulates coimtries, spreads 
slaughter and desolation on every side ; so, 
just so, will Winter with his savage and un- 
relenting blasts invade this beautiful pros- 
pect. The storms are gathering, and the 
tempest mustering their rage to fall upon 
the vegetable kingdoms. They will ravage 
through the dominions of nature, and plun- 
der her riches and lay waste her charms 

Then ye trees, must ye stand stript of your 
verdant apparel ; and ye fields be spoiled of 
your waving treasures. Then the earth, 
disrobed of all her gay attii-e, must sit in sa- 
bles, like a disconsolate widow. The sun 
too, who now rides in triumph round the 
world, and scatters gaiety from his radiant 
eye, will then look faintly from the windows 
of the South ; and, casting a short glance on 
our dejected world, will leave us to the un- 
comfortable gloom of tedious nights — Then 
these pretty choristers of the air will chant 
no more to the gentle gales ; the lark, the 
linnet, and aU the feathered songsters aban- 
don their notes, and indulge their woes. 
The harmony of the woods is at an end ; 
and silence, (unless it be interrupted by 
howling winds) sullen silence sits brooding 
upon the boughs which are now made vocal 
by a thousand warbling throats. 

But (sweet recollection ! ravishing ex- 
pectation !) the. songs of saints in light ne- 
ver admit a pause for sadness. All heaven 
wiU resovmd with the melody of their grati- 
tude ; and all eternity echo to their trium- 
phal acclamations. The hallelujahs of that 
world, and the harmonious joy of its inhabi- 
tants, wiU be as lasting as the divine per- 
fections they celebrate — Come then, holy 
love, and tune my heart, descend, celestial 
fire, and touch my tongue, that I may stand 
ready to strike up and bear my part, in that 
great hosanna, that everlasting hymn. 

Yes, yes, ye flowery nations, ye must all 
decay. And, indeed, could you add the 



5^ 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



strength of an oak, or the stability of a pyra- 
mid,* to all the delicacy of your texture ; 
yet short, exceeding short, even then, would 
your duration be. For I see that all things 
come to an end. The pillars of nature are 
tottering ; the foundations of the round 
world are falling away ; the " heavens 
themselves wax old like a garment," 
But, amidst these views of general ruin, 
here is our refuge ; this is our consolation ; 
we know that our Redeemer liveth. Thy 
years, blessed Jesus, shall not fail. From 
everlasting to everlasting, thou art still the 
same ; the same most excellent and adora- 
ble person ; the same omnipotent and faith- 
ful friend, the same all-sufficient and in- 
estimable portion. O ! may we but partake 
of thy merits, be sanctified by thy grace, 
and received into thy glory ! Then, perish 
if ye will, all inferior delights. Let all 
that is splendid in the skies expire, and all 
that is amiable in nature be expunged. Let 
the whole extent of creation be turned again 
into one indistinguishable void, one universal 
blank. Yet, if God be ours, we shall have 
enough ; if God be ours, we shall have all 
and abound ;f all that our circumstances 
can want, or our wishes crave, to make us 
inconceivably blessed and happy : blessed 
and happy not only through this little inter- 
val of time, but through the unmeasm-able 
revolutions of eternity. 
, The sun is now come forth in his strength, 
and beats fiercely upon my throbbing pulse. 
Let me retire to yonder inviting arbour. 
There the woodbine retains the lucid drop ; 
there the jessamines, which line the ver- 
dant alcove, are still impearled, and deli- 
ciously wet with dews. V/ elcome, je re- 
freshing shades ! I feel, I feel your cheering 
influence. My languid spirits revive ; the 
slackened sinews are new strung ; and life 
bounds brisker through all her crimson 
channels. 

Reclined on tliis mossy couch, and sur- 
rounded by this fragrant coolness, let me 
renew my aspirations to the ever-present 



* I know not any performance, in which the tran- 
sitory nature of these most durable monuments of 
human grandeur, is hinted with such a modest air of 
instruction, or their hideous ruin described in such a 
pomp of pleasing horror, as in a small but solemn 
picturesque and majestic poem, entitled. The Ruins 
of Rome, written by the Rev. Mr. Dyer, whom the 
reader (if he has the pleasure of perusing that beau- 
tiful piece) will easily perceive to have taken his 
draughts from the originals themselves, as nothing 
but the sight of thosem.agnificent remains could have 
inspired his lines with such vivacity. As a specimen 
of the work, and a confirmation of the remark sug- 
gested above, I take leave to transcribe the following 



— The pilgrim oft, 
At dead of night, 'mid his orison hears 
Aghast the voice of time-disparting tow'rs. 
Tumbling all precipitate down dash'd. 
Rattling around, loud thundering to the moon, 
f His and the good man fastens on the skies. 
And bids earth roll, nor feels the idle whirl. 

Night Thoughts, No. iv, 



Deity. Here let me remember, and imi- 
tate, the pious Augustine, and his mother 
Monica ; who, being engaged in discourse 
on the beauties of the visible creation, rose 
by these ladders to the glories of the invisible 
state, till they were inspired with the most 
affecting sense of their supereminent excel- 
lency, and actuated with the most ardent 
breathings after their full enjoyment. In- 
som.uch that they were almost wrapt up into 
the bliss they contemplated ; and scarce 
" knew whether they were in the body or 
out of the body." 

When tempests toss the ocean, when 
plaintive signals of distress are heard from 
the bellowing deep, and melancholy tokens 
of shipwreck come floating on the foaming^ 
surge ; then how delightful to stand safe on- 
shore, and hug one's self in conscious secu- 
rity ! * When a glut of waters burst from 
some mighty torrent, rushes headlong over 
all the neighbouring plains, sweeps away 
the helpless cattle, and drives the afl^righted 
shepherd from his hut ; then, from the top 
of a distant eminence, to descry the danger 
we need not fear : how pleasing ! Such, 
methinks, is my present situation. For 
now, the sun blazes from on high ; the air 
glows with his fire, the fields are rent 
with chinks; the roads are scorched ta 
dust ; the woods seem to contract a sickly 
aspect, and a russet hue ; the traveller, broil- 
ed as he rides, hastens to his inn, and in- 
termits his journey ; the labourer, bathed 
in sweat, drops the scythe, and desists from 
his work ; the cattle fly to some shady co- 
vert, or else pant and toss imder the burn- 
ing noon. Even the stubborn rock, smit 
with the piercing beams, is ready to cleave.. 
All things languish beneath the dazzling 
deluge. While I shall enjoy a cool hour, 
and calm reflection amidst the gloom of 
this bowery recess which scarce admits one 
speck of sunshine. 

Thus may both the flock and their shep- 
herd, dwell beneath the defence of the Most 
High, and abide under the shadow of the 
Almighty. (Psal. xci. 1.) Then, though 
the pestilencef w^alketh in darkness, and 
the sickness destroyeth at noon-day ; though 
thousands fall beside us, and ten thousands 
at our right hand, we need fear no evil ; 
either the destroying angel shall pass over 
our houses, or else he shaU dispense the 
corrections of a friend, not the scoiu-ges o£ 
an enemy, which, instead of hurting us. 



* As Lucretius gave the hint for these observa- 
tions, so he assigns the reason of the pleasure speci- 
fied. It arises, not from the consideration of another'a 
misery; this would argue the rankest malevolence;, 
but from the agreeable contemplation of our own 
personal safety, which while we view the circum- 
stances that are pernicious to others, buc harmless to 
ourselves, is not a little heightened by the contrast. 
— Suava mari magno, &c. 

t This v/as written when a very infectious and moE- 
tal distemper raged, in the neighbourhood. 



REFLECTIONS ON 



A FLOWER-GARDEN. 



shall work for our good — Then, thoiigli 
profaneness and infidelity, far more malig- 
nant evils, breathe deadly contagion, and 
taints the morals of multitudes around us ; 
vet if the great Father of spirits hide us in 
liie hullo\V of his hand, we shall hold fast 
-our integrity and be faithful unto death. 

Let then, dearest Lord, O let thy servant, 
and the people committed to his care, be re- 
ceived into thy protection. Let us take 
sanctuary under that tree of life, erected in 
thy ignominious cross ; let us fly for safety 
to that City of Refuge, opened in thy 
bleeding wounds. These shall be a sacred 
hiding-place, not to be pierced by the flames 
of divine wrath, or the fiery darts of temp- 
tation. Thy dying merits and perfect obe- 
dience, shall be to our souls as rivers of wa- 
ter in a dry place, or as the shadow of a 
great rock in a weary land. ( Isa. xxxii. 2. ) 

But most of all, in that last tremendous 
day, when the heavens are rent asunder and 
MTapt up Jike a scroU ; when thy almighty 
arm shall arrest the sun in his career, and 
dash to pieces the structure of the uni- 
verse ; when the dead, both small and 
great, shall be gathered before the throne of 
thy glory ; and the fates of all mankind hang 
on the very point of a final irreversible de- 
cision — then, blessed Jesus, let us be own- 
ed by thee, and we shall not be ashamed : 
defended by thee, and we shall not be afraid. 
O may we, at that awful and unutterable 
important juncture, be covered with the 
wings of thy redeeming love ; and we shall 
behold all the horrible convulsions of ex- 
piring nature with composure, with com- 
fort ! V/e shall even welcome the dissolu- 
tion of all things, as the times of refreshing 
from the presence of the Lord. (Acts iii. 
19.) 

There are, I perceive, who still attend 
the flowers ; and in defiance of the sun, ply 
their work on every expanded blossom. 
The bees I mean, that nation of chemists ! 
to whom nature has communicated the rare 
and valuable secret, of enriching themselves 
without impoverishing others ; who extract 
the most delicious syrup from every fragrant 
herb, without wounding its substance, or di- 
minishing its odours — I take the more no- 
tice of these ingenious operators, because I 
would willingly make them my pattern.* 
While the gay butterfly flutters her painted 
wings, and sips a little fantastic delight on- 
ly for the present moment ; while the 
gloomy spider, worse than idly busied, is 
preparing his insidious nets for destruction, 
or sucking venom even from the most 
v\ holesome plants ; this frugal community 



• Ego apis fnatine 

More inodoque 
Crata carpentis rhynna, — Hor. 



are wisely employed in providing for futur- 
ity, and collecting a copious stock of the 
most balmy treasures — And oh ! might 
these meditations sink into my soiil ! 
would the God who suggested each heaven- 
ly thotight, vouchsafe to convert it into an 
established principle to determine all my in- 
clinations and regulate my whole conduct ! 
I shoiild then gather advantages from the 
same blooming objects, more precious than 
your golden stores, ye industrious artists, I 
also should go home laden with the richest 
sweets and the noblest spoil, though I crop 
not a leaf nor call a single flower my own. 

Here I behold assembled in one view, al- 
most all the various beauties, which have 
been severally entertaining my imagination . 
The vistas struck through an ancient wood, 
or formed by rows of venerable elms, con- 
ducting the spectator's observation to some 
remarkable object, or leading the traveller's 
footsteps to this delightful seat. — The walls 
enriched with fruit trees, and faced with a 
covering of their leafy extensions, I should 
rather have said, hung mth diff'erent pieces 
of nature's noblest tapestr)^ : — The walks 
neatly shorn, and lined with verdure, or 
finely smoothed and coated with gravel : — 
The alleys arched with shades to embower 
our noon-tide repose, or thrown open for 
the free accession of air, to invite us to our 
evening recreation : — The decent edgings 
of box, which inclose like a plain selvage 
each beautiful compartment, and its splen- 
did figures : — The shapely evergreens and 
flowery shrubs which strike the eye, and ap- 
pear with pecidiar dignity in this distant si- 
tuation : — The bason with its crj'stal fount, 
floating in the centre, and dififusing an agree- 
able freshness through the whole : — The 
waters falling from a remote cascade, and 
gently murmuring as they flow along the 
pebbles : — These added to the rest, and all 
so disposed that each recommends and en- 
dears each, renders the whole a most sweet 
ravishing scene, of order and varietj', of ele- 
gance and magnificence. 

From so many lovely prospects cluster- 
ing upon the sight, it is impossible not to 
be remi^^ded of heaven, that world of bliss, 
those regions of light, where the Lamb that 
was slain, manifests his beatific presence, 
and his saints live for evermore. But, O ! 
what pencil can sketch out a draught of that 
goodly land ! what colours or vv'hat style can 
express the splendours of Immanuel's king- 
dom ? Would some celestial hand draw aside 
the veil but for a moment, and permit us to 
throw a single glance on those dinne abodes, 
how would all sublunary possessions become 
tarnished in our eyes, and grow flat upon 
our taste ? A glimpse, a transient glimpse 
of those unutterable beatitudes, would cap. 
tivate our souls, and ingress all their facul- 
ties. Eden itself, after such a vision, would 



54 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



j ppear a clieeiless desert, and all earthly 
charms, intolerable deformity. 

Very excellent things axe spoken of thee, 
thou city of God. ( Psalm Ixxxvii. 2.) Vol- 
umes have been written, and those by in- 
spired men, to display the wonders of thy 
perfections. All that is rich and splendid 
in the visible creation, has been called in to 
aid our conceptions and elevate our ideas. 
But indeed no tongue can utter, no pen can 
describe, no fancy can imagine, what God 
of his unbounded munificence, has prepar- 
ed for them that love him. — Seeing then, 
that all terrestrial things must come to a 
speedy end, and there remaineth a rest, 
such a blissful and everlasting rest for 
the people of God, let me never be too 
fondly attached to my present satisfactions. 
"Weaned from whatever is temporal, may I 
maintain a superior indifference for such 
transitory enjoyments, but long, long ear- 



nestly for the mansions that are above ; the 
paradise " which the Lord hath planted and 
not man." Thither may I transmit the 
chief of my conversation, and from thence 
expect the whole of my happiness. Be 
that the sacred powerful magnet, which 
ever influences my heart, ever attracts my 
affections. There are such transcendent 
glories, as eye has not seen ; there are such 
transporting pleasures, as ear has not heard ; 
there is such a fulness of joys, as the thought 
of man cannot conceive. 

Into that consummate felicity, those eter- 
nal fruitions, permit me. Madam, to wish 
. you in due time, an abundant entrance ; and 
to assure you that this wish is breathed with 
the same sincerity and ardour, for my hon- 
oured correspondent, as it is Madam, for 
Your most obedient, &e. 

J. HERVEY. 



A 



DESCANT 



UPON 



CREATION. 



If the reader please to look back on page 
42, he will find me engaged by a promis- 
sory note, to subjoin a Descant upon Crea- 
tion. 

To know the love of Christ, to have such 
a deep apprehension of his unspeakable 
kindness as may produce in our hearts an 
adoring gratitude and an unfeigned faith ; 
this, according to St. Paid's estimate, is the 
highest and happiest attainment in the sa- 
cred science of Christianity. (Eph. iii. 19.) 
"What follows is an attempt to assist- the 
attentive mind, in learning a line or two of 
that best and greatest lesson. It introduces 
the most conspicuous parts of the visible sys- 
tem, as so many prorrvpters to our dull af- 
I'ections ; each suggesting a hint adapted to 
the important occasion, and suited to its re- 
spective character. 

Can there be a more powerful incentive 
to devout gratitude, than to consider the 
magnificent and delicate scenes of the uni- 
verse, with a particular reference to Christ 
as the Creator ?— Every object viewed in 



this light, will surely administer incessant 
recruits to the languishing lamp of divine 
love. Every production in nature will 
strike a spark into the soul, and the whole 
creation concur to raise the smoking flax 
into a flame. 

Can any thing impart a stronger joy to 
the believer, or more effectually confirm his 
faith in the crucified Jesus, than to behold 
the heavens declaring his glory, and the fir- 
mament showing his handy-work ? Surely, 
it must be matter of inexpressible consola- 
tion to the poor sinner to observe the hon- 
ours of his Redeemer, written with sun- 
beams over all the face of the world. 

We delight to read an account of our in- 
carnate Jehovah, as he is revealed in the 
book of Moses and the prophets, as he is 
displayed in the writings of the evangelists 
and apostles. Let us also endeavour to see 
a sketch of his perfections as they stand de- 
lineated in that stately volume, where every 
leaf is a spacious plain,— CA'ery line, a flow- 
ing brook, — every period, a lofty mountain. 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



Should any of my readers be unexercised 
in such speculations, I beg leave (in pur- 
suance of my promise) to present them with 
a specimen ; or to offer a clue, which may 
possibly lead their minds into this most im- 
proving and delightful train of thinking. 

Should any be inclined to suspect the so- 
lidity of the following observations, or to 
condemn them, as the voice of rant, and the 
lawless flight of fancy; I must entreat such 
persons to recollect that the grand doctrine, 
the hinge on which they all turn, is war- 
ranted and established by the unanimous 
testimony of the inspired penmen, who fre- 
quently celebrate Immanuel, or Christ Je- 
sus as the great almighty cause of all, as 
suring us, that all things were created by 
him and for him, and that in him all things 
consist. * 

On such a subject, what is wonderful, is 
far from being extravagant. To be won 
derfjol is the inseparable characteristic of 
Crod and his works ; especially of that most 
distinguished and glorious event of the di 
vine works, Redemption ; so glorious, that 
"all the miracles in Egypt, and the mar- 
vellous acts in the field of Zoan," all that 
the Jewish annals have recorded, or the hu- 
man ear has heard ; all dwindle into trivial 
events, are scarce worthy to be remembered 
in comparison of this infinitely grand and 
infinitely gracious transaction. (Isa. xliii. 
18.) Kindled therefore into pleasing aston- 
ishment by such a survey, let me give full 
scope to my meditations, let me pour out 
my whole soul on the boundless subject ; 
not much regarding the limits, which cold 
criticism, or colder unbelief might pre- 
scribe. 

O ye angels that smTOund the throne ; 
ye princes of heaven, " that excel in 
strength," and are clothed with transcendent 
brightness ; he, who placed you in those 
stations of exalted honour, and dignified 
your nature with such illustrious endow- 
ments ; he, whom you all obey, and all 
adore ; he took not on him the angelic form, 
but was made fiesh, and found in fashion as 
a man ; like us wretched mortals, he par- 
took of weariness, of pain, and of all our 
infirmities, sin only excepted ; that we 
might one day be raised to your sublime 
al)od(^s, be adopted into your blissful socie- 
ty r and join with your transported choir in 
giving glory to Him that sitteth upon the 
throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever. 
(Rev, V. 13,) 

O ye heavens ! whose azure arches rise 
ramensely high, and stretch immeasurably 
- wide ; stupendous amphitheatre ! amidst 



b5 

whose vast expansive cii'cuit, orbs of the 
most dreadfid grandeur are perpetually run- 
ning their amazing races ; unfathomable 
depths of ether ! where worlds unnumber- 
ed float, and to oiu- limited sight, worlds 
unnumbered are lost ; — he who adjusted 
your dimensions with his span, and formed 
the magnificent structure with his word ; 
he was once wrapt up in swaddling clothes, 
and laid in a manger ; — that the benefits 
accruirxg to his people through his most 
meritorious hvimiliation, might have no 
other measure of their value than immensi- 
ty, might run parallel in their duration with 
eternity. 

Ye stars ! that beam with inextinguishable 
brilliancy through the midnight-sky; oceans 
of flames and centres of worlds, through 
seemingly little points of light ! — he who 
shone with essential effulgence, innumera- 
ble ages before your twinkling tapers were 
kindled ; and wlU shine with everlasting ma- 
jesty and beauty, when your places in tiie 
firmament shall be known no more ; He was 
involved for many years in the deepest ob- 
scurity, lay concealed in the contemptible 
city Kazareth, lay disguised under t]!c mean 
habit of a carpenter's son; — that lie might 
plant the heavens, (Isa. li. 16.) as it were, 
with new constellations, and airay tliese 
clods of earth, these houses of clay, with a 
radiancy far superior to yours, a radiancy 
which will adorn the very heaven of heavens, 
when you shall vanish away like smoke,* or 
expire as momentary sparks from the smit- 
ten steel. 

Comets ! that sometimes shoot into the 
illimitable tracts of ether, farther than the 
discernment of our eye is able to follow, 
sometimes return from the long, long ex- 
cursion, and sweep our affrighted hemis- 
phere with your enormous fiery train ; that 
sometimes make near approaches to the 
sun, and bum almost in his immediate 
beams ; sometimes retire to the remotest 
distance, and ireeze for ages in the exces- 
sive rigours of v>'inter ; — he, w \io at his so- 
vereign pleasure withdraws the blazing -won- 
der, or leads forth the portentous stranger, 
to shake terror over guilty kingdoms ;— he 
was overwhelmed with tlie most shocking 
amazem-cnt, and plunged into the deepes-t 
anxiety ; was chilled with apprehensions of 
fear, and scorched by the flames of avenging 



* Cv\ 
V. 41. 



. IG, 17- Before Tny vr-nder entcn- upon tlie 
DLstaiit he is desired to puruse the note. 



* Alluding to a passage in Isaiah, which is I think 
grand and elevated beyond' all comparison, — " Lift 
up your eyes to the hravens, and look upon the earth 
beneath ; for the heavens shall vanish away like 
smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment ; 
and they that dwell the. ein shall die like the feeble 
insect; but ray righteousness shall be for ever, and 
my salvation shall not be abolished." Isa. li. 6. — With 
the great Vitringa, I translate the words not in like 
raaruier, but like the feeble insec t, which renders the 
period more complete, the sense more emphatical, 
and is more agi'eeable to the genius of the saaed ori- 
ginal. 



56 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



wrath ; — that I, and other depraved rebel- 
lious creatures, might not be eternally agi- 
tated with the extremes of jarring passions, 
opposite, yet on either side tormenting, far 
more tormenting to the soul than the sever- 
est degrees of your heat and cold to the hu- 
man sense. 

Ye planets ! that, winged with unimagina- 
ble speed, traverse the regions of the sky, 
sometimes climbing millions and millions of 
miles above, sometimes descending as far 
below the great axle of your motions ; ye, 
that are so minutely faithful to the vicissi- 
tudes of day and night, so exactly punctual 
in bringing on the changes of your respective 
seasons ; — he, who launched you at first from 
his mighty arm ; vv^ho continually impels 
you with such wonderful rapidity, and guides 
you wnth such perfect regularity ; who fixes 
" the habitation of his holiness and his glo- 
ry," infinite heights above your scanty 
rounds ; he once became ,a helpless infant, 
sojourned in om' inferior world, fled from 
the persecutor's sword, and wandered as a 
vagabond in a foreign land ; that he might 
lead our feet into the way of peace : that he 
might bring us aliens near to God ; bring 
us exiles home to heaven. 

Thou sun ! inexhaustible source of light, 
and heat, and comfort ; without whose pre- 
sence an universal gloom would ensue, and 
horror insupportable ; who, without the as- 
sistance of any other fire, sheddest day 
through a thousand realms ; and not con 
fining thy munificence to realms only, ex 
tendest thy enlightening influences to sur 
rounding worlds ; prime cheerer of the ani 
mal, and great enlivener of the vegetable 
tribes ; so beautiful in thyself, so beneficial 
in thy effects, that erring heathens address- 
ed thee with adorations, and mistook thee 
for thy Maker ; — he, who filled thy orb 
with a profusion of lustre, lustre in its dl 
rect emanations, insufferably bright, but re. 
bated by reflection, delightfully mild ; he 
before whom thy meridian splendours are but 
a shade ; whose love transfused into the 
heart, is infinitely more exhilarating, than 
even thy sweet and clear shining after the 
rain ; — ^he divested himself of his all-tran- 
scending distinctions, and drew a veil over 
the effulgence of his divinity ; that by 
speaking to us face to face, as a man speak- 
eth unto his friend, he might dispel our in- 
tellectual darkness ; " his visage was mar- 
red," (Isa. liii. 14.) and he became the 
scorn of men, the outcast of the people, 
that by this manifestation of his unuttera- 
bly tender regard for our welfare, he might 
diffuse many a gleam of joy through our de- 
jected minds ; that in another state of 
things, he might clothe even our fallen na- 
ture with the honours of that magnificent 
luminary ; and give all the righteous to 
shine forth as the sun, in the kingdom of 
their Fat-hiu-, 



Thou moon 1 that walkest among the 
host of stars, and in thy lucid appearance, 
aj-t superior to them all : fair ruler of the 
night ! sometimes half restoring the day with 
thy waxing brightness ; sometimes waning 
into dimness, and scarcely scattering the 
nocturnal gloom ; sometimes covered with 
sackcloth, and alarming the gazing nations ; 
— ^he, who dresses thy opaque globe in 
beaming, but borrov/ed silver ; he whose 
dignity is unchangeable, underived, and all 
his own, he vouchsafed to wear a body of 
clay; he was content to appear as in a 
bloody eclipse, shorn of his resplendent 
beams, and surrounded with a night of hor- 
ror, which knew not one reviving ray — 
Thus has he empowered his church, and al^ 
believers, to tread the moon under their 
feet ; (Rev. xii. 1.) hence inspired with the 
hope of brighter glory, and of more enduring 
bliss, are they enabled to triumph over all the 
vain anxieties and vainer amusements, of this 
sublunary, precarious, mutable world. 

Ye thunders ! that, awfully grumbling in 
the distant clouds, seem to meditate indig- 
nation, and form the first essays of a far 
more frightful peal ; or, suddenly bursting 
over our heads, rend the vault above, and 
shake the ground below, with the hi- 
deous horrid crash ; ye that send your tre- 
mendous vollies from pole to pole, startling 
the savage herds, (Psalm xxix. 8.) and as- 
tonishing the human race ; — he, who per- 
mits terror to sound her trumpet, in your 
deep, prolonged, enlarging, aggravated roar ; 
he uttered a feeble infantile cry in the 
stable, and strong expiring groans on the 
accursed tree, — that he might, in the gen- 
tlest accent, whisper peace to our souls, and 
at length tune our voices to the melody of 
heaven. 

O ye lightnings ! that bfood and lie 
couchant in the sulphurous vapours, that 
glance with forked fury from the angry 
gloom, swifter and fiercer than the lion 
rushes from his den, or open into vast ex- 
pansive sheets of flame, sublimely waved 
over the prostrate worlds and fearfully lin- 
gering in the frighted skies ; ye that for- 
merly laid in ashes the licentious abodes of 
lust and violence, that Avill ere long set on 
fire the elements, and co-operate in the con- 
flagration of the globe; he who kindles 
your flash, and directs you when to sally, 
and where to strike ; he who commissions 
your whirling bolts, whom to kill and 
whom to spare ; he resigned his sacred 
person to the most barbarous indignities ; 
submitted his beneficent hands to the pon- 
derous hammer, and the piercing nail ; yea, 
withheld not his heart, his very heart, from 
the stab of the executioner's spear ; and in- 
stead of flashing confusion on his outrageous 
tormentors ; instead of striking them dead 
i to the earth, or plunging them into the 
' depths of hell with his frown ; he cried — in 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



his last moments, and with iiis agonizing 
lips, he cried — " Father forgive them, for 
they know not what they do !" O ! what 
a pattern of patience for his saints ! "V^'hat 
an object of admiration for angels ! What 
a constellation of every mild, amiable, and 
benign virtue, shining in this hour of dark- 
ness, with ineffable splendour and beauty ! * 
Hence, hence it is, that we are not trem- 
bling under the ligbtnings of mount Sinai; 
that v»'e are not blasted by the flames of di- 
vine vengeance, or doomed to dwell vdth 
everlasting burnings. 

Ye frowning wintry clouds ! oceans pen- 
dant in the air, and burdening the ■\^dnds ; 
he in whose hand you are an overflowing 
scourge ; or, by whose appointment, an ar- 
senalf of warlike stores ; he who opens 
your sluices, and a flood gushes forth to de- 
stroy the fruits of the earth, and drown the 
husbandman's hopes ; who mould you in- 
to frozen balls, and you are shot, linked 
with death,:}: on the troops of his enemies ; 



* One can hardly forbear animadverting upon the 
disingenuous temper, and pervers;- taste of Celsus, 
■who attempts to turn this most distinguishing and 
ornamental i)art of our Lord's life, into ridicule and 
reproach.— Having spoken of Christ as despitefully 
used, and arrayed in a purple robe, crowned with 
thorns, and holding, bv way of mock majestv, a reed 
instead of a sceptre (for he enters into all these cir- 
cumstances, which is a testimony to the truth even 
from the mouth of an enemy ;) he adds, " Why in 
the name of wonder, does he not, on this occasion at 
least, act the God ? Why does he not deliver himself 
from this shocking ignominy, or execute some signal 
vengeance on the authors of such injurious and abu- 
sive msults, both of himself and his Father ?"— Why, 
Celsus, because he was meekness and gentleness it- 
self; whereas your deities were slaves to their own 
turbulent and resentful passions ; because they were 
little better than savages in human shape, who too 
often made a merit ot slaughter, and took a horrid 
pride m spilling blood : while Christ was the Prince 
of Peace, and came not to destroy men's lives, but to 
save: because any madman on earth, or fury from 
hell, is capable of venting his rage; but who amidst 
such unsufferable provocations and barbarities ; who, 
having in his own hand the power to rescue himself, 
the power to avenge himself, could submit to all 
with an unruffled serenity of patience, and not only 
not be exasperated, but overcome in so triun\phant a 
manner, evil with good ? None but Christ ! None 
but Christ ! This was compassion worthy of a God, 
clemency and cliaritv truly divine ! 

Therefore the calumny raised by the same virulent 
objector, in another placcj carries its own confutation, 
or rather falls with a weight of infamy on his dung- 
hill deities, while it bears a most honourable testimo- 
ny to the majestic and invincible meekness of our 
Saviour. Says he to the Christian, ibid. p. 404. 

You indeed take upon vou to deride the images of 
our deities, but if Bacchus himself, or Hercules, had 
been present, you would not have dared to offer such 
an affront ; or if you had been so presumptuous, 
would have severely smarted for your insolence; 
whereas, they who tormented the very person of your 
God, and even extended him with mortal agony on 
the cross, suffered no effects of his displeasure." 

+ Juvenal seems to consider the clouds under the 
same character, in that beautiful line ; 

Quicquid hybent telorum armamentaria coeli. — 
Sat. 13. 

I Job has informed us for what purpose the maga- 
isinesof the firmament are stocked with hail.— That 
they may be ready against the day of battle and war, 
Jobxxxviii. 23. Joshua has recorded what terrible 
slaughter has been made by tb.ese missile weapons of 
the Almighty, Josh. x. 11.— But the most dreadful 
description of this gre.Tt ordnance of the heavens, is 



57 

He, instead of discharging the furiousness 
of his WTath upon his guilty head, poured 
out his prayers, poured out his sighs, pour- 
ed out his very soul, for me and my fellow 
transgressors, that by \Trtue of his inesti- 
mable propitiation, the overflowings of di- 
vine good will might be extended to sinful 
men : that the skies might pour do-w-n righ- 
teousness, and peace on her do\vny -wings, 
peace with her balmy blessings, descend to 
dwell on earth. 

Ye vernal clouds ! fiu-ls of finer air, folds 
of softer moisture, he who draws you in co- 
pious exhalations from the briny deep, or- 
ders you to leave every distasteful quality 
behind, and become floating fountains of 
sweetest waters ; he who dissolves you in- 
to gentle rain, and dismisses you in fruit- 
ftil showers, who kindly commissions you 
to (^op do\vn fatness as you fall, and to 
scatter flowers over the field : He, in the 
unutterable bitterness of his spirit, was ^^-ith- 
out any comforting sense of hie almighty 
Father's presence ; he, when his bones were 
burnt up like a fire-brand, had not one drop 
of that sacred consolation, which on many 
of his afficted servants, has been distilled 
as the evening dews, and has " given songs 
in the night" of distress : — that, from this 
unallayed and inconsolable anguish of our 
all-gracious master, we, as from a well of 
salvation, might derive large draughts of 
spiritual refreshment. 

Thou grand etherial boAV ! whose beau- 
ties flush the firmament, and charm eveiy 
spectator ; he, who paints thee on the fluid 
skirts of the sky, who decks thee with all 
the pride of colours, and bends thee into 
that graceful and majestic figure, at whose 
command thy vivid streaks sweetly rise, or 
smftly fade : — He, through all his life, was 
arrayed in the humble garb of poverty ; and, 
at his exit, wore the gorgeous garment of con- 
tempt , insomuch, that even his ovni familiar 
friends, ashamed or afraid to own him, " hid, 
as it were, their faces from him "* to teach 
us a becoming disdain for the imsubstantial 
and transitory glitter of all worldly vani- 
ties ; to introduce us, in robes brighter than 
the tinges of thy resplendent arch, even in 
the robes of his own immactdate righteous- 
ness, to introduce us before that august and 
venerable throne, which the peaceful rain- 
bow surrounds, siu-rounds as a pledge of in- 
violable fidelity and infinite mercy. 

Ye storms and tempests ! which vex the 
continent, and toss the seas, which dash 



given us in Rev. xvi. 21. There fell upon men a 
great hail out of heaven, every stone about the weight 
of a talent. 

* Isa. liii. 3. "Fuit tanquam aliquis, a quo quisque 
faciem occultaret." He was as some flagitious and 
abandoned wretch, from whom every one, disdaining 
j such a character, and disclaiming such an acquaint- 
ance, studiously hid his face. 



58 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



navies on the rocks, and drive forests from 
their roots ; he whose breath rouses you 
into such resistless fury, and whose nod 
controls you in your wildest career ; he, 
who holds the rapid and raging hurricane | 
in straitened reins, and walks, dreadfully 
serene, on the very wings of the wind : He 
-went, all meek and gentle, like a lamb to 
the slaughter for us ; and, as a sheep be- 
fore her shearers is dumb, so he opened not 

his mouth Thus are we instructed to 

bear, with decent magnanimity, the various 
assaidts of adversity, and to pass with a 
becoming tranquillity of temper, through 
all the rude blasts of injurious treatment. 
Thus are we delivered from the unutter- 
able fiercer storms of incensed and inexor- 
able justice ; from the " fire, the brimstone, 
and the horrible tempest, which will be the 
final portion of the ungodly." 

Thou pestilence ! that scatterest ten 
thousand poisons from thy baleful wings ; 
tainting the air, and infecting the nations ; 
under whose malignant influence, joy is 
blasted, and nature sickens ; mighty regions 
are depopulated, and once crov/ded cities 
are left without inhabitants. — He, who 
arms thee with inevitable destruction, and 
bids thee march before his angry counte- 
nance,* to spread desolation among the tents 
of the wicked, and be the forenmner of far 
more fearful indignation : He, in his holy 
humanity, was arraigned as a criminal ; and 
though innocence itself, yea, the very pat- 
tern of perfection, was condemned to die, 
like the most execrable miscreant ; as a 
nuisance to society, and the very bane of 
the public happiness, he was hurried away 
to execution, and hammered to the gibbet ; 
— that, by his blood, he might prepare a 
sovereign medicine to cure us of a more fa- 
tal distemper, than the pestilence which 
walketh in darkness, or the sickness which 
destroyeth at noon-day; that he might 
himself say to our last enemy, " O death, 
I will be thy plague ; O grave, I will be 
thy destruction." (Hos. xiii. 14.) 

Heat ! whose burning influence parches 
the Lybian wilds ; tans into soot the Ethi- 
opian's complexion, and makes every species 
of life pant, and droop, and languish ; cold, 
%vhose icy breath glazes yearly the Russian 
seas, often glues the frozen sailor to the 
cordage, and stiffens the traveller into a 
statue of rigid flesh : He who sometimes 
blends you both, and produces the most 
agreeable temperatm"e, sometimes suffers 
you to act separately, and rage with intol- 
erable severity ; that Bang of heaven, and 
controller of imiversal nature, when dwell- 
ing in a tabernacle of clay, was exposed to 
chilling damps, and smitten by sultry 



* Before him went the pestilence, Hab. iii. 5. 



beams ; the stars, in their midnight watch- 
es, heard him pray ; and the sun in his 
meridian fervours saw him toil. Hence 
are our frozen hearts dissolved into a min- 
gled flow of wonder, love, and joy ; being 
conscious of a deliverance from those in- 
sufferable flames, which, kindled by divine 
indignation, biu-n to the lowest hell. 

Thou ocean, vast world of waters ! He, 
who sunk that capacious bed for thy recep- 
tion, and poured the liquid element into un- 
fathomable channels ; before whom, all thy 
foaming billows, and floating mountains, are 
as the small drop of a bucket ; who, by the 
least intimation of his will swells thy fluid 
kingdoms in wild confusion, to mingle with 
the clouds ; or reduces them in calm com - 
posure to slumber on the shore ; he, who 
once gave thee a warrant to overwhelm the 
whole earth, and bury all its degenerate in- 
habitants in a watery gi-ave ; but has now 
laid an everlasting embargo on thy boister- 
ous waves, and bound thee, all fierce and 
madding as thou art, in chaina stronger than 
adamant, yet formed of despicable sand: 
and all the waves of vengeance and wrath, 
of tribulation and anguish, passed over his 
crucified body, and his agonizing soul ; that 
we might emerge from those depths of mis- 
ery, from that abyss of guilt, into which we 
were plunged by Adam's fall, and more 
irretrievably sunk by our ovm transgressions ; 
that at the last, we might be restored to that 
happy world, which is represented, in the 
vision of God, as having " no sea," (Rev. 
xxi. 1.) to denote its perpetual stability, 
and undisturbed serenity. 

Ye mountains ! that overlook the clouds, 
and project a shade into distant provinces ; 
everlasting pyramids of nature, not to be 
shaken by conflicting elements ; not t© be 
shattered by the bolts of thunder, nor im- 
paired even by the ravages of time ; he, who 
bid your ridges rise high, and your founda- 
tion stand so fast ; he, in whose scale you 
are lighter than dust ; in whose eyes you 
are less than nothing ; — He sunk beneath 
a load of woes — woes unsupportable, but 
not his own ; when he took our iniquities 
upon himself, and heaved the more than 
mountainous burden from a guilty world. 

Ye verdant woods ! that crown our hills, 
and are crowned yourselves with leafy hon- 
ours ; ye humble shrubs, adorned in spring 
with opening blossoms ; and fanned in 
summer by gentle gales ; ye that in distant 
climes, or in cultivated gardens, breathe out 
spicy odours, and embalm the air with de- 
lightful perfumes. He — your aU-glorious 
and ever-blessed Creator's head, was encir- 
cled with the thorny wreath, his face was 
defiled with contumelious spitting, and his 
body bathed in a bloody sweat, that we 
might wear the crown — the crowTi of glory 
which fadeth not away, and live for ever- 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



5« 



more surrounded with delights as much sur- 
passing yoius, as yours exceed the rugged 
desolations of winter. 

Thou mantling vine ! He, who hangs on 
thy slender shoots, the rich, transparent, 
weighty cluster ; who, under thy unoma- 
mented foliage, and amidst the pores of thy 
otherivise worthless boughs, prepares the 
liquor, — the refined and exalted liquor, 
which cheers the nations, and fills the cup 
of joy ; trees, whose branches are elevated 
and waving in air ; or diffused, in easy con- 
finement, along a sunny AvaU : He, who 
bends you with a lovely burden of delicious 
fmits, whose genial warmth beautifies their 
rind, and mellows their taste ; — He, when 
voluntarily subject to our wants, instead of 
being refreshed with your generous juices, 
or regaled with your luscious pulp, had a 
loathsome potion of vinegar, mingled with 
gall, addressed to his lips : — that we might 
sit under the shadow of his merits with 
great tranquillity and the utmost complacen- 
cy ; that, ere long, being admitted into the 
paradise of God, we might eat of the tree 
of life, (Rev. ii. 7.) and drink new wine 
with him in his Father's kingdom. 

Ye luxuriant meadows ! He, who wdthout 
the seedman's industry, replenishes your ir- 
riguous lap with never-failing crops of herb- 
age, and enamels their cheerful gi'een with 
flowers of every hue ; ye fertile fields ! — 
He, who blesses the labours of the husband- 
man, enriches your well- tilled plains with 
waving harvests, and calls forth the staff of 
life from your furrows ; he, w^ho causes 
both meadows and fields to laugh and sing, 
for the abundance of plenty; — He was no 
stranger to coiToding hunger, and parching 
thirst; he alas ! ate the bitter biead of woe, 
and had " plenteousness of tears to drink ;" 
— that we might partake of richer dainties 
than those which are produced by the dew of 
heaven, and proceed from the fatness of the 
earth ; that we might feed on " the hidden 
manna," and eat the bread which giveth life 
. — eternal life — unto the world. 

Ye mines ! rich in golden ore, or bright 
with veins of silver ; that distribute your 
shining treasures as far as winds can waft 
the vessel of commerce, which bestow your 
alms on monarchs, and have princes for your 
pensioners: — Ye beds of gems, toy- shops 
of natui-e ! which form^ in dark retirement, 
the glittering stone ; diamonds, that sparkle 
with a brilliant vrater ; rubies, that glow^ 
with a crimson flame ; emeralds, dipped in 
the freshest verdure of spring; sapphires, 
decked with the fairest drapery of the sky ; 
topaz, emblazed with dazzling yeUow ; ame- 
thyst, empurpled \viih the blushes of the 
morning : — He, who tinctures the metallic 
dust, and consolidates the lucid drop ; he, 
when sojourning on earth, had no riches but 
the riches of disinterested benevolence, had 



no ornament, but the ornament of unspotted 
purity. Poor he was in his circumstances, 
and mean in all his accommodations, that 
we might be rich in grace, and " obtain 
salvation with eternal glory ;" that we might 
inhabit the new Jerusalem, that splendid 
city, whose streets are paved with gold,' 
whose gates are formed of pearl, and the 
walls garnished ^vith all manner of precious 
stones. (Rev. xxi. 19, 21.) 

Ye gushing fountains ! that trickle potable 
silver through the matted grass ; ye fine 
transparent streams ! that glide in crj'stal 
waves, along your fringed banks ; ye deep 
and stately rivers ! that wind and M-ander in 
your course, to spread your favours wider, 
that gladden kingdoms in your progress, 
and augment the sea with your tribute: — 
He who supplies all your cunents from his 
o\\-n overflowing and inexhaustible liberality; 
he, when his nerves were racked with ex- 
quisite pain, and his blood inflamed by a 
raging fever, cried, I thirst, and was de- 
nied (unparalleled hardship !) in this his 
great extremity, was denied the poor refresh- 
ment of a single drop of water ; — that w^e, 
ha\ang all-sufficiency in aU things, might 
abound to every good work ; might be filled 
with the fulness of spiritual blessings here, 
and hereafter be satisfied with that fidness 
of joy which is at God's right hand for ever- 
more. 

Ye birds ! cheerful tenants of the boughs, 
gaily dressed in glossy plumage, who wake 
the mom, and solace the groves, with yoiu* 
artless lays : inimitable architects, who, 
without rule or line, build your pensile 
structure with all the nicety of proportion ; 
you have each his commodious nest, roofed 
with shades, and lined with warmth, to pro- 
tect and cherish the callow-brood : — but. he, 
who tuned your throats to harmony, and 
taught you that curious skiU ; he was a man 
of sorrows and had not where to lay his 
head, — had not where to lay his head, till 
he felt the pangs of dissolution, and Avas 
laid in the silent grave ; — that we, d\velling 
under the wings of Omnipotence, and rest- 
ing in the bosom of infinite love, might 
spend an harmonious eternity in " singing 
the song of ]Moses and of the Lamb." 

Bees ! industrious workmen, that sweep 
with busy wing, the flower)' garden, and 
search the blooming heath, and sip the mel- 
lifluous dews, — strangers to idleness ! — that 
ply, with incessant assiduity, your pleasing 
task, and suffer no opening blossom to pass 
unexplored, no sunny gleam to slip away 
unimproved : most ingenious artificers ; 
that cling to the fragrant buds, drain them 
of their treasured sweet, and extract, (if I 
may so speak,) even the odoriferous souls 
of herbs, and plants, and flowers ; — you, 
when you have completed your work, have 
collected, refined, and securely lodged the 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



ambrosial stores ; when j^ou might reason- 
ably expect the peaceful fruition of your 
acquisitions, you, alas ! are barbarously de- 
stroyed, and leave your hoarded delicacies 
to others, leave them to be enjoyed by your 
very murderers. I cannot but pity your 
hard destiny ! — How then should my bow- 
els melt with sympathy, and my eyes flow 
with tears,* when I remember, that thus, 
thus it fared with your and our incarnate 
Maker ! After a life of the most exempla- 
ry and exalted piety, a life filled with offi- 
ces of beneficence, and labours of love : 
He was, by wicked hands, crucified and 
slain : he left the honey of his toil, the 
balm of his blood, and the riches of his 
obedience, to be shared among others ; to 
be shared even among those who too often 
crucify him afresh, and put him to open 
shame, t 

Shall I mention the ammal,f which spins 
her soft, her shining, her exquisitely fine 
silken thread ! whose matchless manufac- 
tures lend an ornament to grandeur, and 
make royalty itself more magnificent. Shall 
I take notice of the cell, in which, when 
the gaiety and business of life are over, the 
little recluse immures herself, and spends 
the remainder of her days in retirement ? 
Shall I rather observe the sepulchre, 
which, when cloyed with pleasure, and 
weary of the world, she prepares for her 
own interment ; or how, when a stat- 
ed period is elapsed, she wakes from a 
death-like inactivity; breaks the inclosure of 
her tomb ; throws off the dusky shroud ; as- 
sumes a new form ; puts on a more sump- 
tuous array ; and from an insect creeping 
on the ground, becomes a winged inhabitant 
of the air ? — No, this is a poor reptile, and 
therefore unworthy to serve as an illustra- 
tion, when any character of the Son of God 
comes under consideration. But let me cor- 
rect myself Was not Christ (to use the 
language of his own blessed Spirit) a worm, 
and no man ? (Psalm xxii, 6.) In appear- 



* Canst thou, ungrateful man, his torments see. 
Nor drop a tear for him who poured his blood for 

thee ? Pitfs Poems. 

t No one, I hope, will be offended at my introduc- 
ing, on such an occasion, creatures of so low a rank, 
since even the volumes of inspiration seem to lend me 
the sanction oftheir sacred authority. As they disdain 
not to compare the blessed Jesus to a door, a high- 
way, &c. And perhaps, all comparisons v.'hich re- 
spect a being of infinite dignity, are not only mean, 
but equally mean and unworthy. 

I am sensible, likewise, that in this paragraph, and 
Bome others, all the circumstances are not completely 
correspondent. But if, in some grand particulars the 
redition answers to the description, this I trust will be 
sufficient for my purpose, and satisfactory to my 
readers. — Perhaps it would be no mistaken "caution, 
to apply the same observation to many of the beauti- 
ful similitudes, parables, and allegories used by our 
Lord : such as the brazen serpent, the unjust steward, 
thethief inthenight, &c. which, ifscrupulously^ifted, 
or rigorously strained, for an entire coincidence in 
every circumstance, must appear to great disadvan- 
l-ago," and lead into palpable inconveniencLes. 



ance such, and treated as such. — Did not 
he also bequeath the fine linen of his own 
most perfect righteousness, to compose the 
marriage-garment* for our disarrayed and 
defiled souls ? Did he not, before his 
flesh saw corruption, emerge triumphant 
from the grave ; and not only mount the 
lower firmament, but ascend the heaven of 
heavens ; taking possession of those sublime 
abodes in oiu: name, and as our forerunner. 

Ye cattle ! that rest in your inclosed pas- 
tures ; ye beasts ! that range the unlimited for- 
ests ; ye fish ! that rove through trackless paths 
of the sea ; sheep ! clad in garments, which 
when left by you, are wore by kings ; kine ! 
who feed on verdure, which, transmuted in 
your bodies, and strained from your udders, 
furnishes a repast for queens; lions i roaring 
after your prey ; leviathan ! taking your pas- 
time in the great deep : with all that wing 



* This, and several other hints, interspersed through- 
out this work, refer to the active and passive righte- 
ousness of Christ, imputed to believers for their jus- 
tification. Which in the opinion of many great ex- 
positors, is the m.ystical and the most sublime mean- 
ing of the wedding-garment, so emphatically and for- 
cibly recom.mended by the teacher sent from God, 
(Matth. xxii. 11.) A doctrine, which some of those 
who honour my Meditations with a perusal, probably 
may not receive with much, if any approbation. I 
hope the v.'hole performance may not be cashiered for 
one difference of sentiment; and 1 beg that the senti- 
ment itself may not hastily be rejected without a se- 
rious hearing. For I have the pleasure of being inti- 
mately acquainted with a gentleman of good lea: ning 
and distinguished sense, w lO had once as strong pre- 
possessions against this tenet, as can well be ima- 
gined. Yet now he not only admits it as a truth, but 
embraces it, as the joy of his heart, and cleaves to it 
as the rock of his hopes. 

A clear and cogent. Treatise, entitled. Submission 
to the righteousness of God, was the instrument of re- 
moving his p ejudices, and reducing him to a better 
juugment,— in which he has been happily confirmed 
by the authority of the most illustrious names, and 
the works of the most eminent pens, that ever adorn- 
ed our church and nation, — in this number, are Bi- 
shop Jewel, one of our great reformers; and the other 
venerable compilers of our homilies ; Archbishop Ush- 
er, that oracle of universal learning; Bishop Hall, 
the devout and sprightly orato of his age; the co- 
pious and fervent Bishop Hopkins; the singularly- 
good and unaffected Bishop Beveridge; that everlast- 
ing honour of the bench of judicature. Lord Chief 
Justice Hales ; the nervous, florid, and persuasive 
Dean Stanhope; the practical and perspicuous Mr. 
Burkitt; and to summon no other evidence, that 
matchless genius Milton, who in various parts of his 
divine poem, inculcates this comfortable truth ; and 
in one passage, represents it under the very same 
image, which is made use of ab ive. Book X. 1. 222. 

I had almost forgot to mention that the Treatise, 
entitled Submission, &c. was written by Mr. Benja- 
min Jenks; whose book of devotions has deservedly 
passed through eleven editions , is truly admirable 
for the sublimity, spirituality, and propriety of the 
sentiments, as well as for the concise form, and pathe- 
tic turn of the expression. — Whose book of medita- 
tions, though no less worthy of general acceptance, 
has, for a considerable time, been almost unknown 
and extinct. But it is now revived, and is lately re- 
published in two octavo volumes, by Mr. James Ri- 
vington. For which service he has my thanks, and I 
flatter mvself he will have the thanks of the public ; 
as I am persuaded, couldreligion and virtue speak, he 
would have their acknowledgments also. Since few 
Treatises are more happily calculated to represent re- 
ligion in its native beauty, and to promote the inie - 
ests of genuine virtue. — On which account, I trust, 
the candid will excuse me, and the judicious will not 
condemn me, even though the recomm ndation of 
those devotions and of these mediUitions nnay appear 
to be a dig: ession from my subject. 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



61 



the firmament, or tread the soil, or swim 
the wave : — He, who spreads his ever-hos- 
pitable board ; who admits you all to be his 
continual guests ; and suffers you to want 
no manner of thing that is good ; — He was 
destitute, afllicte^, tormented ; He endured 
all that was miserable and reproachful, in 
order to exalt a degenerate race, who had 
debased themselves to a level with the beasts 
that perish, unto seats of distinguished and 
immortal honour, in order to introduce the 
slaves of sin, and heirs of hell, into mansions 
of consummate and everlasting bliss. 

Surely, the contemplation of such a sub- 
ject, and the distant anticipation of such a 
hope, may almost turn earth into heaven, 
and make even inanimate nature vocal with 
praise. Let it then break forth from every 
creature. Let the meanest feel the inspir- 
ing impulse ; let the greatest acknowledge 
themselves unable, worthily to express the 
stupendous goodness. 

Praise him, ye insects that crawl on the 
ground ! who though high above all height, 
humbled himself to dwell in dust. Birds 
of the air, waft on your wings and warble 
in your notes, his praise, who though Lord 
of the celestial abodes, while sojourning on 
earth, wanted a shelter, commodious as your 
nests. — Ye rougher world of brutes, join 
with the gentle songsters of the shade, and 
howl to him your hoarse applause ; who 
breaks the jaw-bones of the infernal lion ; 
who softeu^ into mildness the savage dis- 
position ; and bids the wolf lie down, in a- 
micable agreement wiili the lamb. Bleat 
out, ye hills ; let broader lows be respon- 
sive from the vales : ye forests catch, and 
ye rocks retain the inarticulate hymn ; be- 
cause Messiah the prince feeds his flock 
like a shepherd. He gathers the lambs 
with his arm ; he carries them in his bosom ; 
and gently leads those that are with young. 
(Isa. xl. 11.) Wave, ye stately cedars, in 
sign of worship, wave your branching heads 
to him, who meekly bowed his own, on the 
accursed tree — Pleasing prospects, scenes 
of beauty, where nicest art conspires with 
lavish nature, to form a paradise below, lay 
forth all your charms, and in all your charms 
confess yourselves a mere blank compared 
with his amiableness, who is the " fairest 
among ten thousand and altogether lovely." 
— Drop down, ye showers, and testify as 
you fall ; testify of his grace, which descends 
more copiously than the rain, distils more 
sweetly than the dew — Let sighing gales 
breathe, and murmuring rivulets flow ; 
breathe and flow in harmonious consonance 
to him, whose spirit is far more reviving 
than the cooling breeze, who is himself the 
fountain of living waters. 

Ye lightnings ! blaze to his honom-, ye 
thunders sound his praise, while reverberat- 
ing clouds return the roar, and bello^ving 



[ oceans propagate the tremendous anthem. 
— Mutest of creatures, add your silent ora- 
tory, and display the triumphs of his meek- 
ness ; who though he maketh the clouds his 
chariot, and treadeth upon the waves of the 
sea ; though the thunder is his voice, and 
the lightning his sword of justice ; yet 
amidst the most abusive and cruel injuries, 
was submissive and lifted not his hand, was 
"dumb and opened not his mouth." — Great 
source of day, address thy radiant homage 
to a far sublimer sun ; w^rite in all thy am- 
ple round, with every lucid beam, O write 
a testimony to him, who is the brightness of 
his Father's glory, w^ho is the Sun of right- 
eousness to a sinful world, and is risen ne- 
ver to go da^vn ; is risen to be our everlast- 
ing light — Shine clear, ye skies ; look gay^ 
thou earth ; let the floods clap their hands,, 
and let every creature wear a smile ; for he 
Cometh, the Creator himself cometh to be 
manifested in th-e flesh ; and with him comes 
pardon, peace, and joy ; every virtue and all 
felicity comes in his train. — Angels and 
archangels, let your songs be of Jesus, and 
teach the very heavens to echo with, his 
adored and majestic name. Ye beheld him, 
with greater transports of admiration, when 
you attended his agony in the garden, and 
saw him prostrate on the ground, than when 
you beheld universal nature rising at his 
call, and saw the wonders of his creating 
might. Tune to loftiest notes your golden 
harps, and waken raptiu-es unknown before 
even in heavenly breasts, while all that has 
breath, swells the concert of harmony ; and 
all that has being unites in the tribute of 
praise. ^ 

Chiefly let man exalt his voice ; let man, 
with distinguished hosannas, hail the Re- 
deemer. For man he was stretched on the 
racking cross ; for man, he was consigned 
to the gloomy sepulchre ; for man, he pro- 
cured grace immeasm'able, and bbss incon- 
ceivable However diff'erent, therefore, in 

your age, or more diff'erent in your circumstan- 
ces, be unanimous, O men ! in magnifying a 
Saviour, who.is no respecter of persons, who 
gave himself a ransom for all — Bend, ye 
kings, from your thrones of ivory and gold, 
in your robes of imperial purple, fall pros- 
trate at his feet ; who forsook a nobler 
throne, and laid aside more illustrious en- 
signs of majesty, that you might reign with 
God for ever and ever — (Children of pover- 
ty, meanest of mortals, (if any can be call- 
ed poor who are thus enriched ; if any can 
be accoimted mean who are thus ennobled,) 
rejoice, greatly rejoice in Godyoiu" Savaour; 
who chose to be indigent, was wdlling to be 
contemned ; that you might be entitled to 
the treasures, and be numbered with the 
princes of heaven. Sons of affliction, though 
harassed with pain, and innured to anguish, 
O ! change your groans into songs of grati- 



62 A DESCANT UP 

tude : let no complaining voice, no jarring 
string be heard, in the universal symphony, 
but gloiify the Lamb even in the fires ; (Isa. 
xxiv. 15.) who himself bore greater tor- 
ment than you feel ; and has promised you 
a share in the joy which he inherits ; who 
has made your sufferings short, and will 
make your rest eternal. — Men of hoary 
locks, bending beneath a weight of years, 
and tottering on the brink of the grave ; let 
Christ be your support under all infirmities ; 
lean upon Christ, as the rock of yoiu: salva- 
tion ; let his name, his precious name, form 
the last accents Avhich quiver on your pale 
expiring lips ; — and let this be the first that 
lisps on your tongues, ye tender infants, re- 
member your Redeemer in your earliest mo- 
ments ; devote the choice of your hom's to 
the learning of his will, and the chief of 
y our strength to the glorifying of his name ; 
who in the perfection of health, and the 
very prime of manhood, was content to be- 
come a motionless and ghastly corpse, that 
you might be girt with the vigour, and 
clothed with the bloom of eternal youth. 

Ye spirits of just men made perfect ! who 
are released from the burden of the flesh ; 
and freed from all the vexatious solicitations 
of corruption in yourselves ; delivered from 
all the injurious effects of iniquity in others ; 
who sojourn no longer in the tents of strife, 
or the territories of disorder ; but are re- 
ceived into that pure, harmonious, holy so- 
ciety, where every one acts up to his amia- 
ble and exalted character ; where God him- 
self is pleased graciously and immediately 

to preside You find, not without pleasing 

astonishment, your hopes improved into ac- 
tual enjoyment, and your faith superseded 
by the beatific vision ; you feel all your for- 
mer shyness of behaviour, happily lost in 
the overflowings of unbounded love ; and all 
your little differences of opinion entirely 
bore doAvn by tides of invariable truth. 
Bless, therefore, with all your enlarged 
powers, bless bis infinitely larger goodness ; 
who, when he had overcome the sharpness 
of death, opened the gates of paradise, open- 
ed the kingdom of heaven to all genera- 
tions, and to every denomination of the 
faithful. 

Ye men of holy conversation and humble 
tempers, think of him who loved you, and 
washed you from your sins in his own 
blood ; think of him on your silent couch ; 
talk of him in every social interview ; glory 
in his excellencies, make your boast of his 
obedience, and add, still continue to add, 
the incense of a dutiful life, to all the obla- 
tions of a grateful tongue Weakest of be- 
lievers, who go momriing under a sense of 
guilt, and conflicting ^vith the ceaseless as- 
saults of temptation, put off your sackcloth 
aiiil be girded wdth gladness. Because .le- 
Bus is as merciful to hevir^, as he is mighty 



ON CREATION. 

to help. Because he is touched with the 
tenderest sympathizing concern, for ail your 
distresses ; and he lives, ever lives, to be 
your advocate Avith the Father. — Why then 
should uneasy doubts sadden your counten- 
ances ? Why should desponding fears op- 
press your soul ? Turn, turn, those discon- 
solate sighs into cheerful hymns, since you 
have his powerful intercession, and his in- 
estimable merits, to be your anchor in all 
tribulations, to be your passport into eter- 
nal blessedness. 

Most of all, ye ministers of the sanctu- 
ary, heralds commissioned from above ; 
lift every one his voice like a trumpet, and 
loudly proclaim the Redeemer. Get ye up, 
ye ambassadors of peace, get ye up into the 
high mountains ; and spread far and wide 
the honours of the Lamb " that was slain, 
but is alive for evermore." Teach every 
sacred roof to resound with his fame, and 
every human heart to glow with his love. 
Declare as far as the force of words wiU 
go, declare the inexhausible fulness of that 
great atonement, whose merits are commen- 
surate with the glories of the Divinity.* 
Tell the sinful wretch, what pity yearns in 
Immanuel's bowels ; what blood he has 
spilt, what agonies he has endured, what 
wonders he has wrought, for the salvation of 
his enemies. Invite the indigent to be- 
come rich ; entreat the guilty to accept of 
pardon, because with the crucified Jesus is 
plenteous redemption, and all sufficiency to 
save.— While you, placed in conspicuous 
stations, pour the joyful sound, may I, as I 
steal through the vale of humble life, catch 
the pleasing accents ! For me the author of 
all blessings became a curse : for me, his 
bones were dislocated, and his flesh was 
torn ; he hung with streaming veins^ and 
agonizing soul on the cross for me. O ! 
may I in my little sphere, and amidst the 
scanty circle of my acquaintance, at least 
whisper these glad transporting tidings ? 
Avhisper them from my own heart, that they 



* If in this place and others, I have spoken magni- 
ficently of the blood of Christ, and its insuperable 
efficacy to expiate guilt, I think it is no more than is 
expressed in a very celebrated hymn, written by one 
of the greatest wits, who had also been one of the 
greatest libertines, and afterwards commenced one of 
the most remarkable penitents in France ; a hymn, 
which even Mr. Bayle confesses to be a very fine one, 
which another critic calls an admirable one, and 
which a genius superior to them both, recommends 
as a noble one. (See Spect. Vol. vii. No. 513.) 

The author having acknowledged his crimes to be 
beyond measure heinous, and almost beyond forgive- 
ness provoking — so provoking, as to render tears fi om 
such eyes offensive, and prayers from such lips abomi- 
nable ; composes himself to submit, without the least 
repining sentiment; to submit even with piaise and 
adoration, to the most dreadful doom. Accordingly, 
he stands in resigned expectation of being instantly 
struck by the bolts of vengeance ; but with a turn of 
thought equally surprising and sprightly, with afaith 
properly founded and happily firm, he adds. 

Yet where ! O where ! can even thy thunders fall ? 
Christ's blood o'erspreads and shields meirointheraall. 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



63 



may surely reacli, and sweetly penetrate 
theirs. 

But when men and angels raise the grand 
hymn, when all worlds and all beings add 
their collective acclamations ; this full, fer- 
vent, and universal chorus will be so infe- 
rior to the riches of the Redeemer's grace, 
so disproportionate to the magnificence of 
his glojy, that it will seem but to debase the 



unutterable subject it attempts to exalt, the 
loud hallelujah will die away, in the so- 
lemn mental eloquence of prostrate, raptur- 
ous, silent adoration. 

O Goodness infinite ! goodness immense ! 

And love that passeth knowledge !— words are vain , 

Language is lost in wonders so divine 

*' Come then expressive silence muse his praise." 



CONTEMPLATIONS 

ON THE 

NIGHT, 

AND THE 

STARRY HEAVENS, 

WITH 

A WINTER-PIECE. 



'^Mf MEDITATIONS OF HIM SHALL BE SWEET." — PSALM CIV. 34. 



TO 



PAUL ORCHARD, ESQ. 

OF 

STOKE-ABBEY, DEVONSHIRE. 



Dear Sir, 
As your honoured fatlier was pleas- 
ed to make clioice of me to answer 
in your name at the font, and to ex- 
ercise a sort of guardianship over 
your spiritual interests, permit me, by 
putting these little treatises into your 
hand, to fulfil some part of that so- 
lemn obligation. 

Gratitude for many signal favours, 
and a conscientious regard to ray 
sacred engagement, have long ago 
inspired my breast with the warmest 
wishes, both for your true dignity, 
and real happiness. Nor can I think 
of a more endearing, or a more ef- 
fectual way of advancing eitlier the 
one or the other, than to set before 
you a sketch of your excellent father's 
character. Illustrious examples are 
the most winning incitements to vir- 
tue ; and none can come attended 
with such particular recommenda- 
tions to you, sir, as the pattern of 
that worthy person from whom you 
derive your very being. 

A most cordial and reverential 
esteem for the divine word, was one 
of his remarkable qualities. Those 
oracles of Heaven were his principal 
delight, and his inseparable compa- 
nions. Your gardens, your solitary 
walks, and the hedges of your fields, 
can witness (Joshua xxiv. 27.) with 
what an unwearied assiduity he ex- 



ercised himself in the law of the 
Lord. From hence he fetched his 
maxims of wisdom, and formed his 
judgment of things; the sacred pre- 
cepts were the model of his temper, 
and the guide of his life ; while the 
precious promises were the joy of 
his heart, and his portion for ever. 

Improving company was another 
of his most relishing pleasures. Few 
gentlemen were better furnished, ei- 
ther withrichness of fancy, or copious- 
ness of expression, to bear a shining 
part in conversation. With these 
talents he always endeavoured to 
give some useful, generally some re- 
ligious, turn to the discourse. Nor 
did he ever reflect with greater com- 
placency on his social hours, than 
^when they tended to glorify the eter- 
nal majesty, and to waken in himself 
and others a more lively spirit of 
devotion. 

To project for the good of others, 
was his frequent study ; and to car- 
ry those benevolent contrivances in- 
to execution, his favourite employ. 
When visited by the young persons 
of the neighbourhood, far from tak- 
ing an nng-raceful pride to initiate 
them in debauchery, or confirm them 
in a riotous habit, it was his ii.ces- 
sant aim, by finely-adapted persua- 
sives, to encourage them in industry, 
and establish them in a course of so- 



68 



DEDICATION. 



briety, to guard them against the 
alimenients oi' vice, and animate 
them with the principles of piety. 
A noble kind of hospitality this ! 
which will probably transmit its be- 
neficial influence to their earthly pos- 
sessions, to their future families, and 
even to their everlasting state. 

A conviction of human indigence, 
and a thorough persuasion of the 
divine all-sufficiency, induced liim to 
be frequent in prayer. To prostrate 
Li nisei f in profound adoration, be- 
fore that infinitely exalted Being, 
who dwells in light inaccessible, was 
his glory ; to implore the continu- 
ance of the Almighty favour, and the 
increase of all Christian graces, was 
fiis gain. In those moments, no 
doubt, lis remembered you, sir, with 
a particiilir earnestness ; and lodged 
many an ardent petition in the court 
of Heaven for his infant son. Cease 
not to second them with your own 
devout supplications, that they may 
descend upon your head, " in the 
fulness of the blessings of the goi^pel 
of peace." 

To give their genuine lustre to all 
his other endowments, he was care- 
ful to maintain an humble miiid. 
Though his friends might admire 
his superior abilities, or his acquaint- 
ance applaud his exemplary beha- 
viour, he sav/ liov/ far he fell short 
of the mark of his high calling ; saw, 
and lamented his defects ; saw, and 
renounced himself ; relying for final 
acceptance and endless felicity on 
a better rigliteousness than his own, 
even on the transcendently perfect 
righteousness, and inconceivably pre- 
cious death of Jesus the Redeemer. 
This was the rock of his hope, and 
the very crown of his rejoicing. 

These, sir, are some of the distin- 
guishing characteristics of your de- 
ceased parent. As you had the mis - 
fortune to lose so valuable a relative, 
before you was capable of forming 



I any acquaintance with his persorr, 
I flatter myself you will the more 
attentively observe his picture — this 
his moral picture ; designed, not to 
be set in gold, or sparkle in enamel,, 
but to breathe in your spirit, and to^ 
live in all your conduct ; which, 
though it be entirely your own, cal- 
culated purely for yourself, may pos- 
sibly (like the family pieces in your 
parlour, that glance an eye upon as 
many as enter the room) make some 
pleasing and useful impression on 
every beholder. May every one, 
charmed v/itli the beautiful image, 
catch its resemblance ; and each, in 
its respective sphere, " go and do 
likewise." 

But you, sir, are peculiarly con- 
cerned to copy the amiable originaL 
As the order of an indulgent Provi- 
dence has made you heir of the 
alHuent circumstances, let not a gay 
aadtliougiitless inadvertence cut you 
off from the richer inheritance of 
these noble qualifications. These 
will be your security amidst all the 
glittering dangers which are insepa- 
rable from blooming years and an 
elevated situation in life. These 
are your path, your sure and only 
path, to true greatness, and mVid 
happiness. Tread in these steps, 
and you cannot fail to be the darling, 
of yom* friends, and the favourite 
of heaven. Tread in these steps, 
and you will give inexpressible joy to 
oue of the best of motliers ; you wilF 
become an extensive blessing to your 
fellow-creatures ; and which, after 
such most engaging motives, is scarce^ 
worthy to be mentioned, you will be 
the delight, the honour, and the boast 
of, dear sir, your very aff'ectionate 
godfather, and most faithful hum- 
ble servant, 

JAMES HERVEY. 

Weston- Favel, near Northampton, 
July 14, 1747. 



PREFACE 



We have already exercised our spe- 
culations on the Tombs and Flowers ; 
surveying nature, covered with tlie 
deepest horrors, and arrayed in the 
richest beauties. Allegory taught 
many of the oojects to speak the lan- 
guage of virtue, while imagination 
lent her colouring to give the les- 
ions an engaging air. And this with 
a view of imitating that divine in- 
*^tructor, who commissioned the lily 
in her silver suit, to remonstrate in 
the ear of unbelieving reason ; who 
sent his disciples (men ordained to 
teach the universe) to learn max- 
ims of the last importance, from the 
most insignificant birds that vv'ander 
through the paths of the air ; from 
the very meanest herbs, (Matth. vi. 
28, 28, 29, 30,) that are scattered 
over the face of the ground.* 



* Celebrated writers, as Beiiiosthenes 
and Cicero, Thucydides and Liv j', are ob- 
served to bave a style peculiar to tbemselves. 
Now, whoever considers the discourses of 
Christ, will find him distinguishing himself 
by a style, which may propei ly be called 
his own. Majestic, yet familiar^ happily 
uniting dignity with condescension, it con- 
sists in teaching his followers the sublimest 
truths, by spiritualizing on the most com- 
mon occurrences ; which besides its being 
level to the bwest apprehensions, and ad- 
mirably adapted to steal into the most inat- 
tentive heart, is accompanied with this very 
singular advantage, that it turns even the 
.sphere of business into a school of instruc- 
tion; and renders the most ordinary objects 
a set of monitors, ever soliciting our re- 
gard because ever present to our senses. — 
So that 1 believe, it may be said of this 
jjDiiable method, in which our Lord con- 
5.eyed, as well as of that powerful energy 



Emboldened by the kind acctp- 
tance of tlie preceding sketches, L 
beg leave to confide in the same be- 
nevolence of taste, for the protection 
and support of the two remaining es- 
says ; which exhibit a prospect of 
still life, and grand operation, which 
moralize on the most composed, and 
most magnificent appearances of 
things ; in which Fancy is again 
suffered to introduce her imagery, 
but only as the handmaid of Tnitb, 
in order to dress her person, and dis- 
play her charms, to engage the at- 
tention, and win the love even of the 
gay and of the fashionable ; which 
is more likely to be affected, by 
forming agreeable pictures of na- 
ture, and deriving instructive obser- 
vations, than by the laborious method 



which attended his doctrines, " That never 
man spake like this man." — The harvest ap- 
proaching, he reminds his disciples of a far 
more important harvest, John iv. 35. Matt, 
xiii. 39. when immortal beings shall be reaj)- 
ed from the grave, and gathered in from nil 
the quarters of the earth, when every hu- 
man creature shall sustain the character of 
valuable wheat, or despicable tares ; and 
accordingly be lodged in mansions of ever- 
lasting security, or consigned over to the 
rage of unquenchable fire. — In his charge to 
fishermen when they are coramencingpreach- 
ers, Matth. iv. 19, he exhorts them, con- 
formably to the nature of their late occupa- 
tion, to use the same assiduity and address 
in winning souls, as they were wont to ex- 
ercise in catching the finny prey — For the 
farther illustration of this no less useful, 
than curious subject, I would refer my read^ 
er to a valuable note in Sir Isaac Newton's 
Observations on the Prophecies, p 1 4§. 4to, 
edition. 



70 



PREFACE. 



of long-deduced arguments, or close 
connected reasonings. The contem- 
plation of the heavens and the earth, 
of their admirable properties and 
beneficial changes, has always afford- 
ed the most exalted gratification to 
the human mind. In compliance 
with this prevailing taste, I have 
drawn my serious admonitions from 
the stupendous theatre, and varie- 
gated scenery of rlie universe ; that 
the reader may learn his duty from 
his very pleasures ; may gather wis- 
dom mingled with virtue, from the 
most refined entertainments, and no- 
blest delights. 

The evening drawing her sables 
over the world, and gently darken- 
ing into Night, is a season peculiarly 
proper for sedate consideration. All 
circumstances concur to hush our 
passions, and soothe our cares, to 
tempt our steps abroad, and prompt 
our thoughts to serious reflection. 

Then is the time 

For those whom wisdom, and whom nature 
charm, 

To steal themselves from the degen'rate 
crowd, 

And soar above this little scene of things ; 
To tread low thoughted vice beneath their 
feet ; 

To soothe the throbbingpassions into peace, 
And woo lone quiet in her silent walks.* 

The favour I would solicit for the 
first of the following compositions is, 
that it may be permitted to attend in 
such retired and contemplated ex- 
cursions, to attend, if not under the 
character of a friend, at least in the 
humble capacity of a servant or a 
page ; as a servant to open the door 



* Thomson's Autumn, 1, 973. last edit. 



of meditation, and remove every im- 
pediment to those better exercises of 
the mind, which blend advantage 
with amusement, and improve while 
they delight ; as a page, to gather up 
the unstable fluctuating train of fan- 
cy, and collect her fickle powers into 
a consistent, regular and useful ha- 
bit of thinking. 

The other conversant among the 
starry regions, would lead the ima- 
gination through those beautiful 
tracts of unclouded azure, and point' 
out to the judgment some of those 
astonishing particulars which so 
eminently signalize the celestial 
worlds. A prospect this to which 
curiosity attracts our eyes, and to 
which scripture itself often directs 
our study, a prospect beyond all 
others most excellently calculated to 
enlarge the soul, and ennoble its con^ 
ceptions ; to give the grandest ap- 
prehensions of the everlasting God, 
and create sentiments of becoming 
superiority, with relation to all tran- 
sitory interests; in a word, to furnish 
faith with the surest foundation for 
a holy afiiance and true magnani- 
mity of spirit, to afford piety the 
strongest motives, both for a lively 
gratitude, and profound veneration. 

While Galileo lifts his tube, and 
discovers the prodigious magnitude 
of those radiant orbs ; while Newton 
measures their amazing distances, 
and unites the whole system in har- 
monious order by the subtile influ- 
ences of attraction ; I would only, 
like the herald before that illustrious 
Hebrew, (Gen. xli. 43.) proclaim at 
every tura, " Bow the knee, and 
adore the Almighty Maker, magnify 
his eternal name, and make his praise 
like all his works, to be glorious. 



CONTEMPLATIONS 

ON THE 

NIGHT. 



The business of tlie day dispatched, and the 
sultry heats abated, invited me to the re- 
creation of a walk, a walk in one of the fin- 
est recesses of the country, and-in one of 
the most pleasant evenings which the sum- 
nner season produced. 

The limes and elms, nniting their branches 
over my head, formed a verdant canopy, and 
cast a most refreshing shade. Under my 
feet lay a carpet of nature's velvet ; grass 
intermingled with moss, and embroidered 
with flowers. Jessamines, in conjunction 
with woodbines, twined around the trees ; 
displaying their artless beauties to the eye, 
and diffusing their delicious sweets through 
the air. On either side, the boughs, roimd- 
ed into a set of regular arches, opened a 
view into the distant fields, and presented 
me with a prospect of the bending skies. 
The little birds, all joyous and grateful for 
the favours of the light, were paying their 
acknowledgments in a tribute of harmony, 
and soothing themselves to rest with songs, 
while a f>ench horn from a neighbouring 
seat, sent its melodious accents, softened by 
the length of their passage, to complete the 
<;oncert of the grove. 

Roving in this agi-eeable manner, my 
thoughts were exercised on a subject still 
more agreeable than the season, or the 
scene, I mean our late signal victory over 
the united forces of intestine treason, and 
foreign invasion, a victory which pours joy 
tlirough the present age, and will transmit 

its influence to generations yet unborn 

Are not all the blessings Avhich c/m endear 
society, or render life itself desirable, cen- 
tered in our present happy constitution, and 
auspicious government ? Were they not all 
«tnick at by that impious and borrid blow. 



meditated at Rome, levelled by France, and 
seconded by factious spirits at home ? Who 
then can be sufl&ciently thankful for the gra- 
cious interposition of Providence, which 
has not only averted the impending ruin, 
but turned it, with aggravated confusion, on 
the authors of our troubles. 

Methinks, every thing valuable which I 
possess ; every thing charming which I be- 
hold, conspire to enhance this ever-memor- 
able event. To this it is owing that I can 
ramble unmolested along the vale of private 
life, and taste all the innocent satisfactions 
of a contemplative retirement — Had rebel- 
lion* succeeded in her detestable designs ; 
instead of walking with security and com- 
placence in these flowery paths, I might 
have met the assassin with his dagger, or 
have been obliged to abandon my habita- 
tion, and " embrace the rock for a shelter." 
— Farewell then, ye fragrant shades ; seats 
of meditation and calm repose! I should 
have been driven from yoiu: loved retreats, 
to make way for some barbarous, some in- 
sulting victor. Farewell then, ye pleasing 
toils, and wholesome amusements of my ru- 
ral hours ! I should no more have reared 
the tender flower to the sun ; no more have 
taught the espalier to expand her boughs ; 
nor have fetched any longer from my kit- 
chen-garden the purest supplies of health. 

Had rebellion succeeded in her detesta- 
ble designs, instead of being regaled with 
the music of the woods, I might have been 



♦ Referring to the rebellion set on foot in the 
year 1745, which for several months made a very- 
alarming progress in the North ; — but was happily 
extinguished by the glorious and decisive victory as 
Cidlodeno 



?2 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



alarmed with the sound of the trumpet, and 
all the thunder of war. Instead of being 
entiertained \^ath this beautiful landscape, I 
might have beheld our houses ransacked, 
and our villages plundered : I might have 
beheld oiu- fenced cities encompassed with 
armies, and our fruitful fields " clothed with 
desolation :" or have been shocked with the 
more frightful images of garments rolled in 
blood," and of a ruffian's blade reeking from 
a brother's heart. Instead of peace, w^ith 
her cheering olives, sheltering our abodes ; 
instead of justice, with her impartial scale, 
securing our goods ; persecution had brand- 
ished her sword, and slavery clanked her 
chains. 

Nor are these miseries imaginary only, 
or the creatures of a groundless panic. 
There are in a neighbouring kingdom, who 
very lately experienced them in all their ri- 
gour.* And if the malignant spirit of Po- 
pery had forced itself into our church ; if 
an abjured pretender had cut his way to our 
throne, we could have no reason to expect 
a mitigation of their severity on our be- 
half. But supposing the tender mercies of 
a bigoted usurper to have been somewhat 
less cruel ; where, alas ! would have been 
the encouragement to cultivate our little 
portion ; or what pleasure could arise from 
an improved spot ; if both the one and the 
other lay every moment at the mercy of 
lawless power ? This imbittering circum- 
stance would spoil their relish ; and by ren- 
dering them a precarious, would render 
them a joyless acquisition. In xain might 
the vine spread her purple clusters, in vain 
be lavish of her generous juices, if tyranny, 
like a ravenous harpy, should be always ho- 
vering over the bowl, and ready to snatch it 
from the lip of industry, or wrest it from 
the hand of liberty. 

Liberty ! that dearest of names ; and pro- 
perty ! that best of charters ; give an addi- 
tional, an inexpressible charm to every de- 
lightful object. See how the declining sun 
has beautified the western clouds ; has ar- 
rayed them in crimson, and skirted them 
with gold. Such a refinement of our do- 
mestic bliss is property, such an improve- 
ment of our public privileges is liberty 

When the lamp of day shall entirely with- 
draw his beams, there will still remain the 
same collection of floating vapours ; but O ! 
how changed, how gloomy ! The carnation- 
streaks are faded ; the golden edges are 
worn away ; and all the lovely tinges are 
lost in a leaden-coloured louring sadness. 



» See a Pamphlet entitled Popery alv/ays the same, 
•whi contains a narrative of the persecutions ancl 
severe hard hips lately suffered by the protestants in 
the southern parts of France ; ana closes v/ith a most 
seasonable, slarming, scd spirited address to the in- 
habitants of Great Britain. Printed 1746. 



Such would be the aspect of all these scenes 
of beauty, and all these abodes of pleasure, 
if exposed continually to the caprice of ar- 
bitrary sway, or held in a state of abject 
and cringing dependence. 

The sun has almost finished his daily 
race, and hastens to the goal. He des- 
cends lower and lower, till his chariot- 
wheels seem to hover on the utmost verge 
of the sky. What is somewhat remarkable, 
the orb of light upon the point of setting, 
grows considerably broader. The shadows 
of objects, just before they become blended 
in undistinguishable darkness, are exceed- 
ingly lengthened*.-— Like blessings little 
prized while possessed ; but highly esteem- 
ed, the very instant they are preparing for 
their flight ; bitterly regretted when once 
they are gone, and to be seen no more. 

The radiant globe is now half immersed 
beneath the dusky earth, or as the ancient 
poet speaks, is shooting into the ocean, 

and sinks in the western sea And could 

I view the sea at this jimcture, it would 
yield a most amusing and cm-ious spectacle. 
The rays, striking horizontally on the liquid 
element, give it the appearance of floating 
glass ; or reflected in many a different di- 
rection, form a beautiful multiplicity of 
colours. A stranger, as he walks along the 
sandy beach, and lost in pensive attention, 
listens to the murmurings of the restless 
flood, is agreeably alarmed by the gay decor- 
ations of the surface. With entertainment 
and with wonder, he sees the curling waves, 
here glistering with white, there glowing 
with purple ; in one place wearing an azure 
tincture, in another glancing a cast of un- 
dulating green ; in the whole, exhibiting a 
piece of fluid scenery, that may vie with yon- 
der pensile tapestries, though wrought in 
the loom, and tinged with the dyes of 
heaven. 

While I am transported by fancy to the 
shores of the ocean, the great luminary is i 
sunk beneath the horizon, and totally disr . 
appears. The whole face of the ground is 
overspread with shades ; or, with what one 
of the finest painters of nature calls a dun 
obscurity. Only a few very superior emin- 
ences are tipt with streaming silver. The 
tops of groves and lofty towers catch the 
last smiles of day ;f are still irradiated by 
the departing beams. — But O ! how tran- 
sient is the distinction ! how momentary 
the gift : Like all the blessings which mor- 
tals enjoy below, it is gone almost as soon 
as granted. See how languishingly it tremr 



* Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae. — 

Firg, 

t See this remarkable appearance delicately des- 
cribed ; and wrought into a comparison, which in 
my opinion is one of the most juat, beautiful, and no- 
ble pieces of imagery to be found in modem poetry; 
Night Thoughts^ No. II. p. 42. 4to. edition. 



ON THE NIGHT. 



73 



bles on the leafy spire, and glimmers Avith 
e dying faintness, on the mountain's brow. 
The little ^dvacity that remains, decays 
every moment. It can no longer hold its 
station. While I speak, it expires, and re- 
signs the world to the gradual approaches 
of night. 

Now twilight gray 

Has in her sober livery all things clad.* 

Every object a little while ago glared 
with light, but now all appears imder a 
more qualified lustre. The animals har- 
monize with the insensible creation ; and 
what was gay in those, as well as glittering 
in this, gives place to an universal gravity. 
In the meadows all was jocund and sportive ; 
but now the gamesome lambs are grown 
weary of their frolics, and the tired shep- 
herd has imposed silence on his pipe. In 
the branches, all was sprightliness and song, 
but now the lively green is wrapt in the 
descending glooms ; and no tuneful airs are 
heard, only the plaintive stock-dove cooing 
mournfully through the grove. Should I 
now be vain and trifling, the heavens and 
the earth would rebuke my unseasonable le- 
vity. Therefore, be these moments devot- 
ed to thoughts sedate as the closing day, 
solemn as the face of things. And indeed, 
however my social hours are enlivened with 
innocent pleasantry, let every evening, in her 
sable habit, toll the bell to serious consider- 
ation. Nothing can be more proper for a 
person who walks on the borders of eterni- 
ty, and is hasting continually to his final 
audit ; nothing more proper, than daily to 
f-iip away from the circle of amusements, 
and frequently to relinquish the liiu'ry of 
business, in order to consider and adjust 
" the things that belong to his peace." 

Since the sun is departed, from whence 
can it proceed that I am not involved in 
pitchy darkness ? Whence these remainders 
of diminished brightness, which, though 
scarcely forming a refulgence, soften and 
soothe the horrors of night ? I see not the 
shining ruler, yet am cheered with a real 
' though faint communication of his splen- 
dour. Does he remember us in his pro- 
gress through other climes ? does he send a 
detachment of his rays to escort us, during 
his personal absence ? or to cover (if I may 
use the military term) our retreat from the 
scene of action ? Has he bequeathed us a 
dividend of his beams, sufficient to render 
our circumstances easy, and our situation 
agreeable, till sleep pours its soft impres- 
sion on the organs of sense ; till sleep sus- 
j>cncls all the operations of our hands, and 
entirely supersedes any further occasion for 
the light. 

No ; it is ill judged and unreasonable to 



* Milt, Par, Lpst, Book iv. 1. 508. 



ascribe this beneficent conduct to the sun. 
Not unto him, not unto him ; but unto his 
Almighty Maker, we are obliged for this 
pleasant attendant, this valuable legacy. 
The gracious Author of our being has so 
disposed the collection of circumambient 
air, as to make it productive of this fine and 
wonderful effect. The sun-beams, falling 
on the higher parts of the aereal fluid, in- 
stead of passing on in straight lines, are bent 
inwards, and conducted to our sight. Their 
natural course is over-ruled, and they are 
bidden to wheel about, on purpose to fa- 
vour us with a welcome and salutary ^dsit. 
— By which means the blessing of light, 
and the season of business, are considerably 
prolonged ; and what is a very endearing 
circumstance, prolonged most considerably 
when the vehement heats of sunnner in- 
cline the student to postpone his walk till 
the temperate evening prevails ; when the 
important labours of the harvest cdl the 
husbandman abroad before the day is fully 
risen. 

After all the ardours of the sultry day, 
how reviving is this coolness ! This gives 
new verdure to the fading plants, new viva- 
city to the withering flowers, and a more ex^ 
quisite fragrance to their mingled scents. 
By this, the air also receives a new force, 
and is qualified to exert itself \Aath greater 
activity ; qualified to brace our limbs, to 
heave our lungs, and to co-operate \yith a 
brisker impulse in perpetuating the circu- 
lation of our blood. This I might call the 
grand alembic of nature, which distils her 
most sovereign cordial, the refreshing dews. 
Incessant heat would rob us of their benefi- 
cial agency, and oblige them to evaporate 
in imperceptible exhalations. Turbulent 
winds, or even the gentler motions of Au- 
rora's fan, would dissipate the rising vapours, 
and not suffer them to form a coalition. 
But favoured by the stillness, and condens- 
ed by the coolness of the night, they unite 
in pearly drops, and create that finely tem- 
pered humidity, which cheers the vegetable 
world, as sleep exhilarates the animal. 

Not unlike to these are the advantages of 
solitude. The world is a troubled ocean ; 
and who can erect stable purposes on its 
fluctuating waves ? The world is a school 
of wrong ; and who does not feel himself 
warping to its pernicious influence ?* On 
this sea of glass ( Rev. xv. 2. ) how insen- 
sibly we slide from our own steadfastness ! 
Some sacred truth, which was struck in live-^ 
ly characters on our souls, is obscured, if not 
obliterated. Some worthy resolution, which 
heaven had wrought in our breasts, is shak- 



* Nunquam a turba mores, quos extuli, refero. Aii- 
quid ex eo quod composui, turbatur: aliquid, ex his 
quaefugavi redit. Inimica est multoium conveys^- 
tio. — Sense, 



74 



C O N T E MPL A TI O NS 



en, if not overthrown. Some enticing va- 
nity, which we had solemnly renounced, 
again practises its wiles, and again capti- 
vates our affections. How often has an 
wnwary glance kindled a fever of irregular 
desire in our hearts ? How often has a 
word of applause dropt luscious poison into 
our ears ? or some disrespectful expression 
raised a gust of passion in our bosoms ? Our 
innocence is of so tender a constitution, that 
it suffers in the promiscuous crowd. Our 
purity is of so delicate a complexion, that 
it scarce touches on the vrorid without con- 
tracting a stain. We see, we hear, with pe- 
ril. 

But here safety dwells. Eveiy meddling 
and intrusive avocation is secluded. Si- 
lence holds the door against the strife of 
tongues, aiid ail the irapertinencies of idle 
conversation. The busy swarm of vain 
images, and cajoling temptations, which be- 
set us, with a buzzing importunity, amidst 
the gaieties of life, are chased by these 
thickening shades. Here I may without 
disturbance commune with my own heart, 
and learn that best of sciences, to know my- 
self. Here the soul may rally her dissipat- 
ed powers, and grace recover its native ener- 
gy. This is the opportunity to rectify eve- 
ry evil impression, to expel the poison, and 
guard against the contagion of corrupting 
examples. This is the place where I may 
with advantage apply myself to subdue the 
rebel within, and be master, not of a scep- 
tre, but of myself. Throng, then, ye am- 
bitious, the levees of the powerful : I will 
be punctual in my assignations with soli- 
tude. To a mind intent upon its own im- 
provement, solitude has charms incompara- 
bly more engaging than the entertainments 
presented in the theatre, or the honours 
conferred in the drawing-room. 

I said solitude. — Am I then alone ? — 
It is true, my acquaintance are at a distance. 
I have stolen av/ay from company, and am 
remote from all human observation. But 
that is an alarming thought, 

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth 
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep. *- 

Perhaps there may be numbers of those 
invisible beings patrolling this same retreat, 
and joining with me in contemplating the 
Creator's works. Perhaps those minister- 
ing spirits who rejoice at the conversion 
of a sinner, and hold up the goings of the 
righteous, may follow us to the lonely re- 
cess ; and even in our most solitary mo- 
ments, be constant attendants. What a 
pleasing awe is aw^akened by such a reflec- 
tion ! How venerable it renders my retired 
walks ! I am struck with reverence, as un- 
der the roof of some sacred edifice, or in 



^ Milt. Par. Lost, Book iv, ). 677. 



the presence-chamber of some mighty mon- 
arch. O ! may I never bring any pride of 
imagination, nor indulge the least dissolute, 
affection, where such refined and exalted in- 
telligences exercise their watch ! 

It is possible that I am encompassed with 
such a cloud of witnesses ; but it is certain 
that God, the infinite eternal God, is now 
a,nd ever with me. The great Jehovah, 
before whom all the angelic armies bow 
their heads and veil their faces, surrounds 
me, supports me, pervades me. " In him 
I live, move, and have my being." The 
whole world is his august temple, and in 
the most sequestered corner I appear be- 
fore his adorable Majesty, no less than when 
I worship in his house, or kneel at his al- 
tar. In every place, therefore, let me pay 
him the homage of a heart cleansed from 
idols and devoted to his service. In every 
circumstance, let me feel no ambition, but 
to please him, nor covet any happiness, but 
to enjoy him. 

How sublime is the description, and how 
striking the sentiment, in that noble pas- 
sage of the Psalms : Whither shall I go 
from thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from 
thy presence ? If I climb up into the 
heights of heaven thou art there enthroned 
in light. If I go down to the depths of the 
grave, thou art there also in thy pavilion of 
darkness. If I retire to the remotest eas- 
tern climes, where the morning first takes 
wings ; if, swifter than the darting ray, I 
pass to the opposite regions of the west, 
and rempin in the uttermost parts of the 
sea ;* shall I in that distant situation be 
beyond thy reach, or by this sudden transi- 
tion escape thy notice ? So far from it, that 
could I, with one glance of thought, trans- 
port myself beyond all the bounds of crea- 
tion, I should still be encircled with the 
immensity of thy essence, or rather still be 
enclosed in the hollow of thy hand. Aw- 
ful, yet delightful truth ! let it be interwo- 
ven with every thought, and become one 
with the very consciousness of my exis- 
tence ; that I may continually walk with 
God, and conduct myself in every step of 
my behaviour, " as seeing Him that is in- 
visible." 

They are the happy persons ; felicity, true 
felicity, is all their own, who live under an 
habitual sense of God's omnipresence, and 
a sweet persuasion of his special love. If 
dangers threaten, their impregnable defence 
is at hand. Nothing can be so near to ter- 
rify, as their almighty Guardian to secure 



* Psalm cxxxix. 7—9. There is, I think an addi- 
tional strength and beauty in the thought, if , with 
the learned Mr. Mudge, we suppose an antithesis be- 
tween the two clauses of the last verse, as there evi- 
dently is between those of the preceding, and that 
they express, in a poetical style, the extremities of the 
east and the west. 



ON THE NIGHT. 



75 



them. To these, the hours can never be 
tedious ; and it is impossible for them to be 
alone. Do they step aside from the occu- 
pations of animal life ? A more exalted set 
of employments engage their attention. 
They address themselves in all their various 
acts of devotion, to their heavenly Father ; 
who now sees in secret, and will hereafter 
reward them openly. They spread all their 
wants before his indulgent eye, and disbur- 
den all their sorrows into his compassionate 
bosom. Do they withdraw from human so- 
ciety ? They find themselves under the more 
immediate regards of their Maker. If they 
resign the satisfactions of social intercourse, 
it is to cultivate a correspondence with the 
condescending Deity, and taste the plea- 
sures of divine friendship. What is such a 
state but the veiy suburbs of heaven ! "What 
is such a conduct, but an antepast of eter- 
nal blessedness ! 

Now, my soul, the day is ended. The hours 
are all fled. They are fled to the supreme 
Judge, and have given in their evidence ; an 
evidence registered in heaven, and to be pro- 
duced at the great audit. Happy they whose 
improvement has kept pace with the fleeting 
minutes, who have seized the important fu- 
^tives, and engaged them in the pursuit of 
wisdom, or devoted them to the service of 
virtue. 

Fugitives indeed they are. Our moments 
slip away silently and insensibly. The thief 
steals notTOore unperceived from the pillaged 
house ; so that the day seems to be closed 
almost as soon as it dawned — And will 
the runagates never stop ? No ; wherever 
we are, however employed, time pursues his 
incessant course. Though we are listless 
and dilatory, the great measurer of our days 
presses on ; still presses on in his unwear- 
ied career,* and whirls our weeks, and 
months, and years away. Is it not then 
surprisingly strange, to hear people complain 
of the tediousness of their time, and how 
heavy it hangs upon their hands ? to see 
them contrive a variety of amusing artifices, 
to accelerate its flight, and get rid of its 
burden ! Ah ! thoughtless mortals ! Why 
need you urge the headlong torrent ? Your 
days are swifter than a post, which, carry- 
ing dispatches of the last importance, with 
unremitted speed scours the road. They 
pass away like the nimble ships, which 
have the wind in their wings, and skim 
along the watery plain. They hasten to 
their destined period with the rapidity of 
an eagle ; which leaves the stormy blasts 
behind her, while she cleaves the air, and 
darts upon her prey.f 



* Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus. — Virg: 
t Job ix. 25, 26. By these three very expressive 
images, the inspired poet represents the unintennit- 
ted and rapid liight of time. The passage is illus- 
trated witn great judgment and equal delicacy, in 



Now the day is gone, how short it ap- 
pears ! When my fond eye beheld it in per- 
spective, it seemed a very considerable 
space. Minutes crowded upon minutes, 
and hours ranged behind hours, exhibited 
an extensive draught, and flattered me with 
a long progression of pleasures. But, upon 
a retrospective view, how wonderfully is 
the scene altered ! the landscape, large and 
spacious, which a warm fancy drew, brought 
to the test of cool experience, shrinks into 
a span. Just as the shores vanish, and 
mountains dwindle to a spot, when the sail- 
or, surrounded by skies and ocean, throws 
his last look on his native land. How 
clearly do I now disc-over the cheat ! May 
it never impose upon my unwary imagina- 
tion again ! I find there is nothing abiding 
on this side eternity. A long duration in 
a state of finite existence is mere illusion. 

Perhaps the healthy and the gay may 
not readily credit the serious truth ; espe- 
cially from a yoimg pen, and new to its 
employ. Let us then refer ourselves to 
the decision of the ancient. Ask some 
venerable old person, who is just marching 
off the mortal stage, how many have been 
the days of the years of thy life ? (Gen. 
xlvii. 8. Heb. Bib.) It was a monarch's 
question, and therelbre can want no recom- 
mendation to the fashionable world. Ob- 
serve how he shakes his hoary locks, and 
from a deep-felt conviction replies, " Four- 
score years have finished their rounds, to 
furrow these cheeks, and clothe this head in 
snow." Such a term may seem long and 
large to inconsiderate youth ; but, oh ! 
how short, how scanty, to one that has 
made the experimenl ! Short as a gleam of 
transient sun-shine ; scanty " as the sha- 
dow that departeth." IMethinks, it was 
but yesterday that I exchanged my childish 
sports for manly exercises ; and now I am 
resigning them both for the sleep of death. 
As soon as we are born, we begin to draw 
to our end ; and how small is the interval 
between the cradle and the tomb ! Oh, may 
we believe this testimony of mature age ! 
May every evening bring it with clearer 
evidence to our minds. And may we 
form such an estimate of the little pittance 
while it is upon the advancing hand, as Ave 
shall certainly make when the sands are aU 
rim down. 

Let me add one reflection on the work 
to be done, while this shuttle is flying 
through the loom;* a work of no small 



Dr. Gray's most ingenious abridgment of Schultens. 
Quae tribus in elementis velocissima, hie admirabili 
cum eraphasi congeruntur. In terris, nil pernicius 
cursore, et quidem laeti quid ferente. R?.pidius ta- 
men adhuc undas, non secant sed supervolant, navia- 
lo papyro contexta. Omnium rapidissime aerem 
grandilius alias permetitur aquila, prae'cipiti lapsu 
mens in pr. 

* My days are swifter than a weaver's shutlle, Job 
vii. G. 



76 



C O N T E M P L A T I O N S 



difliciilty, y-et of the utmost consequence. 
Hast thou not seen, hast thou not known 
the excellent of the earth, who were living 
images of their Maker ? His divine likeness 
Was transfused into their heaits, aJid beamed 
forth in all their conduct ; beamed forth in 
meekness of wisdom and purity of affection ; 
in all the tender offices of love, and all the 
inoble efforts of zeal. To be stamped with 
the same beautiful signature, and to be 
followers of them as they were of Christ ; 
this, this is thy business : On the accom- 
plishment of this, thy eternal all depends. 
And will an affair of such unspeakable 
weight admit of a njoment's delay, or con- 
sist with the least remissness ; especially 
since much of thy appointed time is already 
elapsed, and the remainder is all uncertain- 
ty, save only that it is in the very act to fly ? 
Or, suppose thou hast made a covenant with 
the grave, and wast assured of reaching the 
age of Methuselah, how soon would even 
such a lease expire ! ICxtend it if you 
please still further, and let it be co-exis- 
tent with nature itself. How inconsidera- 
ble is the addition ; for, yet a very little 
while, and the commissioned archangel lifts 
lip his hand to heaven, and swears by the 
almighty name, that time shall be no lon- 
ger.* Then, abused opportunities will 
never return, and new opportunities will 
never more be offered. Then should negli- 



* This alludes to the beginning of Revelations, ch^p. 
10 ; which abstracted from its spiritual meaning, and 
considered only as a stately piece of machinery, well 
deserves our attention ; and I will venture to say has 
not its superior, perhaps not its equnl in any of the 
most celebrated masters of Greece and Rome.— All 
that is gloomy or beautiful in the atmosphere, all 
that is striking or magnificent in every element, is 
taken to heighten the idea. Yet nothing is dispro- 
portionate, but an uniform air of ineifable majesty, 
greatens, exalts, and ennoble* the whole. Be ple.ased 
to observe the aspect of this august personage ; all the 
brightness of the sun shines in his countenance, and 
all the rage of the fire burns in his feet. See his ap- 
parel ; the clouds compose his robe, and the drapery 
of the sky floats upon his shoulders ; the rainbow 
forms his diadem, and that which "compasseth the 
heaven with a glorious circle," is the ornament of his 
head. Behold his attitude ; one foot stands on the 
ocean, the other rests on the land. The wide ex- 
tended earth and the world of waters, serve as pedes- 
tals for those mighty columns. Consider the action ; 
his hand is lifted up to the height of the stars. He 
speaks, and the regions of the firmament echo with 
the mighty accents, as the midnight desert resound? 
■with the lion's roar. The artillery of the skies is dis- 
charged at tlie signal ; a peal of "sevenfold thunders 
S|>reads the alarm, and prepares the universe to receive 
liis orders. To finish all, and give the highest gran- 
deur, as well as the utmost solemnity to the represen- 
tation, hear the decree that issues from his mouth. 
He swears by Him that liveth for ever and ever. In 
whatever manner so majestic a person had expressed 
himself, he courd not fail of commanding universal 
attention. But when he confirms his speech by a 
most sacred and inviolable oath, we are not only 
wrapt up in sileat suspense, but overwhelmed with 
-the profoundest awe. He swears that time shall be 
no longer ! Was ever voice so full of terror ; so big 
with wonder ! It proclaims not the fall of empires, but 
the final period of things. It strikes olf the wheels of 
nature; bids ages and generations cease to roll ; and, 
with one potent word consigns a whole world over to 
iiissohition. This is one among a multitude of very 
sublime and masterly strokes to be found in that too 
tHuch neglected book, the Bible. 



gent mortals wish, wish ever so passionate- 
ly for a few hours, a few moments only, to 
be thrown back from the opening eternity, 
thousands of worlds would not be able to 
procure the grant. 

Shall I now be industrious to shorten 
what is no longer than a span, or to quick- 
en the pace of what is ever on the wing ? 
Shall I squander away what is unutterably 
important while it lasts, and when once de- 
parted, is altogether irrevocable ? O ! my 
soul forbear the folly, forbear the desperate 
extravagance. Wilt thou chide as a loiter- 
er the arrow that boundeth from the string, 
or sweep away diamonds, as the refuse of 
thy house ? Throw time away ! astonishing, 
ruinous, irreparable profuseness ! Throw 
empires awaj, and be blameless ; but, O ! be 
parsimonious of thy days ; husband thy pre- 
cious hours. They go connected, indissolu- 
bly connected, with heaven or hell. * Im- 
proved, they are a siue pledge of everlasting 
glory; wasted, they are a sad preface to 
never ending confusion and anguish. 

What a profound silence has cornposei 
the world ! So profound is the silence., that 
my very breath seems a noise ; the ticking 
of my watch is distinctly heard ; if I do but 
stir, it creates a disturbance. There is now 
none of that confused din from the tumid- 
tuous city ; no voice of jovial rustics from 
the neighbouring meadow ; no chirping me- 
lody from the shady thicket. Every lip iS: 
sealed ; not the least whisper invades the 
air ; nor the least motion rustles among the 
boughs. Echo herself sleeps unmolested. 
The expanded ear, though all attention, 
catches no sound but the liquid lapse of a 
distant murmuring stream. 

All things are hush'd, as nature's self lay dead. 

If, in the midst of this deep and universal 
composure, ten thousand bellowing thunders 
should burst over my head, and rend the 
skies with their united vollies, how should 
I bear so unexpected a shock ? It would 
stun my senses, and confound my thoughts. 
I shoidd shudder in every limb, perhaps 
sink to the earth with terror. Consider 
then, O mortals ! consider the much more 
prodigious and amazing call which will ere 
long alarm your sleep'ing bones. When the 
tenants of the tomb have slumbered in the 
most imdisturbed repose, for a midtitude of 



« I remember to have seen upon a sun-dial in a 
physician's garden at Northampton, the following iiv 
scription, which, I think, is the most proper motto 
for the instrument that measures our time, and the 
most striking admonition which can possibly be prcr 
sented to every eye that glances upon it; ab hoc mo- 
mento pe)idet etet-nitas. The weighty sense of which 
I know not how to express in English more happily 
than in those words of Dr. Watts : 

Good God ! on what a slender thread 
( Or, on what a moment of lime) 

Hang everlasting things ! 



ON THE NIGHT. 



77 



ages ; wli'at an inconceivable constemalion 
must the shout of the archangel, and the 
trump of God occasion ! will it not wound the 
ear of the ungodly, and affright even to dis- 
traction, the impenitent sinner? The stupen- 
dous peal will sound through the vast expanse 
of heaven, will shake the foimdations of na- 
ture, and pierce even the deepest recesses of 
the grave. And how, O ! how will the pri- 
soners of divine justice be able to endure 
that tremendous summons to a far more 
tremendous tribunal ? Do thou, my soul, 
listen to the stiU voice of the gospel. At- 
tend in this thy day, to the gracious invita- 
tions of thy Saviour. Then shall that 
great midnight cry lose its hon'or, and be 
music in thy ears. It shall be welcome to 
thy reviving clay, as the tidings of liberty to 
the dungeon captive, as the year of Jubilee 
to the harassed slave. This, this shall be 
its charming import, " Awake and sing, ye 
that dwell in the dust." (Isa. xxvi. 19.) 

Wbat a general cessation of affairs has 
this dusky hour introduced! A little while 
ago, all was hurry, hurry ; life and activity 
exerted themselves in a thousand busy 
forms ; the city swarmed with passing and 
repassing multitudes ; all the country was 
sweat and dust ; the air floated in peq)etual 
agitation, by the flitting birds, and humming 
bees. Art sat prying with her piercing 
eyes, while industry plied her restless hands. 
But see how all this fervent and impetuous 
bustle is fled with the setting sun. The 
beasts are sunk to their grassy couch ; and 
the winged people are retired to their downy 
nests. The hammer has resigned its sound- 
ing task, and the file ceases to repeat its fly- 
ing touches. Shut is the well frequented 
shop, and its threshold no longer worn by 
the feet of numerous customers. The vil- 
lage swain lies drowned in slumbers ; and 
even his trusty dog, who for a considerable 
time stood sentry at the door, is extended 
at his ease, and snores with his master. In 
every place, toil reclines her head, and ap- 
plication folds her arms. All interests 
seem to be forgot ; all pursuits are suspend- 
ed J aU employment is sunk away — sunk 
away with those fluttering myriads which 
lately sported in the sun's departing rays. 
It is like the Sabbath of universal nature, 
or as though the pulse of life stood still. 

Thus will it be with our infinitely mo- 
mentous concerns, when once the shadows 
of the evening (that long evening which 
follows the footsteps of death) are stretch- 
ed over us. The dead cannot seek unto 
God ; the living, the living alone, are pos- 
sessed of this inestimable opportunity, 



* Behold ! now is the accepted time. Behold ! now 
is the day of salvation. 2 Cor. vi. 2. 

Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he's at the door. 
Insidious death ! Should his strong hand arrest, 
No composition sets the prisoner free. 



" There is no work or device, no repentance 
or amendment, in the grave,* whither wc 
are all hasting." When once that closing 
scene is advanced, we shall have no other 
part to act on this earthly theatre. Then 
the sluggard, who has slumbered av/ay life 
in a criminal inactivity, must lie down in 
hopeless distress and everlasting son-ow. 
Then that awful doom ^vill take place j 
" He that is holy, let him be holy still ; 
and he that is filthy, let him be filthy for 
ever. 

Is it so, my soul ? Is this the only, only 
time allotted for obtaining the gi-eat reward, 
and making thy salvation sure ? and art 
thou lulled in a vain security, or dreaming 
in a supine inadvertency? Start, O ! start 
from thy trance. Gird up the loins of thy 
mind, and work while it is day. Improve 
the present seed-time, that eternity may 
yield a joyful harvest — We especially, who 
are watchmen in Israel, and ministers of the 
glorious gospel ; may we be awakened, by 
this consideration, to all assiduity in our 
holy office ! Some or other of our people 
are ever and anon departing into the invisi- 
ble state ; all our friends are making inces- 
sant approaches to their long home ; and 
we ourselves shall veiy shortly be transmit- 
ted to the confinement of the tomb. Thig 
is the favourable juncture wherein alone 
we can contribute to their endless welfare. 
This is the crisis, the all-important crisis 
of their final felicity. Instantly, therefore, 
let us pour in our wholesome instructions ; 
instantly let us ply them with our earnest 
exhortations. A moment's delay may be 
an irreparable loss ; may be irretrievable 
ruin. While we procrastinate a fatal 
stroke may intervene, and place us beyond 
the power of administering, or place them 
beyond all possibility of receiving, any spi- 
ritual good.f 



* They who are gone down to the grave are repre- 
sented, Isa. xxxviii. 11, by the phrase, rendered by 
Vitringa, those that inhabit the land of intennissiun 
or cessation; which prevents all appearance of tau- 
tology in the sentence ; and is, I think, a valuable im- 
provement of the translation, as it conveys an idea not 
only distinct from the preceding, but of a very poe- 
tical and very afflicting nature ; such as was perfectly 
natural for tlae royal singer and royal sufferer to dwell 
upon in his desponding moments. Thus interpreted* 
the sense will run; "I shall see man no more; I 
shall be cut off from the cheerful ways of men, and 
all the sweets of human society ; and, what is a fur- 
ther aggravation of the threatened stroke, I shall, by 
its taking place, be numbered with those that inherit 
the land of cessation and inactivity ; where there will 
be no more possibility of contributing to the happi- 
ness of my kingdom ; no more opportunity of ad- 
vancing my Creator's glory, or of making my own 
final salvation sure." A sentiment like this is grand, 
important, and full of benevolence ; removes all sus- 
picion of unbecoming pusillanimity, and does the 
highest honour to the monarch's character. 

t The case represented by the prophet (1 Kings 
XX. 40.) seems perfectly applicable on this occasion. 
As thy servant was busy here and there, he was gone. 
So, while we are either remiss in our function, or 
laying ourselves out upon inferior cares, the people 
of our charge may be gone ;— gone beyond the influ- 
ence of our counsels ; beyond the reach of our pray- 
ers ; gone into the unchangeable and eternal state. 



78 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



How frequently is tlie face of nature 
changed ; and by changing made more 
agreeable ! The long continued glitter of 
the day renders the soothing shades of the 
evening doubly welcome. Nor does the 
morn ever purple the east with so engaging 
a lustre, as after the gloom of a dark and 
dismal night. At present a calm of tran- 
quillity is spread through the universe. 
The weary winds have forgot to blow. 
The gentle gales have fanned themselves 
asleep. Not so much as a single leaf nods. 
Even the quivering aspen rests. And not 
one breath curls over the stream. Some- 
times, on the contrary, the tempest sum- 
mons all the forces of the air, and pours it- 
self with resistless fury from the angry 
north. The whole atmosphere is tossed 
into tumultuous confusion, and the watery 
world is heaved to the clouds. The as- 
tonished mariner, and his straining vessel, 
now scale the rolling mountain, and hang 
dreadfully Adsible on the broken surge ; 
now shoot with headlong impetuosity into 
the yawning gulf, and neither hulk nor 
mast is seen. The storm sweeps over the 
continent ; raves along the city streets ; 
struggles through the forest boughs ; and 
terrifies the savage nations with a howl 
more wildly horrid than their own. The 
knotty oaks bend before the blast ; their 
iron trunks groan, and their stubborn limbs 
are dashed to the ground. The lofty dome 
rocks ; and even the solid tower totters on 
its basis. 

Such variations are kindly contrived, 
and with an evident condescension to the 
fickleness of our taste. Because a perpe- 
tual repetition of the same objects would 
create satiety and disgust ; therefore the 
indulgent Father of om race has diversified 
the universal scene, and bid every appear- 
ance bring with it the charm of novelty. 
This circumstance is beneficial, as well as 
entertaining. Providence, ever gracious to 
mortals, ever intent upon promoting our 
felicity, has taken care to mingle, in the 
constitution of things, what is pleasing to 
our imagination with what is serviceable to 
our interests. The piercing winds, and 
rugged aspect of winter, render the balmy 
gales and flowery scenes of spring peculiar- 
ly delightful. At the same time, the keen 
frosts mellow the soil, and prepare it for 
the hand of industry. The rushing rains 
impregnate the glebe, and fit it to become 
the magazine of plenty. The earth is a 
great laboratory ; and December's cold col- 
lects the gross materials, which are subli- 
mated by the refining warmth of May. 
The air is a pure elastic fluid ; and were it 
always to remain in this motionless seren- 
ity, it would lose much of its active spring : 
were it never agitated by those wholesome 
concussions, it would contract a noisome, 



perhaps a pestikntial taint. In which 
cases, our respiration, instead of purifying, 
would corrupt the vital juices ; instead of 
supplying us with refreshment, would be a 
source of diseases ; or every gasp we drew 
might be unavoidable death.* How 'then 
should we admire, how should we adore, 
that happy union of benignity and wisdom, 
which, from a variety of dispensations, pro- 
duces an iiniformity of good ! produces a 
perpetual succession of delights, and an 
uninterrupted series of advantages. 

The darkness is now at its height ; and 
I cannot but admire the obliging manner 
of its taking place. It comes, not ' with a 
blunt and abrupt incivility, but makes gen- 
tle and respectful advances. A precipitate 
transition from the splendours of day to aU 
the horrors of midnight would be inconve- 
nient and frightful. It would bewilder the 
traveller in his journey ; it would strike the 
creation with amazement ; and perhaps be 
pernicious to the organs of sight. There- 
fore the gloom rushes not upon us instan- 
taneously, but increases by slow degrees ; 
and sending twdlight before as its harbinger, 
decently advertises us of its approach. By 
this means we are neither alarmed nor in- 
commoded by the change ; but are able to 
take all suitable and timely measures for its 
reception. Thus graciously has Provi- 
dence regulated, not only the grand vicissi- 
tudes of the seasons, but also the common 
interchanges of light and darkness, vnth an 
apparent reference to our comfort. 

Now, the fierce inhabitants of the forest 
forsake their dens. A thousand grim forms, 
a thousand growling monsters pace the de- 
sert. Death is in their jaws, while, stung 
with hunger and athirst for blood, they 
roam their nightly rounds. Unfortunate 
the traveller who is overtaken by the night 
in those dismal wilds ! how must he stand 
aghast at the mingled yell of ravenous 
throats, and lions roaring after their prey ! 
Defend him, propitious heaven ! or else he 
must see his endearing spouse, and hail his 
native home no more ! — Now the prowling 



* Considering the Immense quantity of coals, and 
other combustible materials which are daily consum- 
ed, and evaporate into the air ; considering the 
numberless streams, and clouds of smoke, which al- 
most continually overwhelm populous cities; the 
noisome exhalations which arise from thronged in- 
firmaries and loathsome jails, from stagnating lakes 
and putrid fens; the variety of offensive and un- 
wholesome efRuvia, which proceed from other 
causes : it is a very remarkable instance of a Provi- 
dence at once tenderly kind and infinitely powerful, 
that mankind is not suffocated with stench, that the 
air is not choked with filth. The air is the common 
sewer into which ten thousand times ten thousand 
nuisances are incessantly discj|arged; yet it is pre- 
served so thoroughly clear, as to afford the most 
transparent medium for vision ; so delicately undu- 
latory, as to transmit, with all imaginable distinct- 
ness, every diversity of sound ; so perfectly pure, as 
to be the constant refiner of the fluids in every ani- 
mal that breathes. 



ON THE 

wolf, like a mui-dei'ous ruffian, dogs the 
shepherd's footsteps, and besets his bleat- 
ing charge. The fox, like a crafty felon, 
steals to the thatched cottage, and carries 
off the feathered booty. 

Happy for the world, were these the only 
destroyers that walk in darkness. But, 
alas ! there are savages in human shape, 
who, muffled in shades, infest the abodes of 
civilized life. The sons of violence make 
choice of this season* to perpetrate the most 
outrageous acts of wrong and robbery. 
The adulterer waiteth for the twilight ; 
and, baser than the villain on the highway, 
betrays the honour of his bosom friend. 
Now faction forms her close cabals, and 
whispers her traiterous insinuations. Now 
rebellion plans her accursed plots, and pre- 
pares the train to blow a nation into ruin. 
Now crimes, which hide their odious heads 
in the day, haunt the seats of society, and 
stalk through the gloom with audacious 
front. Now the vermin of the stews crawl 
from their lurking-holes to wallow in sin, 
and spread contagion through the night. 
Each soothing himself with the fond no- 
tion, that all is safe, that no eye sees. 

Are they then concealed ? Preposterous 
madmen ! to draw the curtain between 
their infamous practices and a little set of 
mortals, but lay them open to all these 
chaste and wakeful eyes of heaven !f as 
though the moon and stars were made to 
light men to their revels, and not to God. 
Are they then concealed ? No, truly. Was 
every one of these vigilant luminaries clos- 
ed, an eye keener than the lightning's flash, 
an eye brighter than ten thousand suns, 
beholds their every motion. Their thick- 
est shades are beaming dayj: to the jealous 
Inspector and supreme Judge of human 
actions. Deluded creatures ! have ye not 
heard, have ye not read, " That clouds and 
darkness are his majestic residence?" (Psa. 
xcvii. 2. In that very gloom to which you 
fly for covert, he erects his throne. What 
you reckon your screen is the bar of his 
tribunal. Oh, remember this ! stand in 
awe and sin not. Remember that the 
great and terrible God is about your path§ 



* When night 

Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons 

Of BeUal, flown with insolence and wine. — Milt. 

t Sed luna videt, sed sidera testes 

Intendent occulus. 
If. This is finely, and very forcibly expressed by the 
Psalmist : " If I say, peradventure the darkness shall 
cover me, then shall my night be turned to day ;" or 
as it may be rendered somewhat more emphatically, 
Even the night shall be broad day-light all around 
me. Psalm cxxxix. 11. 

§ The original words are much stronger than the 
translation ; signifying. Thou siftest my path ; and 
art familiarly or intimately acquainted with all my 
ways. The former, I apprehend, denoting the exact 
cognizance which the Almighty taketh, the latter im- 
plying the constant inspection which he exerciseth, 
over all the circumstances of our conduct. Psalm 
cxxxix. 2. 



NIGHT. 19 

when you take your midnight range ; is 
about your bed, when you indulge the loose 
desire ; and spies out all your ways, be 
they ever so secretly conducted, or art- 
fully disguised. 

Some minutes ago, a passenger crossed 
along the road. His horse's foot struck the 
ground, and fetched fire from a flint. My 
eye, though at a distance, catched the view ; 
and saw with great clearness the transient 
sparkles, of which, had I been ever so near, 
I should not have discerned the least 
glimpse under the blaze of day. * So, when 
sickness has drawn a veil over the gaiety of 
out hearts ; when misfortunes have eclips- 
ed the splendour of our outward circum- 
stances ; how many important convictions 
present themselves with the brightest evi- 
dence ! Under the sunshine of prosperity 
they lay undiscovered ; but, when some in- 
tervening cloud has darkened the scene, they 
emerge from their obscurity, and even glit- 
ter upon our minds. Then the world, that 
delusive cheat, confesses her emptiness ; but 
Jesus, the bright and moniing star, beams 
forth with inimitable lustre. Then vice 
loses all her fallacious allurements ; that 
painted strumpet is horrible as the hags of 
hell; but virtue, despised virtue, gains love- 
liness from a louring providence, and treads 
the shades with more than mortal charms. 
May this reconcile me, and idl the sons of 
sorrow to our appointed share of suffering? 
If tribulation tend to dissipate the inward 
darkness, and pour heavenly day upon our 
minds ; welcome distress, welcome disap- 
pointment, welcome whatever oiu- froward 
flesh, or peevish passions, would miscall ca- 
lamities. These light afflictions which are 
but for a moment, shall sit easy upon our spi- 
rits ; since they befriend oiu' knowledge, 
promote our faith, and so work out for us 
a far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
gloiy.f 



* I beg leave to inform the young gentleman, 
whose name dignifies my Dedication, that this was a 
remark of his honoured father, when we rode toge- 
ther, and conversed in a dusky evening. I mesition 
this circumstance, partly to secure the paragraph from 
contempt ; partly to give him and the world an idea 
of that eminently serious taste which distin,^uished 
my deceased friend. The less obvious the reflection, 
the more clearly it discovers a turn of mind remarka- 
bly spiritual, which would suffer nothing to escape, 
without yielding some religious improvement. The 
meaner the incident, the more admirable was that 
fertility of imagination, which could deduce the su- 
blimest truths from the most trivial occurrences. 

f 2 Cor. iv. 17. The great Stephens, that oracle of 
Grecian learning, translates our apostle's phrase — 
Kdf vTi^SoXhv, Quo nihil magisdici aut fingi po- 
test. But how does the sense rise ! how is the idea 
enlarged, under two such forcible expressions ! The 
whole verse is a master-piece of the beautiful antithe- 
sis, the lively description, and the nervous diction. 
It is one of those exquisite passages in the inspire^ 
\vritings, which, like som_e rich aromatic plants, can- 
not be transferred from their own generous and na- 
tive soil, without being impaired in their vivacity, 
and losing much of their delicacy. Perhaps, the fol- 
lowing version may be somewhat less injurious to the 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



How lias this darkness snatched every 
splended and graceful object from my sight; 
It ha^ dashed the sponge over the pictures 
of spring, and destroyed all the delicate dis- 
tinctions of things. Where are now the 
fine tinges, which so lately charmed me from 
the glowing parterre ? The blush is struck 
out from the cheeks of the rose ; and the 
snowy hue is dropt from the lily. I cast 
my eyes toward a magnificent seat ; but the 
aspiring columns, and fair expanded front, 
are mingled in rude confusion. "Without 
the sun, all the elegance of the blooming 
world, is a mere blank ; all the symmetry of 
architecture is a shapeless heap. 

Is not this an expressive emblem of the 
loveliness which the Sun of Righteousness 
transfuses into all that is amiable ! Was it 
not for Jesus and his merits, I should sigh 
with anguish of spirit, even while I rove 
through ranks of the most beautiful flowers or 
breathe amidst a wilderness of sweets. Was 
it not for Jesus and his merits, I should roam 
like some disconsolate spectre, even through 
the smiles of creation, and the caresses of 
fortune. My conversation in this world, 
though dressed in the most engaging forms 
of external pleasure, woidd be like the pas- 
sage of a condemned malefactor, through 
enamelled meadows and bowers of bliss, to 
be broke upon the wheel, or to expire on 
the rack. But a daily reflection on the 
Lamb's atoning blood ; a comfoi-table trust 
that my soul is reconciled through this di- 
vine expiation ; this is the ray, the golden 
ray, which irradiates the face of the universe. 
This is the oil of beauty, which makes all 
things wear a cheerful aspect ; and the oil of 
gladness, which disposes the spectator to 
behold them with delight.* This, this is 
the sacred charm, which teacheth nature in 
all her prospects, in all her productions, so 
exquisitely to please. 

" Man goeth forth to his work, and to 
his labour, till the evening ;" but then his 
strength fails, his spirits flag, and he stands 
in need, not only of some respite from toU, 
but of some kindly and sovereign refresh- 



sacred original than the common translation : — Our 
•very light affliction, which is but just for the present 
moment, worketh out a far more exceeding, and in- 
comparably great, and eternal weight of glory. 

* Thus applied, that fine piece of flattery, addressed 
to the Heathen emperor, is strictly and literally true. 

Vultus ubi tuus 

Alfulsit populo, gratior et dies, 
Et soles melius nitent. — Horat. 

Which I would cast in a Christian mould, and thus 
translate : 

When faith presents the Saviour's death. 

And whispers" This is thine," 
Sweetly my rising hours advance, 

And peacefully decline. 

V. hile such my views, the radiant sun 

Sheds a more sprightly ray : 
Each object sm.iles; ail nature charms 5 

I sing my cares away. 



ments. What an admirable provision for 
this purpose is sleep ! Sleep introduces a 
most welcome vacation, both for the soul 
and body. The exercises of the brain, and 
the labours of the hands, are at once discon - 
tinued. So that the weary limbs repair 
their exhausted vigour ; while the pensive 
thoughts drop their load of soitows, and 
the busy ones rest from the fatigue of ap- 
plication. Most reviving cordial ! equally 
beneficial to our animal and intellectual 
powers. It supplies the fleshly machine, 
and keeps all its nice movements in a pro- 
per postiu*e for easy play. It animates the 
thinking faculties with fresh alacrity, and 
rekindles their ardour for the studies of the 
dawn. Without these enlivening recruits, 
how soon would the most robust constitu- 
tion be wasted into a walking skeleton ; and 
the most learned sage degenerate into a 
hoary idiot ! Some time ago I beheld with 
surprise poor Florio. His air was wild ; 
his countenance meagre, his thoughts rov- 
ing, and speech disconcerted. Inquiring 
the cause of this strange alteration, I was 
informed, that for several nights he had not 
closed his eyes in sleep. For want of which 
noble restorative, that sprightly youth (who 
was once the life of the discourse, and the 
darling of the company) is become a spec- 
tacle of misery and horror. How many of 
my fellow-creatures are at this very instant 
confined to the bed of languishing, and 
complaining with that illustrious sufierer of 
old, wearisome nights are appointed to me ! 
( Job vii. 3.) Instead of indulging soft re- 
pose, they are counting the tedious hoiu"s, 
telling every striking clock, or measuring 
the very moments by their throbbing pulse. 
How many, harassed with pain, most pas- 
sionately long to make some little truce 
with their agonies in peaceful slumbers ! 
How many, sick with disquietude, and rest- 
less even on their downy pillows, would 
purchase this transient oblivion of their 
woes almost at any rate ! That which 
wealth cannot prociu:e, which multitudes 
sigh for in vain, thy God has bestowed on 
thee times out of number. The welcome 
visitant, punctual at the needed hour, has 
entered thy chamber, and poured his pop- 
pies round thy couch ; has gently closed thine 
eye-lids, and shed his slumberous dews over 
ail thy senses. 

Since sleep is so absolutely necessafy, so 
inestimably valuable, observe what a fine 
apparatus almighty goodness has made to 
accommodate us with the balmy blessing ! 
With how kind a precaution, he removes 
whatever might obstfuct its access, or im- 
pede its influence ! He draws around us 
the curtain of darkness ; which inclines us 
to a drowsy indolence, and conceals every 
object that might too strongly agitate the 
sense. He conveys peace into our apart- 



ON THE NIGHT. 



81 



meiits, and imposes silence on the whole 
creation. Every animal is bid to tread 
softly, or rather to cease from its motion, 
when man is retiring to his repose. May 
we not discern, in this gracious disposition 
of things, the tender cares of a nursing^mo- 
ther, who hushes every noise, and secludes 
every disturbance, when she has laid the 
child of her love to rest. So, by such! 
soothing circumstances, and gently working 
opiates, he giveth to his beloved sleep. 
(Psalm cxx\di. 2.) 

Another signal instance of a providence 
ntent upon our welfare is, that we are pre- 
served safe in the hours of slumber. How 
are we then lost to all apprehension of 
danger ; even though the murderer be at 
our bed side, or Ms naked sword at our 
breast ! Destitute of all concern for our- 
selves, we are unable to think of, much 
tnore to provide for, our own security. At 
these moments, therefore, we lie open to in- 
numerable perils : perils from tlie resistless 
rage of flames ; perils from the insidious 
artifices of thieves, or the outmgeous vio- 
lence of robbers ; perils from the irregular 
workings* of om* own thoughts, aiid espe- 
cially from the incursions of our spiritual 
enemy. 

What dreadful mischief might that rest- 
less, that implacable adversaiy of mankind 
work, was there not an invisible hand to 
control his rage, and protect poor mortals ! 
What scenes of horror might he represent 
to our imaginations, and " scare us with 
dreams, or terrify us with visions !"f But 



* I think it is referable only to a superintending 
and watchful providence, that we are not hurried in- 
to the most pernicious actions, when our imagination 
is heated, and our reason stupi fled by dreams. We 
have sometimes heard of unfortunate persons, who, 
walking in their sleep, have thrown themselves head- 
long from a window, and been dashed to death on the 
pebDles. And whence is it that such disastrous acci- 
dents are only related as pieces of news, not expei- 
ienced by ourselves or our families ? Were our minds 
more sober in their operations, or more circumspect 
in their regards ? No verily, nothing could be more 
wild than their excursions, and none could be more 
inattentive to their own welfare. Therefore, if we 
have laid us down, and slept in peace, it was because 
the Lord vouchsafed us the sweet refreshment ; if we 
rose again in safety, it was because the Lord sustain- 
ed us with his unremitted protection. 

Will the candid reader excuse me, if 1 add a short 
story, or rather matter of fact, suitable to the pre- 
ceding remark ? Two persons who had been hunting 
together in the day, slept together the following 
night- One of them was renewuig the pursuit in his 
xiream; and, having run the \vhole circle of the 
chase, came at last to the fall of the stag. Upon 
this, he cries out with a determined ardour, I'll kill 
him ; I'll kill him ; and immediately feels for the 
knife, which he carried in his pocket. His companion 
happening to be awake, and observing what passed, 
leaped from the bed : being secure from danger, and 
the moon shining into the room, he stood to view 
the event ; when, to his inexpressible surprise, the 
infatuated sportsman gave several deadly stabs, in 
the very place, where, a moment before, the throat and 
the life of his friend lay. This I mention as a proof 
that nothing hinders us, even from being assassms of 
others, or murderers of ourselves, ainidst the mad 
saJlies of sleep — but the preventing care of our hea- 
venly Father. 

t What a complete master that malignant spirit 
u m exhibjtiEg visionary r^preaentations, appears | 



the Keeper of Israel, who never slumbei-s 
nor sleeps, intei'poses in our behalf, at once 
to cherish us under his wings, and to de- 
fend us with a shield. It is said of Solo- 
mon, "that threescore valiant men were 
about bis bed, all expert in war ; every one 
with his sword upon his thigh, because of fear 
in the night ;" ( Song iii. 7,8.) but one greater 
than Solomon, one mightier than myriads 
of armed hosts, even the great Jehovah, in 
whom is everlasting strength, vouchsafes to 
encamp about our houses, watch over our 
sleeping minutes, and to stop all the aven- 
ues of ill. O ! the unwearied and condes- 
cending goodness of our Creator ! who lulls 
us to our rest by bringing on the silent 
shades ; and plants his own ever-watchful 
eye as our sentinel, while we enjoy the 
needful repose. 

Reason now resigns her sedate office, 
and fancy, extravagant fancy, leads the 
mind through a maze of vanity. The head 
is crowned with false images, and tantaliz- 
ed with the most ridiculous misapprehen- 
sions of things. Some are expatiating 
amidst fairy fields and gathering garlands 
of visionary bliss, while their bodies are 
stretched on a wisp of straw, and shelter- 
ed by the cobwebs of a barn. Others, 
quite insensible of their rooms of state, are 
mourning in a doleful dungeon, or strug- 
gling with the raging billows. Perhaps, 
with hasty steps, they climb the craggy cliff, 
and with real anxiety fly from the imagi- 
nary danger ; or else, benumbed with sud- 
den fear, and finding themselves unable to 
escape, they give up at once their hopes 
and their elforts ; and, though reclined on 
a couch of ivory, are sinking, all helpless 
and distressed, in the furious whirlpool. 
So unaccountable are the vagaries of the 
brain, while sleep maintains its dominion 
over the limbs. 

But is this the only season when absurd 
and incoherent irregularities play their ma- 
gic on our minds ? Are there not those 
who dream even in their waking moments ? 
— Some pride themselves in a notion of 
superior excellency, because the royal fa- 
vour has annexed a few splendid titles to 
their names, or because the dying silk -worm 
has bequeathed her finest threads to cover 
their nakedness. Others congratulate 
their own signal happiness, because loads 
of golden lumber are amassed together in 
their coffers; or promise themselves a 
most superlative felicity indeed, when some 
thousands more are added to the useless 

heap Nor are there wanting others, M^ho 

gape after substantial satisfaction from aiiy 



from his conduct towards Christ on the high moun- 
tain ; and that lie is too ready, if not restrained b)' an 
over-ruling power, to employ his dexterity in afflict- 
ing mankind, is evident {xdm his treatment. of Job, 
.See Lukeiv. 5. Job vii. 14. 



8^-2 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



applause : and flatter themselves with I 
know not what immortality, in the mo- 
mentary buzz of renown. Are any of 
these a whit more reasonable in their opin- 
ionsj than the poor ragged wretch in his 
reveries, who while snoring under a 
hedge, exults in the possession of his 
stately palace and sumptuous furniture? 
If persons who are very vassals to their 
own domineering passions, and led captive 
by numberless temptations ; if these per- 
sons pique themselves vnth a conceit of 
their liberty, and fancy themselves the ge- 
nerous and gallant spirits of the age ; where 
is the difference between theirs and the 
madman's frenzy, who though chained to 
the floor, is throned in thought, and wield- 
ing ah imaginary sceptre? In a word, as 
many as borrow their dignity from a plume 
of feathers, or the gaudy trappings of for- 
tune ; as many as send their souls to seek 
for bliss in the blandishments of sense, or 
in any thing short of the divine favour, and 
a well grounded hope of the incorruptible 
inheritance;* what are they, but dreamers 
with their eyes open — delirious, though in 
health ? 

Would you see their picture drawn to 
the very life, and the success of their 
schemes calculated with the utmost exact- 
ness ; cast your eye upon that fine repre- 
sentation exhibited by the prophet : " It 
shall be even as when a hungry man dream- 
eth, and behold he eateth ; but he awaketh, 
and his soul is empty ; or, as when a 
thirsty man dreameth, and behold he drink- 
eth ; but he awaketh, and behold he is 
faint, and his soul hath appetite ; (Isa. 
xxix. 8. Such is the race, and such the 
prize, of all those candidates for honour 
and joy, who run wide from the mark of 
the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. 
They live in vanity, and die in woe. 
Awaken us, merciful Lord, from these 
noon-tide trances ! Awaken us, while con- 
viction may turn to our advantage, and not 
serve only to increase our torment. O ! 
let our " eyes be enlightened to discern the 
things that are excellent," and no longer be 
imposed upon by fantastic appearances, 
which, however pompous they may seem, 
will prove more empty than the visions of 
the night, more transient than the dream 
that is forgotten. 

Having mentioned sleep and dreams, let 
me once again consider those remarkable in- 
cidents of our frame ; so very remarkable, 
that I may venture to call them a kind of 
experimental mysteiy, and little less than a 
standing miracle. Behold the most vigo- 
rous constitution when stretched on the bed 
of ease, and totally resigned to the slumbers 



* These give a sacred and home felt delight, 
A sober certainty of wdking bliss. — Milt. Comu^. 



of the night : its activity is oppressed with 
fetters of indolence ; its strength is con^ 
signed over to a temporary annihilation ; the 
nerves are like a bow imstrung, and the 
whole animal system is like a motionless 
log. Behold a person of the most delicate 
sensations, and amiable dispositions : his 
eyes, though thrown wide open, admit not 
the visual ray, at least distinguish not ob- 
jects : his ears, ^vith the organs unimpaired, 
and articulate accents beating upon the 
drum, perceive not the sound, at least ap- 
prehend not the meaning. The senses, 
and their exquisitely fine feelings, are over- 
v/helmed with an unaccountable stupefac- 
tion. You call him a social creature : but 
where are his social aflfections ? He knows 
not the father that begat him, and takes no 
notice of the friend that is as his own soul. 
The wife of his bosom may expire by liis 
side, and he lie more unconcerned than a 
barbarian. The children of his body may 
be tortured with the severest pangs, and he, 
even in the same chamber, remain untouch- 
ed with the least commiseration. Behold 
the most ingenious scholar, whose judgment 
is piercing, and able to trace the most in- 
tricate difficulties of science ; his taste re- 
fined, and quick to relish all the beauties of 
sentiment and composition : yet, at this 
juncture, the thinking faculties are unhing- 
ed, and the intellectual economy quite dis- 
concerted. Instead of close connected rea- 
sonings, nothing but a disjointed huddle of 
absurd ideas ; instead of weU-digested prin- 
ciples, nothing but a disorderly jumble of 
crude conceptions : the most palpable de- 
lusions impose upon his imagination. The 
whole night passes, and he frequently mis- 
takes it for a single minute ; is not sensible 
of the transition, hardly sensible of any du- 
ration. 

Yet, no sooner does the morning draw 
back his curtains, and day-light fill the 
room, but he awakes, and finds himself 
possessed of all the valuable endowments, 
which, for several hours were suspended or 
lost. His sinews are braced, and fit for 
action ; his senses are alert and keen. The 
romantic visionary brightens into the mas- 
ter of reason. The frozen or benumbed 
affections melt mth tenderness, and glow 
with benevolence ; and, what is beyond mea- 
sure surprising, the intoxicated mind works 
itself sober, not by slow degrees, but in the 
twinkling of an eye recovers fi-om its per- 
turbation. Why does not the stupor which 
deadens all the nice operations of the ani- 
mal powers hold fast its possession ? When 
the thoughts are once disadjusted, why are 
they not always in confusion ? How is it 
that they are rallied in a moment ; and, 
from the wdldest irregularity, reduced to the 
most orderly array ? From an inactivity re- 
sembling deatli, how is the body so sud- 



ON THE NIGHT. 



83 



denly restored to vigour and agility ? From 
extravagancies bordering upon madness, 
how is the understanding instantaneously 
re-established in sedateness and harmony ? 
Surely, " this is the Lord's doing, and it 
should be marvellous in our eyes ;" should 
awaken our gratitude, and inspirit our praise. 

This is the time in which ghosts are sup- 
posed to make their appearance. Now the 
timorous imagination teems with phantoms, 
and creates immberless terrors to itself. 
Now dreary forms, in sullen state, stalk 
along the gloom ; or, swifter than lightning, 
glide across the shades. Now voices more 
than mortal* are heard from the echoing 
vaults, and groans issue from the hollow 
tombs. Now melancholy spectres visit the 
ruins of ancient monasteries, and frequent 
the solitary dwellings of the dead. They 
pass and repass, in unsubstantial images, 
along the forsaken galleries ; or take their 
determined stand over some lamented grave. 
How often has the school-boy fetched a 
long circuit, and trudged many a needless 
step, in order to avoid the haunted church- 
yard ! Or if necessity, sad necessity, has 
obliged him to cross the spot, where human 
skulls are lodged below, and the baleful 
yews shed supernumerary horrors above : 
a thousand hideous stories rush into his 
memory ; fear adds wings to his feet ; he 
scarce touches the ground ; dares not once 
look behind him ; and blesses his good for- 
tune, if no frightful sound purred at his 
heels, if no ghastly shape bolted upon his 
sight. 

It is strange to observe the excessive 
timidity which possesses many people's 
minds on this fanciful occasion, while they 
are void of all concern on others of the 
most tremendous import. Those who are 
startled, in any dark and lonely walk, at the 
very apprehenson of a single spectre, are 
nevertheless unimpressed at the sure pro- 
spect of entering into a whole world of 
disembodied beings ; nay, are without any 
emotions of awe, though they know them- 
selves to be hastening into the presence of 
the great, infinite, and eternal Spirit. 
Should some pale messenger from the re- 
gions of the dead draw back our curtains at 
the hour of midnight, and, appointing some 
particular place, say, as the horrid appari- 
tion to Brutus, ril meet thee there !\, I 
believe the boldest heart would feel some- 
thing like a panic ; would seriously think 
upon the adventure, and be in pain for 



* Vox quoque per lucos vulgo ex audita silentes 

Ingens, et simulacra modis pallentia miris. 
Visa sub obscurum noctis. — Virg. 

t The story of Brutus and his evil genius, is well 
known. Normust it be deemed, that the precise 
words of the spectre to the hero were, I'll meet thee 
at Phillippi. But as this would not answer my pur- 
pose, I was obliged to make an alteration in the cir- 
cumstance of place. 



the event. But when a voice from hea- 
ven cries, in the awakening language of 
the prophet. Prepare to meet thy God, 
O Israel; (Amos iv. 12.) how little is 
the warning regarded ! how soon is it for- 
got ! Preposterous stupidity ! to be utterly 
unconcerned, where it is the truest wasdom 
to take the alarm ; and to be all trepidation, 
where there is nothing really terrible. Do 
thou, my soid, remember thy Saviour's ad- 
monition ; " I \n\\ forewarn you whom you 
shaU fear : Fear not these imaginary hor- 
rors of the night ; but fear that awful being, 
whose revelation of himself, though with 
expressions of peculiar mercy, made Moses, 
his favourite servant, tremble exceedingly ; 
whose manifestation, when he appears with 
purposes of inexorable vengeance, will make 
mighty conquerors, who were familiar with 
dangers and estranged to dismay, call upon 
the mountains to fall on them, and the rocks 
to cover them ! the menace of whose ma- 
jestic eye, when he comes attended with 
thousand thousands of his immortal hosts, 
will make the very heavens cleave asunder, 
and the earth flee away. O ! dread his 
displeasure ; secure his favour ; and then 
thou mayest commit all thy other anxieties 
to the wind ; thou mayest laugh at every 
other fear." 

This brings to my mind a memorable 
and amazing occurrence, recorded in the 
book of Job ; (Job iv. 12, 14, &c.) which 
is, I think, no inconsiderable proof of the 
real existence of apparitions* on some very 
extraordinary emergencies, while it discoun- 
tenances those legions of idle tales, which 
superstition has raised and credulity receiv- 
ed ; since it teaches us, that if at any time 
those visitants from the imknown world 
render themselves perceivable by mortals, 
it is not upon any errand of frivolous con- 
sequence, but to convey intelligence of the 
utmost moment, or to work impressions of 
the highest advantage. 



* Is a proof of the real existence of apparitions, if 
the sense in which I have always understood this pas- 
sage be true. — Eliphaz, I apprehend, was neither in 
a trance nor in a dream, but perfectly awake. — 
Though he speaks of sleep, he speaks of it as fallen 
not upon himself, but upon other men. He does not 
mention dreams, though somnia would have suited 
the verse (if the book be in metre) altogether as well 
as visions. It could not surely be a wind, as some 
translate the word ; because the circumstance of 
standing still is not so compatible with the nature of 
a wind ; and a wind would have passed above him, 
all around him, as well as before him : not to add, 
how low a remark it is, and how unworthy of a place 
in so august a description, that he could not discern 
the form of a wind. — It seems, therefore, to have 
been a real spirit ; either angelical, as were those 
which presented themselves to Abraham resting at 
the door of his tent, and to Lot sitting in the gate of 
Sodom ; or else the spirit of some departed saint, as 
in the ease of Samuel's apparition, or the famous ap- 
pearance of Moses and Elijah on the mount of trans- 
figuration ; a spirit assuming some vehicle, in order 
to become visible to the human eye ; which, accord- 
ingly, Eliphaz saw, exhibiting itself as an object of 
sight, but saw so obscurely and indistinctly, that ha 
was not able to describe its aspect, or to discern 
whom it resembled. 



84 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



It was in the dead of night : all nature 
lay shrouded in darkness : Every creature 
was buried in sleep : The most profound 
silence reigned through the universe. In 
these solemn moments, Eliphaz alone, all 
wakeful and solitary, was musing upon sub- 
lime and heavenly subjects ; when, lo ! an 
awful being from the invisible realms burst 
into his apartment. * A spirit passed be- 
fore his face. Astonishment seized the be- 
holder ; his bones shivered within him ; his 
flesh trembled all over him ; and the hair of 
his head stood erect with horror. Sudden 
and unexpected was the appearance of the 
phantom ; not such its departure. It stood 
still, to present itself more fully to his view: 
It made a solemn pause, to prepare his 
mind for some momentous message. After 
which a voice was heard ; a voice, for the 
importance of its meaning, worthy to be had 
in everlasting remembrance ; for the so- 
lemnity of its delivery, enough to alarm a 
heart of stone. It spoke, and this vi^as the 
purport of its words : " Shall man, frail man, 
be just before the mighty God ? Shall even 
the most accomplished of mortals be pure 
in the sight of his Maker ?f Behold, and 
consider it attentively : He put no such 
trust in his most exalted servants as should 
bespeak them incapable of defect ! and his 
very angels he charged ^^'ith folly, as sinking, 
even in the highest perfection of their holi- 
ness, infinitely beneath his transcendent 
glories ; as falling, even in all the fidelity 
of their obedience, inexpressibly short of 
the homage due to his adorable majesty. 
If angelic natui^es must not presume to jus- 
tify either themselves or their services be- 
fore uncreated purity, how much more ab- 
surd is such a notion, how much more 
impious such an attempt, in them that 
dwell in houses of clay, whose original is 
from the dust, and whose state is all imper- 
fection." 



* I have given this solemn picture a modem dress, 
rather for the sake of variety and illustration, than 
from any apprehension of improving the admirable 
original. Such an attempt, I am sensible, would be 
more absurdly va n, than to lacquer gold, or to paint 
the diamond. The des ription in Eliphaz's own lan- 
guage is awful and affecting to the last degree— a 
night-piece, dressed in all the circumstances of the 
deepest horror. I question whether Shakespeare 
himself, though so peculiarly happy for his great 
command of terrifying images, has any thing supe- 
rior or comparable to this. The judges of fine com- 
position see the masterly strokes ; and I believe the 
most ordinary reader feels them chilling his blood, 
and awakening emotions of dread in his mind. 

t There seems to be a significant and beautiful 
gradation in the Hebrew, which I have endeavoured 
to preserve by a sort of paraphrastic version. The 
reader will observe anew turn given to the sentiment, 
preferable, I think, to that which our English trans- 
lation exhibits. Not, " Shall man be more just than 
God ?" but, " Shall mpn be just before, or ?n the 
sight of God ?" The passage thus rendered, speaks a 
truth incomparably more weighty, and needful to be 
inculcated ; a truth exactly parallel to thathumbUng 
confession of the prophet, " we are all as an unclean 
thing;" and to that solemn declaration of the Psal- 
mist ; " In thy sight shall no man living be justified." 



I would observe from hence, the verf 
singular necessity of that poverty of spirit 
which entirely renounces it own attain- 
ments, and most thankfully submits to the, 
righteousness of the incarnate God. To 
inculcate this lesson, the Son of the Bless- 
ed came down from heaven, and pressed no 
other principle with so repeated an impor- 
tunity on his hearers.* To instil the same 
doctrine, the Holy Ghost touched the lips 
of the apostles with sacred eloquence, and 
made it an eminent part of their commission 
"to demolish every high imagination." 
That no expedient might be wanting to give 
it a deep and lasting efficacy on the human 
mind, a phantom arises from the valley of 
the shadow of death, or a teacher descends 
from the habitation of spirits. Whatever 
then we neglect, let us not neglect to culti- 
vate this grace, which has been so variously 
taught, so powerfully enforced. 

Hark ! a doleful voice. With sudden 
starts, and hideous screams, it disturbs the 
silence of the peaceful night. It is the 
screech-owl, sometimes in frantic, some- 
times in disconsolate accents, uttering her 
woes.f She flies the vocal grove, and shuns 
the society of all the feathered choir. The 
blooming gardens, and flowery meads, have 
no charms for her. Obscure shades, rag- 
ged ruins, and walls overgrown with ivy, 
are her favourite haunts. Above, the 
mouldering precipice nods, and threatens a 
fall J below, the toad crawls, or the poison- 
ous adder hisses. The sprightly morning 
which awakens other animals into joy, ad- 
ministers no })leasure to this gloomy re- 
cluse. Even the smiling face of day is her 
aversion, and all its lovely scenes create 
nothing but uneasiness. 

So, just so, vv'ould it fare with the ungod- 
ly, were it possible to suppose their admis- 
sion into the chaste and bright abodes of 
endless felicity. They would lind nothing 
but disappointment and shame, even at the 
foimtain-head of happiness and honour. 
For how could the tongue habituated to 
profaneness, taste any delight in the har- 
monious adorations of heaven ? How could 
the lips cankered with slander, relish the 
raptures of everlasting praise ? Where would 



^ It is well worthy of our observation, says an ex- 
cellent commentator, that no one sentence uttered by 
our Lord, is so frequently repeated as this; Who- 
soever shall exalt himself, shall be abased; and he 
that shall humble himself shall be exalted," which oc- 
curs at least ten times in the Evangelists ; but is ne- 
ver duly accomplished in us. till we disclaim all pre- 
tensions to merit and righteousness of our own, and 
seek them only in the atonement and obedience of Je- 
sus Christ. 

t Solaque culminibus serali carmine bubo 
Sepequeri, longasquein Setum ducere voces. 

Virgil. 

Thus simg that charming genius, that prince of the' 
ancient poets, that most consummate master of ele- 
gance and accuracy ; all whose sentiments are nature, 
whose every desaiption is a picture, whose whole 
langup.ge is music. 



ON THE NIGHT. 



85 



be the satisfaction of the vain beauty, or the 
superciHous grandee ? Since, in the tem- 
ple of the skies, no incense of flattery would 
be addressed to the former, nor any obse- 
quious homage paid to the latter. The 
spotless and inconceivable purity of the 
blessed God, would flash confusion on the 
lascivious eye. The envious mind must be 
on a rack of self-t ormenting passions, to ob- 
serve millions of happy beings shining in all 
the perfections of glory, and solachig them- 
selves in the fulness of joy. In short, the 
unsanctified soul, amidst holy and triumph- 
ant spirits, even in the refined regions of 
bliss and immortality, would be like this 
melancholy bird, dislodged from her dark- 
some retirement, and imprisoned under the 
beams of day.* 

The voice of this creature screaming at 
our \\andows, or of the raven croaking over 
our houses, is, they say, a token of approach- 
ing death. There are persons who would 
regard such an incident with no small de- 
gree of solicitude. Trivial as it is, it would 
damp their spirits, perhaps break their rest. 
One cannot but wonder, that people shoidd 
suffer themselves to be aflfrighted at such 
fantastical, and yet be quite unaffected with 
real, presages of their dissolution. Real 
presages of this awful event address us from 
every quarter. What are these incumbent 
glooms which overwhelm the world, but a 
kind of pall provided lor nature, and an 
image of that long night, which will quick- 
ly cover the inhabitants of the whole earth ? 
What an affinity has the sleep,f which will 
very soon weigh down my drowsy eye-lids, 
with that state of entire cessation, in which 
all my senses must be laid aside ! The si- 
lent chamber, and the bed of slumber, are 
a veiy significant representation of the land 
where all things are hushed, all things are 
forgotten. What meant that deep death- 
heil note, which the other evening sadden- 
ed the air ? Laden with heavy accents, it 
struck our ears, and seemed to knock at the 
door of our hearts. Surely, it brought a 
message to surviving mortals, and thus the 
tidings ran : " Mortals, the destroyer of 



* I would beg of the reader to observe, with what 
emphasis and propriety, our Lord touches this impor- 
tant point, in his reply to Nicodemus. " Verily, ver- 
ily, 1 say unto thee, Except a man be bom again, he 
cannot enter into the kii-igdom of heaven." q. d. " I 
wave the authority of the supreme Judge, andspaak 
with the condescension ofa teacher in Israel. 1 hough 
I might, without being liable to the least control, 
pass It into a sovereign decree, That unrenewed mor- 
tals, who are slaves to corrupt appetites, shall not en- 
ter the habitations of the just ; I rather choose to re- 
present it as a case utterly impossible ; and charge 
uie calamity, not upon divine severity, but upon hu- 
man folly. Such persons, from the very nature of 
I nmgs, preclude themselves ; they incapacitate their 
<>v/n minds; and contrarities must be reconciled, be- 
fore they, in their unregenerate condition, can be 
partakers of those spiritual and sublime delights." 
John iii. 3. 

t Et oonsangMineus lethi sopor.— F?>'^. | 



your race is on his way. The last enemy 
has begun the pursuit, and is gaining ground 
upon you eveiy moment. His paths are 
strewed with heaps of slain. Even now his 
javelin has laid one of your neighbour in 
the dust ; and will soon, very soon, aim the 
inevitable blow at each of your lives." 

We need not go dovni to the charnel- 
house, nor cany our research into the reposi- 
tories of the dead, in order to find memo- 
rials of our impending doom. A multitude 
of these remembrancers are planted in all 
our paths, and point the heedless passengers 
to their long home. I can hardly enter a 
considerable town, but I meet the funeral 
procession ; or the mourners going about 
the streets. The hatchment suspended on 
the wall, or the crape streaming in the air. 
are silent intimations, that both rich and 
poor have been emptying their houses, and 
replenishing their sepulchres. I can scarce 
join in any conversation, but mention is 
made of some that are given over by the 
physician, and hovering on the confines of 
eternity ; of others, that ha\'e just dropt 
their clay amidst weeping friends, and are 
gone to appear before the Judge of all the 
earth. There's not a newspaper comes to 
my hand, but, amidst all its entertaining 
narrations, reads several serious lectures of 
mortality. What else are the repeated ac- 
counts of age worn out by slow- consuming 
sicknesses ; of youth dashed to pieces by 
some sudden stroke of casualty ; of patriots 
exchanging their seats in the senate, for a 
lodging in the tomb ; of misers resigning 
their bi-eath, and (O ! relentless destiny !) 
leaving their very riches for others ? Even 
the vehicles of our amusement are registers 
of the deceased ; and the voice of fame 
seldom sounds but in concert with a knell. 

These monitors crowd every place ; not 
so much as the scenes of oiu- diversion ex- 
cepted. What are the decorations of our 
public buildings, and the most elegant fur- 
niture of oiu' parloui s, but the imagery of 
death, and trophies of the tomb ? That 
marble bust, and those gilded pictures, how 
solemnly they recognise the fate of others, 
and speakingly remind us of our own ! I 
see, I hear, and O ! I feel this great truth : 
It is interwoven with my constitution. The 
frequent decays of the structure foretell its 
final ruin. What are all the pains that 
have been darted through my limbs ; what 
eveiy disease that has assau'.ted my health ; 
but the advanced guards of the foe ? What 
are the languors and weariness that attend 
the labours of each revolving day, but the 
more secret practices of the adversary, 
slowly undermining the earthly tabernacle ? 

Amidst so many notices, shall we go on 
thoughtless and unconcerned ? Can none of 
these prognostics, which are as sm-e as 
oiT.clcF, awaken our attention, and engage 



86 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



our circumspection ? Noah, it is written, 
being warned of God, prepared an ark. 
Imitate, my soul — imitate this excellent 
example. Admonished by such a cloud of 
witnesses, be continually putting thyself in 
a readiness for the last change. Let not 
that day, of which thou hast so many infal- 
lible signs, come upon thee unawares. Get 
the ivy untwined, and thy aiFections disen- 
tangled from this enchanting world, that 
thou mayest be able to quit it without re- 
luctance. Get the dreadful hand- writing 
cancelled, and all thy sins blotted out, that 
thou mayest depart in peace, and have no- 
thing to feai- at the decisive tribunal. Get, 
O ! get thyself interested in the Redeem- 
er's merits ; and transformed into his sa- 
cred image ; then shalt thou be meet for 
the inheritance of saints in light, and mayest 
even desire to be dissolved, and to be with 
Christ. 

Sometimes in my evening walk I have 
heard 

The wakeful bird, 

Sing darkling, and in shadiest covert hid. 
Tune her nocturnal note.* 

How different the airs of this charming 
songster, from those harsh and boding out- 
cries ! The little creature ran through all 
the variations of music ; and showed her- 
self mistress of every grace, which consti- 
tutes or embellishes harmony. Sometimes 
she swells a manly throat, and her song 
kindles into ardour. The tone is so bold, 
and strikes with such energy, you would 
imagine the sprightly serenader in the very 
next thicket. Anon the strain languishes, 
and the mournful warbler melts into ten- 
derness. The melancholy notes just steal 
upon the shades, and faintly touch yovu: ear ; 
or, in soft and sadly pleasing accents, they 
seem to die along the distant vales, silence 
is pleased, and night listens to the trilling 
tale. 

What an invitation is this, to slip away 
from tiie thronged city ! This coy and mo- 
dest minstrel entertains only the lovers of 
retirement. Those who axe carousing over 
their bowls, or ranting at the riotous club, 
lose this feast of harmony. In like manner, 
the pleasures of religion, and the joy of re- 
conciliation with God ; the satisfaction aris- 
ing from an established interest in Christ, 
and from the prospect of a blissful immor- 
tality ; these are all lost to the mind that is 
ever in the crowd, and dares not, or de- 
lights not, to retire within itself. Are we 
charmed with the nightingale's song ! Do 
we wish to have it nearer, and hear it of- 
tener ! Let us seek a renewed heart, and a 
resigned will, a conscience that whispers 
peace, and passions that are timed by grace ; 
then shall we never want a melody in our 



* MUt. Par. Lost. Book ill. 1. 38. 



breasts, far more musically pleasing thaii 
sweet Philomela's sweetest strains. 

As different as the voices of these birds, 
are the circumstances of those few persons 
who continue awake. Some are squander- 
ing pearls, shall I say, or kingdoms ? No ; 
but what is unspeakably more precious — 
Time ! squandering this inestimable talent 
with the most senseless and wanton prodi- 
gality. Not content with allowing a few 
spare minutes for the purpose of necessary 
recreation, they lavish many hoiurs, devote 
whole nights, to that idle diversion of shuf- 
fling, ranging, and detaching a set of paint- 
ed pasteboards. Others, instead of this 
busy trifling, act the part of their own tor- 
mentors. They even piquet themselves,* 
and caU it amusement ; they are torn by 
wild horses, yet term it a sport. What 
else is the gamester's practice ? His mind 
is stretched on the tenter-hooks of anxious 
suspense, and agitated by the fiercest ex- 
tremes of hope and fear. While the dice 
are rattling, his heart is throbbing, his for- 
tune is tottering ; and possibly, at the very 
next throw, the one sinks in the gulf of 
ruin, the other is hurried into the rage of 
distraction. 

Some, snatched from the bloom of health 
and the lap of plenty, are confined to the 
chamber of sickness ; where they are con- 
strained either to plunge into the everlast- 
ing world in an unprepared condition, or 
else (sad alternative !) to think over all the 
follies of a heedless life, and all the bitter- 
ness of approaching death. The disease 
rages, it bafl&es the force of medicine, and 
urges the reluctant wretch to the brink 
of the precipice. While furies rouse the 
conscience, and point at the bottomless 
pit below. Perhaps his drooping mo- 
ther, deprived long ago of the husband 
of her bosom, and bereft of all her other 
offspring, is even now receiving the blow 
which consummates her calamities. f In 
vain she tries to assuage the sorrows of a 



* Alluding to a very painful punishment, inflicted 
on delinquents among the soldiery. 

t This brings to my mind one of the deepest 
mourning-pieces extant in the productions of the 
pen. The sacred historian paints it in all the simpli- 
city of style, yet with all the strength of colouring ; 
" when Jesus came nigh to the gate of the city, be- 
hold ! there was a dead man carried out, the only son 
of his mother, and she was a widow." What a grada- 
tion is here ! How pathetically beautiful ! every 
fresh circumstance widens the wound, aggravates the 
calamity, till the description is worked up into the 
most finished picture of exquisite and inconsolable 
distress. He was a young man, cut off in the flower 
of life amidst a thousand gay expectations and smil- 
ing hopes. A son, an only son ; the afflicted mother's 
all, so that none remained to preserve the name or 
perpetuate the family. What rendered the case still 
more deplorable, she was a widow ! left entirely deso- 
late ; abandoned to her woes ; without any to share 
her sorrows, or to comfort her under the irreparable 
loss. Is not this a fine sketch of the impassioned and 
picturesque ? Who can consider the narrative with 
any attention, and not feel his he;irt penetrated with 
a tender commiseration ? Luke vii, 12. 



ON THE NIGHT, 



87 



beloved son ; in vain she attempts, with j 
her tender offices, to prolong a life dearer 
than her own. He faints in her arms : he 
bows his head : he sinks in death. Fatal, 
doubly fatal, that last expiring pang ! While 
it dislodges the unwilling soul, it rends an 
only child from the yearning embraces of a 
parent, and tears away the support of her 
age from a disconsolate widow. 

While these long for a reprieve, others 
invite the stroke. Qiute weary of the 
world, with a restless impatience, they sigh 
for dissolution ; some pining away under 
the tedious decays of an incurable consump- 
tion, or gasping for breath and almost suf- 
focated by an inundation of dropsical waters. 
On some a relentless cancer has fastened 
its envenomed teeth, and is gnawing them, 
though in the midst of bodily vigour, in the 
midst of pitying friends, gradually to death. 
Others are on a rack of agonies, by coii- 
vulsive fits of the stone. O 1 how the pain 
writhes their limbs ! How the sweat be- 
dews their flesh, and their eye-balls wildly 
roll ! Methinks the night condoles with 
these her distressed children, and sheds 
dewy tears over their sorrowful abodes. 
But, of all mortals, they are the most ex- 
quisitely miserable, who groan beneath the 
pressure of a melancholy mind, or smart 
under the lashes of a resentful conscience. 
Though robed in ermine, or covered mth 
jewels, the state of a slave chained to the 
gallies, or of an exile condemned to the 
mines, is a perfect paradise compared with 
theirs. 

O that the votaries of mirth, whose life 
is a continued round of merriment and 
whim, would bestow one serious reflection 
on this variety of human woes ! It might 
teach them to be less enamoured with the 
few languid sweets, that are thinly scatter- 
ed through this vale of tears, and environed 
with such a multitude of ragged thorns. It 
might teach them no longer to dance away 
their years, with a giddy rambling impulse ; 
but to aspire with a determined aim, after 
those happy regions, where delights abun- 
dant and unimbittered flow. 

Can there be circumstances which a man 
of wisdom would more earnestly deprecate 
than these several instances of grievous tri- 
bulation ? There are ; and what is very as- 
tonishing, they are frequently the desire 
and the choice of those, who fancy them- 
selves the sole heirs of happiness : Those, 
I mean, who are launching out into the 
<lepths of extravagance, and running exces- 
sive lengths of riot ; who are prostituting 
their reputation, and sacrificing their peace, 
to the gratification of their lusts ; sapping 
the foundation of their health in debauch- 
eries, or shipwrecking the interests of their 
families in their bowls, and what is worse, are 
forfeiting the joys of an eternal heaven, for the 



sordid satisfactions of the beast, for the tran- 
sitory sensations of an hour. Ye slaves of 
appetite, how far am I from envying your 
gross sensualities and voluptuous revels ! 
Little, ah ! little are you sensible, that 
while indulgence showers her roses, and 
luxury difiuses her odours, they scatter poi- 
sons also, and shed unheeded bane. * — Evils 
incomparably more malignant than the 
wormwood and gall of the sharpest afllic- 
tion. Since death is in the drunkard's cup, 
and worse than poinards in the harlot's em- 
brace, may it ever be the privilege of the 
man whom I love, to go without his share 
of these pestilent sweets !f 

Abundance of living sparks glitter in the 
lanes, and twinkle under the hedges. I 
suppose they are the glow-worms, which 
have lighted their little lamps, and obtained 
leave, through the absence of the sun, to 
play a feeble beam. A faint glimmer just 
serv^es to render them perceivable, wthout 
tending at all to dissipate the shades, or 
making any amends for the departed day. 
Should some weather-beaten traveller, drop- 
ping with wet, and shivering with cold, ho- 
ver round this mimicry of fii'e, in order to 
dry his garments and warm his benumbed 
limbs ; should some bewildered traveller, 
gropiiig for his way, in a starless night, and 
trackless desert, take one of these languid 
tapers, as a light to his feet, and a lantern 
to his path ; how certainly would both the 
one and the other be frustrated of their ex- 
pectation ! And are they more likely to 
succeed, who, neglecting that sovereign 
balm which distilled from the cross, apply 
any carnal diversion to heal the anxiety of 
the mind ? who, deaf to the infallible deci- 
sions of revelation, resign themselves over 
to the erroneous conjectures of reason, in 
order to find the way that ieadeth unto life ? 
or, lastly, who have recourse to the froth of 
this vain world, for a satisfactory portion 
and a substantial happiness ? Their conduct 
is in no degree wiser ; their disappointment 
equally sure ; and their miscarriage infin- 
itely more disastrous. To speak in the 
delicate language of a sacred writer, " they 
sow the wdnd, and %vill reap the wliirlwind." 
Hos. viii. 7. 

Tq speak more plainly, the pleasures of 
the world, which we are all so prone to 
dote upon ; and the powers of fallen reason, 
which some are so apt to idolize ;f are not 



* Yes in the flow'rs that wreathe the sparkling bowl. 
Fell adders hiss, and pois'nous serpents roll. 

Prior's Sol. 

t " Quam suava est suavitatibus istis carere !" — 
was St. Augustine's pious exclamation. The sub- 
stance of which Mr. Pope has expressed with more 
simphcity, and with no less dignity. 

Count all the advantage prosperous Vice attains. 

'Tis but what Virtue "flies from and disdains. 

ij: I hope it will be obser\'ed, that I am far froin de- 
crying that noble faculty of reason when exerted in her 
proper sphere, when acting in a differential subordin- 
ation to the revealed will of heaven. While she ex.' 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



only vain, but treacherous ; not only a paint- 
ed flame, like the sparkling animals, but much 
like those unctuous exhalations, which arise 
from the marshy ground, and often dance 
before the eye of the benighted way-faring 
man. Kindled into a sort of fire, they per- 
sonate a guide, and seem to offer their ser- 
vice ; but blazing with delusive light, mis- 
lead their follower into hidden pits, head- 
long precipices, and unfathomable gulfs ; 
where, far from his beloved friends, far from 
all hopes of succour, the unhappy wanderer 
is swallowed up and lost. 

Not long ago we observed a very surpris- 
ing appearance in the western sky. A pro- 
digious star took its flaming route through 
those coasts ; and trailed as it passed, a tre- 
mendous length of fire, almost over half the 
heavens. Some, I imagine, viewed the por- 
tentous stranger, with much the same anx- 
ious amazement as Belshazzar beheld the 
hand-writing upon the wall. Some looked 
upon it as a bloody* flag, hung out by di- 
vine resentment over a guilty world. Some 
read in its glaring visage the fate of nations, 
and the fall of kingdoms.f To others it 
shook, or seemed to shake, pestilence and 
war from its horrid hair. For my part, I 
am not so superstitious as to regard what 
eveiy astrologer has to prognosticate upon 
the accession of a comet, or the projection 
of its huge vapoury train. Nothing can be 
more precarious and unjustifiable, than to 
draw such conclusions from such events ; 
since they neither are preternatural efi'ects, 
nor do they throw the frame of things into 
any disorder. I would rather adore that 
omnipot ent Being, who rolled those stupen- 
dous orbs from his creating hand, and leads 
them by his providential eye, through un- 
measurable tracts of ether ; who bids them 
now approach the sun, and glow with un- 
eufierable ardours ;f now retreat to the ut- 



cncises her powers within these appointed limits, she 
h unspeakably serviceable, and cannot be too indus- 
triously cultivated ; but, when she sets up herself in 
•l)roud contradiction to the sacred oracles ; when, all 
arrogant and self-sufficient, she says to the word of 
scripture, I have no need of thee ; she is then, I must 
Tba bold to maintain, not only a glow-worm, but an 
'irnisfatiius, not onlya bubble, but a snare. 
' IVIay not this remark, with the strictest propriety, 
and without the least limitation, be applied to thege- 
nerality of our modern romances, novels, and theatri- 
cal entertainments ? These are commonly calculated 
1o inflame a wanton fancy ; or, if conducted with so 
)nuch modesty as not to debauch the affections, they 
i)ervert the judgment, and bewilder the taste. By 
their incredible adventures, their extravagant parade 
of gallantry, and their characters widely different 
from truth and nature, they inspire foolish conceits, 
beget idle expectations, introduce a disgust of genuine 
history, and ir.dispose their admirers to acquiesce in 
the decent civilities, or to relish the sober satisfactions 
of common life. 

* — — Liquida si quando nocte cometa 
Sanguinei lugubre rubent. — Virg; 

+ Crinemquetimendi 

Sideiis. et terris, mutantem regna cometum. 
+ '«Thecom-et in the year of 1680, according to 
- ir Isaac Newton's compvitation, was, in its nearest 
approach, above 166 times nearer the sun than the 
I r5'ih is. Consequentlv, its heat was then »8,OCiO times : 
^ifaseithan tha't of summer. So that a hall of iron as | 



most bounds of our planetaiy system, and 
make their entry among other worlds. 

They are harmless visitants. I acquit 
them from the charge of causing, or being 
accessory to desolating plagues. Would to 
God there were no other more formidable 
indications of approaching judgments, or 
impending ruin ! But, alas ! when vice be- 
comes predominant, and irreligion almost 
epidemical ; when the sabbaths of a jealous 
God are notoriously profaned, and that 
name which is great, wonderful, and holy, 
is prostituted to the meanest, or abused to 
the most execrable purposes ; when the 
worship of om' great Creator and Preserver 
is banished from many of the most conspi- 
cuous families, and it is deemed a piece of 
hide impertinence so much as to mention 
the gracious Redeemer in our genteel inter- 
views ; when it passes for an elegant freedom 
of behaviour to ridicule the mysteries of 
Christianity, and a species of refined conver- 
sation to taint the air with lascivious hints ; 
when those who sit in the scorner's chair sin , 
with a high hand, and many of those who 
wear the professor's garb, are destitute of 
the power, and content themselves with the 
mere form of godliness ; when such is the 
state of a community, there is reason, too 
apparent reason, to be horribly afraid. Such 
phenomena abounding in the moral world, 
are not fanciful, but real omens. "Will not 
an injured God be avenged on such a nation 
as this ? Will he not be provoked to " sweep 
it with the besom of destruction ?"* 

O that the inhabitants of Great Britain 
would lay these alarming considerations to 
heart ! The Lord of hosts has commanded 
the sword of civil discord to return into its 
sheath ; but have we returned every one 
from his evil ways ? Are we become a re- 
newed people, devoted to a dying Saviovu*, 
and zealous of good works? What mean 
those peals of sobs which biu'st from the ex- 
piring cattle ? What mean those melancholy 
moans, where the lusty droves were wont 
to low ?f What mean those arrows of im- 
timely deaths, discharged on our innocent 
and useful animals ? 

No wantonness or sloth has vitiated the 
blood of these laborious, temperate crea- 
tures. They have contracted no disease 



big as the earth heated bv it, would hardly become 
cool in 50,000 years." Der. Astr. Theo. p. 237. 

* Isa. xiv. 23. The eternal sovereign, speaking of 
Babylon, denounces this threatening, I will sweep 
it with the besom of destruction."— What a noble, but 
dreadful image is here ! How strongly and awfully 
pourtrayed ! How pregnant also is its signification ; 
intimating the vile nature, and expressing the total 
extirpation of this wicked people ; at the same time, 
suggesting the perfect ease with which the righteous 
God would execute his intended vengeance. 

t If these papers should be so happy as to outlive 
their author, perhaps it may be needful to inform pos- 
terity, that the above mentioned hints allude to a 
most terrible contagious and mortal distemper, raging 
among the hornrd cat'ifi in v»f»ows parts of the king- 
dom 



THl!: NIGHT. 



89 



from unseasonable in(Iii?geiiwes'and inordi- 
nate revellings. The pm-e stream is their 
diink ; the simple herb their repast. Nei- 
ther care distm-bs their sleep, nor passion in- 
riames their breast. Whence, then, are they 
visited with such terrible disorders , as no 
prudence can prevent, nor any medicines 
heal ? Surely these calamities are the wea- 
pons of divine displeasure, and manifest 
chastisements of an evil generation i* Siu-e- 
ly God, the God to whom vengeance be- 
longeth, has still a controversy with our sin- 
ful land ! And who can tell where the \'isi- 
tation will end ? What a storm may follow 
these delusive drops ? O that we m.ay 
" hear the rod, and who hath appointed it I" 
Taught by these penal effects of our disobe- 
dience, may we remove the accursed thing 
from our tents, our practices, our hearts ; 
(Joshua vi. 18.) May we turn from all un- 
godliness, before wrath come upon us tO/ 
the uttermost j before iniquity prove om- 
ruin ! 

Sometimes at this hour, another most re- 
markable sight amuses the curious, and 
alarms the vidgar. A blaze of lambent 
meteors is kindled, or some very extraor- 
dinary lights are refracted, in the quarters 
of the north. The streams of radiance, like 
legions rushing to the engagement, meet 
and mingle, insomuch that the air seems to 
be all conflicting fire. Within a while they 
start from one another, and, like legions in 
precipitate flight, sweep each a separate way 
through the firmament. Now they are 
quiescent, anon they are thrown into a qui- 
vering motion ; presently the whole horizon 
is illuminated with the glancing flames. 
Sometimes, with an aspect awfully ludi- 
crous, they represent extravagant and antic 
vagaries : at other times, you would su.spect 
that some invisible hand was playing offthe 
dumb artillery of the skies, and, by a strange 
expedient, giving us the flash without the 
roar. 

The villagers gaze at the spectacle : fii'st 
^^ ith wonder, then with horror. A gener- 
al panic seizes tlie country. Every heart 
tlu'obs, and every face is pale. The crowds 
tbiit flock together, instead of diminishing, 
increase the dread. They catch contagion 
from each other's looks and words : whWe 
fear i'^ m every eye, and eveiy tongue speaks 
the lauguage of terror. Some see hideous 
shapes, armies mixuig in fierce encounter, or 
fields swimming with blood. Some fore- 
see diieful events, states overthrown, or 
ini^rhty uionarchs tottering on their thrones. 
(Jthers. scared with still more frightful ap- 
prol ensions, think of nothing but the day 
o( doon). " Sure," says one, " the unalter- 



• nine ijTfis viiuli vulgo moriiinter in hcrbis 
F; (5ii.!res animas plena ad prssepia reddunt, 
Pr'.'.fin; hire prromm.. et crebis, muRitibus amnrs. 
Arontesqiie sonant ripcE, coilesqiie si:pini. — I'ir^. 



able bour is struck, and th'e end of all things 
come." " See," replies another, " how the 
blasted stars look wan ! Are not these the 
signs of the Son of man coming in the 
clouds of heaven ?" " Jesus, prepare us," 
( cries a third, and lifts up his eyes in devo- 
tion) for the archangel's trump, and the 
great tribunal !" 

If this waving brightness, which plays 
innocently over om heads, be so amazing to 
multitudes ; what inexpressible consterna- 
tion must overwhelm unthinking mortals, 
when the general conflagration commences ! 
The day, the dreadful day, is approaching, 
" in the which the heavens shall pass away 
with a great noise and the elements 
shall melt with fervent heat ; the earth also, 
and all the works that are therein, shall be 
burnt up. That mighty hand, which once 
opened the windows from on high, and 
broke up the fountains of the great deep, 
will then uiilock all the magazines of fire, 
and pour a second deluge upon the earth. 
The vengeful flames, kindled by the breath 
of the Almighty, spread themselves from 
the centre to the circumference. Nothing 
can withstand their impetuosity ; nothing 
can escape their rage. Universal desola- 
tion attends their progress. Magnificent 
palaces, and solemn temples, are laid in 
ashes. Spacious cities, and impregnable 
towers, are mingled iji one smoking mass, 
Not only the productions of human art, but 
the works of almighty power, are fuel for 
the devouring element. The everlasting 
mountains melt, like the snows which cover 
their summit. Even vast oceans serve only 
to augment the inconceivable rapidity and 
fury of the blaze. O ! how shall I or 
others stand undismayed amidst the glare 
of a burning world, unless the Lord Jeho- 
vah be our defence ? How shall we be up- 
held in security, when the globe itself is 
sinking in a fieiy ruin, unless the Rock of 
ages be our support. 

Behold a new spectacle of wonder ! The 
moon is making her entry on the eastern 
sky. See her rising in clouded majesty ! 



* 2 Pet. iii. 10. 1 have often thought this verse an 
eminent instance of tliat kind of beautiful writing, in 
which the very sound bears a sort of significancy ; at 
least carries an exact correspondence with the sense. 
The original expression is one of the hoarsest and 
deepest words in language. Nothing could be more 
exquisitely adapted to affect the ear, as well as im- 
press the imagination, with the wreck of nature, and 
the crash of a fallen world. I scarce ever read this 
clause, but it brings to my mind that ailmired descrip- 
tion in Milton: 

On a sudden open fiy, 

AVith impetuous recoil, and jarring sound, 
Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate 
Harsh thunder.— iiooA-. II. 1. IYJ[). 

It is a pleasing employ, and a very laudable office of 
true criticisii!, to point out these inferior recom- 
mendations of the sacred classics, n-hoiigh T believe, 
the inspired writers themselves, amidst all the eleva- 
I tion and msgnifirence of their divine idf»as, disdained 
1 so iip'itloiis attention to such lit^ie nkelics of style. 



90 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



openiMg as it were) and asserting her origi- 
nal oommission to rule over the night. All 
grand and stately, but somewhat sullied is 
her aspect. However, she brightens as she 
advances, and grows clearer as she climbs 
higher, till at length her silver loses all its 
dross : she unveils her peerless light, and 
becomes " the beauty of heaven, the glory 
of the stars,"* delighting every eye, and 
cheering the whole world, with the bright- 
ness of her appearance and the softness of 
her splendom-s — O, thou queen of the 
shades ! may it be my ambition to follow 
this thy instructive example ! While others 
are fond to transcribe the fashions of little 
courts, and to mimic personages of inferior 
state ; be it mine to imitate thy improving 
purity. May my conduct become more 
unblemished, and my temper more refined, 
as I proceed farther and farther in my pro- 
bationaiy course. May every sordid desire 
wear away, and every irregular appetite be 
gradually lost, as I make nearer approaches 
to the celestial mansions. Will not this be 
a comfortable evidence, that I too shall 
shine in my adored Redeemer's kingdom ? 
shine with a richer lusti'e than that which 
radiates from thy resplendent orb ; shine 
wdth an unfading lustre, when every ray 
that beams from thy beauteous sphere is 
totally extinguished ? 

The day afforded us a variety of enter- 
taining sights. These were all withdrawn 
at the accession of darkness. The stars, 
kindly officious, immediately lent us their 
aid. This served to alleviate the frown of 
night, rather than to recover the objects from 
their obscurity. A faint ray, scarcely re- 
flected, and not from the entire surface of 
things, gave the straining eye a very imper- 
fect glimpse ; such as rather mocked than 
satisfied vision. Now tne moon is risen, 
and has collected all her beams, the veil is 
taken from off the countenance of nature. 
I see the recumbent flocks ; I see the green 
hedge-rows, though without the feathered 
choristers hoping from spray to spray. In 
short, I see once again the world's great 
picture ; not indeed in its late lively colours, 
but more delicately shaded, and arrayed in 
softer charms. f 

What a majestic scene is here ! incom- 
parably grand, and exquisitely fine ! The 
moon, like an immense crystal lamp, pen- 
dent in the magnificent ceiling of the hea- 
vens. The stars, like so many thousands 
of golden tapers, fixed in their azure sockets. 
All pouring their lustre on spacious cities, 
and lofty mountains ; glittering on the 
ocean, gleaming on the forest ; and open- 



* Eccl'us. xliii. 9. 

Lucidum coeli decus.— Hor. 

t — —Now reigns 
Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light 
.Shadowy sets ofl'the face of things.— .1/(7f. 



ing a prospect, wide as the eye can glance, 
more various than fancy can paint.* We 
are forward to admire the performances of 
human art. A landscape, elegantly design- 
ed, and executed with a masterly hand j a 
piece of statuary, which seems, amidst all 
the recommendations of exact proportion 
and graceful attitude, to soften into flesh, 
and almost breathe with life ; — these little 
imitations of nature, we behold with a 
pleasing surprise. And shall we be less 
affected, less delighted, with the inexpres^ 
sibly noble, and completely finished origi- 
nal ? The ample dimensions of Ranelagh's 
dome, the gay illuminations of Vauxhal! 
grove, I should scorn to mention on such 
an occasion, were they not the objects of 
general admiration. Shall we be charmed 
with those puny essays of finite ingenuity, 
and touched with no transport at this stu- 
pendous display of omnipotent skill ? at the 
august grandeur, and shining stateliness of 
the firmament ; which forms an alcove for 
ten thousand worlds, and is ornamented 
with myriads of everlasting luminaries? 
Surely, this must betray, not only a total 
want of religion, but the most abject little- 
ness of mind, and the utmost poverty of 
genius. 

The moon is not barely " an ornament in 
the high places of the Lord," (Eccl'us. xliii. 
9. ) but of signal service to the inhabitants 
of the earth. How uncomfortable is deep, 
pitchy, total darkness ! especially in the 
long absence of the winter's sun. Wel- 
come, therefore, thrice welcome, this aus- 
picious gift of Providence, to enliven the 
nocturnal gloom, and line with silver the 
raven-coloured mantle of night. How de- 
sirable to have our summer evenings illu- 
minated ! that we may be able to tread the 
dewy meads, and breathe the delicious fra- 
grance of our gardens ; especially, when the 
sultry heats render it irksome and fatiguing 
to walk abroad by day. How cheering to 
the shepherd the use of this universal lan- 
tern, as he tends his fleecy charge, or late 
consigns them to their hurdled cots ! How 
comfortable and how advantageous to the 
mariner, as he ploughs the midnight main, 
to adjust the tackling, to explore his way, 



* As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night. 
O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light ; : 
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene. 
And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene ; 
Around her throne the vivid planets roll. 
And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole ; 
O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed. 
And tip with silver every mountain's head : 
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise; 
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies ; 
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, . 
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. 

Iliad viii. 

I transcribe these lines, because Mr. Pope says, they 
exhibit, in the yriginal, the finest night-piece in 
poetry. And if they are so beautiful in Homer's lan- 
guage, who can suspect their suffering any disadvan- 
tage from the pen of his admirable translator ? 



ON THE 

and under tlie influence of this beaming j 
sconce, to avoid the fatal rock ! For these, 
and other beneficial purposes, the hand of 
the Almighty has hung the stately branch 
on high ; and filled it mth a splendour not 
confined to a single edifice, or commensu- 
rate to a particular square, but diffusive as 
the whole extent of the hemisphere. 

The most faithful of our inferior ser- 
vants are sometimes tardy in their ofiice, 
sometimes negligent of their dutJ^ But 
this celestial attendant is most exactly 
punctual, at all the stated periods of her 
ministration. If we choose to prolong our 
journey after the sun is gone down, the 
moon, during her whole increase, is always 
ready to act in the capacity of a guide. If 
we are inclined to set out very early in the 
moming, the moon, in her decrease, pre- 
vents the dawn, on purpose to oifer her as- 
sistance. And because it is so pleasant a 
thing for the eyes to behold the light, the 
moon, at her full, by a course of unintermit- 
ted waiting, gives us as it were a double 
day. How apparently has the divine wis- 
dom interested itself, in providing even for 
the~ pleasurable accommodation of man ' 
How desirous that he should want no piece 
of commodious furniture, no kind of delight- 
ful convenience ; and, in prosecution of 
these benevolent intentions, has annexed so 
valuable an appendage to the terrestrial 
globe. Justly, therefore, does the Psahnist 
celebrate that admirable constitution, which 
ordained the moon and the stars to govern 
the night, as an instance of rich goodness, 
and of mercy which endureth for ever : 
(Psalm cxxxvi. 9. 

The moon, it is confessed, is no lumi- 
nous body. All the brightness which beau- 
tifies her countenance is originally in the 
sun, and no more than transmissively in her. 
That glorious orb is the parent of day, and 
the palace of light. From thence the morn- 
ing star gilds her horn ; * from thence the 
planetary circles are crowned with lustre ; 
and from thence the moon derives all her 
silver radiance. It is pleasing to reflect, 
that sxich is the case with the all-sufficient 
Redeemer, and his dependent people. We 
are replenished from his fulness. What do 
we possess which we have not received ; 
and what can we desii'e, which we may not 
expect from that never-failing source of all 
good ? He is the author of our faith, and 
the former of our graces. In his unspotted 
life, we see the path ; in his meritorious 
death, the price j and in his triiunphant re- 



* I might, to justify this expression, obsen-e that 
the planet Venus, commonly called the morning star, 
is found by our telescopes frequently to appear'horn- 
ed; or to have a crescent of light, somewhat like the 
moon, a little before or after her conjunction. But 
this would be a remark too deep and refined for my 
scheme; which proceeds only upon a superficial know- 
ledge, and the most obvious appearances of nature. I 



NIGHT. 91 

surrection, the proof — of bliss and immor- 
tality. If we ofiend and fall seven times a- 
day, he is the Lord our peace, (Judges vi. 
24.) If we are depraved, and our best 
deeds very unworthy ; he is the Lord our 
righteousness, (Jer. xxiii. 6.) If we are 
blind, and even brutish, in heavenly know- 
ledge ; he is the Lord our \\dsdom, (1 Cor. 
i. 30. ) his word dispels the shades ; his 
Spirit scatters the intellectual gloom ; his 
eye looks our darkness into day. In short 
we are nothing, and " Christ is all." Worse 
than defective in ourselves, " we are com- 
plete in him." So that if we shine, it is 
Arith delegated rays, and with boiTowed 
light. We act by a strength, and glory 
in merits, not om- ov.ii. Oh ! may we 
be thoroughly sensible of our depend- 
ence on the Saviour. IMay we constantly 
imbibe his propitious beams ; and never, 
by indulging unbelief, or backsliding into 
folly, withdraw our souls from his benign 
influences ; lest we lose oiu- comfort and 
our holiness, as the fair ruler of the night 
loses her splendour, when her um is turned 
from its fountain,* and receives no more 
communications of solar effulgence. 

The moon is incessantly varpng, either 
in her aspect, or her stages. Sometimes 
she looks full upon us, and her \dsage is all 
lustre : Sometimes she appears in profile, 
and shows us only half her enlightened 
face ; anon, a radiant crescent but just adorns 
her brow ; soon it dwindles into a slender 
streak ; till at length, all her beauty vanish- 
es, and she becomes a beamless orb. Some- 
times she rises wnth the descending day, 
and begins her procession amidst admiring 
multitudes ; ere long, she defers her progress 
till the midnight watches, and steals unob- 
serv-ed upon the sleeping world. Some- 
times she just enters the edges of the west- 
em horizon, anddi'ops us a ceremonious visit. 
Within a wliile, she sets out on her nightly 
tour from the opposite regions of the east, 
traverses the whole hemisphere, and never 
offers to Avithdraw, till the more refulgent 
partner of her sway renders her presence un- 
necessary. In a word, she is, while con- 
versant among us, still waxing or waning, 
and "never continueth in one stay." 

Such is the moon, and such are all sub- 
lunary things — exposed to perpetual vicissi- 
tudes. How often, and how soon, have the 
faint echoes of renown slept in silence, or 
been converted into the clamours of oblo- 
quy ! The same lips ; almost with the same 
breath, cry, Hosanna and Crucify. Have 
not riches confessed their notorious trea- 
chery a thousand and a thousand times ? 
either melting away like snow in our hands 



* Alluding to those truly poetical lines in Milton. 
Hither, as to their fountain, other stars 
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light, 

Par. Lost, Book vii. 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



by insensible degrees, or escaping like a 
winged prisoner fiom its cage with a preci- 
pitate flight. Have we not known the 
bridegroom's closet an anti-chamber to the 
tomb ; and heard the voice which so lately 
pronounced the sparkling pair husband and 
wife, proclaim an everlasting divorce, and 
seal the decree with that solemn assevera- 
tion, " Ashes to ashes, dust to dust !" Our 
friends, though the medicine of life — our 
health, though the balm of nature, are a 
most precarious possession. How soon 
may the first become a corpse in our arms ; 
and how easily is the last destroyed in its 
vigour ! You have seen, no doubt, a set of 
pretty painted birds, perching on your trees, 
or sporting in your meadows. You was 
pleased with the lovely visitants, that 
brought beauty on their wings, and melody 
in their throats. But could you insure the 
continuance of this agreeable entertainment? 
No, truly. At the least disturbing noise, 
at the least terrifying appearance, they start 
from their seats, they mount the skies, and 
are gone in an instant, are gone for ever. 
Would you choose to have a happiness 
which bears date with their arrival, and ex- 
pires at their departure? If you could not 
be content with a portion, enjoyable only 
through such a fortuitous term, not of years, 
but of moments, O ! take up with nothing 
earthly ; set yoiu- alfections on things above ; 
there alone is " no variableness or shadow 
of turning." 

Job is not a more illustrious pattern of 
patience, than an eminent exemplification 
of this remark. View him in his private 
estate. He heaps up silver as the dust ; 
he wjishes his steps in butter ; and the rocks 
pour him out rivers of oil. View him in 
his public character : Princes revere his 
dignity; the aged listen to his wisdom ; 
every eye beholds him with delight ; every 
tongue loads him with blessings. View him 
in his domestic circumstances : On one 
hand, he is defended by a troop of sons ; 
on the other, adoi-ned with a train of daugh- 
ters ; and on all sides surrounded by " a very 
great household." Never was human feli- 
city so consummate ; never was disastrous 
revolution so sudden. The lightning which 
consumed his cattle was not more terrible, 
and scarce more instantaneous ; the joyful 
parent is bereft of his offspring, and his 
children are buried in death. The man of 
affluence is stript of his abundance ; and he 
who was clothed in scarlet, embraces the 
dunghill. The venerable patriarch is the 
derision of scoundrels ; and the late darling 
of an indulgent providence, is become " a 
brother to dragons, a companion of owls." 
Nor need we go back to former ages for 
proofs of this afflicting truth. In our times, 
in all times, the wheel continues the same 
iftcessant wliirl ; and frequently those who 



are triumphing to-day in the highest eleva- 
tions of joy, to-morrow are bemoaning tlie 
instability of mortal affairs in the very 
depths of misery. • Amid so much fluctua- 
tion and uncertainty, how wretched is the 
condition which has no anchor of the soul, 
sure and steadfast ! May thy loving kindness, 
O God, be our present treasure ; and thy 
future glory our reversionary inheritance ! 
Then shall our happiness not be like the 
full-orbed moon, which is "a light that de- 
creasefh in its perfection ;" but like the sun, 
when he goeth forth iij his strength, and 
knoweth no other change, but that of shin- 
ing more and more unto the perfect day. 

Methinks, in this ever varying sphere, I 
see a representation not only of our tempor- 
al advantages, but also of our spiritual ac- 
complishments. Such, I am sure, is what 
the kind partiality of a friend would call my 
righteousness ; and such, I am apt to sus- 
pectj-f- is the righteousness of every man 
living. Now we exercise it in some few 
instances, in some little degrees : anon, sin 
revives, and leads our souls into a transient 
though unwilling captivity. Now we are 
meek ; but soon a ruffling accident inter- 
venes, and turns our composure into a fret- 
ful disquietude. Now we are humble ; 
soon v.^e reflect upon some inconsiderable or 



* I believe I may venture to apply what the Te- 
manite says of the affairs of the wicked to all sublun- 
ary things, as a true description of their very great 
instability. Job xxii. 16. rendered by Schultens, 
" Flumoi fusum fundamcntum eorum." Theirfoun- 
dation, (or what they reckon their most solid and sta- 
ble possession) is a flood poured out : which is one of 
the boldest images, and most poetical beauties I ever 
met with in any language sacred or profane. In order 
to have a tolerable conception of the image, and a 
taste of its beauty, you must suppose a torrent of wa- 
ters, rushing in broken cataracts, and with impetuous 
rapidity, from a steep and craggy mountain. 1 hen 
imagine to yourself an edifice built upon the surge of 
this rolling "precipice, which has no other basis than 
one of those headlong whirling waves. Was there 
ever such a representation of transitory prosperity, 
tending with inconceivable swiftness, unto ruin.' Yet 
such is every form of human felicity, that is not 
grounded on Jesus, and a participation of his merits, 
who is the Rock of ages ; on Jesus, and his image 
formed in our hearts, which is the hope of glory. 

t 1 would not be understood as measuring in this 
respect, others by myself ; but as taking my estimate 
from the unerring standard of Scripture. And in- 
deed, proceeding on this evidence, supported by this 
authority, I might have ventured farther than a bare 
suspicion. For " there is not a just man upon earth, 
that doeth good, and sinneth not," says the Spirit of 
inspiration by Solomon (Eccles. yii. 20.) Nay, such 
is ihe purity, and so extensive are the demands of 
the divine law, that an apostle makes a still more 
humbling acknowledgment ; " In many things we 
offend all." (James iii. 2.) And the unerrmg teacher, 
who most thoroughly knew our frame, directs 
the most advanced, most established, and most 
watchful Christians, to pray daily for the forgiveness 
of their daily trespasses. — To which testimonies, I 
beg leave to add an elegant passage from the Can- 
ticles; because it not only expresses the sentiment 
of this paragraph, but illustrates it by the very same 
similitude. She (the church) is fair as the moon ; 
clear as the sun. Fair as the moon, the lesser and 
changeable light, in her sanctification ; clear as the 
sun, the greater and invariable luminary in her justi- 
fication. The inherent holiness of believers being 
imperfect, and subject to many inequalities ; while 
their imputed righteouspess is every way ccmnplete, 
and constantly like iteelr. Cant. vi. 10. 



ON THE NIG.HT. 



93 



imagiiiary superiority over others, and a sud- 
den elatement swells our minds. Now, 
perhaps, we possess a clean heart, and are 
warm with holy love ; but, O ! how easily 
is the purity of our affections sullied ! how 
soon the fervour of our gratitude cooled ! 
And is there not something amiss even in 
our best moments ? Something to be asham- 
ed of in all we are, something to be repent- 
ed of in all we do ? 

With what gladness, therefore, and ador- 
ing thankfulness, should we submit to the 
lighteousness of " our incarnate God ;" 
and receive as a divine gift, what cannot be 
acquired by human works ! (Rom. v. 17, 
— X. 3.) A writer of the first distinction, 
and nicest discernment, styles the obedience 
of our glorious Surety, an everlasting righte- 
ousness, (Dan. ix. 24.) such as was sub- 
ject to no interruption, nor obscured by the 
least blemish, but preceded always in the 
same uniform tenor of the most spotless 
perfection. This righteousness, in another 
sense, answers the prophet's exalted de- 
scription ; as its beneficial and sovereign 
efficacy knows no end, but lasts througli all 
our life ; lasts in the trying hour of death ; 
lasts at the decisive day of judgment ; lasts 
through every generation ; and will last to 
all eternity. 

Sometimes I have seen that resplendent 
globe stript of her radiance ; or, according 
to the emphatical language of Scripture, 
" turned into blood." The earth, interpos- 
ing with its opaque body, intercepted the 
solar rays, and cast its gloomy shadow on 
the moon. The malignant influence gained 
upon her sickening orb, extinguished more 
and more the feeble remainders of light, till, 
at length, like one in a deep swoon, no come- 
liness was left in her countenance — she was 
totally overspread with darkness. At this 
juncture, w^hat a multitude of eyes were 
gazing upon the rueful spectacle ! even of 
those eyes which disregarded the empress of 
the night, or beheld her with indifference, 
when, robed in glory, and riding in her 
triumphal chariot, she shed a softer day 
through the nations. But now, under these 
circumstances of disgrace, they watch her 
motions with the most prying attention. In 
every place her misfortune is the object of 
general observation, and the prevailing to- 
pic of discourse in every company. 

Is it not thus with regard to persons of 
eminence in their respective spheres ? Kings 
at the head of their subjects ; nobles sur- 
rounded with their dependants ; and (after 
names of so much grandeur, may I be al- 
lovved to add?) ministers labouring among 
their people,* are each in a conspicuous sta- 
tion. Their conduct in its mhiutest step, 



* " Ve are the n^ht of the world. A city that is set 
on a hill cannot be hid." Matt. v. 14, 



especially in any miscarriage, wiU be nar- 
rowly surveyed, and critically scanned. Can 
there be a louder call to ponder the paths 
of their feet, and to be particularly jealous 
over all their ways ? Those who move in in- 
ferior life may grossly offend, and little 
alarm be given, perhaps no notice taken. 
But it is not to be expected that the least 
slip in their carriage, the least flaw in their 
character will pass undiscovered. Malice, 
with her eagle-eyes, will be sure to discern 
them, while Censure, with her shrill trum- 
pet, will be as far from concealing them, a.s 
Cahimny, with her treacherous whispers, 
from extenuating them. A planet may 
sink below the horizon, or a star for several 
months withdraw its shining : and scarce 
one in ten thousand perceive the loss ; but 
if the moon suffers a transient eclipse, al- 
most half the world are spectators of her 
dishonour. 

V ery different v/as the case, when at this 
late hour, I have taken a solitary walk on 
the western cliffs. At the foot of the steep 
mountain, the sea, all clear and smooth, 
spread itself into an immense plain, and 
held a watery mirror to the skies. Infinite 
heights above the firmament stretched its 
azure expanse, bespangled with unnumbered 
stars, and adorned with the moon *' walking 
in brightness." (Job xxxi. 26.) She seem- 
ed to contemplate herself with a peculiar 
])leasure, while the transparent surface both 
received and returned her silver image. 
Here, instead of being covered with sack- 
cloth, she shone with double lustre ; or ra- 
ther, witli a lustre multiplied, in proportion 
to the number of beholders, and their various 
situations. 

Such, methinks, is the effect of an ex- 
emplary behaviour in persons of exalted 
rank. Their course, as it is nobly distin- 
guished, so it will be happily influential ; 
others will catch the diffusive ray, and be 
ambitious to resemble a pattern so attract- 
ing, so commanding. Their amiable quali- 
ties will not terminate in themselves, but 
we shall see them reflected from their fami- 
lies, their acquaintance, their retainers. 
Just as we may now behold another moon, 
trembling* in the stream, glittering in the 
canal, and displaying its lovely impress on 
every collection of waters. 

The moon, philosophy says, is a sort of 
sovereign over the great deep. Her orb, 
like a royal sceptre, sways the ocean, and 
actuates the fluid realms. It swells the 
tides, and perpetuates the reciprocal returns 
of ebb and flow, by which means the liquid 
element purges off its filth, and is preserved 
from being putrefied itself, and from poison- 
ing the world. Is the moon thus operative 
on the vast abyss ? and shall not the faith 



* Spleiidet tremulo ffub iumiue poi'.tiJs. 



94 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



of eternal and infinite delights to come, be 
equally efficacious on this soul of mine ? Far 
above her argent fields are treasures of hap- 
piness, unseen by mortal eye, by mortal ear 
unheard, and unconceived by any human ima- 
gination. In that desirable world, the most 
distinguished and exalted honoiu's also are 
conferred ; in comparison with which the 
thrones and diadems of earthly monarchs 
are empty pageants, and childish toys. 
Yonder arch of sapphire, tvith all its span- 
gles of gold, is but the floor of those divine 
abodes. What then are the apartments ? 
what is the palace ? How bright with glo- 
ries ! how rich with bliss ! 

O ! ye mansions of blessedness ; ye beau- 
ties of my Father's kingdom, which far out- 
shine the lamps of the visible heaven, trans- 
mit your sweet and winning invitations to 
my heart. Attract and refine all my afifiec- 
tions. Withdraw them from stagnating on 
the sordid shores of flesh ; never sufl^er them 
to settle upon the impure lees of sense ; but 
impress them with emotions of restless de- 
sire after sublime and celestial joys, — joys, 
that will proceed, still proceed, in a copious 
and everlasting flow, when seas shall cease 
to roll, — joys, that wiU charm every faculty 
with unimaginable pleasure, when the moon, 
with her waxing splendours, shall cheer our 
sight no more. 

Enough for the present evening. My 
thoughts have been sufficiently exercised, 
and my steps begin to be attended with 
weariness. Let me obey the admonition of 
nature, and give respite to my meditations, 
slumber to my eyes. But stay — Shall I 
retire to the bed of sleep, with as little 
ceremony, and with as much inattention, 
as the bnites to their sordid lair ? Are no 
acknowledgments due to that divine Being 
who is the support of my life, and the length 
of my days ? Have I no farther need of his 
protecting care ; no more occasion for the 
blessings of his goodness ? Lepidus per- 
haps may laugh at the bended knee, and 
have a thousand darts of raillery ready to 
discharge on the practice of devotion. The 
Avits, I know, are unmercifully severe on 
what they call the drudgery of prayer, and 
the fantastical rant of praise. These they 
leave to the illitei'ate labourer, and thte mean 
mechanic ; or treat them with a contemp- 
tuous sneer, as the parson's ignoble trade. 

Is it then an instance of superstitious 
blindness to distinguish, or of whimsical 
zeal to celebrate, the most supereminent ex- 
cellency and merit? Is it an ungraceful 
business, or does it argue a grovelling dis- 
position, to magnify goodness transcendent- 
ly rich and difl^usive ? What can be so truly 
becoming a dependant state, as to pay our 
adoring homage to the. Author of all per- 
fection ? and profess our devoted allegiance 
to the supreme Almighty Governor of the 



universe ? Can any thing more signifxcantly 
bespeak an ingenuous temper, or administer 
a more real satisfaction to its finest feelings, 
than the exercises of penitential devotion, by 
which we give vent to an honest anguish, or 
melt into filial sorrow, for our insensibility 
to the best of friends, for om- disobedience 
to the best of parents ? In a word, can 
there be a more sublime pleasure, than to 
dwell in fixed contemplation on the beau- 
ties of the eternal mind ; the amiable ori- 
ginal of all that is fair, grand, and harmoni- 
ous ; the beneficent giver of all that is con- 
venient, comfortable, and useful ? Can 
there be a more advantageous employ, than 
to present our requests to the Father of 
mercies ; opening our minds to the irradia- 
tions of his wisdom, and all the faculties of 
our souls to the communications of his 
grace ? It is strange, unaccountably strange, 
that the notion of dignity in sentiment, and 
the pursiut of refined enjoyment, should 
ever be disunited from devotion ; that per- 
sons who make pretensions to an improved 
taste, and exalted genius, should neglect this 
most ennobling intercourse with the wisest 
and best of beings, the inexhaustible source 
of honour and joy. 

Shall I be deterred from approaching this 
source of the purest delight ? deterred from 
pursuing this highest improvement of my 
nature ? deterred from all by a formidable 
banter, or confuted by one irrefragable 
smile ? No : let the moon in her resplen- 
dent sphere, and yonder pole with all its 
starry train, ^vitness if I be silent even or 
mom ; if I refrain to kindle in my heart, 
and breathe from my lips, the reasonable 
incense of praise ; praise to that gxeat and 
glorious God who formed the earth and 
buQt the skies, who poured from his hand 
the watery world, and shed the all- sur- 
rounding air abroad. " Thou also madest 
the night. Maker omnipotent ! and thou 
the day ; which I, though less than the 
least of all thy mercies, have passed in 
safety, tranquillity, and comfort. When I 
was lost in the extravagance of dreams, or 
lay immersed in the insensibility of sleep, 
thy hand recovered me from the temporary 
lethargy ; thy hand set a new, a delicately 
fine edge, on all my blunted senses, and 
strung my sinews with recruited vigour. 
When my thoughts were benumbed and 
stupified, thy quickening influence roused 
them into activity : when they were discon- 
certed and wild, thy regulating influence 
reduced them into order ; refitting me at 
once to relish the innocent entertainments 
of an animal, and to enjoy the sublime gra- 
tifications of a rational capacity. When 
darkness covered the creation, at thy com- 
mand the sun arose, painted the flowers, 
and distinguished every object ; gave light 
to my feet, and gave nature with all her 



ON THE 

beautiful scenes to my eye. To thee, O 
thou God of my strength, I owe the con- 
tinuance of my being, and the vivacity of 
my constitution. By thy sacred order, with- 
out any consciousness of mine, the wheels 
of life move, and the crimson fountain plays. 
Overruled by thy exquisite skill, it trans- 
forms itself, by the nicest operations of an 
inexplicable kind of chemistry, into a variety 
of the finest secretions, Avhich glide into 
the muscles, and swell them for action, or 
pour themselves into the fluids, and repair 
their incessant decays ; which cause cheer- 
fulness to sparkle in the eye, and health to 
bloom in the cheek. 

" Disastrous accidents, injurious to the 
peace of my mind, or fatal to the welfare 
of my body, beset my paths. But thy 
faithfulness and truth, like an impenetrable 
shield, guarded me all around. Under this 
divine protection, I walked secure amidst 
legions of apparent perils ; and passed un- 
hiu-t through a far greater multiplicity of 
unseen evils. Not one of my bones was 
broken ; not a single shaft grazed upon my 
ease ; even when the eye that watched over 
me, saw, in its wide survey, thousands fall- 
ing beside me in irrecoverable ruin, and ten 
thousands deeply wounded on my right 
hand. If sickness has at any time saddened 
my chamber, or pain harrowed my flesh, it 
was a wholesome discipline, and a gracious 
severity. The chastisement proved a so- 
vereign medicine to cure me of an immode- 
rate fondness for this imperfect trouble- 
some state, and to quicken my desires after 
the unembittered enjoyments of my eternal 
home. Has not thy munificence, unwearied 
and unbounded, spread my table, furnished 
it with the finest wheat, and replenished it 
with marrow and fatness : while temper- 
ance sweetened the bowl, appetite seasoned 
the dish, contentment and gratitude crown- 
ed the repast ? Has not thy kindness, O 
God of the family of Israel, preserved my 
alFectionaie relations, who study by their 
tender offices to soften every care, and 
heighten every joy ? Has not thy kindness 
given me valuable friends, whose presence 
is a cordial to cheer me in a dejected hour, 
and whose conversation mingles improve- 
ment with delight ? 

" "Wlien sin lay disguised amidst flowery 
scenes of pleasure ; enlightened by thy ^vis- 
dom, I discerned the latent mischief ; made 
resolute by thy grace, I shunned the lusci- 
ous bane. If, through the impulse of sen- 
suality, or the violence of passion, I have 
been hurried into the snare, and stung by 
the serpent ; thy faithful admonitions have 
recalled the foolish wanderer, while the 
blood of thy Son has healed his deadly 



NIGHT. 95 

wounds. Some, no doubt, have been cut 
off in the midst of their iniquities, and 
transmitted from the thrillings of polluted 
joy to the agonies of eternal despair ; 
whereas I have been distinguished by long- 
suflfering mercy ; and, instead of lifting up 
my eyes in torments, to behold a heaven ir- 
recoverably lost, I may lift them up under 
the pleasing views of being admitted, ere 
long, into those abodes of endless felicity. 
In the mean time, thou hast vouchsafed me 
the revelation of thy will, the influences of 
thy Spirit, and abundance of the most ef- 
fectual aids, for advancing in knowledge, 
and growing in godliness ; for becoming 
more conformable to thy image, and more 
meet for thy presence ; for tasting the plea- 
sures of religion, and securing the riches of 
eternity. 

" How various is thy beneficence, O thou 
lover of souls ! It has unsealed a thousand 
sources of good ; opened a thousand ave- 
nues of delight ; and heaped blessings upon 
me with a ceaseless liberality. If I should 
attempt to declare them, they would be 
more than the starry host which glitter in 
this unclouded' sky ; more than the dewy 
gems, which will adom the face of the 
morning. 

" And, shall I forget the God of my sal- 
vation, the a\ithor of all my mercies ! Hather 
let my pulse forget to beat. Shall I render 
him no expressions of thankfulness ? Then 
might all nature reproach my ingratitude. 
Shall I rest satisfied with the bare acknow- 
ledgment of my lips ? No ; let my life be 
A'ocal, and speak his praise, in that only ge- 
nuine, that most emphatical language, the 
language of devout obedience. Let the 
bill be diawn upon my very heart ; let all 
my affections acknowledge the draught ; and 
let the whole tenor of my actions, in time 
and through eternity, be continually paying 
the debt, the ever-pleasing, ever-growing 
debt of duty, veneration, and love. 

" And can I, O thou guide of my goings, 
and guardian of all my interests, can I dis- 
trust sxich signal, such experienced good- 
ness ? Thou hast been my helper through 
all the busy scenes of day ; therefore under 
the shadow of thy wings will I repose my- 
self, during the darkness, the danger, and 
death-hke inactivity of the night-. What- 
ever deftlement I have contracted, wash it 
thoroughly away in redeeming blood ; and 
let neither the sinful stain, nor the sinful 
inclination, accompany me to my couch. 
Then shall I lay me down in peace, and 
take my rest ; cheerfully referring it to thy 
all-wise determination, whether I shall open 
my eyes in this w^orld, or axrake in the un- 
known regions of another. 



contp:mplations 



ON 

THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



This evening, I exchange the nice retreats 
of art, for the noble theatre of nature. In- 
stead of measuring my steps, under the co- 
vert of an arbour, let me range along the 
summit of this gently rising hill. There 
is no need of the leafy shade, since the sun 
has quitted the horizon, and withdrawn his 
scorching beams. But see how advanta- 
ges and inconveniences are usually linked, 
and chequer our affairs below ! If the an- 
noying heat ceases, the landscape and its 
pleasing scenes are also removed. The ma- 
jestic castle and the lowly cottage are van- 
ished together. I have lost the aspiring 
mountain, and its russet brow ; I look round 
but to no purpose, for the humble vale, and 
its flowery lap. The plains whitened with 
flocks, and the heath yellow with furze, dis- 
appear. The advancing night has wrapt in 
darkness the long extended forest, and 
drawn her mantle over the windings of the 
silver stream. I no longer behold that lux- 
uriant fertility in the fields, that wild magni- 
ficence of prospect, and endless variety of 
images, which have so often touched me 
with delight, and struck me with awe, from 
this commanding eminence. 

The loss, howevei", is scarcely to be re- 
gretted ; since it is amply compensated by 
the opening beauties of the sky. Here I 
enjoy a free view of the whole hemisphere, 
without any obstacle from below to confine 
the exploring eye, or any cloud from above, 
to overcast the spacious concave. It is 
true, the lively vermillion, which so lately 
streaked the chambers of the west, is all 
faded ? But the planets, one after another, 
light up their lamps ; the stars advance in 
tbeL', glittering train ; a thousand and a thou- 
Siftd luminaries shine forth in successive 
splendours ; and the whole firmament is 
kindling into the most beautiful glow. The 
blueuess of the ether, heightened by the sea- 
son of the year, and still more enlivened by 



the absence of the moon, gives those gems 
of heaven the strongest lustre. 

One pleasm-e more the invading gloom 
has not been able to snatch from ray sense. 
The night rather improves than destroys 
the fragrance which exales from the bloom- 
ing beans. With these the sides of this 
slopping declivity are lined ; and with these 
the balmy zephyrs perfume their wings. 
Does Arabia, from all her spicy groves, 
breathe a more liberal, or a more charming 
gale of sweets ? And, v»-hat is a peculiar re- 
commendation of the rural entertainments 
presented in our happy land, they are alloy- 
ed by no apprehensions of danger. No 
poisonous serpent lurks under the blossom ; 
nor any ravenous beast lies reacly to start 
from the thicket. But I wander from a 
far more exalted subject. My thoughts, 
like my affections, are too easily diverted 
from the heavens, and detained by inferior 
objects. Away, my attention ! from these 
little blandishments of the earth j since all 
the glories of the sky invite thy regard. 

We have taken a tmn among the tombs, 
and viewed the solemn memorials of the 
dead, in order to learn the vanity of moital 
things, and to break their soft enchantment. 
We have surveyed the ornaments of the 
garden ; not that the heart might be planted 
in the parterre, or take root among the 
flowery race ; but that these delicacies of 
a day might teach us to aspire after a better 
paradise, where beauty never fades, and de- 
light is ever in the bloom. A third time 
we lighted the candle of meditation ; and 
sought for wisdom, not in the crowded city 
or wrangling schools, but in the silent and 
lonely walks of ancient Night.* Let us 
once more indulge the contemplative Vein, 
and raise our speculations to those sublinicr 



I « Referring to the several subjects of the three pr*. 
'ceding essays. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



9/ 



' v'orks of the great Creator which the re- 
i gioiis of the sky contain, and the dusky 
I hour unveils.* 

If we have discerned the touches of his 
pencil glowing in the colours of spring, if 
we have seen a sample of his beneficence 
exhibited in the stores of nature, and a ray 
of his brightness beaming in the blaze of 
day ; what an infinitely richer field for the 
display of his perfections are the heavens ! 
The heavens, in the most emphatical man- 
ner, declare the glory of God. The hea- 
vens are nobly eloquent of the Deity, and 
the most magnificent heralds of their Ma- 
ker's praise. They speak to the whole uni- 
verse ; for there is neither speech so bar- 
barous, but their language is understood ; 
nor nation so distant, but their voices are 
heard among them. (Psalm xix. 2.) Let 
me, then, in this solemn season, formed for 
thought, and a calm intercourse with hea- 
ven, let me listen to their silent lectures. 
Perhaps I may receive such impressive 
manifestations of " the eternal power and 
Godhead," as may shed religion on my soul 
while I walk the solitary shades, and may 
be a tutelary friend to my virtue, when the 
call of business and the return of light ex- 
pose me again to the inroads of temptation. 

The Israelites, instigated by frenzy rather 
than devotion, worshipped the host of hea- 
ven. And the pretenders to judicial astro- 
logy talk of I know not what mysterious 
efficacy in the different aspect of the stars, 
or the various conjunction and opposition 
of the planets. Let those who are un- 
acquainted with the sure word of revelation, 
give ear to these sons of delusion, and 
dealers in deceit. For my part, it is a 
question of hidifference to me, whether the 
constellations shone with smiles, or lowered 
in frowns, on the hour of my nativity. Let 
Christ be my guard ; and, secure in such a 
protection, I would laugh at their impotent 
menaces. Let Christ be my guide ; and I 
shall scorn to ask as well as despair of re- 
ceiving, any predict ory information from 
such senseless masses. What ! shall " the 
living seek to the dead?" (Isaiah viii. 19.) 
('an these bodies advertise me of future 
events, which are unconscious of their own 
existence? Shall I have recourse to dull 
unintelligent matter, when I may apply to 
that all-wise being, who with one compre- 
hensive glance distinctly views whatever 
is lodged in the bosom of immensity, or 
forming in the womb of futurity ? Never, 
never will I search for any intimations of 
my fate, but often trace my Creator's foot- 



• Night-oi^es the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe, 
Which give those venerable scenes full weight. 
And deep reception in th' entender'd heart. 

]\'i^ht Thovghts, No. IX. 



Steps* in yonder starry plains. In the for- 
mer case, they would be teachers of lies ; 
in the latter, they are oracles of truth. In 
this, therefore, this sense only, I profess 
myself the pupil of the stars. 

The vulgar are apprehensive of nothing 
more than a multitude of bright spangles 
dropt over the etherial blue. They have 
no higher notion of these fine appearances, 
than that they are so many golden studs with 
which the empyrean arch is decorated. But 
studious minds, that carry a more accurate 
and strict inquLiy among the celestial bo- 
dies, bring back advices of a most astonish- 
ing import. Let me just recollect the most 
material of those stupendous discoveries, in 
order to furnish out proper subjects for con- 
templation. And let the unlearned remem- 
ber, that the scene I am going to display, is 
the workmanship of that incomprehensible 
God, who is " perfect in knowledge and 
mighty in power whose name, whose na- 
ture, and all whose operations are " great 
and marvellous ;" who siunmons into being 
with equal ease, a single grain, or ten thou- 
sand worlds. To this if we continually ad- 
vert, the assertions, though they will cer- 
tainly excite our admiration, need not tran- 
scend our belief. 

The earth is, in fact, a round body, how- 
ever it may seem in some parts to be sunk 
into vales, and raised into hills ;f in other 
parts, to be spread into a spacious plain, ex- 
tending to the confines of the heavens, or 
terminated by the waters of the ocean. 



* "It is most becoming" (says a great author) 
" such imperfect creatures as we are, to contemplate 
the works of God with this design, that we may dis- 
cern the manifestations of wisdom in them ; and 
thereby excite in ourselves those devout affections, 
and that superlative respect, which is the very essence 
of praise, as it is a reasonable and moral service." 
Abernetliy on the Attributes. And, indeed, if we are 
sincerely disposed to employ ourselves in this excel- 
lent, this delightful duty of praising the infinite Cre- 
ator; the means and the motives are both at hand. 
His works, in a wonderful and instructive variety, 
present themselves with pregnant manifestations of 
the most transcendent excellencies of their Maker. 
They pour their evidence from all quarters, and into 
all the avenues'of the mind. They invite us, especi- 
ally in the magnificent system of the universe, to 
contemplate counsel consummately wise, and execu- 
tion inimitably perfect ; power, to which nothing is 
impossible ; and goodness, which extendeth to all, 
which endureth for ever. To give, not a full display, 
but only some slight strictures of these glorious 
truths, is the principal scope of the following re- 
marks. 

t A learned writer, I think Dr. Derham, has some- 
where an observation to this purpose : That the loft- 
iest summits of hills, and the most enormous ridges 
of mountains, are no real objections to the globular 
or round form of the earth. Because, however they 
may render it, to our limited sight, vastly vmeven 
and protuberant, yet they bear no more proportion 
to the entire surface of the terraqueous ball, than a, 
particle of dust, casually dropt on the mathemati- 
cian's globe, bears to its whole circumference. Con-, 
sequently, the rotimd figure is no more destroyed in 
the former case than in the latter. On thesame prin- 
ciple, I have not thought it necessary to take any no- 
tice of the comparatively small difference between 
the polar and equatorial diameter of the earth. 



H 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



We may fancy tliat it lias deep foundations, 
and rests upon some prodigiously solid basis : 
But it is pendent in the wide transpicuous 
ether, without any visible cause to uphold 
it from above, or support it from beneath. 
It may seem to be sedentary in its attitude, 
and motionless in its situation : But it is 
continually sailing* through the depths of 
the sky ; and in the space of twelve months 
finishes the mighty voyage. Which perio- 
dical rotation produces the seasons and com- 
pletes the year. As it proceeds in the an- 
nual circuit, it spins upon its own centre, 
and turns its sides alternately to the foun- 
tain of light. By which means the day 
dawns in one hemisphere, while the night 
succeeds in the other. Without this expe- 
dient, one part of its regions would, during 
half the great revolution, be scorched with 
excessive heat, or languish under an uninter- 
mitted glare ; while the other, exposed to 
the contrary extremes, would be frozen to 
ice, and buried under a long oppression of 
dismal and destructive darkness. 

I cannot forbear taking notice, that in 
this compound motion of the earth, the one 
never interferes with the other, but both 
are perfectly compatible. Is it not thus 
with the precepts of religion, and the need- 
ful affairs of the present life ; not excepting 
even the innocent gratifications of our appe- 
tites ? Some, I believe, are apt to imagine, 
that they must renounce society, if they de- 
vote themselves to Christ ; and abandon all 
the satisfactions of this world, if they once 
become zealous candidates for the felicity 
of another. But this is a very mistaken 
notion, or else a very injurious representa- 
tion of the doctrine which is according to 
godliness. It was never intended to diive 
men into deserts, but to lead them, through 
the peaceful and pleasant paths of wisdom, 
into the blissful regions of life eternal. It 
was never intended to strike off" the wheels 
of business, or cut in sunder the sineM's of 
industry ; but rather to make men indus- 
trious, from a principle of conscience, not 
from the instigations of avarice ; that so 
they may promote their immortal happiness 
even while they provide for their temporal 
maintenance. It has no design to extirpate 
om- passions, but only to restrain their irre- 
gularities ; neither would it extinguish the 
delights of sense, but prevent them from 
evaporating into vanity, and subsiding into 
gall. A person may be cheerful among his 
friends, and yet joyful in God. He may 
taste the sweets of his earthly estate, and, 
at the same time cherish his hopes of a no- 
bler inheritance in heaven. The trader may 



■ « With what amazing speed this vessel, (if I may 
caii-j oil the allusion,) filled with a multitude of na- 
tions, and freighted with all their possessions, makes 
her way through the etherial space. 



prosecute the demands of commerce, with- 
out neglecting to negotiate the affairs of 
his salvation. The warrior may wear his' 
sword, may draw in a just cause that mur- 
derous weapon, yet be a good soldier of Je- 
sus Christ, and obtain the crowTi that fa- 
deth not away. The parent may lay up a 
competent portion for his children, and not 
forfeit his title to the treasures either of 
grace or of glory. So far is Christianity 
from obstructing any valuable interest, or 
withholding any real pleasm-e, that it im- 
proves the one, and advances the other : 
Just as the diurnal and annual motions are 
so far from clashing, that they entirely ac- 
cord ; and instead of being destructive of 
each other, by mutually blending their ef- 
fects, they give proportion and harmony to 
time, fertility and innumerable benefits to . 
nature. 

To us who dwell on its surface, the earth 
is by far the most extensive orb that our 
eyes can any where behold. It is also 
clothed with verdure, distinguished by trees, 
and adorned with a variety of beautiful de- 
corations. Whereas, to a spectator placed 
on one of the planets, it wears an uniform 
aspect ; looks all luminous, and no larger 
than a spot. To beings who dwell at still 
greater distances, it entirely disappears. 
That which we call, alternately, the morn- 
ing and the evening star, (as in one part of 
her orbit she rides foremost in the proces- 
sion of night, in the other ushers in and an- 
ticipates the dawn,) is a planetaiy world ; 
which, with the four others, that so won- 
derfully vary their mystic dance, are in 
themselves dark bodies, and shine only by 
reflection ; have fields, and seas, and skie^ 
of their own ; are furnished with all accom- 
modations for animal subsistence, and are 
supposed to be the abodes of intellectual 
life. All which, together with this our 
earthly habitation, are dependant on that 
grand dispenser of divine munificence — the 
sun ! receive their light from the distribu- 
tion of his rays, and derive their comforts 
from his benign agency. 

The sun, which seems to perform its 
daily stages through the sky, is in this re- 
spect,* fixed and immoveable. It is the 
great axle of heaven, about which the globe 
we inhabit, and other more spacious orbs, 
wheel their stated courses. The sun, 
though seemingly smaller than the dial it 
illuminates, is abundantly largerf than this 
whole earth, on which so many lofty 
mountains rise, and such vast oceans rolK 



I say, in this respect, that I may not seem to 
forget or exclude the revolution of the sun round its 
own axis. 

t 100,000 ti-Aies, according to the lowest reckon- 
ing. Sir Isaac Newton computes the sun to be 
900,000 times bigger than the earth.— Religious PMla- 
sopher, p. 749 



ON THE STAKRY HEAVENS. 



99 



A line, extending from side to side, through 
the centre of that resplendent orb, would 
measure more than eight hundred thousand 
miles : a girdle, formed to go round its cir- 
cumference, would require a length of mil- 
lions : were its solid contents to be estima- 
ted, the account woidd overwhelm our un- 
derstanding, and be almost beyond the power 
of language to express. * Are we startled 
at these reports of philosophy? Are we 
ready to cry out in a transport of surprise. 
How mighty is the being, who kindled such 
a prodigious fire, and keeps alive, from age 
to age, such an enormous mass of flame ? 
Let us attend to our philosophic guides, 
and we shall be brought acquainted with 
speculations more enlarged and more amaz- 
ing. 

The sun, with all its attendant planets, 
is but a very little part of the grand ma- 
chine of the universe. Eveiy star, though 
in appearance no bigger than the diamond 
that glitters upon a lady's ring, is really a 
vast globe, like the sun in size, and in 
glory ; no less spacious, no less luminous, 
than the radiant source of our day. So 
that every star is not barely a world, but 
the centre of a magnificent system : has a 
retinue of worlds, irradiated by its beams, 
and revolving round its attractiveiifluence ; 
all which are lost to our sight in unmea- 
surable wilds of ether. That the stars ap- 
pear like so many diminutive, and scarce 
distinguishable points, is owing to their im- 
mense, and inconceivable distance. Im- 
mense and inconceivable indeed it is ; since 
a ball, shot from a loaded cannon, and flying 
with unabated rapidity, must travel, at this 
impetuous rate, almost seven hundred thou- 
sand years,f before it could reach the near- 
est of those twinkling luminaries. 

Can any thing be more wonderful than 
these observations ? Yes ; there are truths 
far more stupendous ; there are scenes far 
more extensive. As there is no end of the 
almighty Maker's greatness, so no imagi- 
nation can set limits to his creating hand. 
Could you soar beyond the moon, and pass 
through all the planetary choir ; could you 
^ving your way to the highest apparent star, 
and take your stand on one of the loftiest 
pinnacles of heaven — you would there see 
other skies expanded ; another sun distri- 
buting his inexhaustible beams by day ; 
other stars that gild the horrors of the al- 
ternate night ; and other,| perhaps nobler, 

* Dr. Derham, after having calculated the dimensions 
of theplanets, adds, "Amazmg as these masses are, they 
are all far outdone hy that stupendous ^lobe of light, 
the sun ; which, as it is the fountain of light and heat 
to all the planets about it, so doth it far surpass them 
allin its bulk; its apparent diameter being computed 
at 822,148 English miles, its ambit at 2,582,873 miles, 
and its solid contents at, 290,971,000,000,000,000." 
Astro-Theolosry, Book I. ch. ii. 

t See Religious Philosopher, p, 818. 

t See Astro-Theology, Hook II. chap. ii. where the 
author, having as.sjgned various reasons to support 



systems established — established in unknown 
profusion, through the boundless dimensions 
of space. Nor does the dominion of the 
imiversal Sovereign terminate there. Even 
at the end of this vast tour, yoti would find 
yourself advanced no farther than the sub- 
urbs of creation, arrived only at the frontiers 
of the great Jehovah's kingdom.* 

And do they tell me that the sun, the 
moon, and all the planets, are but a little 
part of his works? How great, then, are 
his signs ! and how mighty are his wonders. 
(Dan. iv. 3.) And if so, what is the Cre- 
ator himself? How far exalted above all 
praise ! who is so high, that he looks doAvn 
on the highest of these dazzling spheres, 
and sees, even the summit of creation, in a 
vale ! so great, that this prodigious extent 
of space is but a point in his presence ; and 
all this confluence of worlds, as the lightest 
atom, that fluctuates in air, and sports in 
the meridian ray.f 

Thou most sublime and incomprehen- 
sibly glorious God, how I am overwhelmed 
with awe ! how sunk into the lowest pro- 
stration of mind ! when I consider thy " ex- 
cellent greatness," and my own utter insig- 
nificancy ? And have I, excessively mean 
as I am, have I entertained any conceited 
apprehensions of myself; have I felt the 
least elatement of thought, in the presence 



this theory of our modern astronomers, adds, " re- 
sides the fore-mentioned strong probabilities, we have 
this farther recommendation of such an account of the 
universe, that it is far more magnificent, and worthy 
of the infinite Creator, than any other of the narrower 
schemes." 

* Job, after a most beautiful dissertation on the- 
mighty works of God, as they are distributed through 
universal nature, from the heights of heaven to the 
very depths of hell, closes the magnificent account 
with this acknowledgment ; Lo ! these are parts of 
his ways. Or, as the original word more literally sig- 
nifies, and may, I think, be more elegantly rendered. 
These are only the skirts, the very uttermost borders 
of his works. No more than a small preface to the 
immense volume of the creation. From the Hebrew 
(extremities,) I cannot forbear thinking on the ex- 
treme and very attenuated fibres of the root, when 
compared with the whole substance of the trunk ; or 
on the exquisitely small size of the capillary vessels, 
when compared with the whole structure of the body. 
Job xxvi. 14. 

t This puts me in mind of a very fine remark on a 
scriptural beauty and a solid correction of the com- 
mon translation, made by that learned, sagacious, and 
devout expositor Vitringa. Isa. xl. 15. We find it 
written of the Supreme Being, that he taketh up tlm 
isles a very little thin^. Which, our critic observes, 
is neither answerable to the import of the original, 
nor consonant to the structure of the discourse. The 
prophet had no intention to inform mankind what 
the Almighty could do with regard to the islands, if 
he pleased to exert uncontrollable power. His design 
was to show how insignificant, or rather what mere 
nothings they ar?, in his esteem, and before his Ma- 
jesty. The islands, says he, though so spacious as. 
to afford room for the erection of kingdoms, and the 
abode of nations ; though so strong as to withstand, 
for many thousands of years, the raging and reiterat- 
ed assaults of the whole watery world, are yet, before 
the adored Jehovah, small as the minutest grain which 
the eye can scarce discern, light as the feathered mote 
which the least breath hurries away like a tempest. 
InsitlcB sunt ut leve quid, quod avelat. The deep- 
rooted islands are as the volatile atom, which by the 
gentlest undulations of the air, is wafted to and fro 
in perpetual agitation. 



100 



CONTEMPLi\TIONS 



of so majestic and adorable a being? How 
should this wound me With sori'ow, and co- 
ver me with confusion ! O my God, was I 
possessed of all the high perfections, which 
accomplish and adorn the angels of light ; 
amidst all these noble endowments I would 
fall doAvn in the deepest abasement at thy 
feet. Lost in the infinitely superior blaze 
of thy uncreated glories, I would confess 
myself to be nothing, to be less than no- 
thing and vanity. How much more ought 
I to maintain the most unfeigned humilia- 
tion before thy divine majesty, who am not 
only dust and ashes, but a compound of ig- 
norance, imperfection, and depravity ! 

While, beholding this vast expanse, I 
learn my own extreme meanness, I would 
also discover the abject littleness of all 
terrestrial things. What is the earth with 
all her ostentatious scenes, compared with 
this astonishing grand furniture of the skies ? 
What, but a dim speck hardly perceivable in 
the map of the universe ? It is observed by a 
very judicious writer,* thatif the sun himself, 
which enlightens this part of the creation, 
was extinguished, and all the host of plan- 
etary worlds which move about hira, were 
annihilated; they would not be missed by 
an eye that can take in the whole compass 
of nature, any more than a grain of sand 
upon the sea-shore. The bulk of which 
they consist, and the space which they oc- 
cupy, is so exceedingly little in comparison 
of the whole, that their loss would scarce 
leave a blank in the immensity of God's 
works. If then, not our globe only, but 
this whole system, be so very diminutive, 
M'hat is a kingdom or a country ? what aie a 
few lordships, or the so nuich admired pa- 
trimonies of those who are styled wealthy ? 
When I measure them with my own little 
pittance, they swell into proud and bloated 
dimensions. But when I take the universe 
for my standard, how scanty is their size, 
how contemptible their figure ! They shrink 
into pompous nothings. 

When the keen-eyed eagle soars above all 
the feathered race, and leaves their veiy 
sight below : when she wings her way with 
direct ascent up the steep of heaven, and, 
steadily gazing on the meridian sun, ac- 
counts its beaming splendours all her own ; 
does she then regard with any solicitude, 
the mote that is flying in the air, or the dust 
which she shook from her feet ? And shall 
this eternal mind, which is capable of con- 
templating its Creator's glory, which is in- 
tended to enjoy the visions of his counten- 
ance ; shall this eternal mind, endued with 
such great capacities, and made for such ex- 
alted ends, be so ignobly ambitious as to 
sigh for the tinsel of state ; or so poorly 
covetous as to grasp after ample territories 



* Spsi't. Vol. viii. No. 56.~j. 



on a needle's point ? No ; under the infliT- 
ence of such considerations, I feel my sen- 
timents expand, and my wishes acquire a 
tone of sublimity. My throbbing desires 
after worldly grandeur die away ; and I find 
myself, if not possessed of power, yet su- 
perior to its charms. Too long, must I 
own, have my afi^ections been pinioned by 
vanity, and immured in this earthly clod. 
But these thoughts break the shackles ;* 
these objects open the door of liberty. My 
soul, fired by such noble prospects, weighs 
anchor from this little nook, and coasts no 
longer about its contracted shores ; dotes 
no longer on its painted shells. The im- 
mensity of things is her range, and an infin- 
ity of bliss is her aim. 

Behold this immense expanse, and ad- 
mire the condescension of thy God. In 
this manner, an inspired and princely as- 
tronomer improved his survey of the noc-- 
tiu-nal heavens. " When I consider thy 
heavens, even the work of thy fingers, the 
moon and the stars, which thou hast ordain- 
ed : I am smitten with wonder at thy glo- 
rj'-, and cry out in a transport of gratitude, 
Lord, what is man, that thou art mindfitl of 
him ! or the son of man, that thou visitest 
him !" (Psalm viii. 3, 4.) How amazing, 
how chafing, is that divine benignity,- 
which is pleased to bow down its sacred re- 
gards to so foolish and worthless a creature ? 
yea, disdains not, from the height of infinite 
exaltation, to extend its kind providential 
care to our most minute concerns ! this is 
amazing. But that the everlasting Sover- 
eign should give his Son to be made flesh, 
and become our Saviour ! shall I call it a 
miracle of condescending goodness ? Rather 
what are all miracles, what are all myster- 
ies, to this ineffable gift ! 

Had the brightest archangel been com- 
missioned to come down, with the olive 
branch of peace in his hand, signifying his 
eternal Maker's readiness to be recon- 
ciled ; on our bended knees, with tears 
of joy, and a torrent of thankfulness, we 
ought to have received the transporting 
news. But when, instead of such an an- 
gelic envoy, he sends his only begotten Son, 
his Son beyond all thought illustrious, to 
make us the gracious overture — sends him 
from the " habitation of his holiness and 
glory," to put on the infirmities of mortali- 
ty, and dwell in a tabernacle of clay ; sends 
him, not barely to make us a transient vi- 
sit, but to abide many years in our inferior 
and miserable world ; sends him, not to ex- 



* The soul of man was made to walk the skies. 
Delightful outlet of her prison here ! 
There, disincumber'd from her chains, the ties 
Of toys terrestrial/ she can rove at large ; 
There freel-v can respire, dilate, extend, 
In full proportion let loose all her powers. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



101 



ercise dominion over monarchs, but to wear 
eut his life in the ignoble form of a ser- 
vant ; and at last, to make his exit under 
tlie infamous character of a malefactor ! 
Was ever love like this ? Did ever gi-ace 
Stoop so low?* Should the sun be shorn of 
all his radiant honours, and degraded into a 
clod of the valleys ; should all the dignitar- 
ies of heaven be deposed from their thrones, 
and degenerate into insects of a day ; great, 
great would be the abasement : but nothing 
to thine, most blessed Jesus ! nothing to 
thine, thou prince of peace ! when for us 
men, and for our salvation, thou didst not ab- 
hor the coarse accommodations of the man- 
ger ; thou didst not decline even the gloomy 
horrors of the grave. 

It IS weU the sacred oracles have given 
this doctrine the most explicit confirmation, 
and evidence quite incontestible ; other- 
wise a favour so undeserved, so unexpected, 
and rich beyond all imagination, might stag- 
ger our belief. Could He who launches 
all these planetary globes through the illi- 
mitable void, and leads them on, from age 
to age, in their extensive career : could he 
resign his hands to be confined by the gird- 
ing cord, and his back to be ploughed by 
the bloody scourge ! Could he who crowns 
all the stars with inextinguishable bright- 
ness, be himself defiled with spitting, and 
disfigured with the thorny scar ! It is the 
greatest of wonders, and yet the surest of 
truths. 

O ! ye mighty orbs, that roll along the 
spaces of the sky ; I wondered a little 
while ago at your vast dimensions and ample 
circuits ; but now my amazement ceases, or 
rather is entirely swallowed up by a much 
more stupendous subject. Methinks your 
enormous bulk is shrivelled to an atom, 
your prodigious revolutions are contracted 



* This reminds me of a very noble piece of sacred 
oratory, where, in a line series of the most beautiful 
gradations, the apostle displays the admirably conde- 
scending kindness of our Savi'oui-. He thought it no 
robbery, it was his indisputable right, to be equal with 
the infinite, self-existent, immortal God. Yet, in 
mercy to sinners, he emptied himself of the incom- 
municable honours, and laid aside the robes of incom- 
prehensible glory. When he entered upon his medi- 
atorial state, instead of acting in the grand capacity 
of universal Sovereign, he took upon bim the formof a 
servant; and not the form of those ministering spirits, 
whose duty is dignity itself, who are throned, though 
adoring. He took not on him the nature of angels, 
but stooped incomparably lov,-er ; assumed a body of 
animated dust, and was made in the likeness of men, 
those inferior and depraved creatures. Astonishing 
condescension ! but not sufficient for the overflowing 
richness of the Redeemer's love. For, being found in 
fashion as a man, he humbled himself farther still ; 
. occupied the lowest place, where all was low and ig- 
. noble. He not only submitted to the yoke of the law, 
but also bore the infiimities, and ministered to the 
necessities of inortals. He even washed the feet of 
others, and had not where to lay his own head. Yea, 
he carried his meritorious humiliation to the very 
.deepest degrees of possible abasement. He became 
obedient unto death ; and not to a common or natur- 
al death, but a death more infamous than the gibbet, 
more torturous than the rack, ei'^n the accursed 
death of the cross, Phil, ii 6—8. 



to a span, while I muse upon the far more 
elevated heights, and unfathomable depths, 
the infinitely more extended lengths, and 
unlimited breadths, of the love of God in 
Christ Jesus ; (Eph. iii. 18, 19.) 

Contemplating- this stately expanse, I see 
a mirror which represents in the most 
awfid colours the heinousness of human 
guilt. Ten thousand volumes wrote on 
purpose to display the aggravations of my 
various acts of disobedience, could not so 
eifectually convince me of their inconceiv- 
able enormity, as the consideration of that 
all-glorious person, who, to make an atone- 
ment for them, spilt the last drop of his 
blood. I have sinned, may every child of 
Adam say ; and what shall I do unto thee, 
O thou observer of men ?* ShaU I give my 
first-born for my transgression, the fmit of 
my body for the sin of my soul? vain com- 
mutation ! and such as would be rejected 
by the blessed God with the utmost abhor- 
rence. Will all the potentates that sway 
the sceptre in a thousand kingdoms, devote 
their royal and honoured lives to rescue an 
obnoxious creature from the stroke of ven- 
geance ? Alas ! it must cost more, incom- 
parably more, to expiate the malignity of 
sin, and save a guilty wretch from hell. 
WiU all the principalities of heaven be con- 
tent to assume my nature, and resign them- 
selves to death for my pardon ?f Even this 
would be too mean a satisfaction for inex- 
orable justice ; too scanty a reparation of 



* .Icb vii. 27. Not preserver, as it stands in our 
version, but observer of men. Which phrase, as it de- 
notes the exact and incessant inspection of the divine 
eye, asit intimates theabsoluteimpossibility that any 
transgression should escape the divine notice, is evi- 
dently most proper, both to assign tlie reason, and 
heighten the emphasis of the context. 

t Milton sets this thought in a very poetical and 
striking light. — All the sanctities of heaven stand 
round the throne of the supreme Majesty. God fore- 
sees and forte'.s tlie f.Jl of m.an ; the ruin which will 
unavoidably ensue on his tra isgression ; and the ut- 
ter impossibility of his being able to extricate him- 
self from the abyss of misery. 

He, with his whole posterity must die ; 
Die he, e'er justice must ; unless for him 
Some other abie, and as willing, pay 
The rigid sat:.sfaction, death for death. 

After which affecting representation, intending to 
raise the most tender emcHions of pity, the following 
inquiry is addressed to all the surrounding angels. 

Say, heav'nly powers, where shall we find such love? 
Which of you will be mortal to redeem 
Man's mortal crime ? and die the dead to save ? 
He ask'd ; but all tlie heavenly choir stood mute. 
And silence was in heav'n. 

There is, to me at least, an inimitable spirit and 
beauty in the last circumstance. That such an in- 
numerable multitude of generous and compassionate 
beings should be struck dumb with surprise and ter- 
ror at the very mention of the deadly forfeiture and 
ransom set ! no language is so eloquent as tliis silence. 
Words could not possibly have expressed, in so em- 
phatical a manner, the dreadful nature of the task ; 
the absohite inabihty of any or all creatures to exe- 
cute it ; the supereraine nt and matchless love of the 
eternal Son, in undertaking the tremendous work, 
not only without reluctance, but unsought, and un- 
implored, with readiness, alacrity' and delight. 

Par. Lost, Book III. line '-21)9. Edit. Be?it. 



102 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



God's injured honour. So flagrant is hu- 
man guilt, that nothing but a victim of in- 
finite dignity could constitute an adequate 
propitiation. He who said, " Let there be 
light, and there was light ;" let there be a 
firmament, and immediately the blue cur- 
tains floated in the sky ; he must take flesh ; 
be must feel the fierce torments of crucifix- 
ion ; and pour out his soul in agonies if 
ever such ti-ansgressors are pardoned. 

How vast is that debt, which all the 
wealth of both the Indies cannot discharge ! 
How \'itiated that habit of body, which all 
the drugs produced by nature herself cannot 
rectify ! But how much more ruined was 
thy condition, O my soul ! how much more 
heinous were thy crimes ! since nothing less 
than the sufl^erings and death of Messiah, 
the Son of God, and radiant image of his 
glory, could effect thy recovery, or cancel 
tliy iniquity. Though, perhaps, thou art 
not sunk so very deep in pollution as some 
of the most abandoned profligates, yet re- 
member the inestimable ransom paid to re- 
deem thee from everlasting destmction. 
Remember tliis, and " never open thy 
mouth any more," (Ezek. xvi. 63,) either 
to murmur at the divine chastisements, or 
to gloiy in thy own attainments. Remem- 
ber this, and even " loathe thyself for the 
multitude of thy provocations," (Ezek. 
xxxvi. 31,) and thy great baseness. 

Once more let me view this beautiful, 
this magnificent expanse, and conceive some 
juster apprehensions of the unknown rich- 
ness of my Saviour's atonement. I am in- 
formed, by a writer who cannot mistake, 
that the High Priest of my profession, who 
was also the sacrifice for my sins, is higher 
than the heavens; (Heb. vii. 26,) more 
exalted in dignity, moi-e bright with glory, ! 
than all the heavenly mansions, and all 
their illustrious inhabitants. If my heart 
was humbled at the consideration of its ex- 
cessive giiilt, how do all my drooping pow- 
ers revive at this delightful thought ! The 
poor criminal, that seemed to be tottering 
on the very brink of the infernal pit, is 
raised by such a belief, even to the portals 
of paradise. My self-abasement, I trust' 
will always continue, but my fears, under 
the influence of such a con\dction, ai*e quite 
gone.* I do not, I cannot doubt the effi- 
cacy of this propitiation. While I see a 
glim.pse of its matchless excellency, and 



* I am sorry to find, that some of my readers were 
a little disgusted at this expression, " my fears are 
quite gone;" as thinking it discovered a tincture of 
arrogance in the writer, and tended to discourage the 
weaS Christian. But I hope a more mature consider- 
ation will acquit me from both these charges. For, 
what has the author said ? Only that at some pecu- 
liarly happy moments, when the Holy Ghost bears 
witness of Christ in his heart, and he is favoured 
with a glimpse of the Redeemer's matchless excel- 
?ency — that iu these brighter intervals of life, his 
trembling fears with regard to tl\e derisive senteix-e 



verily believe myself interested in its me- 
rits, I know not what it is to feel any mis- 
giving suspicions, but am steadfast in faith, 
and joyful through hope. 

Be my iniquities like debts of millions 
of talents, here is more than full payment 
for all that prodigious sum. Let the enemy 
of mankind, and accuser of the brethren, 
load me with invectives ; this one plea, A 
Divine Redeemer died ! most thoroughly 
quashes every indictment. For though there 
be much tmpitude, and manifold transgres- 
sions, " there is no condemnation to those 
that are in Christ Jesus." Nay, were I 
chargeable with all the vilest deeds which 
have been committed in every age of the 
world, by eveiy nation of men ; even in 
this most deplorable case I need not sink 
into despair. Even such guilt, though grie- 
vous beyond all expression, is not to be 
compared with that abundance of grace and 
righteousness which dwell in the incarnate 
Divinity. How great, how transcendently 
glorious, are the perfections of the, adored 
Jehovah ! So great, so superlatively pre- 
cious, is the expiation of the dying Jesus. 
It is impossible for the human mind to ex- 
alt this atonement too highly ;* it is impos-- 
sible for the humble penitent to confide in 
it too steadily. The scriptures of eternal 
truth have said it, (exult my soul, in the 
belief of it ! ) that the blood on which we 
rely, is God's owm blood; (Acts xx. 28,) 
and therefore all-sufficient to expiate, omni- 
potent to save. 

David, that egregious sinner, but more 
exemplary saint, seems to have been well 
acquainted -with this comfortable truth. 
What else can be the import af that very 
remarkable, but most devout declaration ! 
I " Thou shalt purge mef with hyssop, and I 
shall be clean : thou shalt wash me, and I 
shalt be whiter than snow." I have been 



of the great tribunal, are turned into pleasing expect- 
ations. And what is there in such a declaration of- 
fensive to the strictest modesty, or dispiriting to the 
weakest believer ? Instead of creating discourage- 
ment, it points out the way to obtain a settled tran- 
quillity. Its natural tendency is, to engage the seri- 
ous mind in a more constant and attentivemeditation 
on the unknown merits of the divine Mediator. And 
were we more thoroughly acquainted, more deeply 
affected, with his unutterable dignity, I am persuad- 
ed our uneasy apprehensions would proportionally 
vanish; our faith be established, our hopes brighten- 
ed, and our joys enlarged. 

* This doctrine, though rich with consolation to 
the ruined sinner, yet, is it not likely to open a door 
for licentiousness, and embolden transgressors to pro- 
secute their vices ? No ; it is the most powerful mo- 
tive to that genuine repentance which flows from an 
unfeigned love of God, and operates in a hearty de- 
testation of all sin. One who knew the unmeasur- 
able goodness of the Lord, and was no stranger to the 
sinful perverseness of our nature, says, " There is 
mercy with thee; therefore shalt thou be feared," 
Psahn cxxx. 4. Words full to my purpose ; which at 
once add the highest authority to this sentiment, 
and direct our minds to its proper influence, and due 
improvement. 

t Psalm li. 7- " Thou shalt purge." I prefer this 
tra;is!ation before the new one ; because this speaks 



ON THE STAR 

guilty, I must confess, of the most compli- 
cated and shocking crimes ; crimes, iniiam- 
ed by every aggravating circumstance, mth 
regard to myself, my neighbour, and my 
God. Myself, who have been blessed 
above men, and the distinguished favourite 
of Providence ; my neighbour, who, in the 
most dear and tender interests, has been ir- 
reparably injured ; my God, who might just- 
ly expect the most grateful retiu-ns of duty, 
instead of such enormous violations of his 
law. Yet, all horrid and execrable as my 
offence is, it is nothing to the superabund- 
ant merit of that great Redeemer who was 
promised from the foimdarions of the world ; 
in whom all my fathers trusted ; who is the 
hope of all the ends of the eaith. Though 
my conscience be more loathsome, with 
adulterous impurity, than the dunghill ; 
though treachery and mm-der have rendered 
it even black as the gloom of hell ; yet, 
washed in the fountain open for sin and for 
uncleamiess, (Zech. xiii. 1,) I shall be, I 
say not pure only, this were a disparage- 
ment to the efficacy of my Saviour's death ; 
but I shall be fair as the lily, and white as 
the snow. Nay, let me not derogate from 
the glorious object of my confidence; cleansed 
by this sovereign sanctifying stream, I shall 
be fairer than the full-blown lily, whiter 
than the new-fallen sno^vs." 

Power, saith the Scripture, belongeth 
unto God; (Psalm Ixii. II.) And in what 
majestic lines is this attribute of Jehovah 
written throughout the whole volume of the 
creation ! especially through those magnifi- 
cent pages unfolded in yonder starry re- 
gions ; which are therefore styled, by the 
sweet and seraphic singer of Israel, " The 
firmament of his power." (Psalm cl. 1,) 
because the grand exploits of Omnipotence 
are there displayed with the utmost pomp, 
and recorded in the most legible characters. 

Who that looks upward to the midnight 
sky, and with an eye of reason beholds its 
rolling wonders, who can forbear inquiring 
of what were those mighty orbs formed ? 
Amazing to relate : They were produced 
without materials ! They sprung from emp- 
tiness itself. The stately fabric of universal 
nature emerged out of nothing. \VTiat in- 
struments were used by the supreme Archi- 
tect, to fashion the parts with such exqui- 
site niceness, and give so beautiful a polish 
to the whole ? How was all connected into 
one finely proportioned, and nobly finished 
structure ? A bare fiat accomplished all ! 
Let them be, saith God. He added no 
more ; and immediately the marvellous edi- 



the language of a more steadfast belief, and gives the 
highest honour to the di\"ine goodness. Were the 
worrts intended to bear no more than the common 
pelitionarv sense, and not to be exprfssive of a noble 
plerophory of faith, they would rather liavebeen im- 
peratives and not fuiuics. 



RY HEAVENS. K>3' 

fice arose, adorned with every beauty, dis- 
playing innumerable perfections, and declar- 
ing, am.idst enraptured seraphs, its great 
Creator's praise. "By the word of the 
Lord were the heavens made, and all the 
host of them by the breath of his mouth. 
What forceful machinery fixed some of those 
ponderous globes on an immoveable basis ? 
What irresistible impulse bowled others 
through the circuit of the heavens ? What 
coercive energy confined their impetuous 
courses within limits astonishingly large, 
yet most minutely true ? Nothing but his 
sovereign will. For all things were at first 
constituted, and all to this day abide accord- 
ing to his ordinance. 

Without any toilsome assiduity, or labori- 
ous process, to raise, to touch, to speak 
such a multitude of immense bodies into 
being ; to launch them through the spaces 
of the sky, as an arrow from the hand of a 
giant ; to impress on such unwieldy masses 
a motion far outstripping the s\^nftness of 
the winged creation ;f and to continue them 
in the same rapid whirl for thousands and 
thousands of years ; what an amazing instance 
of infinite might is this ! Can any thing be 
impossible to the Lord, the Lord God, the 
Creator and Controller of all the ends of 
the earth, all the regions of the universe ? 
Rather, is not all that we count difficult, per- 
fect ease to that glorious Being, who only 
spake, and the world was made? (Psalm 
xxxiii. 9,) who only gave command, and the 
stupendous axle was lodged fast, the lofty 
wheels moved complete ? "WTiat a sure de- 
fence, O my soul, is this everlasting 
strength of thy God ! Be this thy continual 
refuge in the article of danger ; this thy 



* If this thought is admitted a second time, and 
suffered to eimoble the next paragraph, it is partly 
because of its unequalled subhmitv; partly, because 
it awakens the most grand idea of creating power ; 
and partly, because the practice of the Psalmist, an 
authority too great to be controverted, is my preced- 
ent. The beautiful stanza quoted from Psalm xxxiii. 
6, is a proof how thoroughly the royal poet enter- 
ed into the majesty of the Mosaic narration. The 
repetition of the sentiment, verse 9, intimates how 
peculiarly he was charmed with that noble manner of 
describing the divine operations, while the turn of 
his own composition shows how perfectly he possessed 
the same elevated way of thinking : And this, long 
before Longinus wrote the celebrated treatise, which 
has taught the Heathen, as well as the Christian 
world, to admire the dignity of the Jewish legislator's 
style. — Vid. Longin. de Suhlim. Sect ix. 

t To give one instance of this remark : The earth, 
in the diurnal revolution which it performs on its 
own axis, whirls about at the rate of above a thou- 
sand miles an hour. And, as the great orbit, which 
it describes annually round the sun, is reckoned at 
540 millions of miles, it must travel near a miUion and 
a half each day. W hat a force must be requisite to 
protrude so vast a globe, and wheel it on, loaded as 
it is with huge mountains and ponderous rocks, at 
such a prodigious degree of rapidity ! It surpasses hu- 
man conception. How natural, how pertinent, how 
almost necessary after such an observation, is the ac- 
knowledgment made by holy Job ! " I know that 
thou canst do every thing, and that no thought, no 
imaginable scheme can be withholden from thee, can 
lie beyond thy power to execute." Chap. xlii. 2. 



104 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



never-failing resource in every time of 
need. 

What cannot this uncontrollable povi^er 
of the great Jehovah effect for his people ? 
Be their miseries ever so galling, cannot 
this God relieve them ? Be their wants 
ever so numerous, cannot this God sup- 
ply them ? Be their corruptions within ever 
so inveterate, or their temptations without 
ever so importunate, cannot this mighty, 
mighty God, subdue the former, and fortify 
them against the latter ? Should trials, with 
an incessant vehemence, sift thee as wheat ; 
should tribulation, with a weight of woes, 
almost grind thee to powder ! should plea- 
sure, with her bewitching smiles, solicit 
thee to delicious ruin ; yet hold thou fast 
by God and lay thy help upon him that 
is omnipotent.* Thou canst not be in- 
volved in such calamitous circumstances, 
or exposed to such imminent peril, but thy 
God, whom thou servest is able to deliver 
thee from the one, and to support thee 
under the other. To support ! to deliver ! 
— Let me not dishonour the unlimited great- 
ness of his power : He is able to exalt 
thee from the deepest distress to the most 
triumphant joy ; and to make even a com- 
plication of evils work together for thy 
everlasting good. He is able, not only to 
accomplish what I have been speaking, but 



« It is a most charming description, as well as a 
most comfortable promise, which we find in Isaiah 
xl. 29, 30, 31. He giveth power to the feeble ; and to 
them that have no might at all, he not only impart- 
eth, but increaseth strength ; making it to abound, 
where it did not so much as exist. W^ithout this aid 
of Jehovah, even the youths, amidst the very prime 
of their vigour and activity, shall become languid in 
their work, and weary in their course. And the 
young men, to whose resolution and abilities no- 
thingseemed impracticable, shall not only not succeed, 
but utterly fall, and miscarry in their various enter- 
prises. Whereas they that wait upon the l.ord, and 
confide in his grace, shall press on with a generous 
ardour from one degree of religious improvement to 
another. Instead of exhausting, they shall renew 
their strength ; difficulties shall animate, and toil in- 
vigorate them. They shall mount up, as with soar- 
ing wings, above all opposition ; they shall be car- 
ried through every discouragement, as eagles cleave 
the yielding air : They shall run with speed and alac- 
rity the way of God's commandments, and not be 
weary : They shall hold on (progi-edienter, carpenti- 
ter) with constancy and perseverance in those peace- 
ful paths, and not faint ; but arrive at the end of 
their progress, and receive the prize Of their high call- 
in?. 

To this most cheering doctrine, permit me to add 
it$ no less beautiful and delightful contrast. Eliphaz, 
speaking of the enemies of tne righteous, says. Nihil 
excisumfaetio nobis adversaria. We should reckon 
our language acquitted itself tolerably well, if, when 
deprecating the abilities of an adversary, it should re- 
present them weak as the scorched thread, feeble as the 
dissolving smoke. But these are cold forms of speech 
compared with the eloquence of the east. According to 
the genius of our Bible, all the power that opposes the 
godly, is a mere nothing ; or, to speak with a more 
emphatical air of contempt, a destroyed, an extir- 
pated nothing. Admire this expression, ye that are 
charmed with daring images, and (what Tully calls 
verbum ardens) a spirited and glowing diction. Re- 
member this declaration, ye that fight the good fight 
of faith. The united force of all your enemies, be it 
evpi so formidable to the eye of flesh, is before your 
almighty Guardian, nihil nihilissimuni, not only no- 
thing, but less than nothing, and vanity. Job xxii. 
SO. 



to " do exceeding abundantly above all that 
we can ask or think.* 

O ! the wretched condition of the vdcked, 
who have this Lord of all power for their 
enemy ! O ! the desperate madness of the 
ungodly, who provoke the Almighty to 
jealousy ! Besotted creatures ! are you able 
to contend with your Maker, and enter the 
lists against incensed Omnipotence? Can 
you bear the fierceness of his wrath, or sus- 
tain the vengeance of his lifted arm ? At 
his presence, though awfully serene, the 
hills melt like wax, and the " mountains 
skip like frighted lambs." At the least in- 
timation of his displeasure, the foundations 
of nature rock, and the pillars of heaven 
tremble. How then can a withered leaf 
endure, when " his lips are full of indigna- 
tion, and his tongue as a devouring fire ?" 
Or, can any thing screen a guilty worm, 
when the great and terrible God shall whet 
his glittering sword, and his hand take hold 
on inexorable judgment ? When that hand, 
which shoots the planets — masses of exces- 
sive bulk,f with such surprising rapidity, 
through the sky ; that hand wliich darts 
the comets to such unmeasurable distances 
beyond the orbit of our remotest planet, 
beyond the pursuit of the strongest eye ; 
when that hand is stretched out to punish, 
can the munition of rocks, the intervention 
of seas, or even interposing worlds divert 
the blow ? Consider this, ambition, and 
bow thy haughty crest. Consider this, dis- 
obedience, and bend thy iron sinew ! O ! 
consider this, all ye that forget, or affront the 
tremendous Jehovah, He can, by a single 
act of his will, lay the universe in utter 
ruin ; and can he want power to bring you, 
in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, 
to the dust of death, or to the flames of 
hell ? He has — I say not ten thousand 
lightnings to scorch you to ashes, ten thoii- 



* I should in this place avoid swelling the notes 
any farther, were it not to take notice of the inimita- 
ble passage quoted above, and to be found Ephesians 
iii. 20. Which, if I do not greatly mistake, is the 
most complete representation of divine power that it 
is possible for words to frame. To do all that our 
tongue can ask, is a miracle of might : But we often 
think more than we can express, and are actuated 
with groanings unutterable. Yet, to answer these 
vast desires, is not beyond the accomplishment of 
our heavenly Father. Nay, to make his gifts and his 
blessings commensurate to the largest stretch of hu- 
man expectations, is a small thing with the God of 
glory. He is able to do above all that the most en- 
larged apprehension can imagine ; yea, to do abund- 
antly more, exceeding abundantly more, than the 
mind itself, in the utmost exertion of all its faculties, 
is capable of wishing, or knows how to conceive. 

t One of the planets (Saturn) is supposed to bo 
more than 90 times as big as the globe on which we 
live, According to the same calculation, the largest 
of the planets (Jupiter) is above 200 times vaster than 
this vast collection of spacious forests, towering 
mountains, extensive continents, and boundless 
oceans. Such enormous magnitude ! winged with 
such prodigious speed ! It raises astonishment beyond 
expression. " With God is terrible majesty f" Job 
xxxvii. 22. " Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and 
glorify thy name ?" Rev, xt> 4, 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



105 



sand thunders to crush you into atoms ; but, 
what is unspeakably more dreadful, he has 
an army of terrors even in the look of his 
angry countenance. His very frown is 
worse than destruction. 

I cannot dismiss this subject without ad- 
miring the patience of the blessed God ; 
who, though so strong and powerful, yet 
is provoked eveiy day. Surely, as is his 
majesty, so is his mercy — his pity alto- 
gether commensurate to his power. If I 
vilify but the name of an earthly monarch, 
I lose my liberty, and am confined to the 
dungeon. If I appear in arms, and di-aw 
the sword against my natural sovereign, 
my life is forfeited, and my very blood will 
scarce atone for. the crime. But thee I 
have dishonoured, O thou king immortal 
and invisible ! Against thee my breast has 
fomented secret disaffection ; my behavi- 
our has risen up in open rebellion ^ and 
yet I am spared, yet I am preserved. In- 
stead of being banished from thy presence, 
I sit at thy table, and am fed from thy 
hand. Instead of pursuing me with thun- 
derbolts of vengeance, thy favours suiTound 
me on eveiy side. That arm, that injured 
arm, which might justly fall, with irretriev- 
able ruin, on a traitor's head, is most gra- 
ciously stretched out to caress him with the 
tenderest endearments, to cherish him wdth 
every instance of parental kindness ! O, 
thou mightiest, thou best of Beings, how 
am I pained at my very soiU, for such 
shameful and odious disingenuity ! Let me 
always abominate myself, as the basest of 
creatures, but adore that unwearied long 
suffering of thine, which refuses to be irri- 
tated ; love that unremitted goodness, which 
no acts of ingratitude could stop, or so much 
as check, in its gracious current. O ! let 
this stubborn heart, which duty could not 
bind, which threatenings could not awe, be 
the captive, the willing captive, of such 
triumphant beneficence. 

I have often been struck with wonder 
at that almighty skill, which weighed the 
mountains in scales, and the hills in a ba- 
lance J which proportioned the waters in the 
hollow of its hand, and adjusted the dust of 
the earth by a measm-e.* But how much 



* Isa. xl. 12. The dust of the earth, in this su- 
bhme scripture, signifies the dry land, or solid part of 
our globe; which is placed in contradistinction to 
the whole collection of fluid matter, mentioned in 
the preceding clause. Perhaps this remarkable ex- 
pression may be intended to mtimate, not only the 
extreme niceness which stated the dimensions of the 
world in general, or in the gross, but also that parti- 
cular exactness with which the very smallest mater- 
ials that constitute its frame, (not excepting each in- 
dividual atom) were calculated and disposed;— 5. d. 
It is a small thing to say, no such enormous redund- 
ancies, as unnecessary ridges of mountains, were suf- 
fered to subsist. There was not so much as the least 

frain of sand superfluous, or a single particle of dust 
eficient. As the grand aim of the description is to 
celebrate the consummate wisdom exemplified in the 
creation, and to display that perfect proportion wiih 
which every part tallies, coincides, and harmonizes 



I more marvellous is that magnificent econ- 
omy, which poised the stars with inexpress- 
ible nicety, and meted out the heavens with 
a span ! where all is prodigiously vast, im- 
mensely various, and yet more than mathe 
maticaliy exact. Surely the wisdom of 
God manifests itself in the sides, and shines 
in those lucid orbs ; shines on the contem- 
plative mind, \nth a lustre incomparably 
brighter than that which their united splen- 
dours transmit to the eye. 

Behold yonder countless multitude of 
globes ; consider their amazing m^agnitude ; 
regard them as the sovereigns of so many 
systems, each accompanied ^^ith his plane- 
tary equipage. Upon this supposition, what 
a multiplicity of mighty spheres must be 
perpetually running their rounds in the up- 
per regions ! Yet none mistake their way, 
or wander from the goal, though they pass 
through trackless and unbounded fields. 
None fly off from their orbits into extrava- 
gant excursions ; none press in upon their 
centre, with too near an approach : none in- 
terfere with each other in their perennial 
passage, or intercept the kindly communica- 
tions of another's influence. * But all their 
rotations proceed in etenial harmony, keep- 
ing such time, and observing such laws, as 
are most exquisitely adapted to the perfec- 
tion of the whole. 

While I contemplate this excellent wn.s- 
dom, which made the heavens, and attunes 
all their motions, how am I abashed at that 
mixture of arrogance and folly which has at 
any time inclined me to murmur at thy dis- 
pensations ? O Lord, what is this, but a 
sort of implicit treason against thy supre- 
macy, and a tacit denial of thy infinite un- 
derstanding ! Hast thou so regularly placed 
such a wonderful diversity of systems through 
the spaces of the universe ? Didst thou, 
without any probationary essays, without 
any improving retouches, speak them into 
the most consummate perfection ? Dost 
thou continually superintend all their cir- 
cumstances, with a sagacity that never mis- 
takes the minutest tittle of propriety ? And 
shall I be so unaccountably stupid, as to 
question the justness of thy discernment in 
choosing my inheritance, and fixing the 
bounds of my habitation ? Not a single er- 
ratum, in modelling the structure, determin- 
ing the distance,! and conducting the ca- 



with the whole, I have taken leave to alter the word 
of our English translation fomp; e/ie??rf, and introduce 
in its stead a term equally faithful to the Hebrew, 
and more significative of the prophet's precise idea. 

* The interception of light, by means of an eclipse 
happens very rarely, and then it is of so short a con- 
tinuance as not to be at all inconvenient. Nay, it is 
attended with such circumstances as render it rather 
useful than prejudicial. 

i The sun in particular, (and let this serve as a spe- 
cimen of that most curious exactness with which the 
other celestial bodies are constituted, and all their 
circumstances regulated,) the sun is formed of such 
a determinate magnitude, and placed at such a con- 
venient distance, ' ' as not to annoy, but only re- 



106 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



reer of unnumbered worlds ! And shall my 
peevish humour presume to censure thy in- 
terposition with regard to the affairs of one 
inconsiderable creature ; whose stature, in 
such a comparative view, is less than a span, 
and his present duration little more than a 
moment ? 

O ! thou God, " in whose hand my 
breath is, and whose are all my ways," let 
such sentiments as now possess my thoughts 
be always lively on my heart ! These shall 
compose my mind into a cheerful acquies- 
cence and a thankful submission, even when 
auctions gall the sense, or disappointments 
break my schemes. Then shall I, like the 
grateful patriarch, (Gen. xii. 7, 8,) in all 
the changes of my condition, and even in 
the depths of distress, erect an altar of ador- 
ing resignation, and inscribe it with the 
apostle's motto, " To God only wise." 
Then, shouldst thou give me leave to be the 
carver of my own fortunes, I would hum- 
bly desire to relinquish the grant, and re- 
commit the disposal of myself to thy un- 
erring beneficence ; fully persuaded, that 
thy counsels, though contrary to my fro- 
ward inclinations, or even afflictive to my 
flesh, are incomparably more eligible, than 
the blind impulse of my own will, however 
soothing to animal nature. 

On a careless inspection, you perceive 
no accuracy or imiformity in the position of 
the heavenly bodies. They appear like an 
illustrious chaos ; a promiscuous heap of 
shining globes ; neither ranked in order, nor 
moving by line. But what seems confu- 
sion, is alj regularity. What carries a show 
of negligence, is really the result of the 
most masterly contrivance. You think, 
perhaps, they rove in their aerial flight ; but 
they rove by the nicest rule, and without the 
least error. Their circuits, though seem- 
ingly devious, their mazes, though intricate 
to om- apprehensions,* are marked out, not 
indeed with golden compasses, but by the 
infinitely more exact determinations of the 
all-wise Spirit. 

So, what wears the appearance of calami- 
ty in the allotments appointed for the god- 
ly, has really the nature of a blessing. It 
issues from fatherly love, and will termin- 
ate in the richest good. If Joseph is 
snatched from the embraces of an indulgent 
parent, and abandoned to slavery in a fo- 
reign land, it is in order to save the whole fa- 
mily from perishing by famine, and to pre- 
serve the seed in whom all the nations of 



fresh us, and nourish the ground with its kindly 
warmth. If it was larger, it would set the earth on 
fire ; if smaller, it would leave it frozen. If it was 
nearer us, we should be scorched to death ; if farther 
from us, we should not be able to live foi A^ant of 
heat." — Stackhouse's History of the Bible. 
* —Mazes intricate. 

Eccentric, intervolved ; yet regular 
Then most, when most irregular thrv «rpm, 

Miii'n,. 



the earth should be blessed. If he falls in- 
to the deepest disgrace, it is on purpose that 
he may rise to the highest honours. Even 
the confinement of the prison, by the un- 
searchable workings of Providence, opens 
his way to the right hand of the throne it- 
self. Let the most afflicted servant of Je- 
sus wait the final upshot of things : He 
will then discover the apparent expediency 
of aU those tribulations which now, per- 
haps, he can hardly admit without reluc- 
tance, or suffer without some struggles of 
disatisfaction. Then, the gushing tear and 
the heaving sigh will be turned into tides 
of gratitude and hymns of holy wonder. 

In the mean time, let no audacious railer 
presumptuously impeach the divine proce- 
dure ; but, adoring where we cannot com- 
prehend, let us expect the evolution of the 
mysterious plan. Then shall every eye 
perceive, that the seeming labyrinths of pro- 
vidence were the most direct and compend- 
ious way to effect his general purposes of 
grace, and to bring about each one's parti- 
cular happiness.* Then also shall it be 
clearly shown, in the presence of applaud- 
ing worlds, why virtue pined in want, while 
vice rioted in affluence ; why amiable inno- 
cence so often dragged the dungeon chain, 
while horrid guilt trailed the robe of state. 
That day of universal audit, that day of 
everlasting retribution, will not only vindi- 
cate but magnify the whole management of 
heaven. The august sessions shall close 
with this unanimous, this glorious acknow- 
ledgment : " Though clouds and darkness, 
impenetrable by any human scrutiny, were 
sometimes round about the supreme con- 
ductor of things, yet righteousness and judg- 
ment were the constant habitation of Ins 
seat, (Psalm xcvii. 2,) the invariable stan- 
dard of all his administrations." Thus (if 
I may illustrate the grandest truths by in- 
ferior occiu-rences) while we view the arras 
on the side of least distinction, it is void of 
any elegant fancy ; without any nice strokes 
of art ; nothing but a confused jumble of 
incoherent threads. No sooner is the piece 
beheld in its proper aspect, but the suspect- 
ed rudeness vanishes, and the most ciu-ious 
arrangement takes place. We are charmed 
with designs of the finest taste, and figures 
of the most graceful form. All is shaped 
with symmetry, all is clad in beauty. 

The goodness of God is most eminently 
displayed in the skies. Could we take an 
imderstanding survey of whatever is foimed 
by the divine Architect, throughout the 
whole extent of material things, our minds 
would be transported with their excellencies, 



* The moral world. 

Which, though to us it seems embroiled, moves on 

In higher order; fitted and impelled 

Bv Wisdom's finest hand, and issuing all 

In geners.] good.— Thomson's fVinter, I. 586, last adit. 



ON- THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



107 



and our tongues echo back that great en- 
comium, they are good, very good, ( Gen. i. 
31.) Most beautiful* in themselves ; con- 
trived by unerring Avisdom, and executed 
with inimitable skill. Most usefid* in their 
functions ; exactly fitting the places they 
fiU, and completely answering the purposes 
for which they were intended. All the 
parts of the inanimate creation proclaim, 
both by their intrinsic and relative excellen- 
cies, the all- diffusive beneficence of their 
Maker. 

How much more wonderful are the 
displays of divine indulgence in the worlds 
of life ! Because dead matter is incapable 
of delight, therefore the gracious Creator 
has raised innumerable ranks of perceptive 
existence ; such as are qualified to taste his 
bounty, and enjoy each a happiness suited 
to its peculiar state. With this view, he 
furnished the regions of inferior nature with 
an order and a series of sensitive beings. 
The waters teem with shoals of finny in- 
habitants : The dry land swarms with ani- 
mals of every order : The dwellings of the 
firmament are occupied by multitudes of 
winged people. Not so much as a green 
leaf, philosophers say, but lodges and ac- 
commodates its puny animalcule tenants. f 
And wherefore this diversity, this profusion 
of living creatures, flying the air, treading 
the ground, and- gliding through the paths 
of the sea ? For this most glorious reason -. 
That the eternal Sovereign may exercise 
his superabundant goodness ; that his table 
may be furnished with millions and millions 
of guests ; that he may fill every hour, every 



* This haloegathia of the universe, and all its parts, 
has been very highly and very justly extolled by the 
ancient inquirers into nature ; and was indeed an il- 
lustrious scene spread before the sages of the Heathen 
world, wherein to contemplate the goodness and the 
glories of the supreme Being. It was nobly said by a 
Pagan philosopher, on this occasion, "That God, 
when he undertook the work of creation, transform- 
ed hi-nself into love." Kut he need not transform 
himself into this amiable principle; for " God is 
love f ' as was much more nobly said by one whom 
that philosopher would have termed a barbarian. 1 
John iv. 8. 

t A very celebrated poet, in a beautiful paragraph 
on this subject, informs his readers, that all nature 
swarms with life. In subterranean cells, the earth 
heaves with vital motion. Even the hard stone, in 
the very inmost recesses of its impenetrable citadel, 
holds multitudes of animated inhabitants. The pulp 
of mellow fruit, and all the productions of the or- 
chard, feed the invisible nations. Each liquid, whe- 
ther of acid taste or milder relish, abounds with va- 
rious forms of sensitive existence. Nor is the pure 
stream, or transparent air, v. ithout their colonies of 
unseen people. In which constitution of things we 
have a wonderful instance, not only of the divine 
goodness to those minute beings, in giving them a ca- 
pacity for animal gratifications, but of his tender care 
for mankind, in making them imperceptible to our 
senses. 

These, concealed 

By the kind art of forming heaven, escape 
The grosser eye of man : 'For, if the worlds 
In worlds enclosed should on his senses bvirst, 
Krom cares ambrosial, and the nectar'd bowl, 
He'd turn abhorrent ; and in dead of* night. 
When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunn'd with noise. 

Tfunn-son's Summer. 



moment, their mouths with food, or their 
hearts -vidth gladness. 

But what a small theatre are tbi'ee or 
four elements for the operations of Jeho- 
vah's bounty ! His magnificent liberality 
scorns such scant}' limits. If you ask, 
wherefore has he created all worlds, and re- 
plenished them with an unknown multipli- 
city of beings, rising one above another, in 
an endless gradation of still richer endow- 
ments, and still nobler capacities ? The 
answer is, for the manifestation of his o\vti 
glory, and especially for the communication 
of his inexhaustible beneficence.* The 
great Creator could propose no advantage 
to himself. His bliss is incapable of any 
addition. " Before the raoimtains were 
brought forth, or ever the earth and the 
world were made," he was supremely happy, 
in his own independent and all-sufficient 
self. His grand design, therefore, in erect- 
ing so many stately fabrics, and peopling 
them with so many tribes of inhabitants, 
was to transfuse his exuberant kindness, 
and impart felicity in all its forms. Ten 
thousand worlds, stocked with ten thousand 
times ten thousand ranks of sensitive and 
intelligent existence, are so many spacious 
gardens, which, with rivers of communicated 
joy, this overflowing fountain waters con- 
tinually. 

Boundless,-)- and (which raises our idea 
of this divine principle to the very highest 
degree of perfection) disinterestedf munifi- 
cence ! How inexpressibly amiable is the 
blessed God, considered in this charming 
light ! Is it possible to conceive any excel- 
lence so adorable and lovely, as infinite be- 
nevolence, guided by unerring wisdom, and 
exerting almighty power, on piupose to 
make a whole universe happy ? O my soul, 
what an iiTesistible attractive is here ! what 
a most worthy object for thy rtiost fervent 
affection ! shall now every glittering toy 
become a rival to this transcendently bene- 
ficent being, and rob him of thy heart ? No, 
let his all-creating arm teach thee to trust; 
in the fulness of his sufficiency ; let his all- 
superintending eye incline thee to acquiesce 
in the dispensations of his providence : and 
let his bounty, so freely vouchsafed, so 



* A sacred writer, considering this delightful sub- 
ject, and confining his observation within the narrow 
limits of his own country, cries out with a mixture of 
amazement and gratitude; " How great is his good- 
ness, and how great is his beauty !" Who then can 
forbear being lost in wonder, and transported with 
delight, when he extends his survey to those infinitely 
more copious communications of divine bounty, 
which, like salutary and refreshing streams, run 
through all worlds, and make not only the little val- 
leys of a single kingdom, but the iminensity of crea- 
tion laugh and sing ? Zech. ix. 17. 

t In this sense, " There is none good but one, 
that is God." None universally and essentially good ; 
none whose goodness extends itself, in an infinite 
variety of blessings, to every capable object ; or who 
£ilways dispenses his favours from the sole principle 
of free and disinterested benevolence. 



108 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



amply diffused, induce thee to love him, 
with all the ardour of a grateful and admir- 
ing soul ; induce thee to serve him, not 
with a joyless awe, or sla-sdsh dread, but 
with unfeigned alacrity, and a delightful 
complacency. 

If the goodness of God is so admirably 
seen in the works of nature and the favours 
of pro\ddence, with what a noble superiority 
does it even triumph in the mystery of re- 
demption ! * Redemption is the brightest 
mirror in which to contemplate this most 
lovely attribute of the Deity. Other gifts 
are only as mites from the divine trea- 
sury ; but redemption opens, I had almost 
said exhausts, all the stores of indulgence 
and grace. Herein " God commendeth his 
love (Rom. v. 8 ;) not only manifests, but 
sets it off, as it were, with every bright and 
grand embellishment ; manifests it in so stu- 
pendous a manner, that it is beyond par- 
allel ; beyond thought ; " above all blessing 
and praise." Was He not thy Son, ever- 
lasting God, thy only Son, the Son of thy 
bosom from eternal ages, the iiighest object 
of thy complacential delight ? \Vas not thy 
love to this adorable Son incomparably 
greater than the tenderest affection of any, 
or the united affections of all mortal pa- 
rents ? Was not the blessed Jesus more 
illustrious in excellency than all angels ; 
more exalted in dignity than all heavens ? 
Yet didst thou resign him for poor mortals, 
for vile sinners ! Couldst thou see him de- 
scend from his royal throne, and take up his 
abode in the sordid stable ? see him fore- 
go the homage of the seraphim, and stand 
exposed to the reproachful indignities of an 
insolent rabble ! see him arraigiied at the 
bar, and sentenced to death ; numbered Avith 
malefactors, and nailed to the gibbet ; bath- 
ed in his own innocent blood, and pouring 
out his soul in agonies of sorrow ! Could 
the Father, the Father himself, with un- 
known philanthropy,! say, " It shall, it shall 
be so ! My pity to rebellious man pleads, 
and prevails. Awake, therefore, O sword, 
(Zech. xiii. 7,) edged with divine wrath ! 
awake, and be sheathed in that immaculate 



* In this, and in other parts of the Contempiations, 
the reader will observe, that the attributes of the 
Deity are represented as shining with more distin- 
guished lustre in the wonders of redemption than in 
the works of creation. If such remarks should seem 
to be imprecedented, or to stand in need of a vindi- 
cation, permit me to subjoin the sentiments of a 
great critic, equally versed in both those sublime 
theories. " In a perfect orator," he says " Tully re- 
quires some skill in the nature of heavenly bodies ; 
because his mind will become more extensive and un- 
confined ; and when he descends to treat of human 
alfairs, he will both think and write in a more exalted 
and magnificent manner. For the same reason, that 
excellent master would have recommended the study 
of those great and glorious mysteries, which revela- 
tion has discovered to us; to which the noblest parts 
of this system of the world are as much inferior, as 
the creature is less excellent than the Creator," 

Si>ei;tato> . vol . xiii, no. 633. 

t Philanthropy, that is loving-kindness to man. 



breast ; pierce that dearly beloved heart. I 
am content that my Son endure the shai-p- 
ness of death, rather than sinful mortals 
perish for ever." Incomprehensible love ! 
May it henceforward be the favourite sub- 
ject of my meditation, more delightful to my 
musing mind than applause to the ambitious 
ear ! May it be the darling theme of my 
discourse ; sweeter to my tongue than the 
droppings of the honey comb to my taste ! 
May it be my choicest comfort through all 
the changes of life ; and my reviving cor- 
dial even in the last extremities of dissolu- 
tion itself ! 

A prophet, contemplating with a distant 
survey this unexampled instance of Almighty 
love, is wrapt into a transport of devotion. 
At a loss for proper acknowledgments, he 
calls upon the whole universe to aid his la- 
bouring breast, and supply his lack of praise. 
Sing melodiously, ye vaulted heavens ; ex- 
idt, and even leap for gladness, thou cum- 
brous earth ; ye mountains, break your long 
silence, and biu-st into peals of loudest ac- 
clamation ;* for the Lord, by his precious 
gift, and this great salvation, hath comfort- 
ed his people. A sacred historian hath left 
it upon record, that at the first exhibition of 
this ravishing scene, there was with the an- 
gel who brought the blessed tidings, a mul- 
titude of the heavenly host, praising God, 
and making the concave of the skies resound 
with their hallelujahs. At the dawn of the 
Sun of Righteousness, when he was begin- 
ning to rise with healing in his wings, the 
morning-stars sang together, and all the sons 
of God shouted for joy. And shall man, 
whom this gracious dispensation principally 
respects ; shall man, who is the centre of all 
these gladdening rays ; shall he have no 
heart to adore, no anthem to celebrate, this 

Love without end, and without measure, grace ? 

Milton. 

How pure is the state of the sky, and 
how clear its aspect ! Clearer than the lim- 
pid stream, purer than the transparent crys- 
tal, and more curiously fine than the po- 
lished mirror. That stately ceiling fretted 
with gold, and stretched to an extent of 
many millions of leagues, is not disfigured 
with a single flaw. That azure canopy, 



* Isa, xlix. 13. I have not adhered to our common 
translation, but endeavoured to preserve, somewhat 
more faithfully, the noble pathos, and inimitable 
energy of the sacred original. The love of God man- 
ifested in a divine and dying Saviour, is a blessing of 
such inconceivable richness, as must render all ac- 
knowledgments fiat and all encomiums languid. Yet 
I think the most poetical and most emphatical cele- 
bration of that unspeakable instance of goodness, is 
contained in this rapturous exclamation of the pro- 
phet ; which intimates with a v/onderful majesty of 
sentim.ent, that even the whole compass of the inani- 
mate creation, could it be sensible of the benefit ard 
capable of delight, would exp' ess its gratitude in all 
these demonstrations of the most lively and exuber- 
ant joy. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



109 



embroidered with stai's, and spacious enough 
to foiTO a covering for unnumbered worlds, 
is without the least spot or wrinkle. Yet 
this, even this, wall scarce yield us so much 
as a faint representation of the divine puri- 
ty. God is a God of matchless and trans- 
cendent excellency. His ways are upright- 
ness itself. His counsels and words are 
the very sanctity of wisdom and of truth. 
The laws which he hath given to universal 
nature, are exquisitely contrived, and beyond 
all possibility of improvement. The pre- 
cepts which he hath appointed for the hu- 
man race, are a complete summary of all 
that is honourable in itself and perfective of 
the rational mind. Not the least oversight, 
in planning a series of events for all futuri- 
ty. Not the least mal-administration, in 
managing the affairs of every age since time 
began, and of every nation under the whole 
heavens. Pardon these disparaging ex- 
pressions : A negative perfection is far, far 
beneath thy digmty, O thou most highest.* 
In all these instances, in all thy acts, and 
all thy attributes, thou art not only holy, 
but " glorious in holiness." 

So inconceivably holy is the Lord God 
of hosts, that he sees defilement even in the 
brightness of the firmament. The U^dng 
sapphire of the heavens, before his majesty, 
loses its lustre. Yea, the stars, (though 
the most piu'e and resplendent part of the 
heavens) are not pure in his sight. How 
much less man, who in his fallen and de- 
praved state, is but as a worm that crawls 
in the corrupted carcase ; and the Son of 
Man, who, by reason of his manifold ac- 
tual impmities, is too justly compared to an 
insect, that wallows amidst stench and pu- 
trefaction ?f Is there not then abundant 



* " O thou most highest." This expression occurs 
more than once in the psalms used by the established 
church. It is, I think, one of those beauties which, 
because often exhibited, generally escape our notice. 
It is a superlative formed on a superlative ; and, 
though not stri ctly conformable to grammatical rules, 
is nobly supeiior to them all. The language seems 
to be sensible of its own deficiency, when the incom- 
prehensible Jehovah is addressed or celebrated. Op- 
nressed as it were with the glories of the subject, it 
labours after a more emphatical maimer of diction 
than the ordinary forms of speech afford. It is, if I 
rightly judge, one of those daring and happy pecu- 
liaritieB of a masterly genius, which Mr. Pope so fine- 
ly describes, and while he describes, exemplifies : 

Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend. 
And rise to faults true critics dare not mend ; 
From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part. 
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art. 

Essai/ on Criticism. 

St Paul's is a beautiful passage of the like nature : 
which our translators have very properly rendered, 
lees than the least of all saints. His poUo mallon 
Tsrethsaon, is another instance of the same kind. But 
■here the English version fails. Far better is extreme- 
ly flaccid, compared with the nervous original. And 
I greatly question, whether it is possible to translate 
the sentence with equal conciseness, and with equal 
spirit. See Eph. iii. 8. Phil. i. 23. 

t Job XXV. 5, 6. I submit to the judgment of the 
leamed, whet,^r this is not the true meaning of the 
text. It may not,, perhaps, recommend itself to the 



cause for the most irreproachable and emi- 
nent of mankind to renounce aU arrogant 
pretensions, to lay aside every assuming air, 
to take nothing but shame and confusion to 
themselves ? A holy prophet, and a holy 
prince, felt such humbling impressions from 
a glimpse of the uncreated purity. I abhor 
myself in dust and ashes, (Job xlii. 6,) was 
the declaration of the one : I am a man of 
unclean lips, (Isaiah vi. 5,) the confession 
of the other. Should not this teach us all 
to adore the divine mercies, for that precious 
purifying fountain,* which was foretold 
from the foundation of the world, but was 
opened at that awful jimcture, when knotty 
whips tore the flesh, when ragged thorns 
mangled the temples, when sharpened nails 
cut fresh sluices from the crimson current, 
when the gash of the spear completed the 
dreadful work, and forthwith flowed there- 
from the wounded heart blood aiid water ' 

Especially since God himstlf saw no 
blemish in his dear Son. He looketh to 
the moon, and it shineth not ; yet his all- 
penetrating and jealous eye discerned no- 
thing amiss, nothing defective in our glori- 
ous Redeemer. Nothing amiss ? He bore 
this most illustrious testimony concerning 
his holy child Jesus ; " In him I am pleas- 
ed ; I am well pleased ; I acquiesce, with 
entire complacency and wdth the highest de- 
light, in his person, his undertaking, and the 
whole execution of his office." How should 
this thought enliven oiu: hopes, while the 
other mortifies our pride ? Should not oiu* 
hearts spring within us, and even leap for 
joy, at the repeated assurance given us by 
revelation, that such a divinely excellent 
person is our Mediator ? What apparent 
reason has every believer to adopt the bless- 
ed virgin's exclamation, " iVIy soiil doth 
magnify the Lord for his transcendent mer- 
cy ; and my spirit rejoices, not in wide ex- 



squeamishly nice critic ; or to those persons who dream 
of, I know not what, dignity in cur fallen nature. 
But it seems, in preference to every other interpret 
tation, suitable to the sacred context; and is far from 
being injurious to ti e character of that apostate race, 
which is " altogether become abominable," and "is 
as an unclean thing." On this supposition there is 
not only an apparent, but a very striking contrast, 
between the purity of God and the pollution ofmzju 
The purity of the most high God, which outshines 
the moon and eclipses the stars ; the pollution of de- 
generate man, which, exclusive of a Saviour, would 
render him as loathsome to the all-seeing eye, as the 
^•ilest vermin are in ours. AVithout assigning this 
cense to the passage, I cannot discern the force of the 
antithesis, nor indeed the propriety of the sentiment. 
Worms, in the general, give us an idea of meaime&s 
and infirmity, not of defilement and impurity, un- 
less they are insects hatched amidst putrefaction, and 
considered in such noisome circumstances. The two 
words of the original are evidently used in this signi- 
fication by Moses and Isaiah ; by the former, to de- 
note the vermin which devoured the putrefied man- 
na; by the latter, to express the reptiles which swarm 
in the body that sees corruption. Exod. xvi. 20. 
Isa. xiv. 11. 

» " In that day, there shall be a fountain opened 
to the house of David, and to the inhabitants of Je- 
rusrilem, for sin and for uncleanness. Zech. xlii. 1. 



HO 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



tended harvests, waving over my fertile 
glebe not in annies vanquished, and leav- 
ing the peculiar treasure of nations for my 
spoil ;* but in an infinitely richer, nobler 
blessing, even in God my Saviour : " That 
a person so sublime and perfect has vouch- 
safed to become my surety ; to give himself 
for my ransom in the world below, and to 
act as my advocate in the royal presence 
above ; yea, to make my recovery the re- 
ward of his sufferings ; my final felicity the 
honovu- of his mediatorial kingdom ! 

When an innumerable multitude f of 
bodies, many of them more than a hundred 
thousand miles in diameter,]: are all set in 
motion ; when the orbits in which they per- 
form their periodical revolutions, are ex- 
tended at the rate of several hundreds of 
millions ; when each has a distinct and se- 
parate sphere for finishing his vast circuit ; 
when no one knows what it is to be cramp- 
ed, but each most freely expatiates, in his 
unbounded career ; when every one is placed 
at such an immense remove from each 
other, that they appear to their respective 
inhabitants, only as so many spots of light 
— how astonishing must be the expanse 
which yields room for all those mighty 
globes, and their -widely-difiused operations ! 
To what prodigious lengths did the almighty 
builder stretch his line, when he marked 
out the stupendous platform ! I wonder at 
such an immeasurable extent. My very 
thoughts are lost in this abyss of space. 
But be it known to mortals, be it never 
forgot by sinners, that, in all its most sm*- 
prising amplitude, it is small, it Ls scanty, 
compared with the bounty and the mercy 
of its Maker. 

His bounty is absolutely without limits, § 
' and without end. The most lavish gene- 
. rosity cannot exhaust, or even diminish liis 
munificence. O ! all ye tribes of men ; or 
rather, all ye classes of intelligent creatures, 



* The inspired penman, from these two occa- 
sions of distinguished joys, sets forth the incompar- 
abljf greater delight which arises from the gift of a 
Saviour, and the blessing of redemption; Isa. ix. 
ver, 3. compared with ver, G. 

t This refers, not only to the planets which pass 
and repass about our sun, but also to the other plan- 
etary worlds, which are supposed to attend the seve- 
ral fixed stars. 

t The diameter of Jupiter is calculated at 130,650 
miles, while its orbit is reckoned to consist of 
895,134,000. Which computation, according to the 
maxims of astronomy, and the laws of proportion, 
may, as is taken for granted in the Contemplations, 
be applied to other planets revolving round other 
suns. 

§ By bounty, I mean not the actual exercises, or 
the sensible effects, of this excellency in the Deity. 
These are, and always must be, through the immense 
perfection of the attribute, and the necessary scanti- 
ness of the recipient, bounded. But I would be un- 
derstood as speaking of the divine power, and the di- 
vine will, to exert divine beneficence. These can 
have no real, no imaginable limits. These, after a 
profusion of blessings, distributed to unnumbered 
worlds, continued through unnumbered ages, must 
stiU have more to bestow, for ever have more to be- 
stow, infinitely more to bestow, than it is possible 
for creation itself to receive. 



ye are not straitened in the liberality of 
your ever-blessed Creator ; be not straiten- 
ed in your own expectations. " Open your 
mouth wide, and he shall fill it" with copi- 
ous and continual draughts from the cup of 
joy. Your God, on whom is your whole 
dependence, is more than able, is more than 
willing, to " supply all your need, accord- 
ing to his riches in glory." When the Lord 
Jehovah is the giver, and his grace* the 
gift ; let youx wishes be unbounded, and 
your cravings insatiable. AU that created 
beings can possibly covet, is but a very 
small pittance of that unknown happhiess 
which the everlasting Benefactor is ready 
to bestow. Suppose every charitable dis- 
position which v\^arms the hearts of the hu- 
man race, added to those more enlarged af- 
fections which glow in heaA'enly bosoms ; 
what were they all, even in their highest 
exercise, compared with the benignity of 
the divine natiu-e ? Bless me, then, thou 
eternal source of love ; bless all that rever- 
ence thy holy name, according to thy own 
most profuse goodness, whose great prero- 
gative it is to disdain aU. measure. O ! 
bless us, in proportion to that grace, tlie 
richness of which (unutterable by the 
tongues of men and of angels) was once 
spoken in the groans, and written in the 
wounds, of thy expiring Son ! 

Spacious indeed are these heavens ! where 
do they begin ? where do they end ? what 
is their extent? Can angels answer my 
question ? have angels travelled the vast 
circuit ? can angels measure the bounds of 
space ? No ; it is boundless, it is unknoMni, 
it is amazing all. How charming, then, 
to reflect, that the mercy of God is " greater 
than the heavens ; is more extensive than 
the dimensions of the sky." Transporting 
reflection ! Let me indulge thee once more.f 
Let me thmk over the delightful displays of 
this lovely attribute ; and, while I admire 
the trophies of forgiving goodness, add one 
to the number. With what amiable and 
aflfecting colovu-s is this represented in the 



* 2 Cor. ix. 8. "God is able to make all grace 
abound towards you, that ye, Iiaving all sufficiency 
in all things, may abound to every good work." How 
beautiful and emphatical is this description ; inferior 
to nothing but that extent of ability, and those riches 
of liberality which it so eloquently celebrates. Doesit 
not exhaust all the powers of language, while it at- 
tempts to give us a specimen of the munificence of 
the Lord ? 

t Once more refers to Reflections on a Flower 
Garden. Some of the following pages exhibit a di- 
gressive view of the divine mercy. I thought it pro- 
per to apprize my reader of this excursion ; though I 
hope it will be needless to offer any apology for en- 
larging upon a theme incomparably joyous. Who can 
complain of tediousness, while I speak consolation to 
distressed, and recovery to ruined creatures? The 
divine mercy is the sole fountain of all our present 
and future blessings. In conformity to this benign 
attribute, human hopes arise, and human felicity 
flows. Who, therefore, can be weary of viewing and 
reviewing, when the lengths and breadths of forgiv- 
ing grace are the ravishing prospect ? 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



Ml 



parable of tlie prodigal ! What could induce 
that foolisli youth to forsake his father's 
house ? Had he not been tenderly cherished 
by the good parent, and loaded with bene- 
fits from his indulgent hand? Were not 
the restraints of parental government an 
easy yoke ; or rather a preservative from 
ruin ? Notwithstanding every endearing ob- 
ligation, he revolts from his duty ; and 
launches into such scandalous irregularities, 
as were dishonourable to his family, and de- 
structive to himself. VvTien necessity, not 
choice, but sharp necessity drove him to a 
submissive return, does the injured father 
stand aloof or shut his doors ? Quite the 
reverse. He espies him, while he is yet a 
great way off ; and the moment he beholds 
the profligate youth, he has compassion on 
him. His bowels yearn, they " soimd like 
a harp," touched with notes divinely soft. 
He never once thinks of his ungracious de- 
parture, and infamous debaucheries. Pity, 
parental pity, passes an act of oblivion ; and 
in one instant, cancels a scries of long-con- 
tinued provocations. So strong are the 
workings of fatherly affection, tlaat he is' 
almost impatient to embrace the naked and 
destitute wretch. The son's pace is slow, 
he arose and came ; the father's is swift, he 
spnmg forth (aged as he was) and ran. 
And is there a single frovm in his brow, an 
upbraiding word on his tongue ? Instead of 
loathing the sordid creature, or reproacliing 
him for his odious excesses, he falls on his 
neck, clasps him in his aims, and hugs him 
to his bosom. Instead of disowning the 
riotous spendthrift, or rejecting him for his 
undutiful behaviour, he receives and wel- 
comes him with kisses of delight. He re- 
joices at his return from extravagance and 
vice, as he formerly rejoiced on the day of 
his nativity. When this companion of har- 
lots opens his mouth — before he speaks, the 
father heirs. He interrupts him in the 
midst of his intended speech. The over- 
flomngs of his compassionate heart can 
brook no delay. He seems to be imeasy 
himself, till he has made the afflicted peni- 
tent glad with the assurance of his accept- 
ance, and the choicest of his favours. While 
the poor abashed offender seeks nothing 
more than not to be abhorred, he is 
thoroughly reconciled, and honoured before 
the whole family. While he requests no 
other indulgence than only to be treated as 
the meanest servant, he is clothed vnth the 
best robe; he is feasted v/ith the fatted 
calf ; he is caressed as the dearest of child- 
ren. Was there ever so bright and win- 
ning a picture of the tenderest mercy, most 
freely vouchsafed, even to the most im- 
worthy of creatures ? Yet thus, my soul, 
and thus, my fellow-sinner, wall the Lord 
Cod of everlasting compassions receive us, 
if, sensi]>le of our misery, and thirsting for 



salvation, we turn to him through Jesua 
Christ. 

Where sin has abounded, says the pro- 
clamation from the court of heaven, grace 
doth much more abound. Manasseh was a 
monster of barbarity ; for he caused his own. 
children to pass through the fire, and filled 
Jerusalem with innocent blood. Manasseh 
was an adept in iniquity ; for he not only 
multiplied, and to an extravagant degree, 
his sacrilegious impieties, but he poison- 
ed the principles and perverted the man- 
ners of his subjects, making them to do 
worse than the most detestable of the hea- 
then idolaters, (2 Chron. xxxiii.) Yet, 
thi'ough tliis superabundant grace, l;e is 
humbled, he is reformed, and becomes a 
child of forgiving love, an heir of immortal 
glory. Behold that bitter and bloody per- 
secutor Saul, when, breathing out threateii- 
ings,* and bent upon slaughter, he worried 
the lambs, and put to death the disciples of 
Jesus. Wlio, upon the principles of human 
judgment, woidd not have pronounced him 
a vessel of wrath, destined to unavoidable 
damnation ? nay, woidd not have been ready 
to concKide, that, if there were hea^de^ 
chains, and a deeper dungeon, in the world 
of woe, they must surely be reserved for 
such an implacable enemy of true godliness ? 
Yet (admire, and adore the inexhaustible 
treasures of grace !) this Said is adjnitted 
into the goodly fellowship of the prophets ; 
is numbered with, the noble army of mar- 
tyrs ; and makes a distinguished figure 
among tiie glorious company of the apos- 
tles. The Corintliians were flagitious even 
to a proverb. Some of them wallowed in 
such abominable vices, and habituated 
themselves to such outrageous acts of in- 
justice, as were a reproach to human na- 
ture. Yet even these sons of %dolence, and 
slaves of sensudity " were washed, were 
sanctified, tvere justified, (1 Cor. vi. 9, 10, 
11) : washed in the precious blood of a 
dying Redeemer ; sanctified by the power- 
ful operations of the blessed Spirit ; justi- 



* Acts ix. I. " Saul yet breathing out threatening 
and slaughter."— What a representation is here of a, 
mind mad with rage, and abandoned to the fiercest 
extremes of barbarity I I scarce know whether I am 
more shocked at the persecutor's savage disposition, 
or charmed with the evangelist's lively description. 
The adverb t/ct seems referable to chap. viii. ver. 3. 
and has, in this connexion, a peculiar force. The 
havoc he had committed, the inoffensive families he 
had already ruined were not sufficient to assuage his 
vengeful spirit. They were only a taste ; which, in- 
stead of glutting the blood-hound, made him more 
closely pursue the track, and more eagerly pant for 
destruction. He is still athirst for violence and mur- 
der. So eager and insatiable is his thirst that he 
even breathes out threatening and slaughter. His 
words are spears and arrows, and his tongue a sharp' 
sword. It is ss natural for him to menace the Christ-, 
ians, as to breathe the air. Nay, they bleed every 
hour, every moment, in the purposes of his rancor- 
ous heart. It is only owing to want of power, that 
every syllable he utters, every breath he draws, does 
not Q- al about deaths, and cause some of the iimocent 
dis. iples to fall. 



112 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



fied through the infinitely tender mercies of 
a gracious God. Those who were once | 
the burden of the earth, are now the joy of 
heaven, and the delight of angels. 

There is another instance of Scripture, 
which most loudly publishes that sweetest 
of the divine names ! " The Lord, the 
Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suf- 
fering, and abundant in goodness and truth ; 
keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving ini- 
quity, transgression and sin," (Exod. xxxiv. 
6, 7,) an instance this, which exceeds all the 
former ; which exceeds whatever can be 
imagined ; which, if I was to forget, the 
very stones might cry out, and sound it in 
my ears : I mean the case of those sinners 
who murdered the Prince of peace and 
Lord of glon,'. These men could scarce 
have the shadow of an excuse for their 
crime, hardly a circumstance to extenuate 
their guilt. They were well acquainted 
with his exemplary conversation ; they had 
often heard his heavenly doctrines ; they 
were almost daily spectators of his unequal- 
led miracles. They therefore had all pos- 
sible reason to honour him as the most D- 
lustrious of beings, and to receive his gos- 
pel as the most inestimable of blessings. 
Yet, notmthstanding all these engaging mo- 
tives to love him, even above their own 
lives, they seize his person, asperse his char- 
acter, drag him before a heathen tribunal, 
and extort a sentence of death against inno- 
cence and holiness itself. Never was the vil- 
est slave so contumeliously abused ; nor the 
most execrable malefactor so barbarously 
executed. The sun was confounded at the 
shocking scene ; and one cannot but won- 
der how the avenging lightnings could with- 
hold their flashes. The earth trembled at the 
horrid deed ; and why, why did it not cleave 
asunder, and open a passage for such blood- 
thirsty miscreants into the nethermost hell ? 
Shall these ever hope to obtain forgiveness 
from the righteous Judge ? Shall not these 
be consigned over to inexorable ^^Tath, and 
the severest torments? O the miraculous 
effects of divine grace ! O the triumphant 
goodness of God our Saviour ! Many, even 
of these impious wretches, at the descent of 
the Holy Ghost, were convinced of then- 
miserable state ; were wounded with peni- 
tential remorse, fled to the sanctuary of the 
cross, had their pardon ratified by the bap- 
tismal seal, and, continuing in the apostles' 
doctrine, were made partakers of the king- 
dom of heaven ; where they now shine as 
so many everlasting monuments of most 
distinguished mercy, and receive beatitude 
past utterance from that very Redeemer 
whom once " with wicked hands they cru- 
cified and slew." 

Well might the prophet cry out, with a 
pleasing amazement, " Who is a God like 
unto thee, that ptu'doneth iniquity, and pass- j 



eth by transgression!" (Micah vii. 18.) 
I Let all flesh know assuredly, let all flesh 
rejoice greatly, that vntli the Lord there is 
such mercy, and with his Christ such plen- 
tiful redemption. And O ! for the voice 
of an archangel, to circulate the gb-d tidings 
through the universe, that the American sa- 
vage, as well as the European sage, may 
leai-n the exceeding riches of gi-ace in Christ, 
through whose infinitely great propitiation, 
all manner of sin, barbarity, and blasphemy, 
are freely forgiven unto men. 

What a grand and majestic dome is the 
sky ! Where are the pillars which support 
the stately concave ? What art, most exact- 
ly true, balanced the pressure ? What props 
of insuperable strength sustain the weight ? 
How is that immeasiu*able arch upheld, im- 
shaken and unimpaired, wliile so many ge- 
nerations of busy mortals have sunk and 
disappeared as bubbles upon the stream ? 
If those stars are of such an amazing bulk, 
how are they also fastened in their lofty si- 
tuation ? By what miracle in mechanics are 
so many thousands of ponderous orbs kept 
from falling upon our heads; kept horn 
dashing both the world to pieces and its in- 
habitants to death ? Are they hung in golden 
or adamantine chains ? Rest they their 
enormous load on rocks of marble or co- 
lumns of brass ? No ; they are pendulous in 
fluid ether ; yet are more immoveably fixed, 
than if the everlasting mountains lent theii- 
forests for an axle tree, or their ridges for a 
basis. The almighty Architect stretches 
out the north, and its whole starry train, 
over the empty place. He hangs the earth 
and all the etherial globes upon nothing. 
(Job xTcvii. 7.) Yet are their foimdations 
laid so sure, that they can never be moved 
at any time. 

No unfit representation to the sincere 
Christian, of his final perseverance : * such 



* With regard to the final perseverance of the true 
believer, I am sensible this point is not a little con- 
troverted. The sentiments which follow are my 
steadfast belief. It is by no means proper, in a work 
of this nature, to enter upon a discussion of the sub- 
ject. Neither have I room so much as to hint what 
might be urged for its support. Let my reader ob- 
serve, that I am far from delivering it as essential to 
Christianity, or necessary to salvation. Millions 
of the very contrary conviction are, I doubt not, 
high in the favour of God, and in a growing meet- 
ness for his heavenly kingdom. As I blame none 
for rejecting, none, I hope, will be offended with 
me for espousing this particular doctrine. To be 
of difterent opinions, at least in some inferior in- 
stances, seems an unavoidable consequence of our 
present state, where ignorance in part cleaves to the 
wisest minds, and prejudice easily besets the most ira- 
pardal judgments. This may turn to our common 
advantage, and afford room for the display andexer- 
cisa of those healing virtues, moderation, meekness, 
and forbearance. Let me only be permitted to ask, 
whether this tenet does not evidently tend to est?.- 
blish the comfor?; of the Christian, and to ma^.'.fy 
the fidelity of God ovir Saviour? Whether, far from 
countenancing sloth, or encouraging remissness, to 
know that our labour should not be in vain, is not the 
, most nrevailing inducement to abound in the work of 
i the Lord ? 1 Cor. xv. 58. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



113 



88 points out the cause which elfects it, and 
constitutes the pledge which ascertains it. 
His nature is all enfeebled. He is not able 
of himself to think a good thought. He 
has no visible safeguard, nor any sufficiency 
of his own. And yet whole legions of for- 
midable enemies are in a confederacy to 
compass his ruin. The world lays unnum- 
bered snares for his feet ; the devil is in- 
cessantly urging the siege, by a multitude of 
fiery darts, or wily temptations : the flesh, 
like a perfidious inmate, under colour of 
friendship, and a specious pretence of plea- 
sure, is always forward to betray his inte- 
grity. But amidst all these threatening cir- 
cumstaiices of personal weakness and im- 
minent danger, an invisible aid is his de- 
fence : " I will uphold thee," says the bless- 
ed God, " with the right hand of my right- 
eousness." (Isa. xli. 10.) Comfortable 
truth ! The arm which fijces the stars in 
their order, and gaiides the planets in their 
course, is stretched out to preserve the heirs 
of salvation. " My sheep," adds the great 
Redeemer, "are mine, and they shall never 
perish ; neither shall any pluck them out 
of my hand." (John x. 28.) What words 
are these ! and did they come from him who 
hath all power in heaven and on earth ? and 
were they spoken to the weakest of the 
flock; to every unfeigned follower of the 
great Shepherd? Then, Omnipotence it- 
self must be vanquished before they can be 
destroyed, either by the seductions of fraud, 
or the assaults of violence. 

If you ask, therefore, what security we 
have of enduring to the end, and contiiming 
faithful imto death ? the very same that es- 
tablishes the heavens, and settles the ordin- 
ances of the universe. Can these be throwi 
into confusion ? ( Jer. xxxi. 35, 36,) then 



Is any one inclined to examine the reasons which 
made the author a proselyte to this persuasion ? He 
may find them displayed in the memorial, delivered 
by several select and eminent divines of the church 
of England, at the renowned synod of Dordt. (See 
Acta Synod Dordrech. par. 2, page 246 of the Latin 
edition, published in a single quarto volume.) Those 
who have no opportunity of consulting the memoirs 
of that venerable assembly, I would icfer to the 
works of the indefatigable and very learned Turreii- 
tin, or to those of the candid and elegant Witsius. 
Turrent. torn. ii. q. xvi. Wits. Oecon. lib. iii. cap. 
siii. 

The latest and fullest view of the point, which I 
ever remember to have met within any of our En- 
glish writers, is in the Lime-street Lectures ; which 
are a defence of several most important doctrines of 
the gospel, and contained in two octavo vohmies, the 
united labours of nine modern divines, most of whom 
are well known to the world by their other evangeli- 
cal and useful writings. In those lectures, the final 
perseverance of thesamts is very particularly stated ; 
and, to my apprehension at least, most satisfactorily 
proved ; the arguments usually urged against it are 
impartially considered ; and I caimot but think (with 
all due deference to the judgmeivt of others) unan- 
swerably confuted. 

And here (not to swell this note any farther,) I shall 
only just hint, that the judicious Hooker, (an author- 
ity, perhaps, as weighty and unexceptionable as any 
that can well be produced) gives a solemn attestation 
of this tenet, in a short discourse on the perpetuity of 
(aith, subjoined to his Ecclesiastical Pohty. Fol edit. 



may the true believer draw back unto per- 
dition. Can the stm be dislodged from his 
sphere, and rush lawlessly through the sky ? 
Then, and then only, can the faith of God's 
elect be finally overthrown. (Titus i. 2.) 
Be of good courage, then, my soul, rely on 
those divine succotu*s which are so so- 
lemnly stipulated, so faithftilly promised. 
Though thy grace be languid as the glim- 
mering spark, though the overflowings of 
corruption threaten it with total extinction, 
yet, since the great Jehovah has underta- 
ken to cherish the dim principle, " many 
waters cannot quench it, nor all floods 
dro\\Ti it." Nay, though it were feeble as 
the smoking flax,* goodness and faithfulness 
stand engaged to augment the heat, to raise 
the fire, and feed the flame, till it beam 
forth, a lamp of immortal glory in the hea- 
vens. 

As to the faithfulness of a covenanting 
God, this may be emblematically seen in 
the stability of the heavenly bodies, and the 
perpetuity of their motion : (Psalm cxix. 
89, 90.) Those that are fixed or station- 
aiy, continue unalterable in their grand ele- 
vations : no injurious shocks, no Aiolence 
of conflicting elements, are able to displace 
those everlasting hinges on Avhich depend- 
ant worlds revolve : throitgh the whole 
flight of time, they recede not so much as 
a hair's breadth from the precise central 
point of their respective systems ; while the 
erratic, or planetaiy. perform their prodi- 
gious stages without any intermission, or 
the least embarrassment. How soon, and 
how easily is the most finished piece of hu- 
man machinery disconcerted ! But all the 
celestial movements are so nicely adjusted, 
all their operations so critically proportion- 
ed, and their mutual dependencies so strong- 
ly connected, that they prolong theii' bene- 
ficial courses throughout all ages. While 
mighty cities are ovenvhehned with ruin, 
and their veiy names lost in oblivion ; wliile 



* The tenderness and faithfulness of God to his 
people, are finely ])icturcd by the i)rophet Isaiah, chap, 
xlii. ver. 3. Which passage, because of its rich con- 
solation, and uncommon beauty, is deservedly adopt- 
ed by St. ]Matthevv, and ingrafted into the system of 
evangelical truths. He will not himself break, nor 
suffer to be broken by any other, the bruised reed, nor 
quencli. the smoking jiax. Was it jrassible to have 
chosen two more delicate and expressive representa- 
tions ? Could any image be more significant of a very 
infirm and enfeebled faith, than the flexile reed that 
bends before every wind; win ch, besides its natur- 
al weakness, is made abundantly weaker by being 
bruised, and so is ready to fall in pieces of itself ! Or 
could any thing, with a more pathetical exactness 
describe the extreme imbecility of that other princi- 
ple of the divine life, love .' The state of the flax just 
beginning to burn is liable to be put out by the least 
blast; moreliablcstiO is the wick of iho lamp, when 
it is not so much as kindled into a glimm.ering flame, 
but only breathing smoke, and uncertain whether it 
shall take fire or not. Vet true faith and heavenK 
love, though subsisting amidst snch pitiable infirmi- 
ties, will not be abandoned by their great Author, 
1 shall not be extinguished by any temptations, but be 
maintamed, invigorated, and made tinaliy triumpli- 
ant. Matt, xii> 20. 



114 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



vast empires are swept fx'om tlieir founda- 
tions, and leave not so much as a shadowy 
trace of tlieir ancient magnificence ; while 
all terrestrial things are subject to vicissitude 
and fluctuating in uncertainty ; — these are 
permanent in their duration ; these are' in- 
variable in their functions : Not one fail- 
eth. Who doubts the constant succession 
of day and night, or the regular returns of 
summer and winter ? And why, O ! why 
shall we doubt the veracity of God, or dis- 
trust the accomplishment of his holy word ? 
Can the ordinances of heaven depart ? Then 
only can God forget to be gracious, or ne- 
glect the performance of his promise. Nay, 
our Lord gives us yet firmer grounds of 
affiance, he affords us a surer bottom for our 
faith, than the fundamental laws of the uni- 
verse. Heaven and earth, he says, shall 
pass away, but my words shall not in a sin- 
gle instance, or in one tittle of their import, 
pass away, No : his sacred word, what- 
ever may obstruct it, whoever may oppose 
it, shall be fulfilled to the very uttermost. 

O powerful word ! How astonishing is 
its efficacy ! When this word was issued 
forth, a thousand worlds emerged out of 
nothing. Should the mighty orders be re- 
peated, a thousand more would spring into 
existence. By this word, the vast system 
of created things is upheld in constant and 
immutable perfection. Should it give com- 
mand, or cease to exert its energy, the uni- 
versal frame would be dissolved, and all na- 
ture revert to her original chaos. And this 
very word is pledged for the safety, the com- 
fort, the happiness of the godly. This in- 
violable, this almighty word speaks in all 
the promises of the gospel. How strange- 
ly infatuated are our sovds, that we should 
value it so little ! What infidels are we in 
fact, that we should depend upon it no 
more ! Did it create whatever has a being, 
and shall.it not work faith in oiu* breasts ? 
Do unnumbered worlds owe their support 
to ttiis word ; and shall it not be sufficient 
to buoy up our souls in troubles, or establish 
them in trials ? Is it the life of the universe, 
and shall it be a dead letter to mankind ? 

If I wish to be heard when I implore 
heavenly blessings, is not this pri\alege most 
clearly made over to my enjoyment in that 
well-knoMTi text, " Ask, and it shall be 
given you." (Matt. vii. 7.) If I long for 
the eternal Comforter to dwell in my heart, 
and spnotify my nature, have I not an ap- 
parent title to this high prerogative confer- 
red in that sweet assertive interrogation, 
" How much more shall your heavenly Fa- 
ther give the Holy Spirit to those that ask 
him ?" (Luke xi. 13.) If I earnestly covet 
the inestimable treasures that are comprised 
in the great Immanuel's mediation, can I 
have a firmer claim to the noble portion than 
is granted in that most precious scripture, 



" Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise ' 
cast out." (John vi. 37.) What assurance 
of being interested in these unspeakable 
mercies would I desire ? What form of con- 
veyance, what deed of settlement, were it 
left to my own option, should I choose ? 
Here is the word of a king, the king im- 
mortal and invisible ; all whose declarations 
are truth itself.* If a monarch bestow im- 
munities on a body of men, and confirm 
them by an authentic charter, no one con- 
trovei-ts, no one questions their right to the 
royal favours. And why should we sus- 
pect the validity of those glbrious grants- 
which are made by the everlasting Sover- 
eign of nature ; which he has also ratified, 
by an oath, and sealed with the blood of his- 
Son? Corporations may be disfranchised, 
and charters revoked ; even momitains may 
be removed, and stars di'op from their 
spheres ; but a tenirre founded on the di- 
vine promise is xmalienably secure, is last- 
ing as eternity itself. 

We have endeavoured to spell a syllable 
of the eternal name in the ancient manu- 
script of the sky. We have caught 
glimpse of the Almighty's glory from the 
lustre of innumerable stars. But would we 
behold all his excellencies pourtrayed in full- 
perfection, and drawn to the very life ; let 
us attentively consider the Redeemer. I 
observe there are some parts ©f the firma- 
ment in which the stars seem as it were to- 
cluster. They are sowri thicker, they lie 
closer than usual, and strike the eye with 
redoubled splendour. Like the jewels ojnti 
a cro\vn, they mingle their beams, and re- 
flect an increase of brilliancy on each other. 
Is there not such an assemblage, such a con- 
stellation of the divine honpiu"s, most amia- 
bly effulgent in the blessed Jesus ? 

Does not infinite wisdomf shine, with sur- 
passing brightness, in Christ ? To the mak- 
ing of a world there was no obstacle ; but 
to the saving of man, there seemed to be 
insurmountable bars. If the rebel is suf- 
fered to escape, where is the inflexible jus- 
tice which denounces death as the wages of 
sin ? If the offender is thoroughly pardoned, 
where is the inviolable veracity which has> 
solemnly declared, " The soul that sinneth 
shall die?" These awful attributes are set 
in teiTible array, and> like an impenetrable- 
battalion, oppose the salvation of apostate 
mankindv Who' can suggest a method to^ 
absolve the traitorous race, yet vindicate the- 
honours of almighty sovereignty ? This is- 
an intricacy which the most exalted of fin^ 
ite inteUigencies are unable to clear. But 
behold the unsearchable secret revealed ! 



If these fail. 

The pillared firmament is rottenness. 
And earth's base built on stubble.— 

Milton's Comu^ 
t See the next note,. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



115 



revealed in the wonderful redemption accom- 
plished by a dying Saviour ! so plainly re- 
vealed, that, " he who runs may read," and 
even babes understand what minds of the 
deepest penetration could not contrive. The 
Son of God, taking our nature, obeys the 
law, and undergoes death in our stead. By 
this means, the threatened curse is executed 
in all its rigour, and free grace is exercised 
in all its riches. Justice maintains her 
rights, and with a steady hand administers 
impartial vengeance ; while mercy dispenses 
her pardons, and welcomes the repentant 
criminal with the tenderest embraces. 
Hereby the seemingly thwarting attributes 
are reconciled ; the sinner is saved not on- 
ly in full consistence with the honour of 
the supreme perfections, but to the most 
illustrious manifestation of them all. 

Where does the divine power* so signally 
exert itself as in the cross of Christ, and in 
the conquests of grace ? Our Lord, in his 
lowest state of humiliation, gained a more 
glorious victory than when, through the di- 
viding sea, and the waste howling wilder- 
ness, " he rode upon his chariots and horses 
of salvation." When his hands were rivet- 
ted with irons to the bloody tree, he dis- 
armed death of its sting, and plucked the 
prey from the jaws of hell. Then, even 
then, while he was crucified in weakness, 
he vanquished the strong man, and subdued 
our most formidable enemies. Even then 
he spoiled principalities, triumphed over the 
powers of darkness, and led captivity cap- 
tive. Now he is exalted to his heavenly 
throne, with what a prevailing efficacy does 
his grace go forth " conquering and to con- 
quer !" By this the slaves of sin are res- 
cued fi'om their bondage, and restored to 
the liberty of righteousness. By this de- 
praved wretches, whose appetites were sen- 
sual, and their dispositions devilish, are 
not only renewed, but renewed after the 
image of God, and made partakers of a di- 
vine nature. Millions, millions of lost 
creatures are snatched, by the interposition 
of grace, like brands from the burning ; and, 
translated into everlasting mansions, shine 
brighter than the stars, shine bright as the 
sun in the kingdom of their Father. 

Would you, then, see an incomparably 
more bright display of the divine excellence 
than the spotted firmament, the spangles of 
heaven, or the golden fountain of day ex- 
hibit ? Contemplate Jesus of Nazareth ! 
He is the brightness of his father's glory, and 
the express image of his person. In his im- 
maculate nature, in his heavenly temper, in 



* Christ, the wisdom of God, and the power of 
God. 1 Cor. i 24. To the intent that now, unto the 
principalities and powers in heavenly places, might 
be known by the church, (by the amazing contrivance 
and accomplishment of its redemption, the deep,) ex- 
tensive, and greatly diversified wisdom of God. Eph. 
iii. 10. ... 



his most holy life, the moral perfections of' 
the Deity are represented to the highest ad- 
vantage.* Hark ! how mercy with her 
charming voice speaks in all he utters. See 
how benevolence pours her choicest stores, 
in all he does. Did ever compassion look 
so amiably soft, as in those pit3dng tears which 
swelled his eyes, and trickled down his 
cheeks, to bedew the rancour of his invete- 
rate enemies ? Was it possible for patience 
to assume a form so lovely, as that sweetly- 
winning conduct, which bore the contradic- 
tion of sinners? which intreatedthe obstinate 
to be reconciled ; besought the guilty not 
to die ? In other things, we may find some 
scattered rays of Jehovah's glory; but in 
Christ they are all collected and united, in 
Christ they beam forth with the strongest 
radiance, with the most delightful efful- 
gence. Out of Sion, and in Sion's great 
Redeemer, hath God appeared in perfect 
beauty. 

Search then, my soul, above all other 
pursuits, search the records of redeeming 
love. Let these be the principal objects of 
thy study. Here employ thyself with the 
most unwearied assiduity : In these are hid 
all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge : f 
Such Aidsdom as charms and astonishes the 
very angels, engages their closest attention, 
and fills them with the deepest adoration ;\ 
such knowledge, as qualifies the possessor, 
if not for offices of dignity on earth, yet for 
the most honourable advancements in the 
kingdom of heaven. Disunited from which 
knowledge, all application is but elaborate 
impertinence ; and all science no better 
than pompous ignorance. These records 
contain the faultless model of duty, and the 
noblest motives to obedience. Nothing so 



* In this ^cnse, that ?aying of our Lord is eminent- 
ly true, "He that hath seen me, hath seen the Fa- 
ther ;" John xiv. 9. 

t Col. ii. 3. Not a mean degree, but a treasure ; 
not one treasure, but many; not many only, but all 
treasures of true wisdom and saving knowledge, are 
in Christ and his glorious gospel. The transcendent 
excellency of those treasures seems to be finely inti- 
mated in that expression, hid ; which may be interpre- 
ted by the Hebrew, Job iii. 21, laid up with the ut- 
most care, and the greatest safety : Not left, at all ad- 
ventures, to be stumbled upon by every giddy wan- 
derer, or to fall into the arms of the yawning sluggard, 
but, likejewels of thebrightest lustre, orrichesof the 
highest value, kept in store to adorn andreward the 
diligent searcher. 

X This, I believe, is the import of the apostle's 
language, though it is not a literal translation of 1 
Pet,, i. 12. I never had such a lively apprehension 
of the beautiful significancy of the last word, as when 
I have attended a dissection of some part of the ani- 
mal body. In order to discern the minutise of the 
admirable frame, the latent wonders of art and me- 
chanism, the eye is so sharjiened, and its application 
so intensely bended, as gives a very just experi- 
mental comment on that expressive phrase. With 
such earnest attention is the everlasting gospel con- 
templated by the angelic orders. How much more, 
if it were possible, does it deserve the devout and in- 
cessant consideration of human minds ! Since by 
them, it is not only to be speculated as a bright ana 
ravishing display of the divme attributes, but to be 
applied to their fallen nature as a most benign 
scheme of recovering grace ; as the sure and only me« 
thod of obtaining me and immortality. 



GONTSM?LATIONS 



no 

])Owerfiil to work a lively faith and a joyful 
liope, as an attentive consideration of our 
Lord's unutterable merits. Nothing so so- 
vereign to antidote the pestilential influence 
of the world, and deliver our affections 
from a slavery to ignohie objects, as an ha- 
bitual remembrance of his extreme agonies. 
The genuine, the ever-fruitful source of all 
morality, is the unfeigned love of Christ ; 
and the cross,* the cross is the appointed 
altar, from which we may fetch a coal-j- to 
knidle this sacred fire. 

Behold, therefore, the man ! the match- 
less and stupendous man ! whose practice 
was a pattern of the most exalted virtue, 
and his person the mirror of every divine 
perfection. Examine the memoirs of his 
heavenly temper and exemplary conversa- 
tion. Contemplate that choir of graces 
which were associated in his mind, and shed 
the highest lustre on all his actions. Fa- 
miliarize to thy thoughts his instrtictive dis- 
courses, and enter into the very spirit of his 
refined doctrines ; that the graces may be 
transfused into thy breast, and the doctrines 
transcribed in thy life. Follow him to 
Calvary's horrid eminence ! to Calvary's fatal 
catastrophe ! where innocence, dignity, and 
merit, were made perfect through suffer- 
ings ; each sliining, with all possible splen- 
dour, through the tragical scene ; somewhat 
like his own radiant bow, then glowing 
with the greatest beauty when appearing in 
the darkest cloud. Be thy most constant 
attention fixed on that lovely and sorrow- 
ful spectacle. Behold the spotless victim 
nailed to the tree, and stabbed to the heart. 
Hear him pouring out prayers for his mur^ 
derers, before he- poured out liis soul for 
transgressors. See the wounds that stream 
with forgiveness, and bleed balm for a dis- 
tempered world. O ! see the justice of 
the Almighty and his goodness ; his mercy 
and his vengeance ; every tremendous and 
gracious attribute manifested — manifested 
with inexpressible glory in that most igno- 
minious, yet grandest of transactions. 

Since Grod is so inconceivably great as 
these his marvellous works declare ; 

Since the great Sov'reign sends ten thousand worlds. 
To tell us, he resides above them all. 
In glory's tmapproachable recess;:!: 



* *' And I," says our Lord, " if I be lifted up from 
the earth, and extended on the cross, will draw all 
men unto me ;" will give such a rich and transcend- 
ent display of my love, as shall constitute the most 
powernil and prevailing! attractive of theirs. John 
xii. 32. 

+ Alluding to Isaiah vi. 6.- 

^ For this quotation, and several valuable hintsj 
I acknowledge myself indebted to those beautiful and 
sublime poems, entitled Night Thoughts ; of which 
I. shall only say, that 1 receive fresh- pleasure and 
richer improvement from every renewed perusal. 
And I think I shall have reason to bless the indul- 
gent Bestower of all wisdom, for those instructive and 
animating compositionsj even in my last moments : 
than which nothing can more emphatically speak 
their superior excellence, nor give a more solid satis- 
faction to their worthy Author. Happy should L 



how can we forbeai- hastening, witli Moses, 
bowing ourselves to the earth, and worship- 
ping ! O ! what an honourable, as well as 
advantageous employ, is prayer ! — Advan- 
tageous : By prayer, we cultivate that im- 
proving correspondence with Jehovah, we 
carry on that gladdening intercourse with 
his spirit, which must begin here, in order 
to be completed in eternity — Honourable : 
By prayer, we have access to that mighty 
Potentate, whose sceptre sways universal 
nature, and whose rich regalia fills the skies 
with lustre. Prayer places us in his ])re- 
sence-chamber; while the blood of sprink- 
ling procures us a gracious audience. 

Shall I then blush to be found prostrate 
before the throne of grace? Shall I be 
ashamed to have it known that I offer up so- 
cial supplications in the family, or am con- 
scientious in observing my private retire- 
ments ? Rather let me glory in this un- 
speakable privilege. Let me reckon i-t the 
noblest posture, to fall low on my knees be- 
fore his footstool ; and the highest honour, 
to enjoy communion with his most exalted 
Majesty ; Incomparably more noble, than 
to sit in person on the triumphal chariot, 
or to stand in effigy amidst the temple of 
worthies. 

Most iiiestimable, in such a view, is that 
promise, which so often occurs in the pro- 
phetic writings, and is the crowning benefit 
of the new covenant, / will be thy God, 
(Heb. viii. 10.) Will this supremely ex- 
cellent and almighty Being vouchsafe to be 
my portion ? to settle upon a poor sinnerj 
not the heritage of a country, not the pos- 
session of the whole earth, but his own 
ever- blessed self? May I, then, through his 
free condescending grace, and the unknown- 
merits of his Son, look upon all these in- 
finitely noble attributes as my treasure ? 
May I regard the wisdom which superin- 
tends such a multitude of worlds, as my^ 
guide ? the power which produced and pre- 
serves them in existence, as my guard ? the 
goodness which, by an endless communica- 
tion of favours, renders them all so many, 
habitations of happiness, as my exceeding 
great reward ? What a fund of felicity is' 
included in such a blessing ! How often 
does the Israelitish prince exult in the as- 
surance, that this unutterable and bound- 
less good is Ms own ! Interested in this, he 
bids defiance to every evil that can be dread- 
ed, and rests in certain expectation of every 
blessing that can be desired. " The Lord 
is my light and my salvation ; whom then, 
shall I fear? The Lord," with an air of ex- 
ultation he repeats both his affiance and his 



think myself, if these little sketches of contemplative 
devotion might be honoured with the most inferior 
degree of the same success; might receive a testi- 
mony, not from the voice of fame, but from the^ 
dying lips of some edified Christian, 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



117 



?*^allenge, " is lite strength of my life ; of 
whom then shall I b6 afraid ?" ( Psalm 
xxvii. 1 . ) Nothing so eifectual as this ap- 
propriating faith, to inspire a dignity of 
m'md superior to transitory trifles ; or to 
create a calmness of temper unalarmed by vul- 
gar fears, unappalled by death itself, " The 
Lord is my Shepherd," says the same tru- 
ly gallant and heroic personage ; " there- 
fore shall I lack nothing." (Psalm xxiii. 1.) 
How is it possible he should suffer want, 
who has the all-sufficient fulness for his 
supply ? So long as unerring wisdom is ca- 
pable of contriving the means, so long as 
uncontrollable power is able to execute 
them, such a one cannot fail of being safe 
and happy, whether he continue amidst the 
vicissitudes of time, or depart into the un- 
changeable eternity. 

Here let us stand a moment, and humbly 
contemplate this great God, together with 
«<urselves, in a relative view. If we re- 
iiect on the works of material nature, their 
number incomprehensible, and their ex- 
tent unmeasurable ; each of them apart so 
admirably framed, the connexions of the 
whole so exquisitely regulated, and aU de- 
rived from one and the same glorious agent : 
if we recollect the far more noble accom- 
plishments of elegant taste and discerning 
judgment, of refined affections and exalted 
sentiments, which are to be found among 
the several orders of intelligent existence ; 
and all of them flowing, in rich emanations, 
from the one sole fountain of intellectual 
light : if wc farther consider this Author of 
material beauty and moral excellency, as a 
Guardian, a Governor, and Benefactor to all 
his creatures ; supporting the whole system, 
and protecting each individual by an ever- 
watchful providence, presiding over the 
minutest affairs, and causing all events to 
terminate in the most extensive good ; 
heaping, with, unremitted liberality, his be- 
nefits upon every capable object, and mak- 
ing the circuit of the universe a seminary 
of happiness : is it possible for the human 
heart, under such captivating views, to be 
-indifferent towards this most benign, most 
bountiful original of being and of bliss ? 
Can any be so immersed in stupidity, as to 
say unto the Almighty — in the language of 
an irreligious temper and licentious life, to 
fay " Depart from us, we implore not thy 
favour, nor desire the knowledge of thy 
ways?" Wonder, O heavens ! be amazed, 
O earth ! and let the inhabitants of both 
express their astonishment at this unparal- 
leled complication of disingenuous, ungrate- 
ful, destructive perverseness ! 

If we consider our fallen and imperfect 
state — frail in our bodies ; enfeebled in our 
minds ; in every part of our constitution, 
and in all the occurrences of life, " like a 
tottering wall, or a broken hedge If we j 



survey our indigent and infirm state — with- 
out holiness, without spiritual strength, our 
possession of present conveniences entirely 
dependent on God's sovereign pleasure ; 
yea, forfeited, justly forfeited, with every 
future hope, by a thousand aggravated ini- 
quities : If we add the various disasters of 
our condition— agitated as we are by tu- 
multuous passions ; oppressed with dispi- 
riting fears ; held in suspense by a variety 
of perplexing* cares ; liable to pains, and 
exposed to troubles ; troubles from every 
quarter, troubles of every kind : Can we, 
amidst so many wants, under such deplora- 
ble infirmities, and subject to such disastrous 
accidents ; can we be unconcerned whether 
God's omnipotent, irresistible, all-conduct- 
ing hand be against us, or for us ? Imagin- 
ation itself shudders at the thought ! Can 
we rest satisfied, without a well-grounded 
persuasion, that we are reconciled to this 
supreme Lord, and the objects of his un- 
changeable goodness ? If there be an aban- 
doned wretch, whose apprehensions are so 
fatally blinded, who is so utterly lost to all 
sense of his duty and of his interest ; let 
me bewail his misery, while I abhor his im- 
piety — ^bewail his misery, though populari- 
ty, with her choicest laiu-els, adorn his 
brow ; though affluence, with her richest 
delicacies, load his table; though half a na- 
tion, or half a world, conspii ^ to call him 
happy. 

May I, by a believing application, solace 
myself in this everlasting soiu-ce of love, 
perfection and joy ! Grant me this request, 
and I ask no more. Only that I may ex- 
pect, not with a reluctant anxiety, but with 
a ready cheerfulness, the arrival of that im- 
portant hour, when this veil of flesh shall 
drop, and the shadows of mortality flee 
away ; when I shall no longer complain of 
obscure knowledge, languid affections, and 
imperfect fruition ; but shall see the \m- 
created and immortal majesty — see him, not 
in this distant and unafiected method, of 
reasoning from his works, but with-the most 
clear and direct intuition of the mind : 
when I shall love him, not with a cold and 



* Perplexing — Those who read theoriginal language 
of the New Testament, are sufficiently apprised, that 
such is the significancy of that benevolent dissuasive, 
urged by our Lord, Matth. vi.25. I beg leave, for 
the sake of the unlearned reader, to observe, that our 
translation, though for the most part faithful and 
excellent, has here misrepresented our divine Mas- 
ter's meaning. Take no thought for your food, for 
your raiment, for your bodily welfare, is not only not 
the true sense, but the very reverse of this scriptural 
doctrine. We are required to take a prudent and mo- 
derate thought for the necessaries of life. The 
sluggard, who neglects this decent precaution, is se- 
verely reprimanded ; is sent to one of the meanest ani- 
mals, to blush for his folly, and learn discretion from 
her conduct, Prov. vi. 6. Our Saviour's precept, and 
the exact sense of his expression, is. Take no anxious 
thought ; indulge no perplexing care ; no such care 
as may argue an unreasonable distrust of Providence, 
or may rend and tear your minds with distressirig, 
with pej-iiicious solicitude. 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



lis 

contracted spirit, but with the tnost lively 
end enlarged emotions of gratititude : when 
I shall incessantly enjoy the light of his 
countenance, and be united, inseparably unit- 
ed, to his all-glorious Godhead. Take, ye 
ambitious, unenvied and unopposed, take 
to yourselves the toys of state. May I be 
enabled to rejoice in this blessed hope, and 
to triumph in that amiable, that adorable, 
that delightful name, the Lord my God ! 
And I shall scarce bestow a thought on the 
splendid pageantry of the world, unless it 
be to despise its empty pomp, and to pity 
its deluded admirers. 

All these bodies, though immense in 
their size, and almost infinite in their mul- 
titude, are obedient to the divine command. 
The God of wisdom " telleth their num- 
bers," and is intimately acquainted with 
their various properties. The God of 
power " calleth them all by their names," 
and assigns them whatsoever office he 
pleases. He marshalls all the starry le- 
gions, with infinitely greater ease and nicer 
order, than the most expert general ar- 
ranges his disciplined troops. He appoints 
their posts, he marks their route, he fixes 
the time for their return : The posts which 
he appoints, they occupy mthout fail ; in 
the route, which he settles, they persevere 
without the least deviation ; and to the in- 
stant,* which he fixes for their return, they 
are precisely punctual. He has given them 
a law which, through a long revolution of 
ages, shall not be broken, unless his sover- 
eign will interposes for its repeal. Then, 
indeed, the motion of the celestial orbs is 
controlled; their action remains suspend- 
ed ; or their influence receives a new direc- 
tion. — The sun, at his creation, issued 
forth with a command to travel perpetually 
through the heavens ; since which he has 
never neglected to perform the great circuit, 

rejoicing as a giant to run his race." But, 
when it is requisite to accomplish the pur- 
poses of divine love, the orders are counter- 
manded ; the flaming courier remits his 
career, stands still in Gibeon ;f and, for the 
conveniency of the chosen people, holds 
back the falling day. The moon was dis- 
patched with a charge, never to intermit her 
revolving course till day and night come to 
an end : But, when the children of Provi- 
dence are to be favoured with an uncom- 
mon continuan.ce of light, she halts in her 
march, makes a solemn pause in the valley 



* " The planets and all the innumerable host of 
heavenly bodies, perfomn their courses and revolu- 
tio'iis with so much certainty and exactness, as never 
once to fail ; but, for almost 6000 years, come con- 
stantly about to the same period, in the hundredth 
part of a minute.' — Stackhoi/se's History of the Bible. 

t This is spoken in conformity to the Scripture 
language, and according to the common notion. With 
respect to the power which affected the alteration, it 
i s much the same thing, and alike-miraculous, whe- 
thtr the sun or the earth be supposed to move. 



of Ajalon,* and delays to bring on hef at- 
tendant train of shadows. When the ene- 
mies of the Lord are to be discomfited, the 
stars are levied into the service ; the stars 
are armed, and take the field ; the stars, in 
their courses, fought against Sisera.f 

So dutiful is material nature ! so obse- 
quious in all her forms to her Creator's 
pleasure ! The bellowing thunders listen to 
his voice ; and the voUied lightnings ob^ 
serve the direction of his eye. The flying 
storm and impetuous whirlwind wear his 
yoke. The raging waves revere his nod ; 
they shake the earth, they dash the skies, 
yet never offer to pass the limits which he 
has prescribed. Even the planetary spheres, 
though vastly larger than this wide extend- 
ed earth, are in his hand as clay in the 
hands of the potter. Though swifter than 
the northern blast, they sweep the long 
tracts of ether; yet are they guided by his 
reins, and execute whatever he enjoins., 
All those enormous globes of central fire, 
which beam through the boundless azure, 
in comparison of which, an army of planets 
were like a .swarm of summer-insects ; 
those, even those, are conformable to his 
will ; as the melting wax to the impressed 
seal. 

Since all — all is obedient throughout the 
whole ascent of things, shall man be the on- 
ly rebel against the almighty Maker ? Shall 
these unruly appetites reject his govern- 
ment, and refuse their allegiance ? Shall 
these headstrong passions break loose from 
divine restraint, and run wild in exorbitant 
sallies after their own imaginations. 

O my soul ! be stung with remorse, and 
overwhelmed with confusion, at the thought ! 
Is it not a righteous thing that the blessed 
God should sway the sceptre, mth the 



* Josh, X. 12, 13. The prophet Habbakkuk, ac- 
cording to his lofty manner, celebrates this event ; 
and points out in very poetical diction, the design of 
so surprising a miracle. The sun and moon stood 
still in their habitation ; in the light, the long con- 
tinued and miraculous light, thy arrows, edged with 
destruction, walked on their awful errand; in the 
clear shining of the day, protracted for this very pur- 
pose, thy glittering spear, launched by thy people, 
but guided by thy hand, sprung to its prey. Hab. 
iii. 11. 

t Judg. V. 20. The scriptural phrase, fought 
against, will, I hope, be a proper warrant for every 
expression I have used on this occasion. The pas- 
sage is generally supposed to signify, that some very 
dreadful meteors (which the stars were thought to in- 
fluence,) such as fierce flashes of lightning, impetuous 
showers of rain, and rapid storms of hail, were em- 
ployed by the Almighty to terrify, annoy, and over- 
throw the enemies of Israel. If so, there cannot be a 
more clear and lively paraphrase on the text, than 
these fine lines of a Jewish writer. " His severe 
wrath shall he sharpen for a sword; and the world 
shall fight with him against the ungodly. Then shall 
the right-aiming thunderbolts go abroad, and from 
the clouds, as from a well-drawn bow, shall they fly 
to the mark. And hail-stones full of wrath shall be 
cast out of a stone bow ; and the water of the sea 
shall rage against them ; and the floods (as was the 
case of the river Kishon) shall cruelly drown them. 
Yea, a mighty wind shall stand up against them ; 
and, like a storm, shall bloAv tliem away. Wisd. v. 
20—23. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



119 



most absolute aiitliority, over all the crea- 
tures which his power has formed? especi- 
ally over those creatures whom his distin- 
guishing favour has endued with the noble 
principle of reason, and made capable of a 
blissful immortality ? Sure, if aU the ranks 
of inanimate existence conform to their 
Maker's decree, by the necessity of their 
nature, this more excellent race of beings 
should pay their equal homage by the will- 
ing compliance of their affections. * Gome, 
then, all ye faculties of my mind ; come, all 
ye powers of my body; give up yourselves, 
without a moment's delay, without the least 
reserve^ to his governance. Stand like du- 
tiful servants at his footstool, in an ever- 
lasting readiness to do whatsoever he re- 
quires ; to be whatsoever he appoints ; to 
further, with united efforts, the purposes of 
his glory in this earthly scene ; or else to 
separate, without reluctance, at his sum- 
mons— the one to sleep in the silent dust ; 
the other, to advance his honour in some 
remoter colony of his kingdom. Thus may 
I join with all the works of the Lord, in aU 
places of his dominion, to recognise his uni- 
versal supremacy, and proclaim him Sove- 
reign of souls as well as Ruler of M^orlds. 

At my first coming abroad, all these lu- 
minaries were eclipsed by the overpowering 
lustre of the sun. They were all placed 
in the very same stations, and played the 
same sprightly beams ; yet not one of them 
was seen. As the daylight wore away, 
and the sober shades advanced, Hesperus, 
whcJ leads the starry train, disclosed his 
radiant forehead, and catched my eye. 
While I stood gazing on his bright and 
beautiful aspect, several of his attendants 
peeped through the blue curtains. Scarce 
had I turned to observe these fresh emana- 
tions of splendour, but others dropt the 
veil, others stole into view. When, lo ! 
faster and more numerous, multitudes 
sprung from obscurity ; they poured, in 
shining troops, and in sweet confusion, over 
all the empyrean plain, tiU the firmament 
seemed like one vast constellation, and a 
flood of glory burst from all the skies. 

* This argument, I acknowledge, is not absolutely 
conclusive, but it is popular and striking. Nor can 
I think myself obliged in such a work, where fancy 
bears a considerable sway, to proceed always with the 
caution and exactness of a disputer in the schools. 
If there be some appearance of analogy between the 
fact and the inference, it seems sufficient for my pur- 
pose, though the deduction should not be necessary, 
nor the process strictly syllogistical. One of the 
apostolic fathers has an affecting and «ublime para- 
graph, which runs entirely in this form: " The sun, 
the moon, and the starry choir, without the least de- 
viation, and with the utmost harmony, perform the 
revolutions appointed them by the supreme decree." 
From which remark, and abundance of other similar 
instances observable in the economy of nature, he 
exhorts Christians to a cordial unanimity among 
themselves, and a dutiful obedience to God. Vid, 
Clem. Roman. 1. Eph. ad Corinth, Sect. 20. See also 
a. beautiful Ode in Dr. Watt's lyric poems, entitled 
the Comparison and Complaint, which turns upon 
this very-thought. 



Is not such the rise, and such the pro- 
gress of a true conversion in the prejudiced 
infidel, or inattentive sinner ? During the 
period of his vainer years, a thousand inter- 
esting truths lay utterly undiscovered, a 
thousand momentous concerns were en- 
tirely disregarded. But when divine grace 
dissipates the delusive glitter which dazzled 
his imderstanding and beguiled his afljec- 
tions, then he begins to discern, dimly to 
discern, the things which belong unto his 
peace. Some admonition of scripture darts 
conviction into his soul, as the glimmering 
of a star pierces the gloom of night. Then, 
perhaps, another awful or cheering text 
impresses terror or diffuses comfort. A 
threatening alarms his fears, or a promise 
awakens his hopes. This possibly is suc- 
ceeded by some afflictive dispensation of 
providence, and improved by some edi- 
fying and instructive conversation. All 
which is established as to its continuance, 
and enlarged as to its influence, by a dili- 
gent study of the sacred word. By this 
means, new tniths continually pour their 
evidence ; scenes of refined and exalted, 
but hitherto unknown delight, address him 
with their attractives. New desires take 
wing ; new pursuits are set on foot. A 
new turn of mind forms his temper ; anew 
habit of conversation regulates his life. 
In a word, old things are passed away, and 
all things become new. He who was 
sometime darkness, is now light, and life, 
and joy in the Lord. 

The more attentively I view the cr}'stal 
concave, the more fully I discern the riches 
of its decorations. Abundance of mhiuter 
lights, which lay concealed from a superfi- 
cial notice, are visible on a closer examina- 
tion ; especially in those tracts of the sky, 
which are called the galaxy ; and are dis- 
tinguishable by a sort of milky path. There 
the stars are crowded, rather than dissemi- 
nated. The regions seem to be all on n 
blaze, with their blended rays. Besides 
this vast profusion, which in my present 
situation the eye discovers, were I to make 
my survey from any other part of the globe, 
lying near the southern pole, I should be- 
hold a new choir of starry bodies, which 
have never appeared within our horizon. 
Was J, (which is still more wonderful,) 
either here or there, to view the firmament 
Avith the virtuoso's glass, I should find a 
prodigious multitude of flaming orbs, which, 
immersed in depths of ether, escape the 
keenest unassisted sight.* Yet, in these 
various situations, even Avith the aid of the 



* Come forth, O man, yon azure round survey, 
And view those lamps, which yield eternal day. 
Pring forth thy glasses; clear thy wond'ring eyes, 
Millions beyond the former millions rise ; 
Look farther — millions more blaze from remoter 
skies. 

See. an ingenious poem, entitled, The Universe, 



120 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



telescopic tube, I should not be able to des- 
cry the half, perhaps not a thousandth part 
of those majestic luminaries, which the 
vast expansive heavens contain.* So, the 
more diligently I pursue my search into 
those oracles of eternal truth, the scriptures, 
I perceive a wider, a deeper, an ever-in- 
creasing fund of spiritual treasures. I per- 
ceive the brighter strokes of wisdom, and 
the richer displays of goodness ; a more 
transcendent excellency in the illustrious 
Messiah, and a more deplorable vileness in 
fallen man ; a more immaculate purity in 
God's law, and more precious privileges in 
his gospel ; yet, after a course of study 
ever so assiduous, ever so prolonged, I 
should have reason to own myself a mere 
bcibe in heavenly knowledge, or at most, 
but a puerile proficient in the school of 
Christ. 

After all my most accurate inspection, 
those starry orbs appear but as glittering 
points. Even the planets, though so much 
nearer our earthly mansion, seem only like 
burning bullets. If, then, we have such 
imperfect apprehensions of visible and ma- 
terial things, how much more scanty and 
inadequate must be our notions of invisible 
and immortal objects ! We behold the stars. 
Though every one is incomparably bigger 
than the globe we inhabit, yet they dwindle 
upon our survey into the most diminutive 
forms. Thus we see by faith the glories 
of the blessed Jesus, the atoning efficacy of 
his death, the justifying merit of his righte- 
ousness, and the joys which are reserved for 
his followers. But, alas ! even our most 
exalted ideas are vastly below the truth ; as 
much below the truth, as the report which 
our eyes make of those celestial edifices is 
inferior to their real grandeur. Should we 
take in all the magnifying assistances which 
art has contrived, those luminous bodies 
would elude our skill, and appear as small 
as ever. Should an inhabitant of earth 
travel towards the cope of heaven, and be 
carried forwards, in his aerial journey, more 
than a hundred and sixty millions of miles ;f 
even in that advanced situation, those 
oceans of flame woidd look no larger than 



* How noble, considered in this view, are the cele- 
brations of the divine Majesty which frequently occur 
in the sacred writings ! It is the Lord that made the 
heavens. Psalm xcvi. 5, What a prodigious dignity 
does such a sense of things give to that devout 
ascription of praise ! " Thou, even thou, art Lord 
alone; thou hast made heaven, the heaven of hea- 
vens with all their host." Neh. ix. 6. Examined by 
this rule, the beautiful climax in our inspired hymn, 
IS sublime beyond compare ! •« Praise ye him, sun 
and moon ; praise him all ye stars of light; praise 
him, ye heaven of heavens. Psalm cxlviii. 3, 4. 

t Trtis, incredible as it may seem, is not a mere 
supposition, but a real fact. For, about the 21st of 
December, we are above 160,000,000 of miles nearer 
the northern parts of the sky, than we are on 21st of 
June. And yet, with regard to the stars situate in 
that quarter, we perceive no change in their aspect, 
nor any augmentation of their magnitude. 



radiant specks. In like manner, conceive 
ever so magnificently of the Redeemer's 
honours, and of the bliss which he has pur- 
chased for his people, yet you will fall short. 
Raise your imagination higher ; stretch your 
invention wider ; give them all the scope 
which a soaring and excursive fancy can take : 
still your conceptions will be extremely dis- 
proportionate to their genuine perfections. 
Vast are the bodies which roll in the ex- 
panse of heaven ; vaster far are those fields 
of ether, through which they run their end- 
less round; but the excellency of Jesus, 
and the happiness laid up for his servants, 
are greater than either, than both, than all. 
An inspired writer calls the former, " the 
unsearchable riches of Christ ;" and styles 
the latter, " an exceeding great and eternal 
weight of glory." 

If those stars are vSO many great and in- 
exhaustible magazines of fire, and immense 
reservoirs of light ; there is no reason to 
doubt but they have some very grand uses, 
sxutable to the magnificence of their nature. 
To specify or explain the particular pur- 
poses they answer, is altogether impossible 
in om" present state of distance and igno- 
rance. This, however, we may clearly dis- 
cern ; they ai-e disposed in that very man- 
ner which is most pleasing and most ser- 
viceable to mankind. They are not placed 
at an infinite remove, so as to lie beyond 
our sight, neither are they brought so near 
our abode, as to annoy us with their beams. 
We see them shine on every side. The 
deep azure which serves them as a ground, 
heightens their splendour. At the same 
time, their influence is gentle, and their 
rays are destitute of heat. So that we are 
surrounded with a multitude of fiery globes 
which beautify and illuminate the firma- 
ment, without any risk, either to the cool- 
ness of our night, or the quiet of oiu" repose. 
Who can sufficiently admire that wondrous 
benignity, which, on our account, strews 
the earth with blessings of every kind, and 
vouchsafes to make the very heavens sub- 
servient to our delight ? 

It is not solely to adorn the roof of ou^ 
palace with costly gildings, that God com- 
mands the celestial luminaries to glitter 
through the gloom. We also reap consid- 
erable benefits from their ministry. They 
divide our time, and fix its solemn periods. 
They settle the order of oiu- works ; and 
are, according to the destination mentioned 
in sacred writ, " for signs and for seasons ; 
for days and for years." The returns of 
heat and cold alone would have been too 
precarious a rule ; but these radiant bodies, 
by the variation, and also by the regularity, 
of their motions, afibrd a method of calcu- 
lating absolutely certain, and sufficiently ob- 
vious. By this the farmer is instructed 
when to commit his grain to the furrows. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



121 



imd how to conduct the operations of hus- 
bandry. By this, the sailor knows when 
to proceed on his voyage with least peril, 
-and how to carry on the business of navi- 
gation with niost success. 

Why should not the Christian, the pro- 
bationer for eternity, learn from the same 
monitors, to number for nobler purposes, to 
number his days, and duly to transact the 
grand, grand affairs of his everlasting salva- 
tion ? Since God has appointed so many 
bright measurers of our time, to determine 
its larger periods, and to minute dovm its 
ordinary stages ; sure, this most strongly 
inculcates its value, and should powerfully 
prompt us to improve it. Behold ! the 
supreme Lord marks the progress of our 
life, in that most conspicuous calendar above. 
Does not such an ordination tell us, and 
in the most emphatical language, that our 
life is given for use, not for waste ; that 
no portion of it is delivered, but under a 
•strict account ; that all of it is entered, as 
=it passes, in the divine register ; and there- 
fore, that the stewards of such a talent are 
to expect a future reckoning ? Behold the 
very heavens are bidden to be the account- 
ants of our years, and months, and days. 
O ! may this induce us to manage them 
with a vigilant frugality : to part with them 
as misers with their hoarded treasure, wari- 
ly and circumspectly ; and, if possible, as 
merchants with their rich commodities, not 
without an equivalent, either in personal 
improvement, or social usefulness ! 

How bright the starry diamonds shine ! 
the ambition of eastern monarchs could 
imagine no distinction more noble and su- 
blime, than that of being likened to those 
beaming orbs. (Num. xxiv. 17. Dan. viii. 
10.) They form night's richest dress ; and 
sparkle upon her sable robe, like jewels of 
the finest lustre. Like jewels ! I wrong 
their character. The lucid stone has no 
brilliancy, quenched is the flame even of 
the golden topaz, compared with those glow- 
ing decorations of heaven. How mdely are 
their radiant honours diffused ! No nation 
so remote but sees their beauty, and rejoices 
in their usefulness. They have been ad- 
mired by all preceding generations, and 
every rising age will gaze on their x^harms 
with renewed delight. How animating 
then, is that promise made to the faithful 
ministers of the gospel ! " They that turn 
many to righteousness, shall shine as the 
stars for ever and ever." (Dan. xii. 3.) Is 
not this a most winning encouragement " to 
spend and be spent" in the service of souls ? 
Methinks the stars beckon as they twinkle. 
Me thinks they show me their splendours, 
on purpose to inspire me with alacrity in 
the race set before me : on pui-pose to en- 
liven ray activity in the v/ork that is given 
.me to do. Ves, ye majestic monitors, l' 



understand your meaning. If honour has 
any charms, if true glory, the glory which 
Cometh from God, is any attractive, yoa 
display the most powerful incitements to 
exercise all assiduity in my holy vocation, 
I will henceforth observe yom- intimation ; 
and when zeal becomes languid, have re- 
course to your heavenly lamps ; if so be I 
may rekindle its ardour at those inextin- 
guishable fires. 

Of the polar star it is observable, that 
while other luminaries alter their situation, 
this seems invariably fixed. * "Wliile other 
luminaries now mount the battlements of 
heaven, and appear upon duty ; now retire 
beneath the horizon, and resign to a fresh 
set the watches of the night ; this never de- 
parts from its station. This, in every sea- 
son, maintains an uniform position, and is 
always to be found in the same tract of the 
northern sky. How often has this beamed 
bright intelligence on the sailor, and con- 
ducted the keel to its desired haven ! In 
early ages, those who went douTi to the sea 
in ships, and occupied their business in great 
waters, had scarce any other sure guide for 
their wandering vessel. This, therefore, 
they viewed with the most solicitous atten- 
tion. By this they formed their observa- 
tions and regulated tlieir voyage. "WTien 
this was obscured by clouds, or enveloped 
in mists, the trembling mariner was bewil- 
dered on the watery waste. His thoughts 
fluctuated as much as the floating surge ; 
and he knew not where he was advanced, 
or whither he should steer. But when this 
auspicious star broke through the gloom, it 
dissipated the anxiety of his mind, and clear- 
ed up h's dubious passage ; he reassumed 
with alacrity the management of the helm, 
and was able to shape his course with some 
tolerable degree of satisfaction and certain- 

Such, only much clearer in its light, and 
much surer in its direction, is the holy word 
of God to those myriads of intellectual be- 
ings who are bound for the eternal shores ; 
who, embarked in a vessel of feeble flesh, 
are to pass the waves of this tempestuous 
and perilous world. In all difficulties, 
those sacred pages shed an encom^ing ray, 
in all uncertainties, they suggest the right 
determination, and point out the proper 
procedure. What is still a more inestima- 
ble advantage, they, like the star which con- 
ducted the eastern sages, make plain the 
way of access to a Redeemer. They dis- 
play his unspeakable merits ; they discover 
the method of being interested in his great 
atonement ; and lead the weary soul, toss- 



* I speak in conformity to the appearance of the 
object. For, though this remarkable star revolves 
round the pole, its motion is so slow, and the circle 
it describes so small, as renders both the revolution 
and change of situation hardly perceivable. 



122 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



ed by troubles, and shattered by temptations, 
to that only harbour of peaceful repose. Let 
«s therefore attend to this unerring direc- 
tory, with the same constancy of regard, as 
the seafaring man observes his compass. 
Let us become as thoroughly acquainted 
"with this sacred chart, as the pilot is with 
'every trusty mark, that gives notice of a 
lurking rock, and with eveiy open road that 
yields a safe passage into the port. Above 
:all, let us commit ourselves to this infalli- 
ble guidance, v^^ith the same' implicit resig- 
nation ; let us conform our conduct to its ex- 
alted precepts, wdth the same sedidous care, 
/ as the children of Israel, when sojourning in 
the trackless desert, followed the pillar of 
fire, and the motions of the miraculous 
doud. So will it introduce us, not into an 
earthly Canaan, flowing with milk and ho- 
ney, but into an immortal paradise, where is 
the fulness of joy, and where are pleasures 
for evermore. It will introduce us into 
those happy, happy regions, where our sun 
shall no more go down, nor our moon with- 
draw itself ; for the Lord shall be our ever- 
lasting light, and the days of our mourning, 
together with the fatigues of our pilgrimage, 
shall be ended. (Isaiah Ix. 20.) _ 

I perceive a great variety in the size 
and splendour of those gems of heaven. 
Some are of the first magnitude ; others 
of an inferior order. Some glow with 
/ intense flames ; others glimmer with faint- 
/ er beams. Yet all are beautiful, aU have 
their peculiar lustre, and distinct use ; 
,all tend in their different degrees to ena- 
mel the cope of heaven, and embroider the 
robe of night. This circumstance is re- 
marked by an author, whose sentiments 
are a source of wisdom, and the veiy stand- 
ard of truth. " One star," says the apos- 
tle of the Gentiles, " differeth from another 
star in glory ; so also is the resurrection 
: of the dead." 

In the world above, are various degrees 
of happiness, various seats of honour. 
Some will rise to more illustrious distinc- 
tions, and richer joys.* Some, like vessels 
of ample capacity, will admit more copious 
accessions of light and excellence. Yet 
there will be no want, no deficiency in any, 
but a fulness both of divine satisfactions 
and personal perfections. Each will enjoy 
all the good, and be adorned with all the 
glory, that his heart can wish or his condi- 
tion receive. None will know what it is 
to envy. Not the least malevolence, nor 
the least selfishness, but everlasting friend- 
ship prevails, and a mutual complacency in 
each other's delight. Love, cordial love, 
will give every particular saint a participa- 

« 1 Cor. XV. 41, 42. The great Mr. Mead prefers the 
sense here given, and the learned Dr. Hammond ad- 
mits it into his paraphrase. Whose joint authority, 
though far from excluding any other, yet is a suffi- 
uent warrant for this application of the words. 



tion of all the fruitions which are diffused 
through the whole assembly of the blessed. 
No one eclipses, but each reflects light upon 
his brother. A sweet interchange of rays 
subsist, all enlightened by the great Foun- 
tain, and all enlightening one another. By 
which reciprocal communication of plea- 
sure and amity, each will be continually re- 
ceiving from, each incessantly adding to, the 
general felicity. 

Happy, supremely happy they, who are 
admitted into the celestial mansions. Bet- 
ter to be a doorkeeper in those " ivory 
palaces," (Psalm xlv. 8.) than to fill the 
most gorgeous throne on earth. The very 
lowest place at God's right hand is distin- 
guished honour and consummate bliss. 
that we may, in some measure, anticipate 
that beatific state while we remain in our 
banishment below ! May we, by rejoicing 
in the superior prosperity of anothei*, make 
it our ovm ; and provided the general result 
is harmony, be content, be pleased, with 
whatsoever part is assigned to our share in | 
the universal choir of affairs. 

While I am considering the heavenly bo- 
dies, I must not entirely forget those funda- 
mental laws of our modem astronomy, pro- 
jection and attraction. One of which is the 
all-combining cement, the other is the ever- 
operative spring, of the mighty frame. In 
the beginning the all-creating fiat impress- 
ed a proper degree of motion on each of 
those whirling orbs ; which, if not controll- 
ed, would have carried them on in straight 
lines, and to endless lengths, till they were 
even lost in the abyss of space. But, the 
gravitating property being added to the pro- 
jectile force, determined their courses to a 
circidar form,* and obliged the reluctant 
rovers to perform their destined rounds. 
Were either of those causes to suspend their 
action, aU the harmoniously moving spheres 
would be disconcerted, would degenerate 
into sluggish, inactive masses, and, falling 
into the central fire, be burnt to ashes ; or 
else would exorbitate into wild confusion, 
and each, by the rapidity of its whirl, be 
dissipated into atoms. But the impulsive 
and attractive energy being most nicely at- 



* I am aware the planetary orbits are not strictly cir- 
cular, but rather elliptical. However, as they are 
but a small remove from the perfectly round figure, 
and partake of it incomparably more than the trajeo* 
tories of the comets, I choose to represent the thing 
in this view; especially, because the notion of a cir- 
cle is so much more intelligible to the generality of 
readers, than that of an elhpsis; and because I laid it 
down for a rule, not to admit any such abstruse sen- 
timent, or difficult expression, as should demand a 
painful attention, instead of raising an agreeable idea. 
For which reason, I have avoided technical terms ; 
have taken no notice of Jupiter's satellites, or Sa- 
turn's ring ; have not so much as mentioned the names 
of the planets, nor attempted to wade into any depths 
of the science ; lest, to those who have no opportuni- 
ty of using the telescope, or of acquainting themselves 
with a system of astronomy, I should propound rid- 
dles, raiher than display entertaining and edifying 
truths. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



123 



tempA*ed to each other ; and, under the im- 
mediate operation of the Almighty, exert- 
ing themselves in perpetual concert, the 
various globes run their radiant races with- 
out the least interruption, or the least de- 
viation, so as to create the alternate chan- 
ges of day and night, and distribute the use- 
ful viscissitudes of succeeding seasons ; so 
as to answer all the great ends of a gracious 
Providence, and procure every comfortable 
convenience for universal nature. 

Does not this constitution of the mater- 
ial, very naturally lead the thoughts to those 
grand principles of the moral and devotion- 
al world — faith and love? These are of- 
ten celebrated by the inspired apostle, as a 
comprehensive sum.mary of the gospel ; 
(Col. i. 4. Philem. ver. 5.) These inspirit 
the breast, and regulate the progress of each 
private Christian. These unite the whole 
congregation of the faithful to God, and one 
another ; — to God, the great centre, in the 
bonds of gratitude and devotion ; to one 
another, by a reciprocal intercoiu-se of bro- 
therly affections and friendly offices. If 
you ask. Why is it impossible for the true 
believer to live at all adventures ? to stag- 
nate in sloth, or habitually to deviate from 
duty? We answer, it is owing to " his 
faith working by love." (Gal. v. 6.) He 
assuredly trusts, that Christ has sustained 
the infamy, and endured the torment due to 
his sins. He firmly relies on that divine 
propitiation for the pardon of all his guilt ; 
and humbly expects everlasting salvation 
as the purchase of his Saviour's merits. 
This produces such a spirit of gratitude, 
as refines his inclinations, and animates 
his whole behaviour. He cannot, he can- 
not' run to excess of riot ; because love to 
his adorable Redeemer, like a strong, but 
silken cm'b, sweetly restrains him. He 
cannot, he cannot lie lulled in a lethargic 
indolence ; because love to the same infin- 
ite Benefactor, like a pungent but endear- 
ing spin-, pleasingly excites him. In a 
word, faith supplies the powerful impulse, 
while love gives the determining bias, and 
leads the willing leet through the whole 
circle of God's commandments. By the 
united efficacy of these heavenly graces, the 
Christian conduct is preserved, in the uni- 
formity and beauty of holiness ; as by the 
blended power of those Newtonian princi- 
ples, the solar system revolves in a steady 
and magnificent regidarity. 

How admirable, how extensive, how di- 
versified, is the force of this single princi- 
ple, attraction /* "This penetrates the very 
essence of all bodies, and difi"uses itself to 
the remotest limits of the mundane system. 
By this the worlds, impressed with motion, 
hang self-balanced on their centres, and, 

* I mean the attraction both of gravitation and co- 
hesion. 



though orbs of immense magnitude, require 
nothing but this amazing property for their 
support. To this we ascribe a phenome- 
non of a very different kind — the pressure 
of the atmosphere, which, though an yielding 
and expansive fluid, yet, constipated by an 
attractive energy, sun'ounds the whole globe, 
and incloses every creature, as it were, with 
a tight bandage. An expedient this, abso- 
lutely necessary to preserve the texture of 
our bodies, and indeed to maintain every 
species of animal existence. Attraction ! 
Urged by this wonderful impetus, the rivers 
circulate, copious and unintermitted, among 
all the nations of the earth ; sweeping with 
rapidity dowi the steeps, or softly ebbing 
through the plains. Impelled by the sam.e 
mysterious force, the nutritious juices are 
detached from the soil, and ascending the 
trees, find their way through millions of the 
finest meanders, in order to transfuse vege- 
tative life into all the branches. This 
confines the ocean within proper bounds ; 
though the waves thereof roar, though they 
toss themselves, with all the madness of in- 
digent rage ; yet, checked by this potent, 
this inevitable curb, they are unable to pass 
evQn the slight barrier of sand. To this 
the mountains owe that unshaken firmness, 
which laughs at the shock of ciU'eering 
winds, and bids the tempest, with all its 
mingled horrors, irapotently rave. By 
virtue of this invisible mechanism, without 
the aid of crane or pully, or any instrument 
of human device, many thousand tinis of 
water are raised every moment into the re- 
gions of the firmament : by this they con- 
tinue suspended in thin air, ^nthout any 
capacious cistern to contain their substance, 
or any massy pillars to sustain their weight : 
By this same variously acting power, they 
return to the place of their native resi- 
dence, distilled in gentle falls of dew, or 
precipitated in impetuous showers of rain ; 
they slide into the fields in fleecy flights of 
snow, or are darted upon the houses iu 
clattering storms of hail. This occasions 
the strong cohesion of solid bodies ; with- 
out which, our large machines could exert 
themselves with no vigour, and the nicer 
utensils of life would elude our expectations 
of service. This afl^brds a foundation for all 
those delicate or noble mechanic arts, which 
furnish mankind with numberless conven- 
iences, both of ornament and delight. In 
short, this is the prodigious ballast, which 
composes the equilibrium, and constitutes 
the stability of things ; this is the great 
chain, which forms the connexions of uni- 
versal nature ; and the mighty engine which 
prompts, facilitates, and in good measm-e, 
accomplishes all her operations. What 
complicated effects from a single cause I* 

* See another remarkable instance of this kind, in 
the Reflections on a Flower-Garden, page 38, 39, to- 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



What profusion, amidst frugality ! an un- 
known profusion of benefits, with the ut- 
most frugality of expense ! 

And what is this attraction ? Is it a 
quality, in its existence inseparable from 
matter, and in its acting independent on 
the Deity ? Quite the reverse. It is the 
very finger of God ; the constant impression 
43f divine power ; a principle, neither in- 
nate in matter, nor intelligible by mortals. 
Does it not, however, bear a considerable 
analogy to the agency of the Holy Ghost, 
in the Christian economy ? Are not the 
gracious operations of the blessed Spirit 
thus extensive, thus admirable, thus vari- 
ous ? That almighty Being transmits his 
gifts through every age, and communicates 
his graces to every adherent on the Re- 
deemer. All, either of illustrious memory, 
or of beneficial tendency ; in a word all the 
good that is done upon earth, he doth it 
himself. Strong in his aid, and in the 
power of his might, the saints of all times 
iiave trod vice under their feet, have 
triumphed over this abject world, and con- 
versed in heaven while they dwelt on earth. 
Not I, but the grace of God, which was with 
me (1 Cor. xv. 10.) is the unanimous ac- 
knowledgment of them all. By the same 
kindly succours, the v»'hole church is still en- 
lightened, quickened, and governed. Through 
his benign influences, the scales of ignorance 
fall from the understanding ; the leprosy of 
evil concupiscence is purged from the will ; 
and the fetters, the more than adamantine 
fetters of habitual iniquity, drop off from the 
conversation. He breathes even upon dry 
bones,* and they live : they are animated 
with faith ; they pant with ardent and hea- 
venly desire ; they exercise themselves in 
all the duties of godliness. His real, 
though secret inspiration, dissolves the flint 
, in the impenitent breast, and binds up the 
sorrows of the broken heart ; raises the 
thoughts high in the elevations of holy 
hope, yet lays them lov/ in the humiliations 
of inward abasement ; steels the soul with 
impenetrable resolution and preserving for- 
titude, at the same tim.e softens it into a 
dove-like meekness, and melts it in peni- 
tential sorrow. 

When I contem.plate those ample and 
magnificent structures erected over ail the 
ctherial plains ; when I look upon them as 
so many splendid repositories of light, or 
fruitful abodes of life ; when I remember, 
that there may be other orbs, vastly more 
remote than those which appear to our un- 
aided sight ; orbs, v>'hose effulgence, though 
travelling ever since the creation, is not 



gether with a fine observation quoted in the corres- 
ponding note. 

* See that beautiful piece of sacred and allegorical 
imagery displayed, Esek. xxxvii. 



yet arrived upon our coasts ;~* when 1 
stretch my thoughts to the innumerable 
orders of being which inhabit all those 
spacious systems, from the loftiest seraph 
to the lowest reptile, from the armies of 
angels which surround the throne of Je- 
hovah to the puny nations which tinge with 
blue the surface of the plum,f or mantle 
the standing pool with green — how various 
appear the links in this immense chain ! 
how vast the gradations in this universal 
scale of existence ! Yet all these, though 
ever so vast and various, are the work of 
God's hand, and are full of his presence. 

He rounded in his palm those dreadfully 
large globes which are pendulous in the 
vault of heaven. He kindled those aston- 
ishingly bright fires, which fill the firma- 
ment with a flood of glory. By him they 
are suspended in fluid ether, and cannot be 
shaken ; by him they dispense a perpetual 
tide of beams, and are never exhausted. 
He formed, with inexpressible nicety, that 
delicately fine collection of tubes, that un- 
known multiplicity of subtle springs, which 
organize and actuate the frame of the mi- 
nutest insect. He bids the crimson cur- 
rent roll, the vital movements play, and as- 
sociates a world of wonders even in an ani- 
mated point. I In all these is a single ex- 



« If this conjecture (which has no less a person 
than the celebrated Mr. Huygens for its author) con- 
cerning unseen stars, be true ; if to this observation be 
added, what is affirmed by our skilful astronomers, 
that the motion of the rays of light is so surprisingly 
swift, as to pass through ten millions of miles in a sin- 
gle minute : how vast — beyond imagination vast and 
unmeasurable — are the spaces of the universe ! VThile 
the mind is distended with the grand idea ; or ra- 
ther while she is despatching her ablest powers of 
piercing judgment, and excursive fancy ; and finds 
them all dropt short ; all baffled by the amazing sub- 
ject ; permit me to apply that spirited exclamation, 
and noble remark; 

Say, proud arch 

Built with divine ambition ; in disdain 

Of limit built; built in the taste of heaven ! 

Vast concave ! ample dome ! v/ast thou designed 

A meet apparent for the deity ? 

Not so; that thought alone thy state impairs; 

Thy lofty sinks ; and shallows thy profound ; 

And straitens thy diffusive 

Night-Thoughts, No ix. 
t Even the blue down the purple plum surrounds 

A living world thy failing sight confounds : 

To him a peopled habitation sliows. 

Where millions taste the bounty God bestows. 
See a beautiful and instructive Poem styled — Deity. 
% There are living creatures abundantly smaller 
than the mite. Mr. Bradley in his treatise on garden- 
ing, mentions an insect wrhich, after an accurate ex- 
amination, he found to be a thousand times less than 
the least visible grain of sand. Yet such an insect, 
though quite imperceptible to the naked eye, is an 
elephant, is a whale, compared with other animal- 
cules, almost infinitely more minute, discovered by 
Mr. Lewenhock. If we consider the several limbs 
which compose such an organized particle; the differ- 
ent muscles which actuate such a set of limbs ; the 
flow of spirits, incomparably more attenuated, which 
put those muscles in motion: the various fluids which 
circulate : the different secretions which are perform- 
ed : together with the peculiar minuteness of the so- 
lids before they arrive at their full growth — not to 
mention other more astonishing modes of diminution, 
sure we shall have the utmost reason to acknov/ledge 
that the adored Maker is ma.Timus in minimi-i, 
greatly glorious even in his smallest Viforks. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



1-2.5 



liibition of creating power ; to all these are 
extended the special regards of preserving 
goodness. P>om hence let me learn to 
rely on the providence, and to revere the 
presence of the supreme Majesty. 

To rely on his providence : For amidst 
that inconceivable number and variety of 
beings which swarm through the regions of 
creation, not one is overlooked, not one is 
neglected by the great Omnipotent cause 
of all. However inconsiderable in its char- 
acter, or diminutive in its size, it is still the 
production of the universal Maker, and be- 
longs to the family of the Almighty Father. 
_What though enthroned archangels enjoy 
the siiiiles of his countenance ; yet the low 
inhabitants of earth, the most despicable 
worms of the ground, are not excluded 
from his providential care. Though the 
manifestation of his perfections is vouch- 
safed to holy and intellectual essences, his 
ear is open to the cries of the young raven ; 
his eye is attentive to the wants and to the 
welfare of the very meanest births of na- 
tiu'e. How much less, then, are his own 
people disregarded ? those for whom he has 
delivered his beloved Son to death, and for 
whom he has prepared habitations of eter- 
nal joy. They disregarded ! No ; they are 
kept as the apple of an eye. The very 
hairs of their head are all numbered. The 
fondest mother may forget the infant that 
is dandled upon her knees, and sucks at her 
breast,* much sooner than the Father of 
everlasting compassion can discontinue or 



* Isa. xlix. 15. " Can a woman forget hersucking 
child, that she should not have compassion on the soil 
of her womb ? Yea, they may forget ; yet will I not for- 
get thee. How delicate and expressive are the images 
m this charming scripture ! How full of beauty if be- 
held in a critical, how rich with consolation if consi- 
dered in abelieving view ! Can a woman 9 one of the 
softer sex, whose nature is most impressible and 
whose passions are remarkably tender— can such a 
one, not barely disregard, but entirely forget ; not sus- 
pend her care for a while, but utterly erase the 
very memory of her child— her own child, not an- 
others ? a child that was formed in her womb,and is a 
part of herself ? Her son, the more important, and 
therefore more desirable species, to whom it pecu- 
liarly belongs to preserve the name, and build up the 
family ; her only son — for the word is singular, and 
refers to a case where the offspring, not being numer- 
ous, but centered in a single birth, must be produc- 
tive of the fondest endearment : Can she divest her- 
self of all concern for such a child ; not when he is 

frown up to maturity, or gone abroad from her house, 
ut while hecontiimes in an infantile state, and must 
owe his whole safety to her kind attendance ; while 
he lies in her bosom, rests on her arm, and even sucks 
at her breast ? especially if the poor innocent be rack- 
ed with pain, or seized by some severe affliction ; and 
so become an object of compassion as well as of love ? 
Can she hear its piercing cries ; can she see it all rest- 
less, all helpless under its misery, and feel no emotions 
of parental pity ? If one such monster of inhmuanity 
might be found, could all (here the prophet, to give 
his comparison the utmost energy, changes the singu- 
lar number into the plural) could all mothers be so 
degenerate? This, sure, cannot be suspected, need 
not be feared ; much less need ihe true believer be ap- 
prehensive of the failure of my kindness. An uni- 
versal extinction of those strongest affections of nature 
is a more supposable case, than that 1 should ever 
be unmindful of my i»eopIe, or regardless of their in- 
terests.. 



remit his watchful tenderness to his peopled 
his children, his heirs. 

Let this teach me also a more lively sense 
of the divine presense. All the rolling 
worlds above, all the living atoms below, 
together with all the beings that intervene 
betwixt these wide extremes, are vouchers 
for an ever-present Deity, " God has not 
left himself without a witness. " The marks 
of his footsteps are evident in every plaee^ 
and the touches of his finger distinguisha- 
ble in eveiy creature. " Thy name is so 
nigh, O thou all-supporting, all-informing 
Lord ; and that do thy wondrous works de- 
clare." (Psalm Ixxv. 1.) Thy goodness 
warms in the monung sun, and refreshes irv 
the evemng breeze. Thy glory shines in 
lamps of midnight, and smiles in the blos- 
soms of spring. We see a trace of thy in- 
comprehensible grandeur in the boundless 
extent of things ; and a sketch of thy ex- 
quisite skill, in those almost evanescent 
sparks of life — the insect race." How stu- 
pid is this heart of mine, that, amidst such 
a multitude of remembrancers thronging on 
every side, I should forget thee a single mo- 
ment ! Grant me, thou great I am ! thou 
source and support of universal existence ; 
Oh ! grant me an enlightened eye to dis- 
cern thee in every object, and a devout heart 
to adore thee on every occasion. Instead 
of living without God in the world, may I 
be ever with him, and see all things full of 
him. 

The glittering stars 

By the deep ear of meditation heard, 
Still in their midnight watches sing of him. 
He nods a calm. The tempest blows liis wrath.- 
The thunder is his voice ; and the red flash 
His speedy sword of justice. At his touch 
The mountains flame. He shakes the solid earth. 
And rocks the nations. Nor in these alone — 
In ev'ry common instance God is seen. 

Thomson's Spring. 

If the beautiful spangles wliich a clear 
night pours on the beholder's eye ; if those 
other fires which beam in remoter skies, 
and are discoverable only by that revelation 
to the sight — the telescope j if all those 
bright millions are so many fountains of 
day, enriched with native and independent 
lustre, illuminating planets, and enlivening 
systems of their own ;* what pomp, how 
majestic and splendid ! is disclosed in the 
midnight scene ! What riches are dissemin- 
ated through all those numberless provinces 
of the great Jehovah's empke ! Grandeur 
beyond expression ! Yet there is not the 
meanest slave but carries greater wealth in 
his own bosom, possesses superior dignity 
in his own person. The soul that informs 



* Consult with reason. Reason will reply. 
Each lucid point, which glows in yonder sky. 
Informs a system in the boundless space. 
And fills with glory its appointed place ; 
With beams unborrow'd brightens other skies; 
And worlds, to thee unknown, with heat ami life- 
supplies.— T/'ie l7rtjyerje.-_ 



126 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



his clay: the soul that teaches him to 
think, and enahles him to choose, that qua- 
lifies him to relish rational pleasure, and to 
breathe sublime desire ;* the soul that is 
endowed with such noble faculties ; and, 
above all, is distinguished with the dreadful, 
the glorious capacity of being pained or bless- 
ed for ever : this soul surpasses in worth 
whatever the eye can see, whatever of ma- 
terial the fancy can imagine. Before one 
such intellectual being, all the treasm-e, and 
all the magnificence of unintelligent crea- 
tion, becomes poor and contemptible. f For 
this soul Omnipotence itself has waked and 
worked through eveiy age. To con\dnce this 
soul, the fundamental laws of nature have 
been controlled, and the most amazing mira- 
cles have alarmed all the ends of the earth. 
To instruct this soul, the wdsdom of heaven 
has been transfused into the sacred page, 
and missionaries have been sent from the 
great King, who resides in light unapproach- 
able. To sanctify this soul, the Almighty 
Comforter takes the wings of a dove, and 
with a sweet transforming influence, broods 
on the human heart. And O ! to redeem 
this soul from guilt, to rescue it from hell, 
the heaven of heavens was bowed, and God 
himself came down to dwell in dust. 

Let me pause a while upon this impor- 
tant subject. What are the schemes which 
engage the attention of eminent statesmen, 
and mighty moiiarchs, compared with the 
grand interests of an immortal soul ? The 
support of commerce, and the success of 
armies, though extremely weighty affairs, 
yet, if laid in the balance against the salva- 
tion of a soul, are lighter than the downy 
feather poised against talents of gold. To 
save a navy from shipwreck, or a kingdom 
from slavery, are deliverances of the most 
momentous nature which the transactions 
of mortality can admit- But, O ! how they 
shrink into an inconsiderable trifle, if (their 
aspect upon immortality forgot) they are 
set in competition with the delivery of a 
single soul from the anguish and horrors of 
a distressed eternity !j: 

Is such the importance of the soul ? what 
vigilance then can, be too much, or rather, 
what holy solicitude can be sufficient, for 



* In this respect, as vested with such capacities, 
the soul even of fallen man has an unquestionable 
greatness and dignity — is majestic, though in ruin. 

t I beg leave to transcribe a pertinent passage, 
from that celebrated master of reason, and universal 
literature. Dr. Bentley, v^hom no one can be tempted 
to suspect either tinctured with enthusiasm, or 
warped by bigotry. " If we consider," says he, " the 
dignity of an intelligent being, and put that in the 
scale against brute and inanimate matter, we may af- 
firm, without over-valuing human niature, that the 
soul of one virtuous and religious man is of greater 
worth and excellency than the sun, and his planets, 
and all the stars in the world. 

See his Sei mons at Boyle's Led. No. 8. 
if: Not all your luminaries quench' d at once 
Were half so sad, as one benighted mind 
Which gropes for happiness and meets despair. 

Night Thoughts, No. ix. 



the overseers of the Saviour's flock, and the 
guardians of this great, this venerable, this 
invaluable charge ? Since such is the im- 
portance of the soul, wilt thou not, O mai^ 
be watchful for the preservation of thy own ? 
Shall every casual incident awaken thy con* 
cern, every transitory toy command thy re- 
gard ? And shall the welfare of thy soul, a 
work of continual occurrence, a work of 
endless consequence, sue in vain for thy se- 
rious care ! Thy soul, thy soul is thy all. 
If this be secured, thou art greatly rich, 
and will be unspeakably happy. If this be 
lost, a vv'hole world acquired will leave thee 
in poverty, and, all its delights enjojed, will 
abandon thee to misery. 

I have often been charmed and awed at 
the sight of the nocturnal heavens, even 
before I knew how to consider them in 
their proper circumstances of majesty and 
beauty. Something like magic has struck 
my mind, on a transient and unthinking 
survey of the etherial vault, tinged through- 
out with the purest aziu-e, and decorated 
with innumerable starry lamps. I have 
felt I know not what powerful and aggran- 
dizing impulse, which seemed to snatch me 
from the low entanglements of vanity, and 
prompted an ardent sigh for sublimer ob- 
jects. ]\Iethought I heard, even from the 
silent spheres, a commanding call to spurn 
the abject earth, ^nd pant after unseen de- 
lights. Henceforward I hope to imbibe 
more copiously this moral emanation of 
the skies, when„ in some such manner as 
the preceding, they are rationally seen, and 
the sight is duly improved. The stars, I 
trust, will teach as well as shine, and help 
to dispel both nature's gloom, and my in- 
tellectual darkness. To some people they 
discharge no better service than that of 
holding a flambeau to their feet and soften- 
ing the horrors of their night. To me and 
my friends may they act as ministers of a 
superior order, as counsellors of wisdom, 
and guides to happiness ! Nor wiU they fail 
to execute this nobler office, if they gently 
light our way into the knowledge of their 
adored Maker ; if they point out with their 
silver rays our path to his beatific presence. 

I gaze, I ponder ! I ponder, I gaze ! and 
think ineflfable things, I roll an eye of 
awe and admiration. Again and again I 
repeat my ravished views, and can never 
satiate either my curiosity or my inquiry. 
I spring my thoughts into this immense 
field, tni even fancy tires upon her vnng. 
I find wonders ever new ; wonders more 
and more amazing. Yet, after all my pre- 
sent inquiries, what a mere nothing do I 
know ! by all my future researches, how 
little shall I be able to learn of those vastly 
distant suns, and their circling retinue of 
worlds ! Could I pry with Newton's pierc- 
ing sagacity, or launch into his extensive 



ON THE star: 

snrteys, even then my apprehensions would 
be little better than those dim and scanty 
images which the mole, just emerged from 
her cavern, receives on her feeble optic. 
This, sure, should repress all impatient or 
immoderate ardour to pry into the secrets 
of the stany structures, and make me more 
particularly careful to cultivate my heart. 
To fathom the depths of the divine es- 
sence, or to scan universal nature mth a 
critical exactness, is an attempt which sets 
the acutest philosopher very nearly on a 
level with the idiot ; since it is almost, if 
not altogether, as impracticable by the 
former, as by the latter. 

Be it then my chief study, not to pursue 
what is absolutely unnattainable, but rather 
to seek what is obvious to find, easy to be 
acquired, and of inestimable advantage 
when possessed. , O! let me seek that cha- 
rity which edifieth',* that faith which piu^- 
fieth. Love, humble love, not conceited 
science, keeps the door of heaven. Faith, 
a child-like faith in Jesus, not the haughty 
self-sufficient spirit which scorns to be ig- 
norant of any thing, presents a keyf to 
tiiose abodes of bliss. This present state 
is the scene destined to the exercise of de- 
votion, the in\isible world is the place ap- 
pointed for the enjoyment of knowledge. 
There, the dawm of our infantile minds ^vill 
be advanced to the maturity of perfect day ; 
or rather, there our midnight shades will be 
brightened into all the lustre of noon. 
There the souls which come from the 
school of faith, and bring with them the 
principles of love, will dwell in light itself ; 
will be obscured with no darkness at all ; will 
know, even as they are known. ( 1 Cor. xiii. 
12.) Such an acquaintance, therefore, do I 
desire to form, and to carry on such a corres- 
pondence with the heavenly bodies, as may 
shed a benign influence on the seeds of grace 



• 1 Cor. viii. 1. I need not inform my reader, that 
hi this text in that admirable chapter, 1 Cor. xiii. 
and in various other passages of scripture, the word 
charity, should by no means be confined to the parti- 
cular art of alms-giving, or external beneficence. It 
rs of a much more exalted and extensive nature. It 
signifies that divinely precious grace which warms 
the soul with supreme love to God, and enlarges it 
with disinterested affection for men, which renders it 
the reigning care of the life, and chief delight of the 
heart, to promote the happiness of the one, and the 
glory of the other. This,, this is that charity of 
which so many excellent things are everywhere 
spoken; which can never be too highly extolled, or 
too earnestly coveted, since it ia the image of God, 
and the very spirit of heaven. 

t The Righteousness of Christ.— This is what 
Milton beautifully style* 

The golden key 

That opens the palace of eternity* 



RY HEAVEKS. 127 

implanted in my breast I^et the exalted" 
tracts of the firmament sink my soul into 
deep humiliation. Let those eternal fires 
kindle in my heart an adoring gratitude to 
their Almighty Sovereign. Let yonder 
ponderous and enormous globes, which rest 
on his supporting arm, teach me an un- 
shaken affiance in their incarnate Maker ; 
then shall I be, if not Avise as the astrono- 
mical adept, yet wise unto salvation. 

Having now walked and worshipped in> 
this universal temple, that is arched with 
skies, emblazed with stars, and extended 
even to immensity ; having cast an eye, 
like the enraptured patriarch, (Gen. xv. 5,) 
an eye of reason and devotion through the 
magnificent scene ; with the former, ha\dng 
discovered an infinitiide of worlds, and with 
the latter, having met the Deity in every 
view; having beheld, as Moses in the flam- 
ing bush, a glim.pse of Jehovah's excellen- 
cies, reflected from the several planets, and 
streaming from myiiads of celestial lumin- 
aries ; having read various lessons in that 
stupendous book of wisdom,* where un- 
measurable sheets of aztu-e compose the 
page ; and orbs of radiance write, in ever- 
lasting characters, a comment upon our 
creed. What remains but that I close the 
midnight solemnity, as our Lord concluded 
his grand sacramental constitution, ^^'ith a 
song of praise ? And behold a hymn, suited 
to the sublime occasion, indited by Inspira- 
tion itself, (Psalm xix.) transferred kito our 
language, by onef of the happiest efforts of 
human ingenuity. 



* For heaven 

Is as the book of God before thee set. 
Wherein to read his wondrous works.^Mi/f. 

t Addison,^ Spect. Vol. vi. No. 465. 



The sjiacious firmament on high. 

With all the blue etherial sky. 

And spangled heav'ns— a shining frame,. 

Their great original proclaim : 

Th' unwearied sun, from day to day. 

Does his Creator's power display ; 

And publishes to ev'ry land. 

The work of an Almighty hand. 

Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail. 
The moon takes up the wondrous tale ; 
And nightly, to the list'ning earth. 
Repeats the story of her birth ; 
While all the stars that round her bum. 
And all the planets in their turn. 
Confirm the tidings as they roll. 
And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

What though in solemn silence all 

Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? 

What though no real voice nor sound 

Amid their radiant orbs be found ? 

In reason's ear they all rejoice, 

And utter forth a glorious voice. 

For ever singing as they shine, 

•* The hand that made us is divine." — Addison. 



W I N T E II- P I E C E. 



It is true, in the delightful seasons, his ten- 
derness and his love are most eminently dis- 
played. In the vernal months, all is beau- 
ty to the eye, and music to the ear : The 
clouds drop fatness ; the air softens into 
balm ; and flowers in rich abundance spring 
wherever we tread, bloom wherever we 
look. Amidst the burning heats of sum- 
mer, he expands the leaves and thickens the 
shades ; he spreads the cooling arbour to 
receive us, and awakes the gentle breeze to 
fan us : The moss swells into a couch for 
the repose of our bodies ; while the rivulet 
Boftly rolls and sweetly murmurs, to soothe 
our imagination. In autumn, his bounty 
covers the fields with a profusion of nutri- 
mental treasure, and bends the boughs with 
loads of delicious fruit ; he furnishes his 
hospitable board with present plenty, and 
prepares a copious magazine for future 
wants. But is it only in these smiling pe- 
riods of the year that God, the all-gracious 
God, is seen ? Has winter, stern winter, no 
tokens of his presence ? Yes, all things are 
eloquent of his praise : " His way is in the 
whirlwind ;" storms and tempests fulfil his 
word, and extol hi^ power; even piercing 
frosts bear witness to his goodness, while 
they bid the shivering nations tremble at his 
wrath. Be winter, then, for a while, our 
theme. * Perhaps those barren scenes may 
be fruitful in intellectual improvement ; 
perhaps that rigorous cold which binds the 
earth in icy chains, may serve ta enlarge our 
hearts, and warm them with holy love. 

See ! how the day is shortened ! The 
sun„ detained in fairer climes, or engaged in 



* A sketch of this nature, I must acknowledge, is 
quite different from the subject of the book; and, I 
canni>t but declare, was as far distant from the 
thoughts of the author. But the desire of several ac- 
quaintances, together with an intimation of its useful- 
ness, by a very polite letter from an unknown hand, 
(which has undesignedly furnished me with the best 
motto I could recollect,) prevailed with me to add a 
ftw descriptive touches and improving hints, on what 
is so often experienced in these northern regions. I 
hope the atteinpt I have made to oblige these gen- 
tlemen will obtain the approbation, or at least the 
ex-cuse of my readers. 



more agreeable services, rises, like an un^* 
willing visitant, with tardy and reluctant 
steps. He walks with a shy indifference 
along the edges of the southern sky ; cast- 
ing an oblique glance, he just looks upon 
our dejected world, and scarcely scatters 
light through the thick air. Dim is his ap- 
pearance, languid are his gleams, while he 
continues ; or, if he chance to wear a bright- 
er aspect, and a cloudless brow, yet, like 
the young and gay in the house of mourn- 
ing, he seems uneasy till he is gone, is in- 
haste to depart. And let him depart*: 
Why should we wish for his longer stay, 
since he can show us nothing but the crea- 
tion in distress ? The flowery families lie 
dead, and the tuneful tribes are struck 
dumb ; the trees, stript of their verdure, 
and lashed by storms, spread their naked 
arms to the enraged and relentless heavens. 
Fragrance no longer floats in the air, but 
chilling damps hover, or cutting gales blow. 
Nature, divested of all her beautiful robes, 
sits, like a forlorn disconsolate widow in' 
her weeds ; while winds in doleful accents 
howl, and rains in repeated showers weep. 

We regret not, therefore, the speedy de- 
parture of the day. When the room is 
hung with funeral black, and dismal objects 
are all around, who would desire to have 
the glimmering taper kept alive, which can 
only discover spectacles of sorrow, can only 
make the horror visible ? And since this 
mortal life is little better than a continual 
conflict with sin, or an unremitted struggle 
with misery, is it not a gracious ordination, 
which has reduced our age to a span? 
Fourscore years of trial for the virtuous,: 
are sufficiently long ; and more than such 
a term allowed to the -wicked, would render 
them beyond all measure vile. Oiu" way to 
the kingdom of heaven lies through tribula- 
tions. Shall we then accuse, shall we not 
rather bless the Providence, which has 
made the passage short ? Soon, soon we 
cross the vale of tears ; and then arrive on 
the happy hills where light for ever shines^ 
where joy for ever smiles. 



A WINTER.PIECE. 



129 



' Sometimes the day is rendered shorter 
still ; is almost blotted out from the year. 
The vapours gather, they thicken into an 
impenetrable gloom, and obsciu-e the face 
of the sky. At length the rains descend ; 
the sliiices of the firmament are opened, and 
the low-himg clouds pour their congregated 
stores. Copious and unintermitted, still 
they pour, and still are unexhausted. The 
waters drop incessantly from the eaves, and 
rush in rapid streams from the spouts : 
They roar along the channelled pavements, 
and stand in foul shallows on the vil- 
lage streets. Nov/, if the inattentive eye, 
or negligent hand, has left the roof but scan- 
tily covered, the insinuating element finds 
its way into every flaw, and oozing through 
the ceiling, at once upbraids and chastises 
the careless inhabitant. The ploughman, 
soaked to the skin, leaves his half-tilled 
acre ; the poor poultry, dripping with wet, 
crowd into shelter ; the tenants of the bough 
fold up their wings, afraid to laimch into the 
streaming air ; the beasts, joyless and dis- 
pirited, ruminate under their shades ; the 
roads swim and the brooks swell. The ri- 
ver, amidst all this watery ferment, long con- 
tained itself within its appointed bounds ; 
but swollen by innumerable ciurents, and 
roused at last into incontroUable rage, bursts 
over its banks, shoots into the plain, bears 
do^vn all opposition, spreads itself far and 
wide, and buries the meadovy imder a brown, 
sluggish, soaking deluge. 

How happy for man, that this inimdation 
comes when there are no flowery crops in 
the valley to be overwhelmed, no field 
standing thick with corn to be laid waste ! 
At such a juncture, it would have been 
ruin to the husbandman and his family : 
but thus timed, it yields manure for his 
ground, an-d promises him riches in rever- 
sion. How often, and how long has the 
divine Majesty borne with the most injur- 
ious aflfronts from sinners ! His goodness 
triumphed over their perverseness, and gra- 
ciously refused to be exasperated. But, O 
presumptuous creatures, multiply no long- 
er your provocations ; urge not, by repeat- 
ed iniquities, the almighty arm to strike ; 
lest his long sufl^ering cease, and his fierce 
anger break forth : break forth like a flood 
of waters, (Hosea v. 10,) and sweep you 
away into irrecoverable and everlasting per- 
dition. 

How mighty, bow majestic, and O ! how 
mysterious are thy works, thou God of hea- 
ven, and Lord of nature ! When the air is 
calm, where sleep the stormy winds, in what 
chambers are they reposed, or in what dun- 
geons confined, till thou art pleased to awa- 
ken their rage, and throw open their prison 
doors ? Then, with irresistible impetuosity, 
they fly forth, scattering dread and mana- 
cing destruction. 



The atmosphere ia hurled into the most 
tumultuous confusion. The aereal torrent 
bursts its way over moimtains, seas, and 
continents. All things feel the dreadful 
shock. All things tremble before the fu- 
rious blast. The forest, vexed and torn, 
groans under the scourge, her sturdy sons 
are strained to the very root, and almost 
sweep the soil they were wont to shade. 
The stubborn oak, that disdains to bend, is 
dashed headlong to the ground, and with 
shattered arms, with prostrate trunk, blocks 
the road. While the flexile reed, that 
springs up in the marsh, yielding to the 
gust (as the meek and pliant temper to in- 
juries, or the resigned and patient spirit to 
misfortunes) eludes the force of the storm, 
and survives amidst the "wide-spread havoc. 

For a moment the turbulent and out- 
rageous sky seems to be assuaged; but it 
intermits its wrath, only to increase its 
strength. Soon the sounding squadrons of 
the air return to the attack, and renew their 
ravages with redoubled iury. The stately 
dome rocks amidst the wheeling clouds ; 
the impregnable tower totters on its basis, 
and threatens to overwhelm whom it was 
intended to protect: The ragged rock is 
rent in pieces, (1 Kings xix. 11,) and even 
the hills, the perpetual hills, on their deep 
foundations, are scarcely secure. Where, 
now, is the place of safety, when the city 
reels, and houses become heaps ? Sleep af- 
frighted flies ; diversion is turned into hor- 
ror : all is uproar in the element ; all is 
consternation among mortals ; and nothing 
but one wide scene of rueful devastation 
through the land. Yet this is only an in- 
ferior minister of divine displeasure ; the 
executioner of milder indignation. How 
then, O ! how will the lofty looks of man 
be humbled, and the haughtiness of men 
be bowed down,* when the Lord God 
Omnipotent shall meditate terror, when he 
shall set all his terrors in array, when he 
arises to judge the nations, and to shake 
terribly the earth ! 

The ocean swells ^^dth tremendous com- 
motions. The ponderous vraves are heav- 
ed from their capacious bed, and almost 
lay bare the imfathomable deep. Flung in- 
to the most rapid agitation, they sweep over 



» Mortalia corda 

Per gentis humilis stravit pavor. — Virg. 
One would almost imagine, that Virgil had read Isa- 
iah, and borrowed this idea from chap. ii. ver, 11, 
The humilis and stravit of the one, so exactly corres- 
pond with the— humbled— bowed down— of the other. 
But, in one circumstance, the prophet is very much 
superior to the poet. The prophet, by giving a strik- 
ing contrast to his sentiments, represents them with 
incomparably greater energy. He says, not men in 
the gross, or the human heart in general ; but men of 
the most elated looks, hearts big with the most arro- 
gant imaginations. Even these shall stoop from 
their supercilious heights, even these shall grovel in 

Ithe dust of abasement, and shudder with all the ex.» 
tremes of an abject pusillanimity. 

K 



1^0 



A WINTER-PIECE, 



the rocks, they lash the lofty cliffs, and toss 
themselves into the clouds. Navies are 
rent from their anchors ; and, vi^ith all their 
enormous load, are virhirled, swift as the ar- 
row, wild as the winds, along the vast abyss. 
Now, they climb the rolling mountain, they 
plough the frightful ridge, and seem to skim 
the skies ; anon, they plunge into the open- 
ing gulf, they lose the sight of day, and are 
lost themselves to every eye. How vain is 
the pilot's art ! how impotent the mariner's 
strength ! They reel to and fro, and stagger 
in the jarring hold, or cling to the cordage, 
whUe bursting seas foam over the deck. 
Despair is in every face, and death sits 
threatening on every surge. But why, O 
ye astonished mariners ! why should you 
abandon yourselves to despair ? Is the Lord's 
hand shortened, because the waves of the sea 
rage horribly ? Is his ear deafened by the 
roaring thunders, and the bellowing tem- 
pest ? Cry, cry unto him, who " holdeth 
the winds in his fist, and the waters in the 
hoUow of his hand." He is all-gracious to 
hear, and almighty to save. If he command, 
the storm shall be hushed to silence ; the 
billows shall subside into a calm ; the light- 
nings shall lay their fiery bolts aside ; and, 
instead of sinking in a watery grave, you 
shall find yourselves brought to the desired 
haven. 

Sometimes, after a joyless day, a more 
dismal night succeeds. The lazy louring 
vapours had wove so thicli a veil as the me- 
ridian sun could scarcely penetrate. What 
gloom then must overwhelm the nocturnal 
hom-s ! The moon withdi-aws her shining ; 
not a single star is able to struggle through 
the deep arrangement of shades ; all is 
pitchy darkness, without one enlivening ray. 
How solemn ! how awful ! It is like the 
shroud of nature, or the return of chaos ! 
I do not wonder that it is the parent of ter- 
rors, and so apt to engender melancholy. 
Lately the tempest marked its rapid way 
with mischief ; now, the night dresses her 
silent pavilion with horror. 

I have sometimes left the burning tapers, 
withdrawn from the ruddy fire, and plunged 
into the thickest of these sooty shades ; 
without regretting the change, rather exult- 
ing in it as a welcome deliverance. The 
very gloom was pleasing, was exhilarating, 
compared with the conversation I quitted. 
The speech of my companions (how does 
it grieve me, that I should even once have 
occasion to call them by that name !) was 
the language of darkness — was horror to the 
soul, and torture to the ear.* Their teeth 
were spears and arrows, and their tongue a 



* What has been said, I ask'd my soul, what done ? 
How ^flow'd our mirth ? or whence the source begun ? 
Perhaps the jest, that charmed the sprightly crowd, 
And made the jovial table laugh so loud. 



sharp sword, to stab and assassinate thnr 
neighbour's character. Their throat was 
an open sepulchre, gaping to devour the re- 
putation of the innocent, or tainting the air 
with their virulent and polluted breath. 
Sometimes their licentious and ungoverna- 
ble discourse shot arrows of profaneness 
against heaven itself, and, in proud defiance 
challenged the resentment of Omnipotence. 
Sometimes, as if it were the glory of human 
nature to cherish the grossest appetites of 
the brute, or the mark of a gentleman to 
have served an apprenticeship in a brothel, 
the filthiest jests of the stews (if low ob- 
scenity can be a jest) were nauseously ob- 
truded on the company. All the modest 
part were offended and grieved ; while the 
other besotted creatures laughed aloud, 
though the leprosy of imcleanness appeared 
on their lips. Are not these persons pri- 
soners of darkness, though blazing sconces 
pour artificial day through their rooms. 
Are not their souls immured in the most 
baleful shades, though the noontide sun is 
brightened by flaming on their gilded cha- 
riots ? They discern not that great and 
adorable Being, who fills the universe with 
his infinite and glorious presence ; who is 
all eye to observe their actions, all ear to 
examine their words. They know not the 
all-sufficient Redeemer, nor th^ unspeaka- 
ble blessedness of his heavenly kingdom. 
They are groping for the prize of happiness, 
but will certainly grasp the thorn of anxie- 
ty : They are wantonly sporting on the 
brink of a precipice ; and are every mo- 
ment in danger of falling headlong into ir- 
retrievable ruin, and endless despair. 

They have farced me out, and are, per- 
haps, deriding me in my absence ; are 
charging my reverence for the ever-present 
God, and my concern for the dignity of our 
rational nature, to the account of humour 
and singularity ; to narrowness of thought, 
or sourness of temper. Be it so. I will 
indulge no indignation against them. If 
any thing like it should arise, I will convert 
it into prayer : " Pity them, O thou Fa- 
ther of mercies ! Show them the madness 
of their profaneness ! show them the base- 
ness of their vile ribaldry ! Let their disso- 
lute rant be tiuned into silent sorrow and. 
confusion, till they open their lips to adore 
thy insulted majesty, and to implore thy 
gracious pardon ; till they devote to thy 
service those social hours, and those supe- 
rior faculties, which they are now abusing tck 



To some false notion ow'd its p "or pretence. 
To an ambiguous word's pervei ted sense; 
To a wild sonnet, or a wanton air. 
Offence and torture to the sober ear. 

Perhaps, alas! the pleasing stream was brought 
From this man's error, from another's fault : 
From topics, which good nature would forget. 
And prudence meutioa with the last regret. 

Piior's SoloTTAHu 



A WI^'TER-PIECE. 



131 



the dishonour of thy name, to the conta- 
mination of their own souls, and (unless 
timely repentance intervene) to their ever- 
lasting infamy and perdition. 

I ride home amidst the gloomy void. All 
darkling and solitary, I can scarce discern 
my horse's head, and only guess out my 
blind road. No companion but danger, or 
perhaps destruction ready at my side. (Job 
xviii. 12.) But why do I fancy myself so- 
litaiy ? Is not the Father of lights, the God 
of my life, the great and everlasting friend, 
always at my right hand ? Because the day 
is excluded, is his omnipresence vacated ? 
Though I have no earthly acquaintance near 
to assist in case of a misfortune, or to be- 
guile the time and divert uneasy suspi- 
cions by entertaining conferences ; may I 
not lay my help upon the Almighty, and 
converse with God by humble supplication ? 
For this exercise, no place is improper, no 
hour unseasonable, and no posture incom- 
modious. This is society, the best of so- 
ciety, even in solitude : This is a fimd of 
delights, easily portable, and quite inex- 
haustible. A treasure this of unknown va- 
lue, liable to no hazard from wrong or rob- 
bery ; but perfectly secure to the lonely 
wanderer in the most darksome paths. 

And why should I distress myself with 
apprehensions of peril ? This access to God 
is not only an indefeasible privilege, but a 
kind of ambulatory garrison. Those who 
make kno\ra their requests unto God, and 
rely upon his protecting care, he gives his 
angels charge over their welfare. His an- 
gels are commissioned to escort them in 
their travelling, and to hold up their goings, 
that they dash not their foot against a stone, 
(Psalm xci. 11, 12.) Nay, he himself con- 
descends to be their guardian, and " keeps 
all their bones, so that not one of them is 
broken. " Between these persons, and the 
most mischievous objects, a treaty of peace 
is concluded. The articles of this grand 
alliance are recorded in the book of Reve- 
lation ; and Avill, when it is for the real be- 
nefit of believers, assiu^edly be made good 
in the administrations of Providence. " In 
that day," saith the Lord, " I will make a 
covenant for them with the beasts of the 
field, and with the fowls of heaven, and with 
the creeping things of the ground ; and they 
shall be in league with the stones of the 
field." (Jobv. 23. Hos. ii. 18.) Though 
they faU headlong on the flints, even the 
flints, fitted to fractm-e the skull, shall re- 
ceive them as into the arms of friendship, and 
not oiFer to hurt whom the Lord is pleased 
to preserve. 

May I then enjoy the presence of this 
gracious God, and darkness and light shall 
be both alike. Let Him whisper peace to 
my conscience, and this dread silence shall 
be more charming than the voice of elo- 



quence, or the strains of music. Let him 
reveal his ravishing perfections in my soul, 
and I shall not want the saffron beauties 
of the mom, the golden glories of noon, 
or the empurpled evening sky. I shall sigh 
only for those most desirable and distin- 
guished realms, Avhere the light of his coun- 
tenance perpetually shin'es, and consequent- 
ly there is no night there. ( Rev. xxi. 25. ) 

How surprising are the alterations of na- 
ture ! I left her the preceding evening plain 
and unadorned ; but now a thick rime has 
shed its hoary honours over all : It has 
shagged the fleeces of the sheep, and crisped 
the traveller's locks : The hedges are richly 
fringed, and all the groimd is profusely 
powdered: The downward branches are 
tasselled with silver, and the upright are 
feathered with the plumy wave. 

The fine are not always the valuable. 
The air, amidst all these gaudy decorations, 
is charged mth chilling and unwholesome 
damps : The raw hazy influence spreads 
\vide, sits deep, hangs heavy and oppressive 
on the springs of life. A listless languor 
clogs the animal fimctions, and the pm-ple 
stream glides but faintly through its chan- 
nels. In vain the ruler of the day exerts 
his beaming powers ; in vain he attempts to 
disperse this insmTection of vapours. The 
sullen malignant cloud refuses to depart ; 
it invelopes the world, and intercepts the 
prospect. I look abroad for the neighbour- 
ing village ; 1 seni my eye in quest of the 
rising turret ; but am scarce able to discern 
the veiy next house. "WTiere are the blue 
arches of heaven ? where is the radiant 
countenance of the sun ? where the bound- 
less scenes of creation ? Lost, lost are their 
beauties ; quenched their glories. The 
thronged theatre of the universe seems an 
empty void, and aU its elegant pictures an 
undistinguished bland. Thus would it have 
been with our intellectual Aiews, if the gos- 
pel had not come in to our relief. We 
should have kno\\Ti neither oiu* true good, 
nor real evil. We had been a riddle to om- 
selves ; the present state all confusion, and 
the future impenetrable darkness. But the 
Sun of Righteousness, arising with potent 
and triumphant beams, has dissipated the 
interposing cloud; has opened a prospect 
more beautiful than the blossoms of spring, 
more cheering than the treasures of autumn, 
and far more enlarged than the extent of 
the visible system ; which, having led the 
eye of the mind through fields of grace, over 
rivers of righteousness, and hills crowned 
with knowledge, terminates at length in the 
heavens, sweetly losing itself in regions of 
infinite bliss and endless glory. 

As I walk along the fog, it seems, at 
some little distance, to be almost solid 
gloom ; such as v/ould shut out eveiy 
glimpse of light, and totally imprison me 



1^2 A WINTE 

in obscurity. But when I approach and 
enter it, I find myself agreeably mistaken, 
and the mist much thinner than it appeared. 
Such is the case with regard to the suffer- 
ings of the present life ; they are not, when 
experienced, so dreadful as a timorous ima- 
gination surmised. Such also is the case 
with reference to the gratifications of sense ; 
they prove not, when enjoyed, so substan- 
tial as a sanguine expectation represented. 
In both instances, we are graciously disap- 
pointed. The keen edge of the calamity 
is blunted, that it may not wound us with 
incurable anguish : the exquisite relish of 
the prosperity is palled, that it may not cap- 
tivate our affections, and enslave them to 
inferior delights. 

Sometimes the face of things wears a 
more pleasing form, the very i-everse of the 
foregouig. The sober evening advances to 
close the short-lived day : The firmament, 
clear and unsullied, puts on its brightest 
blue : The stars, in thronging multitudes, 
and mth a peculiar brilliancy, glitter 
through the fair expanse, while the frost 
pours its subtile and penetrating influence 
aU around. Sharp and intensely severe, all 
the long night, the rigid ether continues its 
operations. When, late and slow, the 
morning opens her pale eye, in what a cu- 
rious and amusing disguise is natm-e dressed ! 
The icicles, jagged and unjeven, are pendent 
on the houses : A whitish film incrusts the 
\vindows, where mimic landscapes rise, and 
fancied figures swell : The fruitful fields 
are hardened to iron; the moistened meadows 
are congealed to marble ; and both resound 
(an effect unkno-svn before) with the pea- 
sant's hasty tread. The stream is arrested 
in its career, and its everflowing surface 
chained to the banks : The fluid paths be- 
come a solid road : where the finny shoals 
were wont to rove, the sportive youth slide, 
or the rattling chariots roll. And (what 
would seem, to an inhabitant of the south- 
em world, as unaccountable as the deepest 
mysteries of our religion) that very same 
breath of heaven, which cements the lakes 
into a crystal pavement, cleaves the oaks, 
as it were with invisible wedges ; " breaks 
in pieces the northern iron and the steel," 
even while it builds a bridge of icy rock 
over the seas.* 

The air is all serenity. Refined by the 
nitrous particles, it affords the most distinct 
views and extensive prospects. The seeds 
of infection are killed, and the pestilence 
destroyed, even in embryo. So, the cold 
of affliction tends to mortify om- corruptions. 



* Job xxxviii. 30. The waters are hid, locked up 
from the cattle's lips, and secured from the fisher's 
net, as wells were v/ont to be closed with a ponderous 
and impenetrable stone. And not only lakes and ri- 
vers, but the surface of the great deep, with its rest- 
less and uncontrollable surges, is taken captive by the 
fxost, and bound in shining fetters. 



R-PIECE. 

and subdue om vicious habits. The crowd- 
ed atmosphere constringes our bodies, and 
braces om- nerves. The spirits are buoyant, 
and sally briskly on the execution of their 
office. In the summer months, such an un- 
clouded sky, and so bright a sun, wouM 
have melted us with heat, and softened us 
into supineness. We should have been 
ready to throw our limbs under the spread- 
ing beach, and to lie at ease by the mur- 
muring brook. But now none loiters in 
his path ; none is seen with folded arms -. 
All is in motion, all is activity. Choice, 
prompted by the weather, supplies the spur 
of necessity. Thus, the rugged school of 
misfortune often trains up the mind to a 
vigorous exertion of its faculties. The 
bleak climate of adversity often inspires us 
with a manly resolution ; when a soft and 
doAvny affluence, perhaps, would have re« 
laxed all the generous springs of the soul, 
and have left it enervated vnth pleasure, 
or dissolved in indolence. 

" Cold Cometh out of the north ; (Job 
xxxvii. 9. ) The winds, having swept those 
deserts of snow, arm themselves wdth mil- 
lions of frozen particles, and make a fierce 
descent upon our isle. Under black and 
scowling clouds, they drive, dreadfully 
whizzing, through the darkened air. They 
growl around our houses, assault our doorsj 
and, eager for entrance, fasten on oiu: win- 
dows : walls can scarce restrain them ; bars 
are unable to exclude them : through every 
cranny they force their way : Ice is on their 
wvngs ; they scatter agues through the land ; 
and winter, all winter, rages as they go. 
Their breath is as a searing iron* to the little 
verdure left on the plains. Vastly more 
pernicious to the tender plants than the 
sharpest knife, they kiU their branches, and 
wound the veiy root. Let not the com 
venture to peep too freely from the en- 
trenchment of the furrovi^ ; let not the 
fruit-bearing blossoms dare to come abroad 
from their lodgment in the bark ; lest 
these murderous blasts intercept and seize 
the unwary strangers, and destroy the hopes 
of the advancing year. 

G, it is severely cold ! Who is so hardy 
as not to shrink at this excessively pinching 
weather ? See ! every face is pale. Even 
the blooming cheeks contract a gelid hue ;^ ^ 
and the teeth hardly forbear chattering. 
Ye that sit easy and joyous amidst your 
commodious apartments, solacing yourselves ' 
in the diffusive warmth of your fire, be 
mindful of yom: brethren in the cheerless.^ ' 



* This, I suppose, is the meaning of that figurative 
expression used by the prophet Habakkuk : who, 
speaking of the Chaldeans invading Judea, says». 
their faces, orthe incursions they make, shall sup up, 
shall swallow greedily, shall devour utterly, the in- 
habitants of the couiitry, and their valuabfe effects y 
as the keen corroding blasts of the east wind destroy 
eveiy green thing in the field. Hab. i. 9. 



A WIISTER-PIECE. 



133 



tenement of poverty. Their shattered 
panes are open to the piercing v/inds ; a 
t«ttered gai-ment scarcely covers their shiv- 
ering flesh ; while a few faint and dying 
embers on the squalid hearth, rather mock 
their ^^•ishes than warm their limbs. While 
the generous juices of Oporto sparkle in 
your glasses ; or the streams, beautifully 
tinged and deliciously flavoured with the 
Chinese leaf, smoke in the elegant porce- 
lain ; O remember, that many of your fel- 
low-creatures, amidst all the rigour of these 
inclement skies, are emaciated with sick- 
ness, benumbed v/ith age, and pining wdth 
hunger. Let " their loins bless you," for 
comfortable clothing. Restore them with 
medicine ; regale them with food ; and 
baffle the raging year. So, may you never 
know any of their distresses, but only by 
the hearing of the ear, the seeing of the eye, 
or the feeling of a tender commiseration ! 
Methinks, the bitter blustering winds plead 
for the poor indigents. May they breathe 
pity into your breasts, while they blow 
hardships into their huts. Observe those 
blue flames and ruddy coals in yoiu- chim- 
K.ey : quickened by the cold, they look 
more lively, and glow more strongly: — si- 
lent but seasonable admonition to the gay 
circle, that chat and smile around them ! 
Thus may your hearts, at such a junctm-e 
of need, kindle into a peculiar benevolence ! 
Detain not your superfluous piles of wood ; 
let them hasten to the relief of the starv- 
ing family; bid them expire in many a 
willing blaze, to mitigate the severity of 
the season, and cheer the bleak abodes of 
want. So shall they ascend, mingled with 
thanksgivings to God, and ardent prayers for 
your welfare ; ascend more grateful to 
heaven, than columns of the most costly 
incense. 

Now the winds »cease. Having brought 
their load, they are dismissed from service. 
They have wafted an immense cargo of 
clouds, which empty themselves in snow. 
At first, a few scattered shreds come wan- 
dering down the saddened sky. This 
slight skirmish is succeeded by a general 
onset. The flakes, large iand numerous, 
and thick wavering, descend. They dim 
the air, and hasten the approach of night. 
Through all the mght, in softest silence, and 
with a continual flow, this fleecy shower 
faUs. In the morning, when we awake, 
what a surprising change appears ! Is this 
the same world? Here is no diversity of 
colour : I can hardly distinguish the trees 
from the hiUs on which they grow ; which 
are the meadows and which the plains ; 
where are the green pastures, and where 
the fallow lands. All things lie blended 
in bright confusion, — so bright, that it 
heightens the splendour of day, and even 
dazzles the organs of sight. The lawn 



is not so fair as the snoA\'y mantle which in- 
vests the fields ; and even the lily, were 
the lily to appear, would look tarnished in 
its presence. I can think of but one thing 
which excels or equals the glittering robe 
of wdnter. Is any person desirous to know 
my meaning ? He may find it explained in 
that admirable hymn,* composed by the 
Royal penitent. Is any desirous to pos- 
sess this matchless ornament ? He will 
find it offered to his acceptance in every 
page of the gospel. 

See ! (for the eye cannot satisfy itself 
wdthout ^de^^ing again and again the curi- 
ous, the delicate scene,) see how the hed- 
ges are habited, like spotless vestals. The 
houses are roofed with uniformity and lus- 
tre. The meadows are covered with a 
carpet of the finest ermine, f The groves 
bow beneath the lovely burden ; and all, 
aU below is one \vide, immense, shining 
waste of white. By deep snows, and hea- 
vy rains, God sealeth up the hand of every 
man, and. for this piu^ose, adds our sacred 
philosopher, that all men may know his 
work. (Job xxx\ai. 7.) He confines 
them within their doors, and puts a stop to 
their secular business, that they may consi- 
der the things which belong to their spiri- 
tual welfare ; that, having a vacation from 
their ordinary employ, they may observe 
the works of his power, and become ac- 
quainted uith the mysteries of his grace. 

And worthy, worthy of all observation, 
are the works of the great Creator. They 
are prodigiously various, and perfectly 
amaznig. How pliant and ductile is na- 
ture under his forming hand ! At his com- 
mand, the self-same substance assumes the 
most difierent shapes, and is transformed 
into an endless multiplicity of figures. If 
he ordain, the water is moulded into hail, 
and discharged upon the eaith like a vol- 
ley of shot ; or it is consolidated into ice, 
and defends the rivers, " as it were with 
a breast-plate." At the bare intimation of 
his will, the very same element is scattered 
in hoar-frost, like a sprinkling of the most 
attenuated ashes ; or is spread over the 
surface of the ground, in these couches of 
swelling and flaky down. 

The snow, however it may carry the ap- 
pearance of cold, affords a warm garment 
for the corn ; screens it from nipping 
frosts, and cherishes its infant growth. It 
will abide for a while, to exert a protecting 



* Can any thing be whiter than the snow? Yes, 
saith David; if God be pleased to wash me from my 
sins in the blood of Christ, I shall be even whiter 
than the snow." Psalm 11. 7. 

t This animal is milk-white. As for those black 
spots which we generally see in linings of ermine, they 
are added by the furrier, in order to diversify the 
appearance, or heighten the beauty of the native 
colour. 



134 



A WINTER-PIECE, 



care, and exercise a fostering influence. 
Then, touched by the sun, or thawed by a 
softening gale, the furry vesture melts into 
genial moisture ; sinks deep in the soil, 
and saturates its pores with the dissolving 
nitre : replenishing the globe with those 
principles of vegetative life, w^hich will open 
into the bloom of Spring, and ripen into 
the fruits of Autumn. Beautiful emblem 
this, and comfortable representation of the 
divine M^ord, both in the successful and 
advantageous issue of its operation ! " As 
the rain cometh down, and the snow from 
heaven, and returneth not thither, but wa- 
tereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth 
and bud, that it may give seed to the 
sower, and bread to the eater, so shall my 
word be, that goeth forth out of my mouth, 
it shall not return unto me void, but shall 
accomplish that which I please, and it shall 
prosper in the thing whereunto I send it." 
(Isaiah Iv. 10, 11.) 

Nature at length puts off her lucid veil. 
She drops it in a trickling thaw. The 
loosened snow rolls in sheets from the 
houses. Various openings spot the hills, 
vv^hich, even while we look become larger 
and more numerous. The trees rid them- 
selves by degrees of the hoary incumbrance. 
Shook from the springing boughs, part falls 
heavy to the ground, part flies abroad in 
shining atoms. Our fields and gardens, 
lately buried beneath the drifted heaps, rise 
plain and distinct to view. Since we see 
natiu'e once again, has she no verdant 
traces, no beautiful features left? They 
are, like real friends, very rare ; and there- 
foi'e the more particularly to be regarded, 
the more highly to be valued. Here and 
there the holly hangs out her glowing ber- 
ries, the laurustinus spreads her graceful 
tufts, and both under a covert of unfading 
foliage. The plain but hardy nj clothes 
the decrepit crazy wall, nor shrinks from 
the friendly office, though the skies frowni 
and the storm roars. The laurel, firm, 
erect, and bold, expands its leaf of vivid 
greeuc In spite of the united, the repeated at- 
tacks of wind, and rain, and frost, it preserves 
an undismayed lively look, and maintains 
its post, while withering millions fall around. 
Worthy, by vanquishing the rugged force 
of winter, worthy to adorn the triumphant 
conqueror's brow. Nor must I forget the 
bay-tree, which scorns to be a mean pen- 
sioner on a few transient sunny gleams, or, 
with a servile obsequiousness, to vary its 
appearance in conformity to the changing 
seasons ; by such indications of sterling 
worth, and staunch resolution, reading a 
lecture to the poet's genius, while it weaves 
the chaplet for his temples. These, and a 
few other plants, clad with native verdiure, 
retain their comely aspect in the bleakest 
climes, and in the coldest months. 



Such, and so durable, are the accomplish- 
ments of a refined understanding, and an 
amiable temper. The tawdry ornaments 
of dress, which catch the unthinking vulgar, 
soon become insipid and despicable. The 
rubied lip, and the rosy cheek, fade. Even 
the sparkling wit,* as well as the sparkling 
eye, please but for a moment. But the 
virtuous mind has charms, which survive 
the decay of every inferior embellishment, 
charms which add to the fragrancy of the 
flower, the permanency of the ever-green. 

Such likewise is the happiness of the sin- 
cerely religious, like a tree, says the inspir- 
ed moralist, "whose leaf shall not fall." 
He borrows not his peace from external 
circumstances ; but has a fund v/ithin, and ■ ' 
is " satisfied from himself ;" ( Prov. xiv. 
14.) Even though impoverished by cala- 
mitous accidents, he is rich in the posses- 
sion of grace, and richer in the hope of 
glory. His joys are infinitely superior to, 
as well as nobly independent of, the transi- 
tory glow of sensual delight, or the capri- 
cious favours of what the world calls, JFor- 
tune. 

If the snow composes the light-armed 
troops of the sky, methinks the hail consti- 
tutes its heavy artillery.f When driven by 
a vehement wind, with what dreadful im- 
petuosity does that stony shower fall ! 
How it rebounds from the frozen ground, 
and rattles on the resounding dome ! It at- 
tenuates the rivers into smoke, or scourges 
them into foam. It crushes the infant 
flowers, cuts in pieces the gardener's early 
plants, and batters the feeble fortification 



* " How little does God esteem the things that 
men count great ! the endowments of wit and elo- 
quence that men admire in some ; alas ! how poor 
are they to him ! Ke respecteth not any who are wise 
in heart ; they are notliing, and less than nothing in 
his eyes. Even wise men admire how little it is that 
men know ; how small a matter lies under the sound 
of these popular wonders, a learned man, a great 
scholar, a great statesman. How much more doth 
the ail- wise God meanly account of these! He often 
discovers even to the world their meanness : He be- 
fools them. So valour, or birth, or worldly greatness, 
these he gives, and gives as things he makes no great 
reckoning of, to such as shall never see his face ; and 
calls to the inheritance of glory, poor despised crea- 
tures, that are looked on as the offscourings and re- 
fuse of the world," 

Thus says an excellent author, who writes with 
the most amiable spirit of benevolence, with the most 
unaffected air of humihty, and, like the sacred ori- 
ginals, from which he copies, with a majestic simpli- 
city of style ; whose select works I may venture to 
recommend, not only as a treasure, but as a mine of 
genuine, sterling, evangelical piety. See page 520 
of Archbishop Leighton's select works, the Edin- 
burgh edition, 8vo: which it is neceb^ary to specify, 
because the London edition does not contain that 
part of his writings which has supplied me with the 
preceding quotation, 

t He casteth forth his ice like morsels. Psalm 
cxlvii. 17. Which in modern language, might be 
thus expressed : " He poureth his hail like a volley 
of shot." The word inadequately translated morsels, 
alludes, I think, to those fragm.ents of the rock, or 
those smooth stones from the brook, which, in the 
battle, the warriors hurled from their slings. 



A WINTER^PIECE. 



of bis glasses into shivers. It darts into the 
traveller's face : he turns with haste from 
the stroke, or feels on his cheek for the 
gushing blood. If he would retreat into 
the house, it follows him even thither, and, 
like a determined enemy, that pushes the 
pursuit, dashes through the crackling panes. 
But the fierce attack is quickly over. The 
clouds have soon spent their shafts ; soon 
unstrung their bow. Happy for the inha- 
bitants of the earth, that a sally so dreadfully 
furious should be so remarkably short ! 
What else could endure the shock, or es- 
cape destruction? 

But, behold a bow, of no hostile inten- 
tion ! a bow painted in variegated colours, 
on the disburdened cloud. How vast 
^the extent, how delicate the texture of that 
showery arch ! It compasseth the heavens 
• wdth a glorious circle, and teaches us to 



forget the horrors of the storm. Elegant 
its form, and rich its tincture, but more de- 
lightful its sacred significancy. "^Vhile the 
violet and the rose blush in its beautiful 
aspect, the olive branch smiles in its gra- 
cious import. It writes in radiant dyes, 
what the angels sung in harmonious strains, 
" Peace on earth, and good-will towards 
men." It is the stamp of insurance, for 
the continuance of seed-tim.e, and harvest ; 
for the preservation and seciuity of the 
visible world: (Gen. ix. 12, 16.) It is 
the comfortable token (Rev. iv. 3.) of a 
better state, and a happier kingdom ; a 
kingdom where sin shall cease, and miser)' 
be abolished ; where storms shall beat, and 
winter pierce no more ; but holiness, hap- 
piness, and joy, like one unbounded spring, 
for ever, ever bloom. 



A 



TABLE OF THE TEXTS 



MORE OR LESS ILLUSTRATED IN THE MEDITATIONS. 



N.B. — As Dr. Shaw, m the supplement to his excellent book of Travels, and several other Authors of the 
greatest eminence, have given an Index of Scriptures occasionally explained in their writings, I doubt 
not but I shall oblige many of my readers by what is here subjoined ; those especially, whoae taste is hap- 
pilv formed to relish the beauties of the Sacred Records. 





_ 






ijenesis xxx. 1. 


9 


isaian 11. o. * • 


00 


Joshua X. 12, 13. 


118 




57 


.Judges V. 20* " ~ 


118 




47 


1 Samuel xxviii. 19. 


19 


1X1. 10. " " 


36 


1 Kings viii. 27. ■ 


2 


Jeremiah xxxi. 12. *■ 


46 


XX. 40. 


77 


xhx. 11. 


11 


Nehemiah ix. 6. - - 


120 


Ezekiel xvi. 63. 


102 


Job iv. 12, &c. 


83 


xxxvi. 31. ■ - 


102 


iv. 19. 


5 


Daniel ix. 24. * 


98 


v. 23. 


131 


xii. 3. 


121 


vii. 20. 


101 


Habakkuk i. 9. 


132 


ix. 8. - - 


20 


iii. 4. 


41 


ix. 25, 26. 


75 
20 


iii. 11. 


118 


xxii. 14. 


Zechariah ix. 17. 


107 


xxii. 16. - E - 


86 


xiii. 1. - - 


103 


xxii. 20. 


104 


xiii. 7. - - 


108 


XXV. 5, 6. 


109 


Matthew vi. 25. 


117 


xxxviii. 30. 


132 


Luke vii. 12. 


87 


Psalms viii. 3. 4. 


100 


xiv. 23. 


39 


xxiii. 1. 


117 


John i. 3. 


33 


xxvii, 1, 


117 


iii. 3. - - 


85 


xxxiii. 6, 9. 


103 


V. 17. 


33 


xlv. 9. 


35 


xi. 26. 


21 


li. 7. 


102 


xii. 32. 


116 


xcvi. 5. - - 


120 


xiv. 6. - - 


47 


xcvii. 2. - - 


106 


xiv. 9. - - 


115 


civ. 3. - - 


75 
38 


Acts ix. 1. 


111 


civ. 24. 


XX. 28. 


102 


cviii. 4. 


26 


Romans v. 8. 


108 


ex. 3. 


29 


1 Corinthians i. 24. 


115 


cxxxvi. 9. 


84 


i. 30. 


92 


cxxxix. 2. 


79 


2 Corinthians iv. I7. 


79 


cxxxix. 7, 8, 9. 


74 


ix. 8. 


110 


cxxxix. 11. 


79 


Galatians ii .20. 


48 


Ecclesiastes xii. 3, 5. 


12 


Ephesians iii. 10. 


115 


Canticles vi. 10. 


92 


iii. 18, 19. 


101 


Isaiah ii. 11. 


129 


iii. 20. 


104 


ix. 3. - - 


110 


Philippians ii. 6. 8. 


101 


xiv. 23. 


90 


iii. 10. 


48 


xxix. 8. - - 


82 


Colossians ii. 3. - - 


115 


xxxiii. 17. 


37 


Hebrews i. 2, 3. 


33 


xxxv.l. 


46 


vii. 26. 


102 


xxxviii. 11. 


77 


viii. 10. 


116 


xl. 12. 


105 


xii. 2, - - 


47 


xl. 15. 


99 


1 Peter i. 12. 


115 


xl. 29—31. 


104 


2 Peter iii. 10. 


90 


xli. 10. 


113 


Revelation x. 1, &c. 


76 


xlii. 3. 


113 


xii. 1. - - 


56 


xlix. 15. 


125 


^ xxL 1, 


58 


]i. 16. 


55 







THERON AND ASPASIO ; 

on, A 

SERIES OF DIALOGUES AND LETTERS 

ON THE 

MOST IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. 



CONTENTS. 



' DIALOGUE I. Character of the speakers— On improving conversation— Elegance, dignity, and singular 
usefulness of the Scriptures. 

DIALOGUE II. Walk through the gardens— The beautiful frame and beneficial ordination of things- 
Preparatory discourse on the imputation of Christ's righteousness — Meaning of the terms settled. 

DIALOGUE III. Walk through a meadow— Doctrine of Christ's satisfaction stated— Considered as a re- 
demption-price, and as asacrifice forsin — Variously typified under the Mosaic dispensation. 

DIALOGUE IV. Park and romantic mount— Christ's death farther considered, as the very punishment 
whi(-h our sins deserved — Objections, ancient and modern, answered — The whole summed up and improved. 

DIALOGUE V. Elegant arbour in the flower-garden— Imputation of Christ's righteousness— Objections 
from reason canvassed. 

DIALOGUE VI. Gallery of pictures — Library and its furniture — A sordid taste in painting censured: a 
more graceful manner displayed— Imputation of Christ's righteousness resumed— Objections from Scriptuse 
urged and refuted. 

DIALOGUE VII. Hay-making — Pleasures of nature freely enjoyed — Blessings of grace bestowed with 
equal freeness — Theron's plan of acceptance with God f consists of sincerity, repentance, and good works, 
recommended by the merits of Christ— This shown to be a false foundation— No such thing as a good work, 
till we are accepted through the Redeemer. 

DIALOGUE VIII. Duelling— Animadversions on the practice— Spirituality and extent of the divine law 
— Infinite purity of God. 

DIALOGUE IX. Ctv-ious summer-house— No relaxation of the divine law, as to the precept or the pe- 
nalty — Its inflexible strictness, and principal ends. 

DIALOGUE X. Theron's last effort to demolish the evangelical scheme of Justification — Among other 
objections, more plausible and refined than the preceding, he strenuously insists that faith is cur righteous- 
ness — Review of the whole. 

DIALOGUE. XI. Ruins of Babylon — Fine passage from Mr. Howe — Depravity and ruin of human na- 
ture, as they are represented in Scripture — Applied, with a view to determine the yet dubious inquiry. 

DIALOGUE XII. Extremely hot day-^ solemn shady bower — True inethod of deriving benefit from 
the ciassics — The wonderful 'jtructure and economy of the human body. 

DIALOGUE XIII. Walk upon the terrace — Depravity of human nature laid open, and proved from ex- 
perience — Uses of the doctrine, and its subserviency to the grand point. 

DIALOGUE XIV. Theron alone in the fields — His soliloquy on the charms of rural nature — His reflec- 
tions on the pHst conferences — Aspasio reinforces his arguments for the imputation of Christ's righteousness 
— Recommends self-examination, the keeping of a diary, and prayer for the enlightening Spirit — Departs, 
under an engagement to correspond by letter. 

LETTER 1. Aspasio opens the correspondence with some important articles of duty, designed to facili- 
tate self-examination, and promote conviction of sin. 

LETTER II. Theron, convinced of the iniquity of his life, and the evil of his heart, sees the necessity 
of a better righteousness than his ovv^n— Desires a farther explanation, and a fuller proof, of the doctrines 
under debate. 

LETTER III. Aspasio proves the point, from the Liturgy, the Articles, the Homilies of the church of 
England, and the writings of the fathers. 

LETTER IV. Aspasio re-establishes the tenet, from the Scriptures of the Old Testament. 

LETTER V. Aspasio relates a remarkable panic — Terrors of the day of judgment — Christ's righteous- 
ness, and its imputation, largely demonstrated from the New Testament. 

LETTER VI. Theron takes a cursory view of the habitable creation — Traces the perfections of nature 
through the earth, air, and fire — Admirable construction, and advantageous effects, of these elements. 

LETTER VII. Aspasio takes occasion to display the no less admirable perfection of Christ's righteous- 
ness—Its principle, extent, perseverance. 

LETTER VIII. Aspasio describes a drought — Majesty and beauty of the sun, after a night of rain — 
The meritorious excellency o( Christ's righteousness illustrated, from the magnificence of his works, and 
the divinity of his person. 

LETTER IX. Theron's account of the western cliffs, the wonders of the ocean, and the benefits of na- 
vigation. 

LETTER X. Aspasio enumerates the much richer benefits resulting from (he imputation of Christ's 
righteousness — Shows their happy influence on holiness of heart, and obedience of life. 

LETTER XL Aspasio exemplifies the last particular in two very memorable instances — Especially in 
the conduct of Abraham offering up his son Isaac. 

LETTER XII. Aspasio touches upon union with Christ — How described in Scripture — Its blessed and 
glorious effects. 

DIALOGUE XV. Aspasio revisits Theron— Theron under anxiety of spirit— Aspasio, partly to enter- 
tain, partly to comfort his friend, enlarges upon the bounty of the Creator, visible both in the animal and 
vegetable world — The new convert is slow of heart to believe — Evangelical motives to faith. 

DIALOGUE XVI. Harvest scene— Philenor's gardens— Statues— Grove of Evergreens— Nature of true 
faith— Its sure foundation, and firm supports. 

DIALOGUE XVn. A river-voyage — The diversified prospect— Comparative happiness — Advantages of 
peace — A celebration of the Gospel, and its blessings, in a kind of rhapsody—Christ's righteousness applied 
to every case of distress, and every time of need. 



TO 



THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 

LADY FRANCES SHIRLEY. 



Tvi ADAM, 

Ih' Christianity was inconsistent with 
true politeness, or prejudicial to real 
happiness, I should be extremely in- 
judicious, and inexcusably ungrate- 
ful, in presenting these Essays to 
your Ladyship. But as the religion 
of Jesus is the grand ornament of our 
nature, and a source of the sublim- 
est joy, the purport of the following 
pages cannot be unvv'orthy the coun- 
tenance and protection of the most 
accomplished person. Neither can 
there be a wish more suitable to the 
obligations or the dictates of a grate- 
ful heart, than that you may expe- 
rience what you read, and be what 
you patronize. 

Did religion consist in a formal 
round of external observances, or a 
forced submission to some rigorous 
austerities, I would not scruple to 
join with the infidel and the sensua- 
list to dread it in one view^ and to 
despise it in another. You need not 
be informed, Madam, that it is as 
much superior to all such low and 
forbidding singularities, as the hea- 
vens are higher than the earth. It 
is described by an author, who learn- 
ed its theory in tiie regions of Para- 
dise^ and who displayed its efficacy 



in his own most exemplary conver- 
sjition ; — it is thus described by that, 
incomparable author : — The kingdom 
of God is not meat and drink, but 
righteousness, and peace, and joy in 
the Roly Ghost. 

To be reconciled to the omnipo- 
tent God ; to be interested in the 
unsearchable riclies of Christ ; to be 
renewed in our hearts, and influenc- 
ed in our lives, by the sanctifying 
operations of the divine Spirit — this 
is evangelical righteousness ; this is *^ 
genuine religion ; this, Madam, is the 
kingdom of God established in the 
soul. How benign and inviting is 
such an institution I How honoura- 
ble and advantageous such a state ! 
And from such privileges, what 
other eifects can flow, but that 
" peace, which passeth all under- 
standing ;" that "joy, which is un- 
speakable and glorious !" 

Is there any thing in the amuse- 
ments of the gay, and pursuits of the 
ambitious, of greater, of equal, of 
comparable value ? Is not all that 
wealth can purchase, all that gran 
deur can bestow, somewhat like 
those glittering bubbles, which, whea 



140 



DEDICATION. 



Tiewed, are emptiness, wlien grasp- 
ed, are nothing? V/hereas the com- 
forts, the benefits, the hopes of 
Christianity, are at once supremely 
excellent, and infinitely dm-able ; a 
portion suited to the dignity of a 
rational soul ; large as its faculties, 
and immortal as its being. 

All these blessings are centered 
in Christ ; were purchased by Christ; 
are communicated from Christ. It 
is for want of knowing those bound- 
less and everlasting treasures of par- 
doning, justifying, saving merit, 
which the Lord Jesus Christ posses- 
ses, and which he freely dispenses 
even to sinners, that so many un- 
thinking persons are attached to ig- 
noble objects, and beguiled by delu- 
sory pleasures. Unhappy creatures I 
what can they do but catch at sha- 
dows, and stoop to trifles, while they 
are ignorant of the grand, the sub- 
stantial, the exalted good ? It is for 
want of duly attending to that ful- 
ness of grace, and that plenteousness 
of redemption, which dwell in our 
most adorable Saviour, that so many 
serious persons are strangers to the 



tranquillity and sweetness of religion, 
are subject to ail its restraints, but 
enjoy few, if any, of its delights. 
Mistaken zealots I How can they 
avoid the gloomy situation, and the 
uncomfortable circumstance, so long 
as they withdraw themselves from 
the Sun of Righteousness, and his 
all- cheering beams ? 

May your Ladyship live contin- 
ually under his heavenly light and 
healing wings ; be more fully assur- / 
ed of his dying love, and have bright- 
er, still brighter manifestations of 
his immense perfections ! By these 
delightful views, and by that pre- 
cious faith, may your heart be trans- 
formed into his holy, his amiable, 
his divine image ! Your happiness 
will then be just such as is wished, 
but far greater than can be express- 
ed, by. 

Madam, 
Your most obliged, and 

Most obedient humble servant, 

JAMES HERVEY. 



Weston Favel, 
Jan. 6, 1755. 



PREFACE. 



The Reader will probably expect 
some account of the ensuing* Work ; 
and to gratify him in this particular 
will be a real pleasure to the Au- 
thor. 

The beauty and excellency of the 
Scriptures ; — the ruin and depravity 
of human nature, — its happy recov- 
ery, founded on the atonement, and 
e^fected by the Spirit of Christ ; — 
these are some of the chief points 
vindicated, illustrated, and applied 
in the following sheets. But the 
grand article, that which makes the 
principal figure, is the imputed right- 
eousness of our Divine Lord ; from 
■whence arises our justification be- 
fore God, and our title to every hea- 
venly blessing ; an article which, 
though eminent for its importance, 
seems to be little understood, and 
less regarded ; if not much mistaken 
and almost forgotten. 

The importance of this great evan- 
gelical doctrine, — how worthy it is 
of the most attentive consideration, 
and of universal acceptance, — is 
hinted in the second dialogue ; so 
that I need, in this place, do nothing 
more than give the sense of a pas- 
sage from Witsius, which is there in- 
ti'oduced in a note. " The doctrine 
J of justification," says that excellent 
author, " spreads itself through the 
whole system of divinity. As this 
is either solidly established or super- 
ficially touched, fully stated or slight- 
ly dismissed ; accordingly, the whole 
structure of religion either rises 
graceful and magnificent, superior 
to assault and beyond the power of 
decay, or else it appears dispropor- 
tronate and defective, totters on its 
foundation, and threatens an oppro- 
brious fall." 



The design is executed in the form 
of dialogue ; those parts only except- 
ed in which it was not easy to carry 
on a conversation, and assign to each 
person a proper degree of significan- 
cy. Here, to avoid the common im- 
putation of bringing upon the stage 
a mute or a shadow, — one who fights 
without weapons, and submits with- 
out a contest, — the scene shifts. 
Oui' gentlemen separate, and, instead 
of conversing, enter upon an episto- 
lary correspondence. 

The dialogue form seems, on many 
considerations, a very eligible way 
of writing. Hereby the author gives 
an air both of dignity and of modes- 
ty to his sentiments. Of dignity ; 
by delivering them from the mouths 
of persons in every respect superior 
to himself. Of modesty ; because 
we no longer consider him in the 
raised, but invidious capacity of a 
teacher. Instead of calling us to his 
feet, and dictating his precepts, he 
gratifies our curiosity. He turns 
back a curtain, and admits us to 
some remarkable interviews, or in- 
teresting conferences. We over- 
hear, by a kind of innocent or ima- 
ginary stealth, the debates which 
pass in the recesses of privacy, which 
are caiTied on with the most unre- 
served freedom of speech, and open- 
ness of heart ; a circumstance which 
will apologize for some peculiarities 
that might otherwise be inconsistent 
with humility, or offensive to delica- 
cy. Particularly it may obviate the 
disgust which generally, and indeed 
deservedly, attends the frequent in- 
trusion of that ambitious and usui'p- 
ing little monosyllable, /. 

The names of the persons are pre- 
' fixed, each to his respective share of 



142 



PREFACE. 



the discourse, in imitation of Cicero, 
and for the reasons which he assigns ; 
" Quasi enim ipsos induxi loquentes ; 
neinquamet inquit ssepius interpone- 
rentur. Atque id eo feci, ut tan- 
quam prsesentibus coram haberi ser- 
mo videretur."* This method, he 
very justly intimates, is removed 
farthest from the narrative, and 
makes the nearest approaches to life 
and reality. It quite secretes the 
author, and, by introducing the per- 
sons themselves, renders all that 
passes entirely their own. It pre- 
vents likewise the repetition of those 
interlocutory words — he said, he re- 
plied ; which, unless the speeches 
are very long, must frequently re- 
cur, and have no pleasing effect up- 
on the ear. And if the speeches are 
long, the spirit of conversation is 
lost. The associates are no longer 
talking ; but one of them, or the au - 
thor, is lecturing. 

Though I have so much to say in 
behalf of the model, I have very little 
to say with regard to the execution, 
unless it be to confess the deficiency. 
There is not, I am sensible, that pe- 
culiar air and distinguishing turn, 
which should mark and characterise 
each speaker. This is what the na- 
ture of finished dialogue requires, 
and what the author applauds in 
some very superior writers. But 
not havirig the ability to copy it, he 
has not the vanity to alfect it. 
Nevertheless, the attentive reader, 
11 along, perceive a difference 
in the sentiment, if not in the lan- 
guage. The materials vary, even 
when they run into the same mould, 
and take the same form. " In the 
diction also there must be some di- 
versity ; because several of the ob- 
jections are proposed in the very 
words of one or two eminent writers 
who have appeared on the other side 
of the question. These are not par- 
ticularized by the mark of quotation ; 
because the man of reading will have 
no occasion for the assistance of such 
au index, and the man of taste will 



* De Amicitia. 



probably discern them by the singu- 
larity of the style;. 

Some of the following pieces, it 
must be acknowledged, are of the 
controversial kind : a species of writ- 
ing least susceptible of the graces 
which embellish composition ; or ra- 
ther, most destitute of the attrac- 
tives Avliich engage attention and 
create delight. Yet I have some- 
times thought, that it is not abso- 
lutely impossible to make even the 
stern face of controversy wear a 
smile, and to reap some valuable 
fruit from the rugged furrows of 
disputation. Whether this is effect- 
ed in the present work, the public 
must judge ; that it has been at- 
tempted, the author may be permit- 
ted to declare. 

To soften the asperities of argu- 
ment, views of nature are interspers- 
ed ; that if the. former should carry 
the appearance of a rude entangled 
forest, or of a frowning gloomy re- 
cess, there may be some agreeable 
openings, and lightsome avenues, to 
admit a prospect of the country ; 
which is always arrayed in charms, 
and never fails to please. 

The author confesses a very pecu- 
liar fondness for the amiable scenes 
of creation. It is therefore not at 
all improbable but his excursions on 
this topic may be of the diffusive 
kind, and his descriptions somewhat 
luxuriant. It is hoped, however, 
that the benevolent reader will in- 
dulge him in this favourite foible. 
If any should feel the same prevail- 
ing passion for the beauties of na- 
ture, it is possible these persons may 
be inclined not only to excuse, but 
to approve the fault ; and may take 
part with the lover, even in opposi- 
tion to the critic. 

Further to diversify the piece, 
sketches of philosophy are introduc- 
ed ; easy to be understood, and cal- 
culated to entertain the imagination, 
as well as to improve the heart ; 
more particularly, to display the 
wise and beneficent design of Provi- 
dence, in the various appearances 
and numberless productions of the 
material world. Neither are these 



PREFACE. 



143 



remarks altogether foreign to the 
main point ; but, as far as the won- 
ders of creation may comport with 
the riches of free grace, subserve 
the general end. 

As to the choice of my subjects, 
some people have desired to see an 
invective against the fashionable and 
predominant vices of the age. This, 
1 apprehend, would be like picking 
off the leaves, or clipping away the 
twigs, from some overgrown and nox- 
ious tree. Waving this tedious and 
ineffectual toil, I would rather lay 
the axe to the root. Let the know- 
ledge and love of Clii'ist take place 
in the heart, and not only a few of 
the branches, but the whole body of 
sin will fall at once. 

Some would have the author in- 
sist upon the conscientious observ- 
ance of the Sabbath, inculcate the 
daily worship of God in the family, 
and urge a devout attendance on the 
public ordinances of religion. But 
when a person is convinced of sin, 
and made sensible of misery : when 
he has " tasted the good word of 
God," Heb. vi. 5, " and seen by 
faith the Lord's Christ," Luke ii. 
26, he will want no solicitation or 
incitement to these means of grace 
and exercises of godliness. He will 
Iiave just the same disposition to 
them all, as the hungry appetite has 
to wholesome food, or the new-born 
babe* to the milk of the breast. 

Others may imagine, that 1 have 
neglected the interests of morality ; 
because here is no professed attempt 
to delineate its duties, or enforce 

* 1 Pet. ii. 2. This comparison is, per- 
haps, the most exact and expressive that 
words can form, or fancy conceive. Babes 
covet nothing but the milk of the breast. 
They are indifferent about all other things. 
Give them riches, give them honours, give 
them whatever you please, without this 
rich,' delicious, balmy nutriment, they will 
not, they cannot be satisfied. How finely 
does this illustrate, and how forcibly incul- 
cate, what our Lord styles, " the single 
eye," and " the one thing needful !" or the 
salutary doctrines and delightful privileges 
of the gospel ; together with that supreme 
value for them, and undivided complacency 
in them, which are the distingui-shing cha- 
racter of tha Chiistian ? 



its practice. Let these persons re- 
member, tliat morality never makes 
such vigorous shoots, never produces 
such generous fruit, as when ingraft- 
ed on evangelical principles. And if I 
do not crop the pink, the rose, and 
the carnation — if I do not gather the 
peach, the nectarine, and the pine- 
apple — and put them into my read- 
er's hand, for his [immediate enjoy- 
ment ; T am endeavouring to sow 
the seeds and plant the roots in his 
garden, which, if cherished by the 
favourable influence of heaven, will 
yield him, not an occasional, but a 
constant supply of all. 

As several texts of Scripture come 
under consideration, criticisms upon 
the original are frequently subjoin- 
ed, in order to clear up some dif- 
ficulties, to rectify some mistransla- 
tions, or point out the many delicate 
and masterly strokes which occur in 
the Bible. And glad should I be, 
extremely glad, if I might recom- 
mend and endear that invaluable 
book ; if, as the divine Redeemer 
" rideth on in the word of truth, of 
meekness, and righteousness," Psalm 
xlv. 4, this hand might scatter a 
palm-branch, or this performance 
might lie as a fiowret, to strew hi» 
way,* and solemnize his triumph. 

In the course of disputation, I 
dare not suppose that 1 have dis- 
cussed all the arguments which sa- 
gacity may devise, or sophistry urge. 
Perhaps, I have not removed all the 
scruples, which may awaken preju- 
dice or embarrass integrity. This, 
however, I ,may ventui'e to afSrm, 
that I myself have met with no con- 
siderable objection, which is not 
either expressly answered, or vii- 
tually refuted, in these conferences. 
And, though I should neither satisfy 
nor silence the gainsayer, I shall 
think my endeavours happily era- 
ployed, if they may throw light up- 
on the dim apprehension, establish 
the wavering faith, or comfort the 
afflicted conscience. 

If any should burlesque or ridi- 
cule these venerable truths, and ex- 



Aiiudinar to Matt. xxi. 8. 



144 



PREFACE. 



alted privileges, I shall only say with 
ray divine Master, O ! that thou 
hadst known, in this thy day, the 
things that belong to thy peace ! but 
now they are hid," it is evident from 
such a procedure, " they are hid 
from thine eyes," Luke xix. 42. 
Should any, in the spirit of decency 
and candour, either start new, or 
revive old objections, I doubt not 
but they will receive both a due ex- 
amination and a proper reply. As 
these doctrines enter into tlie very 
essence of the gospel, and constitute 
the glory of our religion, they can 
never want a succession of advo- 
cates, so long as the sun and moon 
endure. For my own part, I must 
beg leave to retire from the lists, and 
lay down the weapons of contro- 
versy. Virgil's language is my re- 
solution ; 

Discedam, explebo nuraerum, reddarque tenebris." 

This declaration is made, not from 
any the least suspicion that my 
tenets are indefensible, but because I 
would apprise my friends, and the 
friends of our common Christianity, 
that the field is clear and open for 
them to advance ; that I resign to 
others the glorious combat, and shall 
content myself with wishing them 
success in the name of the Lord : 
Because it becomes a person in my 
declining state to be more peculiarly 
intent upon encountering a diiFerent 
adversary, who is sure to overcome, 
and never allows quarter. Yet by 
this " word of my testimony, and by 
the blood of the Lamb," Rev. xii. 
11, I hope to triumph even when I 
fall ; and to be more than conqueror, 
through Jehovah my righteousness. 

Should any thing be urged forci- 
ble enough to overthrow my argu- 
ments, or detect a mistake in my 
sentiments, the world may depend 
upon seeing a free and undissembled 
retraction. I shall look upon it as 
a duty which I owe to my consci- 
ence, to my readers, and to my God, 
publicly to acknowledge the error. — 
It is one thing to be silent, another 
to be obstinate. As I shall inflexi- 
bly adhere to the first, L would with 
equal steadiness renounce the last. 



Though I withdraw from the strife 
of pens and of tongues, I shall take 
care to preserve a mind ever accessi- 
ble to truth, ever open to conviction ; 
a mind infinitely more concerned for 
the purity and prosperity of the 
everlasting gospel, than for the pre- 
valence of my own opinion, or the 
credit of my own performance. 

As I have the happiness of being 
a member, and the honom* of being 
a minister of the reformed establish- 
ed church, I cannot but reflect, with 
a peculiar pleasure, that every doc- 
trine of note maintained in these 
Dialogues and Letters, is either im- 
plied in our Liturgy, asserted in our 
Articles, or taught in our Homilies. 
It affords me likewise some degree 
of satisfaction to observe, that the 
most material of the sentiments have 
been adopted by Milton, are incor- 
porated into his Paradise Lost, and 
add dignity to the sublimest poem in 
the world. To have the liighest 
human authority, and the first ge- 
nius of the nation, on a writer's side^ 
is no contemptible support. This 
must surely give a sanction, wher- 
ever our religious establishment is 
reverenced, or polite literature is 
held in repute. Yet even this sanc- 
tion, compared with the oracle of re- 
velation, is only like a range of ci- 
phers connected with the initial fi- 
gure — which, were they detached, 
would be insignificant, but, in such a 
subordination, are considerable. 

Perhaps it should be farther ac- 
knowledged, that I have not always 
confined myself to the method of our 
systematic writers, nor followed their 
train of thoughts with a scrupulous 
regularity. I would conduct my 
fellow-creature to the supreme and 
eternal good, Christ Jesus. I have 
chosen the path whicli seemed most 
agreeable and inviting, rather than 
most beaten and frequented. If this 
leads, with equal certainty, to the 
great and desirable end, I dare pro- 
mise myself an easy excuse. How- 
ever, that method and order, in the 
doctrinal parts of the plan, are not 
wholly neglected, the preceding sum- 
mary of contents may show. 



THERON AND ASPASIO; 

OR, A 

SERIES OF DIALOGUES AND LETTERS 

ON THE 

MOST IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. 



DIALOGUE I. 



Theron was a gentleman of fine taste, of 
accurate rather than extensive reading, and 
particularly charmed ivith the study of na- 
ture. He traced the planets in their courses, 
and examined the formation of the meanest 
vegetable, not merely to gratify a refined 
curiosity, but chiefly to cultivate the nobler 
principles of religion and morality. Seve- 
ral discoveries he made, and every discovery 
he improved to this important end — to raise 
in his mind more exalted apprehensions of 
the Supreme Being, and to enlarge his af- 
fections with a disinterested benevolence, 
conformable, in some degree, to that boimd- 
less liberality which pervades and animates 
the whole creation. 

Aspasio was not without his share of 
polite literature, and philosophical know- 
ledge. He had taken a tour through the 
circle of the sciences ; and, having transi- 
ently surveyed the productions of human 
learning, devoted his final attention to the 
inspired writings. These he studied with 
the unbiassed impartiality of a critic, yet 
with the reverential simplicity of a Chris- 
tian. These he regarded as the unerring 
standard of duty — the authentic charter of 
salvation — and the brightest mirror of the 
Deity, aflJbrding the most satisfactory and 
sublime display of all the divine attributes. 

Theron was somewhat warm in his tem- 
per ; and would, upon occasion, make use 
of a little innocent raillery, not to expose 
his friend, but to enliven the conversation ; 
sometimes disguising his real sentiments, in 
order to sift the subject, or discover the 
opinion of others. Aspasio seldom indulges 
the humorous or satirical vein, but ar- 



gues with " meekness of wisdom ;"* never 
puts on the appearance of guile, but always 
speaks the dictates of his heart. 

Aspasio was on a visit at Theron's seat. 
One evening, when some neighbouring 
gentlemen were just gone, and had left them 
alone, the conversation took the following 
turn. 

Asp. I would always be ready, both to 
acknowledge and applaud whatever is amia- 
ble in the conduct of others. The gentle- 
men who gave us their company at dinner, 
seem to be all of a ditlerent character ; yet 
each, in his own way, is extremely agreea- 
ble. 

Lysander has lively parts, and is quick 
at repartee ; but he never abuses his v/it to 
create xuieasiness in the honest heart, and 
flush the modest cheek with confusion. 
What solidity of judgment, and depth of 
penetration, appear in Crito ! yet how free 
are his discourses from the magisterial ton-e 
or the dictatorial solemnity. Philenor's 
taste in the polite arts is remarkably cor- 
rect ; yet without the least tincture of vani- 
ty, or any weak fondness for applause. He 
never interrupts the progress, or wrests the 
topic of conversation, in order to shine in 
his particular province. Trebonius, I find, 
has signalized his valour in several cam- 
paigns. Though a warrior and a traveller, 
he gives himself no overbearing or ostenta- 



* Mitis sapientia Lasli. — Hor. 

iS a most amiable character, and delicately drawn, but 
is, I think expressed with greater strength and supe- 
rior beauty by the sacred penman; " Let him show out 
of a good conversation his works, with meeknefs oS 
wisdom," Jam. iii. 13. 

L 



'146 



THE RON AND ASPASIO. 



tious airs. In Trebonius you see the brave 
officer, regulated by all the decency of the 
academic, and sweetened with all the affa- 
bility of the courtier. 

No one affects a morose silence, or as- 
sumes an immoderate loquacity.* To en- 
gross the talk is tyrannical, to seal up the 
lips is monkish. Every one, therefore, from 
a fund of good sense, contributes his quota ; 
and each speaks, not with an ambition to 
set off himself, but from a desire to please 
the company. 

Ther. Indeed, Aspasio, I think myself 
happy in this accomplished set of acquain- 
tance ; who add all the complaisance and 
politeness of the gentleman, to the benevo- 
lence and fidelity of the friend. 

Their conversation is as innocent as their 
taste is refined. They have a noble abhor- 
rence of slander, and detest the low, unge- 
nerous artifices of detraction. No loose 
jest has either the service of their tongue, 
or the sanction of their smile. Was you to 
be with them, even in their freest moments, 
you would hear nothing that so much as 
borders upon piofaneness, or is in the least 
injurious to purity of morals. 

Asp, There is but one qualification 
wanting to render your friends completely 
valuable, and their social interviews a con- 
tinual blessing. 

Ther. Pray, what is that ? 

Asp. A turn for more serious conferences. 
Their literary debates are beautiful sketches 
of whatever is most curious in the sciences, 
or most delicate in the arts. From their 
remarks on our national affairs, and on fo- 
reign occurrences, a person may almost form 
a system of politics. But they never touch 
upon any topic of morality ; never celebrate 
the sublime perfections of the Deity ; never 
illustrate the beauties, nor enforce the 
truths 

Ther. Fie upon you, Aspasio, for your 
unpolite hint ! Who can forbear interrupt- 
ing the harangue, which pleads for such an 
outrageous violation of the mode? would 
introduce edifying talk into our fashionable 
assemblies ? How is it that you, who, in 
other instances, are a gentleman of refine- 
ment, can be so strangely inelegant in this 
particular ? 

Asp. For such a practice, Theron, we 
have no inconsiderable precedents. Thus 
Socrates,t the wisest of the Athenian 
sages ; thus Scipio,|: the most accomplish- 



* Zeno being present, where a person of this loqua- 
cious disposition played himself off, said, with an air 
of concern in his countenance, " That poor gentle- 
man is ill, he has a violent flux upon him. ' The com- 
pany was alarmed, and the rhetorician stopped in his 
career. " Yes. (added the philosopher,) the flux is 
so violent that it has carried his cars into his tongue." 
\ Vid. Socratis Memorabilia, per Xenoph- 
4 S^s ^'icero's Dialogue, de amicitia ; in which we 
are intormed, that it was a customary practice with 
Scipio, with his polite friend, LseliuSj, and some of the 



ed of the Roman generals, conversed. T'hxm 
Cicero,* the prince of orators, improved hi* 
elegant retirement, at the Tusculan villa. 
And Horace,! brightest genius in the 
court of Augustus, formed the most agree- 
able hours of his conversation upon this^ 
very plan. 

Were I to enumerate all the patrons of 
this, forgive me if I say, more honourable 
mode, the most illustrious names of anti- 
quity would appear on the list. 

Ther. This practice, however extoUed 
by the philosophic gentry of.ancient times, 
would make a very singular figure in the 
present age. 

Asp. And should not the copy, after 
which the generality of mankind write, be 
singularly correct ? Persons of exalted for-.^ 
tune are the pattern for general imitation ; 
are the copy, in conformity to which the 
inferior world adjust their manners and re- 
gulate their behaviour. They, therefore, 
are under the strongest obligations not to 
give a contemptible stamp to the fashion. 
Benevolence to their fellow-creatures calls 
loudly upon them — a concern for the public 
good challenges it at their hands, that they 
signalize themselves by a pre-eminence in, 
all that is excellent. 

Ther. Away, away with these austere 
notions ! such a strain of conversation; 
wovdd damp the gaiety of our spirits, and 
flatten the relish of society. It would turn 
the assembly into a conventicle, and make 
it Lent all the year round. 

Asp. Can it then be an austere practice, 
to cultivate the understanding and improve 
the heart ? Can it damp the gaiety of our 
spirits, to refine them upon the plan of the 
highest perfection ? or will it flatten the 
relish of society, to secure and anticipate 
everlasting delights ? 

Ther. Everlasting delights, Aspasio ! t& 
talk of such a subject, would be termed, in 
every circle of wit and gallantry, an usurp- 
ation of the parson's office ; a low method 
of retailing by scraps, in the parlour, what 
the man in black vends by wholesale from: 
the pulpit. It would infallibly mark us 
out for pedants ; and, for aught I know, 
might expose us to the suspicion of en,- 
thusiasm. 

Asp. Your men of wit must excuse me, 
if I cannot persuade myself to admire either 
the delicacy of their language or the just- 
ness of their opinion. 

The first, be it ever so humane and 
graceful, I resign to themselves. As for 
the other, I would beg leave to inquire^ 



most distinguished nobility of Rome» to discourse up- 
on the interests of the republic^ and the immortality 
of the soul. 
* Vid. Tuscul. Qua?st. 

t Such were the interviews of which he speaks with, 
a kind of rapture, O noctes, ccenaeque deum..'" 



THERON AISD ASPASIO. 



147 



«are the clergy, then, the only persons 
who should act the becoming part, and con- 
verse like rational beings ? Is solid wisdom 
and sacred truth the privilege of then- 
order ; while nothing is left for you and 
me, but the play of fancy, or the luxuries of 
sense ?" 

I would next ask the circles of gallantry, 
where is the impropriety of interweaving 
the noble doctrines displayed by the preach- 
er Avith our common discourse ? or what 
the inconvenience of introducing the amia- 
ble graces, recommended by his lectures, 
into our ordinary practice ?" Will such an 
exercise of our speech rank us among pe- 
dants? is this the badge of enthusiasm? 
A splendid and honourable badge truly ! 
such as must add weight to any cause, and 
worth to any character. 

Ther. This would curb the spiightly 
sallies of \nt, and extinguish that engaging 
glow of good humour which enlivens our 
genteel intercourses. Accordingly you 
may observe, that if any formal creature 
takes upon him to mention, in polite com- 
pany, a religious truth or a text of Scripture, 
the pretty chat, though ever so profusely 
flowing, stagnates in an instant. Each vo- 
luble and facetious tongue seems to be 
struck \\dth a sudden palsy. Every one 
wonders at the strange man's face ; and 
they all conclude him either mad or a Me- 
thodist. 

Asp. Agreeable strokes of wit are by no 
means incompatible with usefid conversa- 
tion, unless we mistake an insipid vivacity, 
or fantastic levity, for wit and facetious- 
ness. Neither have I heard, that among 
all our acts of parliament, any one has pass- 
ed to divorce good sense and good humour. 
Why may they not both reside on the 
same lips, and both circulate thi'ough the 
same assembly ? For my own part, I would 
neither have our discourse soured with aus- 
terity, nor evaporate into impertinence ; but 
unite (as a judicious ancient advises) the 
benefits of improvement, with the blandish- 
ments of pleasantry.* And as to your po- 
lite people, if they can find more music in 
the magpie's voice, than in the nightingale's 
note, I must own myself as much surprised 
at their ears, as they are at the strange 
man's face. 

Ther. With all your grey-headed authori- 
ties, I fancy you will find very few prose- 
lytes among the professors of modern re- 
finement. Fashion is, with the world, the 
staiidard of morals, as well as of clothes ; 
and he must be of a very peculiar turn in- 
deed, who would choose to be ridiculous in 
either. 



* " Cum quadam illeceWaac voluptate utiles.*"— 
Aul. Gel. 



Asp. Rather, Theron, he must be of a 
very pliant turn, who tamely delivers up his 
conduct to be moulded by a fashion, which 
has neither tme elegance to dignify it, nor 
the least usefulness to recommend it. And 
which, I beseech you, is most ridiculous ? 
He who servilely imitates every idle fa- 
shion, and is the very ape of corrupt cus- 
tom ? Or he who asserts his native liberty, 
and resolutely follows where \^dsdom and 
truth lead the way ? 

TTier. Would you then obtrude religious 
discourse upon every company ? Consider, 
Aspasio, what a motley figure this would 
make. A wedding, and a sermon ! qua- 
drille, and St. Paul ! the last new play, 
and primitive Christianity ! 

Asp. You know the nile, Theron, which 
is given by the great Master of oiu: Assem- 
blies, " Cast not yoiu- peai'ls before swine." 
(Matt. vii. 6.) Some there are so im- 
mersed in sensuality, that they can relish 
nothing but the coarsest husks of conversa- 
tion. To these, neither oflfer your pearls, 
nor prostitute your intimacy. But when 
persons of a liberal education and elevated 
sentiments — when these meet together, 
why should not their discourse be suitable 
to the eminence of theii- rank, and the su- 
periority of their genius ? raised far above 
the level of that trite and effeminate strain, 
" Upon my honour, the actress topt her 
part. Heavens ! how charmingly she sung . 
haw grncefuUy she trode the stage !" 

TVier. Indeed my Aspasio, I am entirely 
in your way of thinking, however I have 
hitherto put on the mask. The gift of 
speech is one great prerogative of our ra- 
tional nature. And it is a pity that such a 
superior faculty should be debased to the 
meanest purposes. Suppose all our stately 
vessels, that pass and repass the ocean, 
were to carry out nothing but tinsel and 
theatrical decorations — were to import no- 
thing but glittering baubles, and nicely-fan- 
cied toys— would such a method of trading 
be weU-judged in itself, or beneficial in its 
consequences ? Articulate speech is the in- 
strument of a much nobler commerce, in- 
tended to transmit and diflliise the treasures 
of the mind. And will not the practice 
be altogether as injudicious, must not the 
issue be infinitely more detrimental, if this 
vehicle of intellectual wealth is freighted 
only wth pleasing fopperies ? 

Asp. Such folly and extravagance would 
be hissed out of the commercial world. 
Why then are they admitted and cherished 
in the social ? 

i Ther. Why indeed ? He must be far 
more acute than your Theron, who can as- 
sign a single reason to countenance them. 
To explode them, ten thousand arguments 
occur. A continual round of gay and 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



trifling conversation,* of visits quite mo- 
dish, and entertainments not moral, must 
give a most indolent turn to the mind ; 
such as will enervate its powers, indispose 
it for generous action, and gradually sap 
the very foundation of virtue. Whereas, 
a frequent conference on the glories of the 
Godhead, or the wonders of creation, 
would invigorate and ennoble the soul ; 
would enlarge her faculties, and elevate hei* 
desires. 

Asp. " Did not our hearts bum 'vithin 
us," said the travellers at Emmaus, ''hile 
he talked with us by the way?" 1?- Ve 
xxlv. 32.) Those discourses, it is true, 
were conducted with a spirit, and enforced 
with an energy, absolutely unequalled ; yet 
the same happy effects would in some de- 
gree result from our friendly conferences, 
if they turned upon the same important 
points. We also should feel our hearts 
warmed with holy zeal, and glowing wth 
heavenly love. 

Thei\ Such conferences M'ould not only 
be productive of present advantage, but 
yield a renewed pleasure in the retrospect. 
We might reflect, with real complacency, 
on hours spent in so rational a manner. 
And who would not prefer the silent ap- 
plause of the heart, to all those tumultuous 
joys which wanton jests create, or the cir- 
cling glass inspires ? 

Asp. Onef who thoroughly knew man- 
kind, and Had tried the merits of the jovial 
board, very pertinently compares such flash- 
es of mirth to the " crackling of thorns un- 
der a pot." (Eccl. vii. 6.) The transient 
blaze of the one, and the senseless noise of 
the other, continue but for a moment, and 
then expire ; that in smoke and darkness, 
this in spleen and melancholy. 

I said spleen and melancholy. For how- 
ever jauntee and alert the various methods 
of modish trifling may seem, whatever ease 
or grace they are supposed to give the con- 
versation ; sure am I, it will be afilictive to 
look back upon interviews squandered away 
in very vanity, and shocking to look for- 
ward upon the account which we must all 
shortly render. What figure will such an 
article make in the final reckoning, and at 
the decisive bar ! " Our social hours, which 
might have promoted our mutual edification, 
and been subservient to our Creator's glory, 
all lost in merriment and whim ; or woi-se 
than lost, in flattery and detraction ; A 
blank, or a blot." 

Ther. Venus, we find, has her zealous 
knight-errants, and Bacchus, his professed 



* The significancy and importance of such conversa- 
tion was smartly represented by the philosopher ; who 
being asked, How he left the company employed ? 
made answer, some in millting the ram, others in hold- 
ing the pail. 
X Kixig Solomon, 



votaiies, in almost every coimpany. And 
is it not truly deplorable, that the God of 
nature alone has none to assert his honour, 
none to celebrate his perfections ? thougb 
he is the original of all beauty, and the pa- 
rent of all good. 

When I have taken my morning walk 
amidst dews and flowers, with the sun 
shedding lustre round him, and limveilingf 
the happy landscape, how has my eye been 
charmed with the lovely prospect ! how has 
my ear been ravished with the music of the 
grove I Methought every note was a tribute 
of harmony ; and all nature seemed one 
grand chorus, swelling with the Creator's 
praise. But ho^v has the scene been re- 
versed, when leaving my rural elysium, I 
entered the haunts of men ! where I saw 
faculties divine, meanly engaged in trifles f 
Vt^here I heard the tongue, prompt to utter, 
and fluent to express, every thing but its 
Maker's glory. 

I assure you, I have often been chagrin- 
ed on this occasion ; and sometimes said 
within myself, " What ! shall trifles be re- 
garded, and the majesty of heaven neglect- 
ed ? Shall every friendj and every visitant, 
receive his share of respect, and no acknow- 
ledgments be paid to that exalted Being, 
who is worthy, more than worthy, of all 
our veneration ?'* 

Asp. This will be still more afflictive to 
an ingenuous mind, if we consider that the 
infinite and glorious God is present at all 
our interviews, vouchsafes to express his 
satisfaction, and acknowledges himself mag- 
nified, when, with admiration and love, we 
talk of his transcendent excellencies. Nay, 
we are assured that the Lord of all lords not 
only hearkens, but keeps a book of remem- 
brance ; and Avill distinguish such persons 
at the day of universal retribution. When 
the loose train of licentious talkers are dri- 
ven away as the despicable chaflT, these shall 
be selected for his peculiar treasure, and 
numbered among the jewels of Jehovah.* 

Ther. If the gentlemen who make high 
pretensions to reason, think themselves dis- 
charged from these doctrines of revelation, 
they should not forget their own Scnptures» 
A philosopher will tell them the duty of 
employing their time, as in the awful pre- 
sence, and under the immediate inspection 
of the Supreme Being. f An orator will 
show them the egregious impropriety of 



» Mai. iii. 16, 17. This is a passage much to be ob- 
served. A most emphatical recommendation of reli- 
gious discourse, perhaps the most emphatical that 
ever was used, and the most endearing that can possi- 
bly be conceived. 

t " Sic certe vivendum est, tanquam in conspectu 
vivamus: sic cogitandum, tanquam aliquis in pectus^ 
intiirum inspicere possit : et potest. Quid enim pro- 
sit ab hominealiquid esse secretum ? Nihil Deoclau- 
sunxest. Interest animis nostris, et cogitationibusi 
mediis^ inteivenit." Senec. Epist. 83* 



THERO^^ AND ASPASIO. 



149 



■v^asting tlieir friendly interviews in the 
fumes of drollery, or the froth of imperti- 
nence.* 

Asp. Who then, that is wise, would not 
habituate himself to a practice, which comes 
recommended by the voice of reason, and is 
enforced by the authority of God ? — a prac- 
tice, which will administer present good, 
will afford pleasing reviews, and terminate 
in everlasting honour ? 

TTier. It is strange, that subjects which 
deserve to be received as the universal to- 
pic, are almost universally banished from 
our discourse. Was this cabinet enriched 
with a series of antique medals, or a collec- 
tion of the finest gems, my friends would 
naturally expect to be entertained with a 
sight of those rarities, and an explanation 
of their meaning. Why should we not as na- 
turally expect, and as constantly agree, to 
entertain each other with remarks on those 
admirable curiosities which are deposited in 
the boundless museumf of the universe ? 

When a general has won some important 
yictoiy, or an admiral has destroyed the 
enemy's fleet, every company resoimds with 
their achievements, every tongue is the 
trumpet of their fame. And why should 
we not celebrate, with equal delight and ar- 
dour, that Almighty hand which formed the 
structure, and furnished the regions, of this 
stupendous system ? 

Asp. Especially, if to his immensely 
glorious, we add his supremely amiable 
perfections. When the victorious com- 
mander is our most cordial friend — when he 
has professed the tenderest love, done us 
the most signal good, and promised us a 
.perpetual enjoyment of his favours — it will 
be impossible to neglect such an illustrious 
and generous person. His name must be 
engraven upon our hearts, must slide insen- 
sibly into our tongues, and be as music to 
our ears. 

Is not all this true, and in the most su- 
per-eminent degree, with regard to the bless- 
ed God? Can greater kindness be exer- 
v'lsed, or greater love be conceived, than to 
deliver up his own Son to torments and 
death for the expiation of our sins ? Can 
benefits more desirable be granted, than to 
adopt us for his children, and sanctify us by 
his Spirit ? Can promises more invaluable 
be made, than those which ensure to us the 
preferments of heaven, and the riches of 
eternity ? — AH this is attested, concerning 
the Almighty Majesty, in the Scriptures of 



* Cicero says, with an air of graceful indignation, 
"Quasi vero clamorum virorum aut tacitos congres- 
sus esse oporteat, aut ludicros sermones, aut rerum 
coUoquia leviomm." — Academ.^uaest. lib. 4. 

t Museum — alluding to a remarkable edifice in the 
■city of Oxford, distinguished by this name, and ap- 
propriated to the reception of curiosities, both natur- 
?il and artificial, and to the British Museum in Lon- 
<ion. 



truth. What a fund, therefore, for pleas- 
ing and delicate conversation are the Scrip- 
tures ? 

Ther. Here also I have the pleasure of 
concurring with my Aspasio, though I be- 
lieve he suspects me to be somewhat wa- 
vering or defective in my veneration for the 
Scriptures. 

Asp. No, Theron, I have a better opin- 
ion of your taste and discernment than to 
harbour any such suspicion. 

Tlier. The Scriptures are certainly an 
inexhaustible fund of materials for the most 
delightful and ennobling discourse. When 
we consider the author of those sacred 
books ; that they came originally from hea- 
ven, were dictated by divine wisdom, have 
the same consummate excellence as the 
works of creation ; it is really surprising 
that we are not always searching, by study, 
by meditation, or converse, into one or 
other of these grand volumes. 

Asp. When Seeker preaches, or Murray 
pleads, the church is crowded and the bar 
thronged. When Spence produces the re- 
finements of criticism, or Young displays 
the graces of poetry, the press toils, yet is 
scarcely able to supply the demands of the 
public. Are Ave eager to hear, and impa- 
tient to purchase, what proceeds from such 
eloquent tongues and masterly pens ? And 
can we be coldly indifferent, when, not the 
most accomplished of mankind, not the 
most exalted of creatures, but the adorable 
Author of all wisdom, speaks in his reveal- 
ed word ? Strange ! that our attention does 
not hang* upon the venerable accents, and 
our talk dwell upon the incomparable tmths ! 

Ther. I admire, I must confess, the very 
language of the Bible. In this, methinks, 
I discern a conformity between the book 
of nature and the book of Scripture. 

In the book of nature the divine Teacher 
speaks, not barely to our ears, but to all 
our senses. And it is very remarkable how 
he varies his address ! Observe his grand 
and august works. In these he uses the 
style of majesty. We may call it the true 
sublime. It strikes with awe, and trans- 
sports the mind. — View his ordinary opera- 
tions. Here he descends to a plainer dia- 
lect. This may be termed the familiar 
style. We comprehend it with ease, and 
attend to it with pleasure. — In the more 
ornamented parts of the creation, he clothes 
his meaning with elegance. All is rich and 
brilliant. We are delighted, we are cliarm- 
ed. And what is this, but the florid style ? 



* St. Luke, in his evangelical history-, uses this 
beautiful image, " The people hung upon the lips of 
their all-wise Teacher."" Luke xix. 4a. Which im- 
Iplies two very strong ideas, an attention tha' nothing 
could inteiTupt, and an eagerness sca.ce ever to be sa- 
tisfied. 

— * ' Pcndetque loquentes ab oxe.—Virg. 



150 THERON AND ASPASIO. 

A variety, somewhat similar, runs througb to that melodious 



the Scriptures. Would you see history in 
all her simplicity, and all her force, most 
beautifully easy, yet irresistibly striking ? 
See her, or rather feel her energy, touching 
the nicest movements of the soul, and 
triumphing over our passions, in the inimi- 
table narrative of Joseph's life. The re- 
presentation of Esau's bitter distress, ( Gen. 
xxvii. 30. &c. ) the conversation pieces of 
Jonathan and his gallant friend, (1 Sam. 
xviii. xix. xx. ;) the memorable journal of 
the disciples going to Emm.aus, (Lukexxiv. 
13. &c. ;) are finished models of the impas- 
sioned and affecting. Here is nothing stu- 
died ; no flights of fancy ; no embellish- 
ments of oratory. Yet how inferior is the 
episode of Nisus and Euryalus, though 
worked up by the most masterly hand in 
the world, to the undissembled artless fer- 
vency of these scriptural sketches ! * 

Are we pleased with the elevation and 
dignity of an heroic poem, or the tenderness 
and perplexity of a dramatic performance ? 
In the book of Job they are both united, 
and both unequalled. Conformably to the 
exactest rules of art, as the action advances 
the incidents are more alarming, and the 
images more magnificent. The language 
glows, and the pathos swells ; till at last 
the Deity himself makes his entrance. He 
speaks from the whirlwind, and summons the 
creation — summons heaven and all its shin- 
ing host, the elements and their most won- 
derful productions — to vouch for the wis- 
dom of his providential dispensations. His 
word strikes terror, and flashes conviction ; 
decides the momentous controversy, and 
closes the august drama, with all possible 
solemnity and grandeur. 

If we sometimes choose a plaintive strain, 
such as softens the mind and soothes an 
agreeable melancholy ; are any of the an- 
cient tragedies superior, in the eloquence of 
mourning, to David's pathetic elegy on his 
beloved Jonathan, (2 Sara. i. 19, &c.) to 
his most passionate and inconsolable moan 
over the lovely but unhappy Absalom ;t or 



* Let a person of true taste peruse, in a critical view, 
the two first chapters of St. Luke. He will there find 
a series of the most surprising incidents related with 
the greatest simplicity, yet with the utmost majesty. 
All which, extremely affecting in themselves, are 
heightened and illuminated by a judicious intermix- 
ture of the sublimest pieces of poetry. For my own 
part, I know not how to characterise them more pro- 
perly than by Solomon's elegant comparison : " They 
are as gold rings set with the beryl, or as bright ivory 
overlaid with sapphires." — Cant. v. 1. 4. 

f " The king was vehemently affected, and went 
up to the chamber and wept ; and as he went he said, 
O my son Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom ! 
would to God 1 had died for thee ! O Absalom, my 
son, my son !" 2 Sam. xviii. 33. Such a picture, and 
so much pathos ; so artless both, and both so exqui- 
site, I must acknowledge, I never met with, among 
all the representations of dignity in distress. The 
king's troops had gained a signal victory. His crown 
and his life were rescued from the most imminent 
danger. Yet all the honours and all the joys of this 
successful day were swallowed up and lost in Ab- 



woe, which warbles and 
bleeds in every line of Jeremiah's Lamen- 
tations. 

Would we be entertained with the daring 
sublimity of Homer, or the correct majesty 
of Virgil ? with the expressive delicacy of 
Horace, or the rapid excursions of I'indar ? 
Behold them joined, behold them excelled, 
in the odes of Moses, and the eucharistic 
hymn of Deborah ; in the exalted devotion 
of the Psalms, and the glorious enthusiasm 
of the Prophets. 

Asp. Only with this difference, that the 
former are tuneful trifiers, and amuse the 
fancy with empty fiction ; the latter are 
teachers sent from God, and make the soul 
wise unto salvation. The Bible is not on- 
ly the brightest ornament, but the most in- 
valuable depositum. On a right, a practi- 
cal knowledge of these lively oracles, de- 
pends the present comfort and the endless 
felicity of mankind. Whatever, therefore, 
in study or conversation, has no connexion 
with their divine contents, may be reckoned 
among the toys of literatiu-e, or the ciphers 
of discourse - 

Ther. Here again the book of Scripture 
is somewhat like the magazine of nature. 
What can we desire for our accommodation 
and delight, which this storehouse of con- 
veniences does not afford ? "What can we 
wish for our edification and improvement, 
v/hich that fund of knowledge does not sup- 
ply ? Of these we may truly affirm, each 
in its respective kind is " profitable unto 
all things." 

Are we admirers of antiquity ? — Here 
we are led back beyond the universal de- 
luge, and far beyond the date of any other 
annals. We are introduced among the ear- 
liest inhabitants of the earth. We take a 
view of mankind in their undisguised primi- 
tive plainness, when the days of their life 
were but little short of a thousand years. 
We are brought acquainted vnth the origi- 
nal of nations ; with the creation of the .. 
world ; and with the birth of time itself. 

Are we delighted with vast achievments ? 
Where is any thing comparable to the mi- 
racles in Egypt, and the wonders in the 
field of Zoan ? to the memoirs of the Is- 



salom's death. The news of Absalom's death struck, 
like a dagger, the afflicted father. He starts from 
his seat. He hastens into retirement, thereto pour 
out his soul in copious lamentation. But his an- 
guish is too impetuous to bear a moment's restraint. 
He bursts immediately into a flood of tears, and cries 
as he goes. O Absalom," &c. 

What says Mezentius, when his son is slain ? when, 
to sharpen his sorrow, the pale corpse, the miserable 
spectacle is before his eyes, and within his arms ! The 
most pathetic v/ord he utters is, 

' ' Heu ! mmc misero mihi demvim 

Exilium infelix, nunc alte vulnus adactum." 
How languid is Virgil, how inexpressive the prince 
of Latin poetry, compared with the royal mourner in 
Israel ? Most evident from this and many other in- 
stances, is the superiority of.the Scriptures, in copy- 
ing nature, and painting the passions. 



THE RON AND ASPASIO. 



151- 



raelites, passing througli the depths of the 
sea, sojourning amidst the inhospitable de- 
serts, and conquering the kingdoms of Ca- 
naan ? "WTiere shall we meet with in- 
stances of martial bravery equal to the pro- 
digious exploits of the Judges ; or the ad- 
venturous deeds of Jesse's valiant son, and 
liis matchless band of worthies? (2 Sam. 
xxiii. 8, &c. 1 Chron. xi. 10, &e.) Here 
we behold the fundamental laws of the uni- 
verse, sometimes suspended, sometimes re- 
versed ; and not only the current of Jor- 
<lan, but the course of nature controlled. 
In short, when we enter the field of Scrip- 
ture, we tread — on enchanted, shall I say ? 
rather, on consecrated ground ; where as- 
tonishment and awe are awakened at everj- 
turn ; where is all, more than all, the mar- 
vellous of romance, connected Vvith all the 
precision and sanctity of truth. 

If we want maxims of wisdom, or have 
a taste for the laconic st)-le, how copiously 
may our Vv^ants be supplied, and how deli- 
cately our taste gratified ! especially in the 
book of Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and some 
of the minor prophets. Here are the most 
sage lessons of instruction, adapted to 
every circumstance of life, formed upon 
the' experience of all preceding ages, and 
perfected by the unerring spirit Of inspira- 
tion. These delivered with such remark- 
able conciseness, that one might venture to 
say, every word is a sentence ; at least, 
every sentence may be called an apophthegm, 
sparkling with brightness of thought, or 
weighty with solidity of sense. The whole, 
like a profusion of pearls, each containing, 
in a very small compass, a value almost im- 
mense, all heaped up (as an ingenious critic 
speaks) with a confused magnificence, 
-above the little niceties of order. 

If we look for the strength of reasoning, 
and the warmth of exhortation ; the insin- 
tiating arts of genteel address, or the manly 
boldness of impartial reproof ; all the thuji- 
<ler of the orator, Avithout any of his os- 
tentation ; all the politeness of the courtier, 
without any of his flattery — let us have re- 
course to the Acts of the Apostles, and to 
the Epistles of St. Paul.* These are a 
specimen, or rather these are the standard, 
of them all. 

I do not wonder, therefore, that a taste 
■so refined, and a judgment so correct as 
Milton's, should discern higher attractives 
in fhe volume of inspiration, than in the 
most celebrated authors of Greece and 
Rome. 



* Another very remarkable instance of propriety 
in St. Paul's writings is, that though diffuse in the 
doctrinal, they are concise in the preceptive parts. 
On the former, it was absolutely necessary to enlarge : 
on the latter, it is always judicious to be 'short. The 
celebrated rule of Horace, "Quicquid prsecipies, esto 
brevis," was never more exactly observed, nor more 
finely exemplified,, than by our Apostolic author. 



" Yet not the move 

Cease I to wander where the muses hamit. 
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, 
Smit with tne love of sacred song ; but chief 
Thee, Sion, and the flowery banks beneath. 
That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow. 
Nightly I visit." 

Asp. Another recommendation of the 
Scriptures is, that they afford the most 
aw^ul and most amiable manifestations of 
the Godhead. His glory shines, and his 
goodness smiles, in those divine pages, \\-ith 
unparalleled lustre. Here v.-e have a satis- 
factory explanation of our own state. The 
origin of e\Tl is traced ; the cause of all 
otu: miserj' discovered ; and the remedy, 
the infallible remedy, both clearly shoA\Ti, 
and freely offered. The merits of the 
bleeding Jesus lay a firm foundation ' for 
all our hopes ; vrhile gratitude for his djn'ng 
love suggests the most \\'inning incitements 
to every duty. Morality, Theron, your 
(and let me add, my) admired morality, is 
delineated in all its branches, is placed 
upon its proper basis, and raised to its 
highest elevation. The spirit of God is 
promised to enlighten the daj'kness of oiu* 
understandings, and strengthen the imbe- 
cility of our wlls. What an ample — Can 
you indulge me on this favom-ite topic ? 

Tlier. It is, I assure you, equally pleas- 
ing to myself. Yoiu' enlargements, there- 
fore, need no apology. 

Asp. What ample proWsion is made, by 
these blessed books, for all our spuitual 
wants ! And, in this respect, how indis- 
putable is their superiority to all other com- 
positions ! 

Is any one convijiced of guilt, as provok- 
ing heaven and raining the soul ? Let him 
ask reason to point out a means of recon- 
ciliation, and a refuge of safety. Reason 
hesitates as she replies, " The Deity may, 
perhaps, accept our supplications, and grant 
forgiveness." But the Scriptures leave us 
not to the sad uncertainty of conjecture : 
They speak the language of clear assur- 
ance : " God has set forth a propitiation." 
(Rom. iii. 25.) " He does forgive our in- 
iquities." (Psalm ciii. 3.) " He -will re- 
member oiu* sins no more." (Heb. viii. 12.) 

Are we assaulted by temptation, or 
averse to duty ? Philosophy may attempt 
to parry the thrust, or to stir up the reluc- 
tant mind, by disclosing the deformity of 
vice, and urging the fitness of things. 
Feeble expedients ! Just as well calculated 
to accomplish the ends proposed, as the 
flimsy fortification of a cobweb to defend 
us from the ball of a cannon ; or as the 
gentle vibrations of a lady's fan to make a 
wind-bound navy sail. The Bible recom- 
mends no such incompetent succours. 
" My grace," says its almighty Author, " is 
sufficient for thee." (2 Cor. xii, 9.) " Sin 
shall not have dominion over you." (Rom, 
vi. 14.) The great Jehovah, in whom is 



152 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



everlasting strength, "he worketh in us 
both to will, and to do, of his good plea- 
sure." (Phil. ii. 13.) 

Should we be visited with sickness, or 
overtaken by any calamity, the consolation 
which Plato offers is, that such dispensa- 
tions coincide with the universal plan of 
divine government. Virgil will tell us, for 
our relief, that afflictive visitations are, 
more or less, the unavoidable lot of all 
men. Another moralist whispers in the 
dejected sufferer's ear, " Impatience adds to 
the load ; whereas a calm submission ren- 
ders it more supportable." Does the word 
of revelation dispense such spiritless and 
fugitive cordials ? No : Those sacred pages 
inform us, that tribulations are fatherly 
chastisements, tokens of our Maker's love, 
and fruits of his care ; that they are in- 
tended to work in us the peaceable fruits of 
righteousness, and to work out for us an 
eternal weight of glory. (2 Cor. iv. 17.) 

Should we, under the summons of death, 
have recourse to the most celebrated com- 
forters of the heathen world, they would 
increase our apprehensions rather than mi- 
tigate our dread. Death is represented by 
the great master of their schools, as " the 
most formidable of all evils." They were 
not able positively to determine whether 
the soul survived ; and never so much as 
dreamed of the resurrection of the body. 
Whereas, the book of God strips the mon- 
ster of his horrors, or turns him into a 
messenger of peace ; gives him an angel's 
face, and a deliverer's hand ; ascertaining 
to the souls of the righteous an immediate 
translation into the regions of bliss, and en- 
sming to their bodies a most advantageous 
revival at the restoration of all things. 

Inestimable book ! It heals the maladies 
of life, and subdues the fear of death. It 
strikes a lightsome vista through the gloom 
of the grave, and opens a charming, a glori- 
ous prospect of immortality in the hea- 
vens. 

These, with many other excellencies pe- 
culiar to the Scriptures, one would imagine 
more than sufficient to engage every sensi- 
ble heart in their favour, and introduce 
them with the highest esteem into every 
improved conversation. They had such an 
effect upon the finest genius, and most ac- 
complished person, that former or latter 
ages can boast ; insomuch that he made, 
while living, this public declaration, and 
left it when he died upon everlasting re- 
cord : " How sweet are thy words unto my 
taste ! yea, sweeter than honey unto nay 
mouth." (Psalm cxix. 103.) " O how 
love I thy law ! it is my meditation aU the 
day." (Psalm cxix. 97.) "Mine eyes 
prevent the night-watches, that I may be 
occupied in thy precepts ; and I will speak 
of thy testimonies even before kings." 



(Psalm cxix. 46.) If David tasted so much 
sweetness in a small, and that the leasfc 
valuable part of the divine word; how 
much licher is the feast to us, since the 
Gospel is added to the Law, and the canon 
of Scripture completed ! since (to borrow 
the words of a prophet) the Lord God 
" has sealed up the sum has put the last 
hand to his work ; and rendered it " full of 
wisdom, and perfect in beauty." (Ezek. 
xxviii. 12.) 

Ther. Another very distinguishing pecu- 
liarity of the sacred writings just occurs to 
my mind. The method of communicating 
advice, or administering reproof, by para- 
bles. A method which levels itself to the~ 
lowest apprehension, without giving offence 
to the most supercilious temper ; yet it is 
as much superior to plain unoniamented pre- 
cept, as the enlivened scenes of a well- 
wrought tragedy are more impressive and 
affecting than a simple narration of the plot. 

Our Lord was asked by a student of the 
Jewish law, " Who is my neighbour ?" 
which implied another question, " How is 
he to be loved ?" The inquirer was con- 
ceited of himself, yet ignorant of the truth, 
and deficient in his duty. Had the wise 
instructor of mankind abruptly declared, 
" You neither know the former, nor fulfil 
the latter," probably the querist would have 
reddened with indignation, and departed in 
a rage. Therefore to teach, and not dis- 
gust — to convince the man of his error, and- 
not exasperate his mind — the blessed Jesus 
frames a reply, as amiable in the manner as 
it was pertinent to the purpose. 

A certain person going down from Jeru- 
salem to Jericho, fell among thieves, (Luke 
X. 30.) Not content to rob him of his trea- 
sure, they strip him of his garments, wound 
him with great barbarity, and leave him 
half dead. Soon after this calamitous ac- 
cident, a traveller happens to come along 
that very road ; and what renders him more 
likely to administer relief, he is one of the 
sacred order ; one who taught others the 
lovely lessons of humanity and charity, and 
was therefore under the strongest obliga- 
tions to exemplify them in his own practice. 
He just glances an eye upon the deplorable 
object ; sees him stretched on the cold 
ground, and weltering in his blood ; but 
takes no further notice ; nay, to avoid the 
trouble of an inquiry, passes by on the other 
side. Scarce was he departed, when a Le- 
vite approaches. This man comes nearer, 
and looks on the miserable spectacle ; takes 
a leisurely and attentive survey of the case.* 
And though every gash in the bleeding flesh 
cried and pleaded for compassion, this mi- 



* This seems to be the import of i'kSuv »«' '^o-'v, 
Luke X, 32. This diversifies the idea, and heightens 
the dest rii)tion, of Jewish inhumanity. 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



1.53 



histerof the eaiictuaiy neither speaks a word 
to i^omfort, nor moves a hand to help. Last 
comes a Samaritan,* one of the abhorred 
nation, whom the Jew hated with the most 
implacable malignity. Though the Levite 
had neglected an expiring brother ; though 
the priest had withheld his pity from one 
of the Lord's peculiar people ; the very 
moment the Samaritan sees the unhappy 
sufferer, he melts into commiseration. He 
forgets the imbittered foe, and considers 
only the distressed fellow-creature. He 
springs from his horse, and resolves to inter- 
mit his journey. The oil and wine, intend- 
ed for his own refreshment, he freely con- 
verts into healing unguents. He binds up 
the wounds ; sets the disabled stranger up- 
on his own beast ; and, with all the assidui- 
ty of a servant, with all the tenderness of a 
brother, conducts him to an inn. There he 
deposits money for his present use ; charges 
the host to omit nothing that might conduce 
to the recovery or comfort of his guest ; and 
promises to defray the whole expense of 
his lodging, his maintenance, and his cure. 

What a lively picture this of the most 
disinterested and active benevolence ! A 
benevolence which excludes no persons, not 
even strangers or enemies, from its tender 
regards ; which disdains no condescension, 
grudges no cost, in its labours of love. 
Could any method of conviction have been 
more forcible, and at the same time more 
pleasing, than the interrogatory proposed by 
our Lord, and deduced from the story ? 
" Which now of these three, thinkest thou, 
was neighbour unto him that fell among the 
thieves ?" Or can there be an advice more 
suitable to the occasion, more important in 
its nature, or expressed with a more senten- 
tious energy, than " Go thou, and do like- 
wise ?'* In this case, the learner instructs, 
the delinquent condemns, himself. Bigot- 
ry bears away its prejudice ; and pride, 
(when the moral so sweetly, so impercepti- 
bly insinuates,) even pride itself lends a 
willing ear to admonition. 

Asp. It has been very justly remarked, 
That this eloquence of similitudes is equal- 
ly affecting to the wise, and intelligible to 
the ignorant. It shows, rather than relates, 
the point to be illustrated. It has been ad- 
mired by the best judges in all ages ; but 
never was carried to its highest perfection, 
till our Lord spoke the parable of the pro- 
digal, (Luke XV. 11. &c. ;) Avhich has a 
beauty that no paraphrase can heighten, a 
perspicuity that renders all interpretation 
needless, and a force which every reader 
not totally insensible must feel. 

Ther. The condescension and goodness 
of God are everywhere conspicuous. In 

* If this was a parable, we raniiot but admire the 
accuracy of our Lord, both in laying the scene, and 
geiecting the circumstances. 



the productions of nature, he conveys to us 
the most valuable fniits, by the intervention 
of the loveliest blossoms. Though the 
present is in itself extremely acceptable, he 
has given it an additional endearment, by 
the beauties which array it, or the perfumes 
which surround it. — In the pages of revel- 
ation likewise, he has communicated to us 
the most glorious truths, adorned with all 
the graces of composition ; such as may 
polish the man of genius, and improve the 
man of worth ; such as highly delight our 
imagination, even while they cultivate and 
refine our morals. So that they really are, 
as one of their divine authors very elegant-r 
ly speaks, "like apples of gold in pictures 
of silver."* 

Asp. Who then would not gladly receive 
that gracious exhortation, " Let the word of 
Christ dwell in you richly ?" ( Col. iii. 16.) 
Who would not willingly obey that benign 
command, " Thou shalt talk of it when 
thou sittest in thine house, and when thou 
walkest by the way ; when thou Hest down, 
and when thou risest up ?" (Deut. vi. 7.) 

When I consider the language of the 
Scriptures, and sometimes experience their 
energy on my soul, I am inclined to say, 
" Other writings, though polished with the 
nicest touches of art, only tinkle on the ear, 
or affect us like the shepherd's reed. But 
these, even amidst all their noble negligence, 
strike, alarm, transport us somewhat like 
the voice of thunder, or the archangel's trum- 
pet." 

When I consider the contents of the 
Scriptures, and believe myself interested in 
the promises they make, and the prinleges 
they confer, I am induced to cry our, 
" What are all the other books in the 
world, compared with these invaluable vo- 
lumes ? No more than an entertaining no- 
vel, or a few prudential rules for domestic 
economy, compared with a parent's will, a 
royal charter, or an imperial grant of titles 
and manors." 

All these circumstances remind me of an 
encomium most deservedly given to the Bi- 
ble i which, though quite artless, is, I think, 
abundantly more expressive than the most 
elaborate efforts of rhetoric. It came from 
the lips of a martyr ; who, being condemn- 
ed to die for his inviolable adherence to the 
doctrines of Scripture, when he arrived at 
the stake, and had composed himself for his 
execution, took his final leave in these af- 
fecting words ; " Farewell sun and moon ! 



* Prov. XXV. 11.— Theron follows the received 
translation. I should prefer the expression of Glassius, 
who supposes ^DD. T/T'^luD to signify, " Reti- 
acula argentea, in quibus oculi sunt minutissimi, pe- 
netrabiles tamen visa." According to this inter})re- 
tation, the passage will present us with apples of gold 
in net-work, or lattice-work of silver ; where the fine 
fruit receives a new charm, by showing itself through 
the elegant apertures of the silver. 



!54 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



farewell all the. beauties of creation, and 
comforts of life ! farewell my honoured 
friends ! farewell my beloved relations ! and 
farewell, thou precious, precious Book of 
God !" 

Aspasio had scarce uttered the last sen- 
tence, when a servant came to let them 
know " supper was upon the table." — 
Very opportunely, said Theron, has our re- 
past waited till our conference is ended. 
IVe have showed what a large field of de- 
lighti'ul speculation the Scriptures open ; 
and what ample materials for the most re- 
fined discoiurse they afford. As nothing 
can be more ungraceful, than to neglect in 
our own conduct what we recommend to 
the practice of others, let us, this very 
night, begin to ennoble our interviews with 
these improving subjects, — let us endeavour 
to make religious conversation, which is in 
all respects desirable, in some degree fa- 
shionable. 



DIALOGUE II. 

The next morning, when breakfast was 
over, Theron and Aspasio took a walk into 
the garden — their spirits cheered, and their 
imaginations lively — gratitude glowing in 
their hearts, and the whole creation smiling 
around them. 

The spot adjoining to the house was ap- 
propriated to the cultivation of flowers. In 
a variety of handsome compartments were 
assembled the choicest beauties of blooming 
natin-e. Here the hyacinth hung her silken 
bells, or the lilies reared their silver pyra- 
mids. There stood the neat narcissus, 
loosely attired in a mantle of snowy lustre : 
or the splendid ranunculus wore a full-trim- 
med suit of radiant scarlet. Pinks were 
rising to enamel the borders ; roses were 
opening to dress the walls ; surrounded on 
all sides with a profusion of beauteous forms, 
either latent in the stalk, or bursting the 
buds, or blown into full expansion. 

This was bounded by a slight partition, 
a sort of verdant parapet, through which 
they descend by an easy flight of steps, and 
are presented with the elegant simplicity of 
the kitchen garden. In one place you 
might see the marigold flowering, or the 
beans in blossom. In another, the endive 
curled her leaves, or the lettuce thickened 
her tufts ; cauliflowers sheltered their fair 
complexion under a green umbrella ; while 
the burrage dishevelled* her locks, and 
braided them with blooming jewels, of a 
finer azure than the finest sapphires. On 
the sunny slopes, the cucumber and melon 



* R ef erring to the loose irregular manner of its foli- 
tioji. 



lay basking in the collected beams. On 
the raised beds, the artichoke seemed to be 
erecting a standard, while the asparagus 
shot* into ranks of spears. The level 
ground produced all manner of cooling sa- 
lads and nom-ishing esculents. Nothing 
was wanting to furnish out the wholesome 
luxury of an antediluvian banquet. 

Soon a high waU intervenes, through 
which a wicket opens, and transmits them 
into the regular and equidistant rows of an 
orchard. This plantation is so nicely ad- 
justed, that it looks like an arrangement of 
rural piazzas, or a collection of diversified 
vistas. The eye is everjavhere entertained ~' 
with the exactest uniformity, and darts with 
unobstructed ease from the one end of the " 
branching files to the other. On all the 
boughs lay a lovely evolution of blossoms, 
arrayed in milky white, or tinged with the 
softest red. Crowding into one general 
cluster, without relinquishing any vacant 
space for leaves, they formed the fairest, 
the gayest, the grandest alcove that fancy 
itself can imagine. It is really like the 
court of the Graces. None can approach 
it without finding his ideas brightened, and 
feeling his temper exhilarated. 

Contiguous to this correct disposition of 
things, nature had thrown a wilderness, 
hoary, grotesque, and magnificently confus 
ed. It stretched itself, with a large circu- 
lar sweep, to the north ; and secured both 
the olitory and the orchard from incommod- 
ing Avinds. Copses of hazel and flowering 
shrubs filled the lower spaces, while pop- 
lars quivered aloft in air, and pines pierced 
the clouds with their leafy spears. Here 
grew clumps of fir, clad in everlasting 
green ; there stood groves of oak, that had 
weathered for ages the wintry storm. 
Amidst this woody theatre ran a winding 
walk, lined with elms of insuperable height, 
whose branches, uniting at the top, reared 
a stately arch, and projected a solemn 
shade. It was impossible to enter this 
lofty labyrinth without being struck with a 
pleasing dread. As they proceed, every 
inflection diffuses a deeper gloom, and 
awakens a more pensive attention. 

Having strolled in this darksome avenue 
without a speck of sunshine, without a 
glimpse of the heavens, on a sudden they 
step into open day. — Surprising ! cries As- 
pasio, what a change is this ! \A'hat delight- 
ful enchantment is here ! — One instant 
whelmed in Trephonius' cave,* where hor- 



* Alluding, not only to the shape, but also to the 
growth of this plant, which is so unusually quick, 
that it may almost be said to start, rather than to rise 
out of the earth. 

t The reader may find a curious account of this 
cave, together with a very humorous, and (which 
should always accompany humour, or else it will be 
like a sting without the honey) an improving descrip- 
tion of its effects, in the Spectator, Vol. viii. No. 508, 
I 5'M 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



135 



rOf frowns, and darkness lowers, and soli- 
tude reigns : transported the next into the 
romantic scenes of Arcadia, where all is 
populous, all is lightsome, and all is gay. — 
Quick as thought, the arches of heaven 
expand their azure ; turrets and spires shoot 
into the skies ; towns, with their spacious 
edifices, spread themselves to the admiring 
view. Those lawns, green Avith freshest 
herbage ; those fields, rich with undulating 
com ; where were they all a moment ago ? 
— It brings to my mind that remarkable 
situation of the Jewish lawgiver, when, ele- 
vated on the summit of Pisgah, he surveyed 
the goodly land of promise ; " surveyed the 
rivers, the floods, the brooks of honey and 
butter ;" surveyed "the mountains drop- 
ping with wine, and the hills flowing with 
milk," (Job XX. 17. Joel iii. 18.) surveyed 
all with those eyes, which, for forty tedious 
years, had been confined to dry sands, rag- 
ged rocks, and the irksome wastes of a de- 
solate howling wilderness. 

Here they seated themselves on the first 
mossy hiUock which offered its couch. The 
rising sun had visited the spot, to dry up 
the dews, and exhale the damps that might 
endanger health ; to open the violets, and 
expand the primroses that decked the green. 
The whole shade of the wood was collected 
behind them ; and a beautiful, extensive, 
diversified landscape spread itself before 
them. 

Theron, according to his usual manner, 
made many improving remarks on the pro- 
spect and its furniture. He traced the 
footsteps of an all-comprehending contri- 
vance, and pointed out the strokes of ini- 
mitable skill. He observed the grand ex- 
ertions of power, and the rich exuberance 
of goodness, most signally, most charmingly 
conspicuous through the whole — Upon one 
circumstance he enlarged with a particular 
satisfaction. 

T/ier. See, Aspasio, how all is calculated 
to administer the highest delight to man- 
kind. Those trees and hedges, which skirt 
the extremities of the landscape, stealing 
away from their real bulk, and lessening by 
gentle diminutions, appear like elegant pic- 
tiues in miniature. Those which occupy 
the nearer situations are a set of noble 
images, swelling upon the eye, in full pro- 
portion, and in a variety of graceful atti- 
tudes ; both of them oi-namenting the se- 
veral apartments of our common abode, 
with a mixture of delicacy and grandeur. 

The blossoms that array the branches, 
the flowers that embroider the mead, ad- 
dress and entertain our eyes with every 
charm of beauty ;* whereas, to other crea- 



* Therefore, when the prophet describes the Chris- 
tian church, adorned with all the " beauties of holi- 
ness," he borrows his imagery from these amiable ob- 
jects; " Israel shall bud and blossom," Isa. xxvii. 6. 



tures, they are destitute of all those attrac- 
tives which result from a combination of 
the loveliest colours and most alluring 
forms. Yonder streams, that glide with 
smooth serenity along the valleys, glitter- 
ing to the distant view like sheets of po- 
lished crystal, or soothing the attentive ear 
with the softness of aquatic murmurs, are 
no less exhilarating to the fancy than to the 
soil through which they pass. The huge 
enormous mountain, the steep and dizzy 
precipice, the pendent horrors of the craggy 
promontory, wild and tremendous as they 
are, furnish out an agreeable entertainment 
to the human mind, and please even while 
they terrify ; whereas the beasts take no 
other notice of those majestic deformities, 
than only to avoid the dangers they threaten. 

Asp. How wonderfully do such consid- 
erations exalt our idea of the Creators 
goodness, his very distinguishing goodness to 
mankind ! And should they not proportion- 
ably endear that eternal Benefactor to our 
aflfections ? His ever-bountiful hand has 
scattered blessings, and mth profuse liber- 
ality, among all the ranks of animated ex- 
istence. But to us he exercises a benefi- 
cence of a very superior kind. We are 
treated as his peculiar favourites. We are 
admitted to scenes of delight, which none 
but ourselves are capable of relishing. 

Ther. Another remark, though very ob- 
vious, is equally important : The destination 
of all those external things is no less advan- 
tageous, than their formation is beautiful. 
The bloom, which engages the eye with its 
delicate hues, is cherishing the embryo fruit, 
and forming within its silken folds the rudi- 
nients of a future desert. Those streams, 
which shine from afar like fluid silver, are 
nuich more valuable in their productions, 
and beneficial in their services, than they 
are amiable in their appearance. They dis- 
tribute, as they roll along their winding 
banks, cleanliness to our houses, and fi-uit- 
fulness to oiu lands. They nourish, and at 
their own expense, a never-failing supply 
of the finest fish. They visit oiu* cities^ 
and attend our wharfs, as so many public 
vehicles, ready to set out at all hours. 

Those sheep, which give their udders to 
be drained by the busy frisking lambs, are 
fattening their flesh for our support ; and 
while they fill their own fleeces, are pro- 
viding for our comfortable clothing. Yon- 
der kine — some of which are browsing 
upon the tender herb, others, satiated with 
pasturage, riuninate under the shady covert 
— though conscious of no such design, 
are concocting, for our use, one of the 

— Nay, the very wilderness, even the Gentile na- 
tions, being converted unto Christ, " shall blossom as 
a rose, Isa. xxxv. 1.—" I will be as the dew unto Is- 
rael ; he shall blossom as the lily, and cast forth his 
roots as Lebanon : Hos. xiv. 5. What an elegant pic- 
ture ! and what a comfortable promise ! 



156 



THE RON AND A SPAS JO. 



softest, purest, Lealtiiest liquors in the 
world. The bees that fly humming about 
our seat, and pursue their work on the fra 
grant blossoms, are collecting bain) and 
sweetness, to compose the richest of sy- 
rups ; which, though the produce of their 
toil, is intended for our good. 

Nature, and her whole family, are our 
obsequious servants, our ever-active labour- 
ers. They bring the fruits of their united 
industry, and pour them into our lap, or de- 
posit them in our store-rooms. 

Asp. Who can ever sufficiently admire 
this immense benignity ? — The supreme 
Disposer of events has commanded delight 
and profit to wallc hiuid in hand through 
his ample creation ; making all things so 
perfectly pleasing, as if beauty was their 
only end ; yet all things so eminently ser- 
viceable, as if usefulness had been their 
sole design. And, as a most winning in- 
vitation to our gratitude, he has rendered 
man the centre, in which all the emanations 
of his beneficence, diffused through tliis 
terrestrial system, finally terminate. 

But, my dear Theron, is not this appa- 
rent, in a much more wonderful manner, 
throughout the whole economy of redemp- 
tion? It were a small thing for this inferior 
class of unintelligent creatures, to be con- 
tinually employing themselves for our be- 
nefit. Even the Son of the most high 
God, through all his incarnate state acted 
the very same part. He took flesh, and 
bore the infirmities of human nature, not 
for himself, but for us men, and our salva- 
tion. He sufiJered want, and endured mi- 
sery in all its forms, that we might possess 
the fulness of joy, and abound in pleasures 
for evermore. When he poured out his 
soul in agonies, under the curse of an aveng- 
ing law, was it not with a compassionate 
view to make us partakers of eternal bless- 
edness ? When he fulfilled, perfectly ful- 
filled the whole commanding law, was it not 
for this gracious purpose that his inerits 
might be imputed to us, that we by his 
obedience might be made righteous ? Yes ; 

" For us he liv'd, 

Toil'd for our ease, and for our safety bled." 

Nothing in the whole course — 

Ther. Pardon me for interrupting you, 
Aspasio. I have no objection to the ge- 
neral drift of your discourse ; but that par- 
ticular notion of imputed righteousness has 
always appeared to me in a very ridiculous 
light. And I must say, that such a puri- 
tanical nostrum makes a very unbecoming 
figure amongst your other manly and correct 
sentiments of religion. 

Asp. You know, Theron, I have long 
ago disavowed that ignoble prejudice, which 
rejects doctrines, or despises persons, be- 
cause they happen to be branded with con- 
temptible names- It is true the writers 



styled Puritans, are remarkable ibr their at- 
tachment to this peculiarity of the gospel. 
It runs through all their theological works, 
and very eminently distinguishes them from 
the generality of our modern treatises. But 
must it therefore be wrong, because main- 
tained by that particular set of people ? Or, 
are they only advocates for this important 
truth ? 

Ther. Ay ; it is as I suspected. I have 
lately conjectured, from several hints in my 
Aspasio's discourse, that he has been warp- 
ing to the low ungentleman-like pecidiari- 
ties of those whimsical fanatics. 

Asp. I cannot conceive why you should 
call them whimsical. To settle faith on 
its proper basis — the meritorious righteous- 
ness of the Redeemer ; and to deduce from 
its true origin — the love of God shed 
abroad in the heart ; to search the consci- 
ence, and convince the judgment ; to 
awaken the lethargic, and comfort the af- 
flicted soul ; and all from a thorough know-, 
ledge, joined to a masterly application, of 
the divine word; — these, sure, are not 
whimsical ^talents, but real excellencies. 
Yet these, if we may credit history, entered 
into the preaching ; these, if we will ex- 
amine impartially, are to be found in the 
writings of the Puritans. — And a pearl, you 
will please to remember, is a pearl still, 
though it should hang in the Ethiopian's 
ear. 

T7ier. Ethiopian indeed ! You have truly 
characterised that demure and gloomy ge- 
neration. I hope you do not intend to in- 
troduce their affected solemnity and forbid- 
den reserve, into your own easy and engag- 
ing conversation. Though, for aught I can 
judge, this would be no more ungraceful, 
than to patch such antiquated notions on the 
refined scheme of Christianity. 

Asp. My dear friend, you are too ludi- 
crous ; and I begin to catch the infection. 
We had better return to our first topic. 
Let us contemplate the wonders of creation, 
and as we admire the works, learn to adore 
the Maker. 

Ther. None of your evasions, good As- 
pasio. You must not think to put me off 
at this rate. I have wanted an opportuni- 
ty to rally you upon this head, and to ai-gue 
or laugh you out of tliese religious oddities. 

Asp. If you will not agree to terms of 
peace, I hope you will allow some cessa- 
tion of arms. At least till I can muster 
my forces, and prepare for the vindication 
of my principles. 

TJier. No ; upon the spot, and out of 
hand, you are required to answer for youi- 
self, and these same queer opinions, — I 
shall serve you as the Roman consul served 
the procrastinating monarch- When he de- 
murred about his reply to the demands of 
the senate, and said, " he would consider of 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



157 



the matter the resolute anibagsador drew 
a circle round liim with his cane, and insist- 
ed upon a positive answer, before he step- 
ped over those limits. 

Asp. This, however, you will give me 
leave to observe, that the affair is of a very 
serious nature. Upon condition that you will 
dismiss your flourishes of wit, and strokes of 
satire, I will acquaint you with the reasons 
which have made me a thorough convert to 
this doctrine. Once I held it in the utmost 
contempt, and pitied the simplicity of (as I 
then styled them) its deluded admirers. But 
I am now become such a fool, that I may 
be truly wise and substantially happy. I 
have seen my ruined siate, and I bless God 
for this sovereign restorative. It is the 
source of my strongest consolations, and the 
very foundation of my eternal hopes. 

Ther. Excuse me, Aspasio, if the vivaci- 
ty of my temper, andt he seemingly uncouth 
tenet, kindled me into a more humorous 
gaiety than became the occasion. You 
speak of the point with so much serious- 
ness, and in such weighty terms, as check 
my levity, and command my respect- Be 
pleased to execute what you have promised, 
and the most engaged attention of my mind 
shall atone for the petulent sallies of my 
tongue. 

Asp. To conceive a dislike of any doc- 
trine, only because persons of a particular 
denomination have been very officious to pro- 
mote its reception ; this is hardly consistent 
with an impartial inquiry after truth. 

Tlier. }. grant it, Aspasio. And I should 
be ashamed of my opposition, if it was 
founded on so slight a bottom. But, ab- 
stracted from all party considerations, I 
can see nothing in this supposed article of 
our fairh that may recommend it to the un- 
prejudiced inquirer. What can be more 
awkward than the term, or more in'ational 
thaji the sentiment ? 

Asp. The word imputed, when used in 
this connexion, may possibly convey a dis- 
agreeable sound to the ears of some people, 
because they look upon it as the peculiar 
phraseology of a few superstitious sectarists, 
and reject it merely on the foot of that un- 
reasonable siumise. — But how can you be 
disgusted at the expression, Theron, who 
have so often read it in the most approved 
and judicious writers ? St. Paul, who might 
affirm with relation to his epistles, much 
more truly than the painter concerning his 
portraits, " I write for eternity,"* scruples 
not to use this awkward language several 
times ill the same chapter. -j- Milton, the 



* Alluding to the painter, who, apologizing for the 
slow procedure and scnipulously nice touches of his 
pencil, a^id,- JEternitati pingo, " I paint for eternity." 

t i'ed BCUD. iv. in which single chapter, some 
Wanch of t^e word X«y/^;(7^a., '«to be imputed," 
occurs no less than ten or eleven times. 



eoiTcctness of whose tarte, and the propriety 
of whose style, no person of genius will ever 
question,' delights to copy, in various parts 
of his incomparable poem, the Apostle's 
diction. Authorized by such precedents, 
it is superior to cavil, and warranted be- 
yond all exception. 

As to the sentiment, I take it to be the 
very fundamental article of the gospel ; and 
I believe, whoever is acquainted with ec- 
clesiastical history will allow that it bore 
the principal sway in extricating us from 
popish darkness, and introducing the Re- 
formation. What says om* Lord, \vith re- 
gard to the love of God and the love of our 
neighbour ? " On these two commandments 
hang all the law and the prophets." IMucb 
the same would I venture to say concerning 
the imputation of our sins to Christ, and 
the imputation of Christ's righteousness to 
us : On these two doctrines hang all the 
privileges and the whole glory of the gos- 
pel. 

Ther. In our last conversation, I must 
own, I saw a strong resemblance between 
the works and the word of God. But I 
never observed any thing in nature that bore 
the least analogy to imputed sin or imputed 
righteousness. To me your two doctrines 
seem very unaccountable and irrational. 

Asp. That our sins should be charged 
upon the only begotten Son of God, and 
that his righteousness should be made over 
to sinful worms, is strange, exceeding strange. 
The Psalmist calls it, " marvellous loving 
kindness," (Psal. xvii. 7.) The Apostle 
styles it, " love that passeth knowledge, ' 
(Eph, iii. 19.) And it has sometimes, I 
must freely confess, been almost ready to 
stagger my belief. However, I have found 
myself relieved in this perplexity, not only ' 
by the testimonies of Scripture, but even 
from the contemplation of nature. All na- 
ture is full of strange and mysterious effects, 
consequently, is a voucher for the mysteri- 
ous truths of Christianity. 

How surprising are the experiments of 
electricity, and the occult qualities of the 
loadstone ! How surprising those countless 
legions of effluvia which transpire from a 
small odoriferous body ! and those infinite 
myriads of luminous particles, which issue 
from a smaller flaming substance !* There 
is not a blade of grass, but surpasses the 
comprehension of all mankind : and not a 
single atom, but is big \vith wonders ; inso- 
much, that the intelligent observer can no- 
where fix his thoughts, without being aston- 
ished, transported, and even lost in admira- 
tion. 



* Dr. Nieuwentyt has computed, that from a 
lighted candle, about the size of six to the pound, 
there issues, in the second of a minute, an etfusion of 
particles, vastly more than the number of sands whicb 
the whole globe of tlie earth contains. 



158 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



Since the procedure of Providence in 
this visible system is a continue!^ series of 
stupendous and unsearchable operations ; 
need we be alarmed, can we reasonably be 
offended, if the scheme of redemption is 
•equally stupendous, is far more amazing ? 
Yet, though amazing, I hope it will not ap- 
pear, what you was pleased to insinuate, ir- 
rational. 

Suppose we state the signification of the 
terms, and adjust the boundaries of our 
subject, before we enter upon a survey of 
its contents ? 

Ther. Such a caution would have pre- 
vented, at least have shortened, many a ve- 
hement and tedious controversy. — You see, 
on yonder heath, the preparations for an ap- 
proaching race. There stand the posts 
which are to mark out the limits of the 
course. Without this previous restrictive 
care, how irregular would be the excursions 
of the contending steeds ! How difficult, 
rather how impossible, to declare the con- 
queror and award the prize ! — A clear de- 
finition of terms seems equally necessary for 
candid disputants. Without it, they may 
wrangle for ages, and never come to a de- 
termination. 

Asp. Justification is an act of God Al- 
mighty's grace ; whereby he acquits his peo- 
ple from guilt, and accounts them righteous,* 
for the sake of Christ's righteousness, which 
was wrought out for them, and is imputed 
to them. 

Ther. Two of your terms want some 
further explication. What do you under- 
stand by Christ's righteousness ? And what 
is the meaning of imputed ? 

Asp. By Christ's righteousness, I under- 
stand the whole of his active and passive 
obedience ; springing from the perfect ho- 
liness of his heart, continued through the 
whole progress of his life, and extending to 
the very last pang of his death. — By the 
word imputed, I would signify, that this 
righteousness, though performed by our 
Lord, is placed to our account ; is reckon- 
ed or adjudged by God as our own. Inso- 
much, that we may plead it, and rely on it, 
for the pardon of our sins, for adoption into 
his family, and for the enjoyment of life 
eternal. — Shall I illustrate my meaning by 
a well-attested fact ? 

Ther. Nothing gives us so easy a concep- 
tion of any difficult point, as this method of 
explaining by parallel facts, or proper si- 
militudes. 

• Asp. I do not say the case is parallel. ~ 
I only produce it, to aid our conceptions. — 
Onesimus, you know, was Philemon's slave, f 



* .Should any reader object to the definition, ap- 
prehending, that justification implies no more than 
the pardon of sins, I would desire him to suspend his 
judgment till he has perused Dialogue X. where this 
i)Oint is more circumstantially considered. 

t bee the Epistle to Philemon. 



He had perfidiously deserted his master^s 
service, and still more perfidiously stole his 
goods. The fugitive, in his guilty rambles, 
providentially meets mth St. Paul. He 
is charmed and captivated with that gracious 
gospel, which proclaims mercy even for the 
vilest of sinners. He becomes a thorough 
convert to the religion of Jesus, and is re- 
ceived into the spiritual patronage of the 
apostle ; who, learning his dishonest con- 
duct and obnoxious state, undertakes to 
bring about a reconciliation with his offend- 
ed master ; dispatches him, for this pur- 
pose, with a letter to Pliilemon ; and, 
amongst other persuasives, writes thus in 
the poor criminal's behalf : " If he hath 
wronged thee, or oweth thee ought, put 
that on mine account ; I Paul have written 
it vnth mine own hand ; I will repay it." 
That which the zealous preacher of Chiis- 
tianity offered, the adored Author of Chris- 
tianity executed — We had revolted from 
the Lord of aU lords, and broke his holy 
commandments. The Son of God, infi- 
nitely compassionate, vouchsafes to become 
om' Mediator. That nothing might be 
wanting to render his mediation successful, 
he places himself in our stead. The pun- 
ishment which we deserved,^ he endures : 
The obedience which we owed, he fulfils. 
— Both which, being imputed to us, and ac- 
cepted for us, are the foundation of our 
pardon, are the procuring cause of our jus- 
tification. 

Ther. Is this the exact signification of 
the original word, which we translate im- 
puted ? 

Asp. In the book of Numbers we meet 
with this phrase ; and in such a connexion, 
as clears up its meaning. Jehovah enacts 
a decree concerning the Levites, who had 
no vintages to gather, nor any harvests to 
reap. He directs them to present the tenth 
part of their tithes, in the form of a heave- 
offering ; adding, " and this your heave- 
offering" shall be reckoned* unto you, " as 
though it were the com of the threshing- 
floor, and as the fulness of the -wine-press 
as satisfactory to me, and as beneficial to 
you, as if it was the tenth of your own la- 
bom-s, and the tithe of your own increase. 
So the expiatory sufferings which Christ 
endured, the complete obedience which he 
performed, are reckoned to true believers ; 
and are altogether as effectual for obtaining 
their salvation, as if they were their own 
personal qualifications. 

Ther. The imputation mentioned in your 



* Num. xviii. 27. Uti^J^il exactly answers to St. 
Paul's sXoytir0yi, Rom. iv. 9. The same phrase is used, 
and the same doctrine taught, Lev. xvii. 3, 4. Thus 
also saith the eternal Judge concerning the believers 
in Christ ; " The righteousness of my Son is imput- 
ed to them : they are, in the eye of my justice, right- 
eous ; they shall be dealt with as righteous persons, 
and made partakers of the kingdom of heaven. 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



159 



passage, is the imputation of something 
done by the Levites themselves, not of some- 
thing done by another. This, I apprehend, 
is the true import of the word, when it oc- 
curs affirmatively in Scripture. 

Asp. This is always the import, — should 
have been said, in order to make the objection 
forcible. But you could not so soon forget 
the instance just now alleged. St. Paul, 
speaking of the crimes which Onesimus 
had committed, and of the injuries which 
Philemon had sustained, says, " Charge 
them all on me ; I will be responsible for 
the one and for the other, as much as if the 
whole guilt had been of my own contract- 
ing." — Here is supposed, not the imputation 
of something done by the apostle himself, 
but of another's criminal behaviour. 

Under the law, Aaron is commanded to 
" put the iniquities of Israel upon the scape- 
goat," Lev. XV. 21. — The same sentiment 
is reinculcated, when the goat is said to 
" bear the iniquities of the poeple," Lev. 
xvi. 22. This was plainly an imputation, 
yet coidd not possibly be the imputation of 
any thing done by the devoted animal. 
The effects which took place upon the ex- 
ecution of this ordinance, indicate a transla- 
tion of giult : For the congregation was 
cleansed, but the goat polluted. The con- 
gregation so cleansed, that their iniquities 
were conveyed away, and to be found no 
more ; the goat so polluted, that it com- 
municated defilement to the person who 
conducted it into the land not inhabited. 
All this was God's own appointment, and 
designed, like the whole system of Mosaic 
ceremonies, to instruct his church in the 
knowledge of the great Mediator ; in whose 
persijn and office that was done really, which 
elsewhere could be accomplished no other- 
wise than typically. 

T/ier. If this is your meaning, Aspasio, 
I am apt to think it v/ili be a difficult matter 
to make me a proselyte. I must be content 
to pass for one of the stiff-necked generation, 
since I can see neither wisdom nor equity 
in ascribing to a person what he has not, or 
imputing to him what he does not. 

Asp. It was not Aspasio, but his friend, 
who set out with a view of making prose- 
lytes. If I can maintain my ground, and 
vindicate my own belief, it will be no in- 
considerable acquisition. However, I shall 
not despair of seeing the partner of my heart 
become a sharer of my faith. When we 
are convinced of our numberless sins, when 
we feel the depravity of our natiu-e, and be- 
gin to discern the inconceivable sanctity of 
our Judge ; then, perhaps, this exploded 
article may be found worthy of acceptance, 
its constitution admired as the wisdom of 
God, and its privilege coveted as the conso- 
lation of our souls. 

Ther. I shall wave at present an exa- 



mination of each particular, and only make 
some remote observations, which seem, 
nevertheless, pretty nearly to affect your 
scheme. Some persons, I dare be positive, 
have not so much as heard of your terms j 
many persons have no manner of acquaint- 
ance with your doctrine : Will you strike 
off all these from the list of Christians ? will 
you condemn all these as desperate infidels ? 

Asp. Not heard of them ! in a Protestant 
nation ! where the gospel is publicly preach- 
ed, and the Bible in every one's hand ! This, 
if true, is much to be lamented. 

In answer to yoiu- question : — It is not 
my custom, much less is it my prerogative, 
to condemn others. Has God committed 
all judgment unto me, that I should presume 
to anticipate the decisive sentence, or launch 
the thunderbolts of eternal vengeance ? Nei- 
ther do I affirm the condition of such per- 
sons to be desperate. There may be those 
who have no explicit knowledge of the doc- 
trine, who are even prejudiced against the 
expressions, yet live under the belief of the 
truth, and in the exercise of the duty. " They 
are never diverted, by the splendoiu of any 
thing that is great, or by the conceit of any 
thing that is good in them, from looking 
upon themselves as sinfid dust and ashes." 
Their whole dependence is upon that just 
One, who expired on the cross, and whom 
the heavens have received. They seek the 
sanctifying Spirit, in consequence of their 
Saviour's death, and give all diligence to 
" add to their faith virtue," (2 Pet. i. 5.) 

Ther. If people may be safe, and theit 
eternal interests seciu^e, without any know- 
ledge of these particularities, why should 
you offer to puzzle their heads about a fesv 
unnecessary scholastic terms ? 

Asp. Scriptural terms you should have 
said, Theron. However, we are not very 
solicitous as to the credit, or the use, of any 
particular set of phrases. Only let men be 
humbled as repenting criminals, at the Re- 
deemer's feet ; let them rely, as devoted pen- 
sioners, on his precious merits ; and they are 
undoubtedly in the way to a blissful immor- 
tality. Yet will their way be less clear, and 
their steps more embarrassed, by not distinctly 
understanding the benign genius of the gospel. 
A proper information in this important point 
would shed light upon their paths, and en- 
courage them in their jovu-ney ; M'ould fur- 
ther their progress in vital holiness, and in- 
crease their joy in the Lord. 

Ther. The followers of your opinion, 1 
have observed, aie perpetually dwelling up^- 
on this one favourite topic, to the exclusion 
of that grand and truly essential part of 
Christianity — sanctification. 

Asp. If you have ever taken notice of 
such a conduct, you are unquestionably right 
in withholding your approbation. It is a 
manifest incongruity, and deserves your cen- 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



sure. '^iVC assure yourself, it proceeds from 
a misapprehension in the persoiiSj and has 
no connexion with the nature of the doc- 
trine. 

I am far, very far, from reducing the va- 
rious parts of Christianity (which when 
connected make up so well-proportioned a 
system) to this single, however, distinguish- 
ed branch. Sanctification is equally neces- 
sary, both to our present peace and to our 
final felicity. Indeed they are as reciprocally 
necessary for the purposes of intellectual 
and eternal happiness, as the heart and the 
lungs are to the subsistence of the animal 
economy. The former must transmit, the 
latter must refine, the vital fluid ; or else 
disease will take place, and death will en- 
sue. My intention is, that those funda- 
mental truths of the gospel, like these mas- 
ter organs of the body, may have each its 
proper office assigned. ; each concur to sup- 
port the better health, and to promote the 
spiritual growth, of the Christian, 

Ther. Other of your zealous folks I have 
known, who are all for the sanctifying 
infiuence of the Spirit, and reckon this 
affiance on the Saviour's merits among the 
beggarly elements of religion. They scarce 
ever mention what Christ has done for us, 
but insist wholly upon what he does in us. 
When the religious people are so divided 
among themselves,* how can a stranger act ? 
which opinion shall he choose ? 

Asp. Which, Theron ! Let him discard 
neither, but associate both. If the all-gra- 
cious Redeemer has poured out his blood on 
the cross, that my guilt may be expiated ; 
and presents his intercession in heaven, that 
I may be endued with the Spirit ; if he will 
be the meritorious cause of my justification, 
and the operative principle of my sanctifica- 
tion, why should I scruple to receive him, 
in either, in both capacities ! Who would 
lop off the right hand, in order to impart the 
higher dignity, or the greater importance to 
the left ? I would be no partialist in Chris- 
tianity ; neither diminish her dowry, nor 
mutilate her privileges, 

Ther. You seem, if not to mutilate, yet 
to split the merits of Christ, and parcel out 
the efficacy of his mediatorial undertaking ; 
ascribing so much to his active, and so 
much to his passive righteousness ; pardon 
to this, and life to that. 

Asp. Some, perhaps, may be pleased 



* Theron's inquiry concerning these two particu- 
lars is sometimes made an objection against all reli- 
gion. But have those who adopt this objection never 
seen naturalists divided in their judgment, with rela- 
tion to the design and use of several appearances in 
the material, the vegetable, the animal creation, 
while one decries as a nuisance what another admires 
as a beauty ? V et no one, I believe, ever took it into 
his head, from such a diversity of opinions, to doubt 
whether the frame of nature is a just, a r^ular, and 
a finished system ; or to deny, that power, goodness, 
and wisdom, supjwrt, pervade, and direct the whole. 



tlie niatien But 
it is a method which I neither attempt to 
defend, nor wish to imitate. To distinr 
guish between the active and passive right-' 
eousness, I think is not amiss ; because th^s' 
sets the fulness of our Lord's merit in the 
clearest light, and gives the completest 
honour to God's holy law. But to divide 
them into detached portions, independent 
on each other, seems to be fanciful, rath* 
than judicious. For, had either part of tjie 
mediatorial obedience been wanting, I ap- 
prehend neither pardon, nor acceptance, nof 
any spiritual blessing, could have been 
vouchsafed to fallen mim. 

The two parts are inseparable ; making, 
in their connexion, a necessary and noble 
whole for the accomplishment of oiu- sal\^- 
tion ; just as the light and the heat of yonder 
sun blend their operation, to produce this 
delightful day, and this fruitful weather. 
However, therefore, I may happen to 
press myself, I never consider them as aQp 
ing in the exclusive sense ; but would al- 
ways have them understood as a grand ah5 
glorious aggregate ; looking upon our Savi- 
our's universal obedience, which commenced 
at his incarnation, was carried on through 
his life, and terminated in his death — ^look- 
ing upon all this, in its collective form, as 
the object of my faith, and the foundation 
of my hopes.* 

Ther. I think, you lay too much stress 
upon this controverted, and perhaps merely 
speculative point. 

Asp. Merely speculative ! Say not thus, 
my dear friend. " How I may be justified 
before God, my Maker, my Governor, and 
my Judge," is an inquiry, of all others, the 
most interesting and important. It is the 
main hinge on which every instance of 
practical religion turns. True comfort, 
willing obedience, holy communion with the 
divine Majesty, all depend upon this capital 
point. 

Far from being a merely speculative 
point, it ascribes the most undivided glory 
to the ever-blessed God and his free grace : 
It administers the most serene and substan- 
tial satisfactions to frail, but believing men. 
It cherishes, with the most kindly influi- 
ence, that pure and imdefiled religion, whidh 
has its seat in the heart, has its birth from 
love, and is a real antepast, both of the busi- 



« In this opinion Aspasio has Milton's archangel 
for his precedent, Michael, speaking of his Lord and 
our Lord, says. 

The law of God exact he shall fulfil 
Both by obedience and by love : though love 
Alone fulfil the law : thy punishment 
He shall endure, by coming in the flesh 
To a reproachful life and cursed death ; 
Proclaiming life to all who shall believe 
In his redemption. — B. xii. 1. 402. 
According to the tenor of these very valuable lines, 
our Lord's fulfilling the law, and enduring the punish- 
ment, are the concvirring causes, or the one com- 
pound cause of life and redemption to sinners* . 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



161 



ness and the bliss of saints in light. Can 
we, then, lay too much stress upon a doc- 
trine so greatly momentous, upon a privilege 
so extensively beneficial ? 

Ther. When all this is prored, then for 
my reply, Aspasio. Nay, then you shall 
have more than a reply ; I promise you my 
cordial assent. 

Asp. And if all this be incapable of 
proof, I assure you, Theron, I will not so- 
licit your assent. Nay more, I will revoke 
and renounce my own. 

Tlier, At present, I believe, we must go 
in, and prepare for our visitants. Some 
other interview will give us an opportunity 
to canvass this question more minutely. 

Asp. Though I have never much inclin- 
ation, even when there is the most leisiu-e, 
for controversy, yet, if you insist upon it, I 
shall not absolutely refuse to engage in a 
debate with my Theron, because he will 
come to the amicable rencounter, without 
bringing angry passions for his second. My 
reasons ^vill be impartially weighed, not art - 
fully eluded, much less answered with in- 
vective. If some inadvertent expression 
should di'op from my lips, he will not rigor- 
ously prosecute the slip ; nor aggravate an 
unguarded sentence into the crime of heresy. 
Candour will form his judgment, and good 
nature dictate his expressions. 

Ther. I thank you, my dear Aspasio, for 
your genteel admonition. "What I am in 
the language of complaisance, means what 
1 snould be. Well ; I shall endeavour to 
take your hint, and check this my impetu- 
osity of spirit. I have admired, O that I 
could imitate ! the beautiful example of St. 
Paid. "WTien Festus, forgetting the dignity 
of the governor, and the politeness of the 
gentleman, uttered that indecent reflection, 
** Paul, thou art beside thyself ; much learn- 
ing doth make thee mad ;" did the great 
preacher of Christianity kindle into resent- 
ment? The charge was unjust and abusive. 
But the apostle, vnth. the most perfect com- 
mand of himself, returned the softest, yet 
the most spirited answer imaginable. " I 
am not mad, most noble Festus ; but speak 
the words of truth and soberness."* Inex- 
pressibly graceful was this calm and obliging 
reply. Though short, infinitely more con- 
vincing than a whole torrent of bitter or 
recriminating words. It disarmed the judge 
of his rising displeasure ; it conciliated the 



* See Acts xxvi. 24, 25. where we have an apology, 
the most delicate, and most masterly, perhaps, that 
ever was made ; eminent for fine address, clear reason- 
ing, and important truth. Which, notwithstand- 
ing all these very superior recommendations, is deem- 
ed madness ; and that by a nobleman from Rome ; 
the seat of science, and fountain-head of polite litera- 
ture. A proof this, no less demonstrative than de- 
plorable, of the apostles assertion : The natural man, 
however ingenious or accomplished, " receiveth not 
the things of the spirit of God ; for they are foolish- 
ness unto him." 1 Cor. ii. 14. 



favour of his royal assessor : and brought 
honour to the Christian cause. 

This amiable self-regimen, and modera- 
tion of temper, I shall be sure to see exem- 
plified in my friend's conversation, however 
I may fail of it myself, or be proof against 
all his arguments. 

Asp. Ah ! Theron, we want no monitor 
to remind us of our supposed excellencies. 
And if you begin with yoiu" compliments, it 
is time to put an end to our discourse. 

Only let me just observe, that divine- 
truths cannot be properly discerned but by 
the enlightening influences of the divine 
Spirit. We must address ourselves to this 
inquiry not only with unprejudiced minds, 
but likewise with praying hearts. We must 
bring to this dispute, not barely the quiver 
of logic, but that " unction from the Holy 
One which may teach us all things," (1 
John ii. 20,27.) Let us then adopt the 
poet's aspiration : 

Thou celestial Light, 

Shine inward, and the mind through allher powen 
Irradiate ; there plant eyes ; all mist from thence 
Purge and disperse ! Milton, B. iii. L 51. 



DIALOGUE III 

Ther. We are now, Aspasio, about two 
miles distant from my house. The horse- 
road lies through a narrow, dusty lane. The 
foot-path leads along a spacious pleasant 
meadow. Suppose we deliver our horses 
to the servant, and walk the remainder of 
the way ? 

Asp. You could not make a proposal 
more agreeable to my inclination ; espe- 
cially as the air is become cool, and the 
walk is so inviting. 

What a magnificent and charming scene ! 
hills on either side, gently rising, and widely 
spreading ; their summits c^o^vned with 
scattered villages, and clustering trees : 
their slops divided into a beauteous chequer- 
work ; consisting partly of tillage, with its 
waving crops, partly of pasturage, with its 
grazing herds. Before us, the trefoil, the 
clover, and a variety of grassy plants, diff*er- 
ently bladed, and diflferently branched, weave 
themselves into a carpet of living green. Can 
any of the manufactures formed in the 
looms, or extended in the palaces of Persia, 
vie with the covering of this ample area ? 
vie with it, in grandeur of size, or delicacy 
of decoration ? 

What a profusion of the gayest flowers, 
fringing the banks, and embroidering the 
plain ! 

Nature here 

Wantons, as in her prime, and plays at will 
Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet. 
Wild alx»ve rule or art, enormous bliss ! 

Milton, B. ? 

M 



162 



THERON AND ASPASIO: 



Nothing can be brighter than the lustre 
of those silver daisies, nothing deeper than 
the tinge of those golden crowfoots ; yet 
both seem to acquire additional beauty, by 
succeeding to the deformity of winter, and 
flourishing amidst so much surrounding 
verdure. 

Tker. Nature is truly in her prime. The 
vegetable tribes are putting on their richest 
attire. Those chesnuts, on our right hand, 
begin to rear their flowering pyramids ; those 
willows, on our left, are tipt with tassels 
of grey ; and yonder poplars, which over- 
look the river, and seem to command the 
meadows, are pointed with rolls of silver. 

The hawthorn, in every hedge, is partly 
tiu"ged with silken gems, partly dissolved 
into a milk- white bloom : Not a straggling 
furze, nor a solitary thicket, but wears a 
rural nosegay. All is a delightful display 
of present fertility, and a joyous pledge of 
future plenty. Now we experience what 
the royal poet, in very delicate imagery, de- 
scribes : " The winter is past ; the rain is 
over and gone. The flowers appear on the 
earth ; the time of the singing of birds is 
come ; and the voice of the turtle is heard 
in our land. The fig-tree putteth forth her 
green figs ; and the vine, with the tender 
grapes, give a good smell j" ( Cant. ii. 11, 
12,13.) 

Asp. Your quotation and the scene re- 
mind me of a remark, which should have 
taken place in our last night's discourse. 
When we were enumerating the excellencies 
of the sacred writings, methinks we might 
have added,' — Are you fond of pastoral, in 
all its flowery graces, and blooming honours ? 
Never have we seen such exquisite touches 
of rural painting, or such sweet images of 
endeared affection, as in the " Song of songs, 
which is Solomon's." All the brilliant and 
amiable appearances in nature are employed, 
to delineate the tenderness of his heart, who 
is love itself ; to portray the beauty of his 
person, who is the chiefest among ten 
thousand ; and describe the happiness of 
those souls, whose " fellowship is with the 
Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ 
(1 John i. 3.) 

See, Theron, what the cheering warmth 
and the genial showers of spring have done ! 
Such a change, so pleasing and so ennobling, 
the gospel of Christ introduces into the soul. 
Not a day, scarce an hour passes, but this 
season of universal fecundity produces some- 
thing new. And is there any state, or any 
circumstance of life, on which the faith of 
Christ does not exert a similar efiicacy, and 
bring forth fruit unto God ? 

This is supposed to be the spiritual 
meaning of that fine descriptive picture 
which you have borrowed from the Canti- 
cles. It displays the benign agency of grace 
and its doctrines, especially of oiu- Lord's 



satisfaction for sin, and of his righteousiiesa 
imputed to sinners. These operate with 
much the same favourable and happy energy, 
both on our morals and our comforts, as the 
sweet influences of the venial sun operate 
on the sprouting herbs and opening flowers. 

Ther. If such were the effects of your 
doctrine, it would stand the fairer chance; ^ 
for general acceptation. But there are 
several weighty scruples to be removed,o 
before persons of a liberal and enlarged way 
of thinking can acquiesce in your opinion. 
Who, for instance, can persuade himself, 
that what you call the satisfaction of Christ 
is consistent with the dictates of reason, or 
with the perfections of the Deity ? 

Asp. Let gentlemen be candid in their, 
inquiries, and truly liberal in their way of 
thinking ; then, I flatter myself, these scru- 
ples may be removed without much difficultyi 

God, the almighty Creator and supreme 
Governor of the world, having made man, 
gave him a law, with a penalty annexed in 
case of disobedience. This sacred law our 
forefather Adam presumptuously broke ; 
and we, his posterity, were involved in his 
guilt. Or, should that point be controvert- 
ed, we have undeniably made, by many per* 
sonal transgressions, his apostacy our own * 
insomuch that all have sinned, have forfeited 
their happiness, and rendered themselves 
obnoxious to punishment. 

Man being thus ruined, none could recov- 
er him, except his injured Maker. But 
shall he be recovered, shall he be restored, 
without suffering the punishment due to his 
crime, and threatened by his Creator ? What 
then will become of the justice of the divine 
Lawgiver ? and how shall the honoiu- of his 
holy law be maintained ? At this rate, who 
would reverence its authority, or fear to 
violate its precepts ? 

Sinners might be emboldened to multiply 
their transgressions, and tempted to think, 
that the God of immaciflate holiness, the 
God of unchangeable veracity, is "alto- 
gether such an one as themselves."* 

Does it not appear needful, that some ex- 
pedient be devised, in order to prevent these 
dishonourable and horrid consequences ? 

Ther. Proceed to inform us what the 
expedient is. 

Asp. To ascertain the dignity of the su- 
preme administration, yet rescue mankind 
from utter destruction, this admirable pm- 
pose was formed, and in the fulness of 
time executed. The second person of the 
ever-blessed Trinity unites the human na- 
ture to the divine, submits himself to the 



* This was actually the case, as we are iiiformed 
by the Searcher of hearts, when, on a particular oc- 
casion, punishment was only retarded. How inuch 
more would such impious opinions have prevailed 
if on this grand act of disobedience, punishnnent had 
been entirely forborne ? Psal. 1. 21. 



DIALOGUE III. 



163 



obligations of his people, and becomes re- 
sponsible for all their guilt. In this capac'ty 
he performs a perfect obedience, and under- 
goes the sentence of death ; makes a full 
expiation of their sins, and establishes their 
title to life. By which means the law is 
satisfied, justice is magnified, and the richest 
grace exercised. Man enjoys a great salva- 
tion, not to the discredit of any, but to the 
unspeakable glory of all, the divine attri- 
butes. 

This is what we mean by Christ's sa- 
tisfaction. And this, I should imagine, 
wants no recommendation to our unpreju- 
diced reason ; as I am sure it is most de- 
lightfully accommodated to our distressed 
condition. It is also confirmed by many 
express passages of Scripture, and illustrated 
by a variety of very significant images. 

Ther. Pray, let me be favoured with some 
of your scriptural images. After which we 
may inquire, whether your doctrine w^iil 
stand the test of reason. 

Asp. What is your notion of a ransom ? 
"When Priam redeemed the dead body of 
Hector from the victorious Achilles, how 
was it done ? 

Ther. By paying a price. Thus Fabius 
recovered the captives v/hich were taken by 
Hannibal. He transmitted the sum requir- 
ed, and they were discharged from their 
confinenient. 

Asp. Such is the redemption procured 
for sinners by our Lord Jesus Christ. Of 
such a nature, (though incomparably more 
grand and august in all its circumstances,) 
and expressed by the very same word, 
*' The Son of man came not to be ministered 
» unto, but to minister j and to give his life 
a ransom for many." 

'Christ also paid a price, a real price, a 
most satisfactory price ; in consideration 
of which, our freedom from every penal 
evil is granted. " Ye are redeemed,"* says 
the apostle, " not with corruptible things, as 
silver and gold, but with the precious blood 
of Chiist." Let me add one text more, 
which, in the same style of commutative 
justice, asseits the same truth : " Christ 
has redeemed us,"f hath bought us ofl^, " from 
the curse of the law," ( Gal. iii. 1 3. ) Yes, 
my friend. 

The ransom was paid down. The fund of heav'n, 
lieav'u's inexhaustible exhausted fund, 
Amazing and amaz'd, poui'd forth tlie price. 
All price beyond. Though curious to compute, 
5, Archangels faij'd to cast tlie mighty sum. 

Night Thoughts, No. IV. 



* 1 I'et. 1. 18. We have an equivalent expression, 
u«,ed in the same signification, by one of the cor- 
rertest writers in the world, 

Et tVatreJU Pollux altevna morte redemit. — Virg. 

I Gal, iii. ].■{.— -We are said to Lelnnight, 1 Cor. vi. 
20. not in a metaphorical sense, but leally and pro- 
perly, for here the price is mentioned, and by St. 
K-tM tke g^ite is specilied. 1 Pet. i. l;;, 19, 



Ther. Hold a little, good Aspasio. Con- 
sider the consequence of what you maintain. 
If there was a ransom in the case, to whom 
was it paid ? The devil had led sinners cap- 
tive. They are said to be the slaves of 
Satan. And shall the blessed Jesus pay 
his life to that acem-sed fiend ? Shocking to 
imagine ! Yet, shocking as it is, it must 
follow from your o^vn and your poet's asser- 
tion. 

Asp. You misapprehend the case, Theron. 
The ransom was paid to God. " Thou 
hast redeemed us to God," (Rev. v. 9.) is 
the confession of the saints in light. Sa- 
tisfaction was made to the di\dne law, and 
to the divine justice ; the one of which was 
oflfended, the other violated, and both con- 
curred to denounce the transgressor's doom ; 
of which doom Satan was only the destined 
executioner, whose malignity, and implaca- 
ble rage, God is pleased to make the instru- 
ment of infiicting his vengeance, as he for- 
merly used the idolatrous kings of Assyria 
and Babylon to chastise the disobedient Is- 
raelites. 

" When we were without strength," 
(Rom. V. 6.) utterly mined, yet absolutely 
helpless ; when none, in heaven or earth, 
could aflford us any succour ; then our Lord 
Jesus Christ most graciously and most sea- 
sonably interi)osed. He said, as it is veiy 
emphatically represented by Elihu, " De- 
liver them from going down into the pit ; I 
have found a ransom," (Job. xxxiii. 24.) 
He did what is veiy beautifully described 
by our English classic : 

S'i man, as is most just, 

Shall satisfy for man, be judged and die ; 
And dying rise, and rising with him raise 
His brethren, ransora'd with his own dear life. 

MJLTON, 

Ther. But pray, do not you allow that 
Christ is truly and properly God ? 

Asp. We not only allow it, but we insist 
upon it, and make our boast of it. This is 
the very foundation of his merit, and the 
support of our hope. 

Ther. This may aggrandize the merit of 
Christ, but it will increase the difficulty of 
your task. For, according to this opinion, 
Christ must make satisfaction to himself. 
And is not this a practice quite unprece- 
dented ? a notion perfectly absurd ? 

Asp. It is quite unprecedented, you say. 
On this point I shall not vehemently con- 
tend. Only let me mention one instance. 
Zaleucus, you know, the prince of the Lo- 
crians, made a decree, that whoever was 
convicted of adultery, should be punislied 
with the loss of both his eyes. Soon after 
this establishment, the legislator's own son 
was appreheTided in the very fact, and 
brought to a public trial. How could the 
father acquit himself in so tender and deli- 
cate a conjuncture ? Should he execute the 



164 



THERON AND ASP^ISIO. 



law iji all its rigour, this would be worse 
tluui death to tlie unhappy youth : Should 
lie pardori so notorious a delinquent, this 
would defeat the design of his salutary in- 
stitution. To avoid both these inconvenien- 
ces, he ordered one of his own eyes to be 
pulled out, and one of his son's, by which 
means the rights of justice were preserved 
inviolate, yet the tenderness of a parent 
was remarkably indulged : And may we 
not venture to say, that in this case, Za- 
leucus both received and made the satisfac- 
tion ? received it as a magistrate, even 
vv'hile he made it as a father ? 

Ther. I cannot see, how this suifering of 
the father was in any degree satisfactory to 
the law, since the father and the son could 
not be considered as one and the same per- 
son. It may pass for an extraordinaiy in- 
stance of parental indulgence ; it may strike 
the benevolent and compassionate hearer : 
but, if tried at the bar of equity and reason, 
it will hardly be admitted as any legal sa- 
tisfaction, it will probably be condemned, 
as a breach of nature's first and fundamen- 
tal law, self-preservation. 

Asp. What you observe, Theron, I must 
confess has weight. It will oblige me to 
give up my illustration. Nevertheless, 
what you urge against the propriety of the 
comparison, tends to establish the certainty 
of the doctrine. For Christ and his peo- 
ple are actually considered as one and the 
same person. They are one mystical body ; 
he the head, they the members; so inti- 
mately united to him, that they are " bone of 
bis bone, and flesh of his flesh," (Eph. v. 
30 ; Col. i. 20. ) by virtue of which union, 
their sins were punished in him, " and by 
his stripes they are healed," (Isa. liii. 5,) 
they obtain impunity and life. 

Though there may be nothing in the pro- 
cedure of men which bears any resemblance 
,to this miracle of heavenly goodness, it re- 
ceives a sufficient confirmation from the 
language of Scripture. He who wrote as 
an amanuensis to the unerring Spirit has 
declared, that " God was in Christ recon- 
ciling the world," — unto whom ? unto some 
third party ? No ; but reconciling it by the 
death and obedience of Christ, " unto him- 
self," (2 Cor. V. 19.) And I can very 
readily grant that this divine exertion of 
benignity and wisdom should be without a 
precedent, and without a parallel.* 

Difficulties, I own, may attend the expli- 
cation of this article, or be interwoven with 
its consequences. At the same time I 
must affirm, that our apprehensions of hea- 
venly things are so obscure, and our ideas 



» Fancy, in the person of Horace, said of Jupiter 
and his fabulous exploits, 

" Cui nihilviget simile aut secundum." 
Much more will reason, in the character of a believer, 
lay the same of Jehovah and his marvellous grace. 



of the divine benevolence so scanty, that we 
may very possibly mistake, ai:d fancy that 
to be absurd, M'hicb ii-i only great, wonder- 
ful, and incomprehensible.*— Nor shall I be 
thought presumptuous in adding, that it will 
be impossible for all the sagacity in the 
world to prove this doctrine an absurdity, 
though it should ever remain an inexplica- 
ble mystery. Hotv many phenomena in 
the constitution of external nature, are con- 
fessedly mysterious and inexplicable ! They 
challenge, they command our assent ; yet 
baffle all our researches, and defy our ut- 
most penetration. If, then, we find this 
truth fully and incontestibly revealed in the 
Bible, we must renounce the philosopher 
before we can consistently act the sceptic. 

Ther. Let us see, then, whether it be so 
fully and incontestibly reveale d in the Bi- 
ble. You have given me, as yet, but one 
of your scriptural images. 

Asp. I have another at your service^ 
Christ is called an High Priest. What dtt 
you take to be the nature of the priestly 
office? 

Ther. The business of the priest was^ I 
apprehend, to offer sacrifices, and to make 
intercession for the people. 

Asp. Veiy true ; and Christ could not, 
with any propriety, receive this appellation, 
if he had Ijeen defective in performing either 
of the sacerdotal functions. Now, that he 
offered no such victim as slain beasts, is mii- 
versally acknowledged. We might presume 
therefore, even though we had not the au- 
thority of an apostle to assure us, that " he 
offered himself through the eternal spirit 
to God," (Heb. ix. 14.) 

The cross, shall I say ? t rather his divine 
nature, was the altar ; his soul and body, 
each immaculately pure, were the holocaust. 



* Its unparalleled, nay, its incomprehensible nature, 
is no objection to its truth and reality. This is ra- 
ther a circumstance which perfectly agrees with the 
testimony of the inspired writers, and affords, in my 
opinion, an unanswerable argument for the divine 
origin of Christianity. ; ^-f 

Ii agrees with the testimony of the inspired writers, 
who called, not only God's wisdom, by way of supfe#4 
eminent distinction, but his wisdom in a mystery, 
even his hidden wisdom ; which could not possibly 
have been conceived by any finite mind, however 
enlarged or sagacious. It affords an unanswerable at? 
gument for the divine origin of Christianity, since 
was infinitely too deep for the contrivance of men, 
and absolutely undiscoverable by the penetration of 
angels ; how could it be known, but by manifestation 
from above? Whence could it take its rise, but from 
an especial revelation. 

t The cross is, by some authors, styled the altar, 
but, 1 think, improperly. This notion seems to have 
sprung from, or given rise to, the Popish practice of 
idolizing the crucifix. At least it countenances such 
a kind of foppish or sacrilegious devotion, more than 
a Protestant writer could wish. It was the property 
of the altar tosanctify thegift. This, therefore, when 
referred to our Lord's sacrifice, is a far more exalted 
office than we dare ascribe to the instrument of his 
suffering. This must be the honour and prerogative 
of his divine nature, which did indeed sanctify the 
great oblation ; gave it a dignity, a merit, an efficacy, 
unspeakable and everlasting. 



DIALOGUE III. 



165 



These he resigned, the one to deadly 
wounds, the other to inexpressible anguish, 
and both to be instead of all whole bumt- 
oiFerings. On this invaluable oblation, his 
intercession at the right hand of his Father 
is founded ; from this it derives that pre- 
vailing efficacy, which is the security of his 
standing, and the recovery of his fallen dis- 
ciples. 

Give me leave to ask farther, what is 
your idea of a sacrifice ? When Iphigenia 
was slain at the altar, what was the import 
of that memorable action ? 

TTier. It was intended, if we may credit 
Virgil's account,* to appease the indignation 
of the superior powers, and to obtain a 
propitious gale for the windbound fleet and 
confederate forces of Greece. But I hope 
you would, not make that solemn butchery 
of the royal virgin, a pattern for the supreme 
goodness ; nor the practice of gross idola- 
ters, a model for the religion of the holy 
Jesus. 

Asp. By no means, Theron. Only I 
would observe, that the custom of offering 
sacrifices obtained among the most cultivat- 
ed nations of the heathen world ; that these 
sacrifices were frequently of the vicarious 
kind, in which the victim was substituted 
instead of the offerer, and the former being 
cut off, the latter was discharged from pun- 
ishment ; consequently that the classic au- 
thors would (in case there was any need of 
such auxiliaries) join with the sacred wri- 
ters to declare the expediency, and explain 
the nature of sacrifices. This also you will 
permit me to add, that if the heathens talk 
sensibly on any part of religious worship, it 
is on the subject of sacrifices. Their sen- 
timents concerning expiatory oblations seem 
to be the faint and distant echo of revela- 
tion ; and I have usually considered them 
not as the institutions of mere reason, but 
as the remains of some broken tradition. 

However, the truest and most authentic 
signification of a sacrifice, is to be learned 
from the Jewish ritual, explained by the 
gospel comment. Do you remember the 
Mosaic account of that ordinance. 

Ther. You are much better acquainted, 
Aspasio, with those sacred antiquities, and 
ca,n give the most satisfactory information 
with regard to this particular. Only let me 
remind you, that alms are styled offerings ; 
and praises, both in the prophetical and 
evangelical writings, come under the de- 
nomination of sacrifices. 
, Asp. Though praises and alms are styled 
^crifices, they are not of the propitiatory, 
but eucharistic kind. They are never said 
to expiate transgressions, only are repre- 
sented as acceptable to God through Jesus 



Christ, that divinely precious victim, whose 
merits both cancel our guilt, and commend 

our services ! According to 

Ther. Stay a moment, Aspasio. Let me 
recollect myself. This may be the meaning 
of sacrifices, as oi'dained by Moses, and 
solemnized among the Jews. " Sacrifices 
were a symbolical address to God ; intended 
to express before him the devotion, affec- 
tions, dispositions, and desires of the heart, 
by significative and emblematical actions." 
Or thus ; " The priest made atonement for 
sin, by sacrificing a beast, only as that was 
a sign and testimony of the sacrificer's pm-e 
and upright heart." 

Asp. Sacrifices, I acknowledge, were a 
symbolical address to God. But would 
you confine their efficacy only to the death 
of the animal, and the purity of the offerer ? 
No, Theron : they always had a reference 
to the great sacrifice, ordained in the eter- 
nal counsels of Jehovah ; prepared when 
the co-etemal Son was made tlesh, offered 
when the blessed Jesus surrendered liim- 
self to be led as a lamb to the slaughter. 
They were so far from being independent 
of this divine oblation, that they acted in 
perpetual subserviency to it, and derived all 
their virtue from it. They were the sha- 
dow, but the body was Christ. 

" They expressed," you say, " the de- 
votion, affections, dispositions, and desires 
of the heart." But I rather think they ex- 
pressed the guilt and the faith of the offerer. 
His guilt : for this seems to be intimated 
by the very names of the propitiatory sac- 
rifices ; the sin and the sacrifice, the offend- 
ing action and the expiatory rite, being 
signified by one ajid the same word. " It is 
somewhat more than intimated, by the oc- 
casion of the offering, and the state of the 
offerer ; since it was only on account of 
guilt contracted, that piacular oblations 
were made, and only from a guilty person 
that they were required. His faith, or firm 
belief that ceremonial guilt, which slant him 
out from the communion of the visible 
church, and subjected him to the infliction 
of temporal punishments, was removed by 
these ; but that moral guilt, which defiles 
the soul, and excludes from heaven, should 
be piu-ged by some better sacrifice than 
these. ■{" In the exercise of this faith, Abel 
offered up a more acceptable sacrifice than 
Cain ; and without this faith exercised in 
some degree, it was impossible to please 
God. 



denotes a sin, and sin-offering. Lev. iv. 
3, 24. CD^i«^ signifies the trespass, and the trespass- 
offering. Lev. V. 15, 19. 

t They "sanctified to the purifying of the flesh," 
Heb. ix. 13. " but could not make him that did the 
servi 



. „ . , . service perfect, as pertaining to the, conscience, Heb. 

* Sanguine placasti ventos, et virgine caesa lix.a. rrij 



166 THERON AI 

If fiacri^V^el'Vere intended to bespeak 
integrity of beart, methinks the state of in- 
nocence had been the properest period for 
their institution and oblation. But we 
never hear of this awful ceremony till man 
is fallen, and sin committed. If intended 
to denote purity of heart, why shoidd they 
be particularly enjoined on that solemn day 
when confession was made of all the sins 
of the whole congregation? (Lev. xvi. 21.) 
An oddly concerted device this ! in which 
the tongue must contradict what the cere- 
mony would recognise. Or, how could it 
be proper, after the violation of some law, 
or the neglect of some ordinance, im- 
mediately to go and offer a sacrifice ? What 
w^ould be the language of such a practice ? 
*' I have done wickedly, but my heart is 
pure and upright." Is this consistent with 
the spirit of humility, of modesty, or of com- 
mon ingenuity ? Is this the way of giving 
gloiy to God, or of taking shame to our- 
selves ? Whereas, let the sacrifice be a ty- 
pical expiation, and this is the significancy 
of the action, " Lord, I confess myself 
guilty. Punishment and death are my 
due. Let them fall, I beseech thee, on my 
victim ; that thy justice being glorified, 
and thy law satisfied, thy mercy may be 
honourably displayed in my forgiveness. 

Besides, Theron, what likeness, what 
agreement is there between the profession 
of integrity and an animal mortally wound- 
ed, wallowing in its own blood, and strug- 
gling in the agonies of death ? Whereas, 
between these dying pangs and the punish- 
ment due to sin, or the sorrovrs sustained 

r'Jby the crucified Saviour, there is an ap- 

"' .parent, a striking, and in various respects an 

j' 'edifying resemblance. 

liy Titer. They declared, perhaps, the sacri- 
ficer's readiness and resolution to slay the 
brute in himself, and to lay down his life 
in adherence to God. 

i Asp. I do not remember any assertion of 
this kind in the Bible, or any hint to coun- 
tenance such an interpretation. It seems, 
in some cases, to -be incompatible with the 
very nature of things, and contrary to the 
express declarations of Scripture. Doves, 

,^ypu know, lambs and sheep, were offered 

Vila sacrifice. But shall we slay the lamb, 
the dove, the sheep in ourselves ? So far 
from it, that Christ's disciples are either 
described by these creatures, or command- 
ed to imitate their properties. " Be ye 
harmless as doves," (Matth. x. 16.) " Peter, 
feed my lambs," (John xxi. 15.) "My 
sheep hear my voice." (John x. 27.) 

Supposing, however, that this might be 
a subordinate design, or a valuable improve- 

. ment of the sacrificial acts, yet their primary 
intention, and ultimate end, were widely 
different ; were much more significant of 
the divine compassions, and much better 



ASPASIO. 

adapted to the comfort of mankind. They 
were an awful indication, that death was 
the wages of sin ; at the same time a cheer- 
ing declaration, that God was pleased to 
accept the death of the animal instead of 
the sinner's ; a figurative representation* 
also of that illustrious Person, who was to 
bear the sin of many, and pour out his soul 
for transgressors, 

Ther. Since sacrifices were of a religious 
nature, they should not only be instructive 
and beneficial in their tendency, but have 
their due effects with regard to God, to sin, 
and to the person who brought them. 

Asp. They had their effects with regard 
to God, that his justice might be magnified 
and his anger appeased — to sin, that its de- 
merit might be displayed, yet its guilt be 
done avA^ay — to the person who brought 
them, that he might obtain pardon, be ex- 
empted from punishment, and exercise his 
faith on the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Ther. There are so many sorts of sacii- 
fice appointed in the Jewish rubric, that I 
am at a loss for a distinct idea, unless some 
one be singled out and separately considered. 

Asp. Among all the sacrifices instituted 
by Moses, none more circumstantially typi- 
fied the blessed Jesus, or more appositely 
expressed the benefits of his oblation, than 
the paschal lamb, and the sin-offering, on 
the day of atonement. 

An expositor, who cannot be mistaken, 
has given us this interpretation of the pas- 
chal lamb : " Christ our passover is sacri- 
ficed for us ;"f declaring hereby, that Christ 
is a real sacrifice ; that he was prefigured, 
in this capacity, by the paschal lamb ; that 
the circumstances which distinguished it, 
met in him ; and the advantages which re- 
sulted from it, were procured by him : those, 
in their truest import — these, in their largest 
extent. The words of the apostle speak 



« What says Milton upon this subject of sacrifices, 
and with reference to their principal design ? He calls 
them 

Religious rites 

Of sacrifice ; informing men by types 
And shadows, of that destined seed to bruise 
The serpent, by what means he shall achieve 
Mankind's deliverance,— B. 12. 1, 231. 
f 1 Cor. V, 7, Would any one venture to say, 
Paul our passover is sacrificed for us ? Yet this, I 
think, may be, or rather is in effect said, by the ac- 
count which some persons give of Christ's satisfaction. 
The very thought of such a blasphemous absurdity 
is too painful and offensive for the serious Christian 
to dwell upon, I would therefore divert his atten- 
tion to a more pleasing object. Let him observe the 
exquisite skill, which here and everywhere conducts 
the zeal of our inspired writer.— The odesof Pindfir 
arecelebrated for their fine transitions, which, though 
bold and surprising, are perfectly natural. We have 
in this place a very masterly stroke of the same 
beautiful kind. The apostle, speaking of the tnces^ 
tuous criminal, passes, by a most artful digression, to 
this darling topic, a crucified Saviour. Who would 
have expected it on such an occasion ? Yet, when 
thus admitted, who does not see and admire both the 
propriety of the subject, and the delicacy of its in. 
duction I 



DIALOGUE III. 



167 



this sense to the plainest, simplest reader. 
Whereas, to extort any other signification 
from them, what subtilty of wit, and what 
refinement, or rather violence of criticism, 
must be used ! 

The paschal lamb was without blemish. 
Such was the lamb of God ; free from all 
taint of original sin, and from every spot of 
actual transgression. — A lamb of the first 
year, in all the sprightliness and floridity of 
youth. Christ also laid down his life, 
not when worn with age, or debilitated with 
sickness ; but in the very prime of his days ; 
amidst all the bloom of health, and all the 
vigour of manhood — The lamb was to be 
slain in such a manner as might occasion 
the most copious effusion of its blood. And 
was not this very exactly fulfilled in our 
suffering Saviour? His blood flowed out 
in vast abundance, by the amazing sweat in 
the garden ; by the rending lashes of the 
scourge ; by the lacerating points of the 
thorns ; by the dreadful nails which cleft 
ihis hands and his feet ; by the deadly spear 
which ripped open his side, and cut its way 
to his heart — -Though the blood was to be 
so liberally spilt, a bone of the lamb was 
not to be broken. And you cannot but re- 
collect, you cannot but admire, the wonder- 
ful interposition of Providence, to accom- 
plish this emblematical prediction. When 
the soldiers had received a command to break 
the legs of the three crucified persons ; 
when they had actually broke the legs of 
each malefactor, which hung on the right 
side of our Lord and on the left; their 
minds were over^ruled(by a divine influence, 
no doubt) to spare the blessed Jesus, and to 
leave all his bones unhurt, untouched. 

The lamb was to be killed before the 
whole assembly; in the presence, either of the 
whole congregation of Israel, or else of that 
particular society which concurred in mating 
the flesh. And did not the whole multitude 
•of the Jews conspire against our Redeemer 
to put him to death ? Did they not all cry ouc, 
as with one voice. Crucify him ! Crucify him ! 
Was he not executed at one of their grand 
festivals, and in the sight of the whole as- 
sembled nation ? — The blood was not to be 
poured heedlessly upon the ground, but re- 
ceived carefully into a bason, and sprinkled, 
with the utmost punctuality, upon the door- 
posts. In like manner, the blood of the 
heavenly Lamb is not to be trampled under 
foot by a contemptuous disregard. It is the 
treasure of the church, and the medicine of 
life ; to be received, therefore, by an hum- 
ble faith, and devoutly applied to our con- 
sciences, — The sprinkling of that blood se- 
cured every Israelitish family from th« des- 
troying angel's sword. So the merits of the 
slaughtered Saviour* screen every believing 



• Both St, Peter and St. Paul speak of tliebloodof 
sprinkling, 1 Pet. i. 2; Heb. xii, 24.; intimating. 



sinner from the stroke of offended justice, 
and from the pains of eternal death.— What 
must have become of the Israelite, who, 
trusting to the uprightness of his hearl, 
should neglect to make use of this divinely:- 
appointed safeguard? He must inevitably 
have been punished with the death of hist 
first-born. Equally certain, but infinitely 
more dreadful, will be his condemnation, 
who, before the omniscient Judge, shall pre- 
sume to plead his own integrity, or confide 
in his own repentance, and reject the atone- 
ment of the dying Jesus. 

Ther. Now, if you please, for the sin of- 
fering,* which seems to have been the mos|t 
eminent sacrifice of them all. ^ 

Asjp. It was the most comprehensivie, 
because it shadowed forth not only the 
death of Christ, but his resurrection from 
the dead, and his ascension into heaven. As 
the various actions of some illustrious per- 
sonage, which cannot be exhibited by the 
painter in a single draught, are displayed in 
several compartments, yet all constitute one 
and the same grand historical picture ; so, 
these glorious events, incapable of being re- 
presented by any single animal, were typi- 
fied by two kids of the goats, which never- 
theless were reputed but as one offering, f 

These goats were brought to the door of 
the tabernacle, and there presented before 
the Lord. Christ also presented himself 
before God, when " he went up to Jerusa^ 



by this remarkable form of speech, that the death of 
Christ will be of no advantage to the sinner, unless it 
be applied to his heart; as the blood of the paschal 
lamb was no protection to an Israelite, till it had 
tinged the posts of his door. Isaiah, using the same 
phrase, and alluding to the same custom, says of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, " he shall sprinkle many nations," 
Hi. 15. Not only initiate them into his church by 
baptism ; but also, by the application of his blood 
shall cleanse them from their guilt, and deliver them 
from the wrath to come. 

* For the circumstances relating to the sin-offer- 
ing the reader will consult Lev, xvi. For those which 
concern the paschal lamb, he will have recourse to 
Exod, xii, 

t How runs the divine cominand ? " He (the high 
priest) shall take of the congregation two kids of the 

foats for a sin-offering," Lev, xvi, 5. Are not these two 
ids sty led, in thesingular number andcoUective sense, 
an offering ? That we might not mistake, God is 
pleased to add, " and one ram for a burnt-offering." 
Here he names one, to prevent a misapprehension of 
his meaning, when he had before said two. To ren- 
der his meaning still more apparent, and that we may 
regard this goat as joined in the same offering with the 
other, the Lord, contrary to his own rule in all other 
cases, orders the high priest to lay his hands upon the 
head of the scape-goat, not upon the head of the goat 
devoted to death. He divides the necessary circum- 
stances of a sacrifice between them both, to intimate, 
in the clearest manner, that neither tlie one nor the 
other separate, but both taken together, were the one 
sacrificial oblation, appointed for this distinguished 
solemnity. 

If this be true, I think the passage is a pretty con- 
siderable proof, that atonement was made by suffering 
vicarious punishment; notwithstanding what his 
been urged against it, from the tenth verse of the 
chapter. Should we require human authority for the 
support of this interpretation, one of the gTcatest 
human authorities may be seen in the celebrated Wit- 
sius; " Uterquehircuspertinebat ad unum sacrifici- 
um pro peccato, hostise unius loco, Uterque erat 
pecuspiacularis, vicaria Israeli peccatori, ej usque pec- 
eatum ferens." Ds Oecon, lib. iv. cap, 6. 



THE RON AND ASPASIO. 



Jem, that all things written by the prophets 
concerning him might be accomplished," 
( Luke xviii. 31.) The goat on which the 
Lord's lot fell, was devoted to death. 
" Christ also being delivered by the deter- 
minate counsel and foreknowledge of God," 
(Acts ii. 23. ) "was crucified and slain." 
The body was burnt without the camp, 
which pointed at the very place, and pic- 
tured out the very nature of our Lord's 
sufferings : " For he suffered without the 
gate," (Heb. xiii. 12.) was there exposed 
to the rage of men and the wrath of God, 
under the most exquisite pains of body, and 
the most insupportable agonies of soul; all 
significantly typified by the flame of a de- 
voming fire, than which nothing is more 
fierce, more penetrating, or more severely 
tormenting. 

4'i As the animal which was slaughtered 
showed forth the Redeemer dying for our 
sins, that which escaped prefigured the 
same Saviour rising again for our justifica- 
tion. The high priest put his hands upon 
the head of the scape-goat, and with great 
solemnity confessed the sins of the whole 
congregation. The import of this cere- 
mony is expressly declared in the sacred 
canon : " The goat shall bear upon him 
their iniquity."* It is charmingly explained 
by the prophet, " The Lord laid on him 
the iniquities of us all," (Isa. liii. 6.) and 
most delightfully confirmed by the apostle, 
" He himself bore our sins in his own body 
on the tree," (1 Pet. ii. 24.) 

This done, the goat was dismissed into a 
land not inhabited, a place separated from 
all resort of men, where he was never like- 
ly to be found any more ; to teach us, that 
oiu" offences, having been expiated by the 
bleeding Jesus, are entirely done away, shall 
never rise up in judgment against us, but 
according to the prophecy of Jeremiah, 
" When the iniquity of Israel shall be sought 
for, there shall be none ; and the sins of 
Judah, they shall not be found," ( Jer. 1. 20. ) 
It is iEurther enjoined, " that Aaron shall 
confess all the iniquities of the children of 
Israel, and all their transgressions, in all 
their sins." Iniquities, transgressions, sins 
are particularized ; and to this cluster of 
expressions, the word all is added, to in- 
form us, that the least sins need the atone- 
ment of Christ's death ; to assure us, that 
the greatest sins are not beyond the compass 
of its efficacy ; and that all sins, be they 
ever so heinous, or ever so numerous, are 
forgiven to the true believer. 

The high-priest carried the blood of the 
victim into the second tabernacle, even with- 
in the veil. So Christ entered with his own 



. t It is observable, that whereas the scape-goat is said 
to bear (J^ti^^) the s ns of Israel, Lev. xvi. 22; the 
*ery same phrase is applied to Christ, Isa. liii. 12. 



blood, not into the holy pla(?es made A^^ith 
hands, but into heaven itself. The blood was 
sprinkled before the mercy-seat, and left in 
the holy of holies, that it might always remain 
before the Lord. And does not Christ aL 
ways appear in the presence of God for us ? 
does he not ever live to make intercession for 
us? to plead his all-sufficient propitiation 
in our behalf ; that the benefits procured 
thereby may be communicated, ratified, and 
perpetuated to his people ? ' 

JTier. These benefits, Aspasio, are as- 
cribed, in Scripture, to repentance and re- 
formation of life, qualifications of our 
own ; not to any such cause as a vicariouis 
sacrifice, where the merit must necessarily 
subsist in another. What says the apostle 
Peter when he had just received his in- 
structions from the Holy Ghost ? Re- 
pent and be converted;" not look un- 
to an atonement, or depend upon a pro- 
pitiation ; " that your sins may be blotted 
out." (Acts iii. 19.) ■ 

Asp. It is true, the benefits of the rieW 
covenant are promised to penitents, as their 
happy portion ; but never assigned to their 
repentance, as the procuring cause : never 
to their repentance, but to the blood of the 
great High Priest, called, therefore " the 
blood of the everlasting covenant," (Heb. 
xiii. 20.) being the condition stipulated in 
it, required by it, and in consequence of 
which all its unspeakable privileges are 
bestowed. 

Besides, the qualifications you suppose 
are the gift of the Lord. We are not able 
to exercise them till Christ, who is exalteid 
for this very purpose, gives repentance. 
(Acts V. 31.) A conversion to God, and 
a newness of life, are not the effect of hu- 
man abilities, but the work of the divine 
Spirit, and the fruit of the Redeemei's 
death. Indeed, this death is the purchase 
of every heavenly blessing. This opens 
the heaven of heavens, and all its inex- 
haustible stores. By this we have the en- 
joyment of grace, and by tliis the hope of 
glory. 

Ther. You begin to be in raptures, As- 
pasio ! 

Asp. Excuse me, Theron. It is not 
easy to repress the sallies of delight and 
devotion, when we muse upon such amaz- 
ing loving-kindness, and are touched witb a 
sense of such immensely rich benefits, A 
great High Priest! who is "higher than 
the heavens," (Heb. vii. 26,) yet humbled 
himself to death, even the death of the 
cross ! who is " consecrated for evermore,'" 
(Heb. vii. 28,) and pleads all his merit, im- 
proves all his influence, for our consum- 
mate felicity ! 

" What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like 
these? 

Such contemplations mount us. and should mount 



1^69 



The mind still higher ; uor ever gkiuce on man 
tJnraptured uninfiamed." Nigfit Thoughts, No. iv. 

But I check myself ; and will either 
reply to your objections, or listen to your 
sentiments ; listen as attentively as you 
yourself attend to the music of that shrill- 
tongued thrush. 

Ther. Its sweetly-modulated lays, emi- 
nent even in the symphony of spring, have 
indeed attracted my ears. But my mind is 
disengaged and free for your conversation. 

Asp. I can repeat a song, sweeter far 
than this, or all the melody of the wood- 
land choirs. — A song, which has harmony 
enough to make the brow of melancholy 
wear a smile, or to sooth away the sorrows 
of death itself: " Who shall lay any thing 
to the charge of God's elect ? It is God 
that justifieth ; who is he that condemn eth ? 
It is Christ that died ; yea rather, that is 
risen again ; who is even at the right hand 
of God ; who also maketh intercession for 
us." (Rom. viii. 33, 34.) According to 
my friend's principles, the strain of this 
triumphant exclamation was ill-judged, and 
$hould have run in the following manner : 
Who shall lay any thing to our charge ? 
,We have endeavoured to preserve a recti- 
tude of disposition, and to persist in a 
laudable course of action. Wherever we 
failed, we have been soriy for the fault, and 
have implored pardon from the divine ma- 
jesty. What then shall dismay us, or who 
shall condemn us ?" Your topics of con- 
solation would be complete, without having 
xecourse to the death of Christ as an atone- 
ment for sin ; or, to the resurrection of 
Christ, as an evidence that the atonement 
is accepted ; or to the intercession of 
Christ, as the cause of our interest in that 
transcendent blessing. 

Ther. Since you so frequently mention, 
jSnd so earnestly insist upon atonement, I 
>;ghould be glad to know the precise signili- 
-cation of the word. I am told, the original 
phrase has nothing to do with the idea of 
making satisfaction. 

Asp. We may learn the precise signifi- 
<»tion of atonement, by consideruig the 
means, the effect, and the manner, whereby 
the means accomplish the effect. The ef- 
fect of atonement is pardon. The means 
of obtaining it are the death of Christ. 
The way or manner whereby the death of 
Christ becomes efficacious for this blessed 
purpose, is the sovereign appointment of 
his Father, the infinite dignity of his per- 
son, and especially the vicarious nature of 
his sufferings, or their being undergone in 
the stead of sinners. 

TTier. It has been supposed, and is af- 
firmed too, that our Saviour's obedience and 
death were conducive to our redemption, 
only in virtue of his Father's mil and ap- 
pointment. 



Asp. I am glad it is some other, and wot 
my Theron, who espouses this opiniot^i 
which is highly injurious to the dignity Of 
our Redeemer's person, and to the merit of 
his obedience. Neither is it very honour- 
able to the Avisdom of the Father, unless 
we suppose him therefore to have appointed 
the death of Christ, because he knew it was 
fully sufficient for the glorious purpose. 

And why should we use that weak in- 
adequate expression, conducive to our re- 
demption ? Would any one say, of Solo- 
mon's elegant and sumptuous temple, that 
it was conducive to the accomplishment of 
what Moses foretold? (Exod. xv. 17.) 
David's provision of stones, of timber, and 
of gold, was, if you please, conducive to it. 
But Solomon's act was perfective of it, was 
the very execution of the thing itself. Such 
are the obedience and death of Christ, with 
respect to our redemption. 

TTier. But we- forget the original word, 
and neglect to inquire into its geiuiine im- 
port. ; 

Asp. The word, which we translate 
atonement, implies, in its primary accepta- 
tion, the notion of covering. Thus the ark 
was covered,* " was overlaid with pitch, 
within and without," that all its chinks 
might be secured against the insinuating 
attempts of the water, and all its timber 
defended from the injuries of the liquid ele- 
ment. When an object, in this or any 
other manner, is covered over for safety ; 
the covering receives every shock, and sus- 
tains all damages, which would otheru-ise 
fall upon the thing covered. The image, 
therefore, is very pertinently used to ex- 
press the tnie evangelical nature of atone- 
ment; and the word is used, with equal 
propriety, to describe the mercy-seat,f which 
was a costly covering for the ark, made of 
pure gold, and exactly commensurate to that 
sacred repository. In this were lodged the 
tables of the law ; whose precepts we have 
violated, and to whose curse we were sub- 
ject. Consequently the mercy-seat, both 
by its situation, its extent, and its office, 
prefigured the Redeemer; who interposes 
between the law and the offender ; fulfils 
the commands, and sustains the curse of 
the former ; merits pardon, and procures 
salvation for the latter. 

As some fine flower, having entertained 
our eye with one beautiful colour, suddenly 
breaks, or gradually softens into another, 
and gives us a renewed pleasure ; such, 
methinks, is the nature of this delightful 



* /1"1S)3 Thou shalt " besmear, cover, or overlay. 
Gen. vi. 14. This is the first place in which our word 
occurs. It is supposed to give us the genuine and 
native sense of the phrase. Perhaps the English ex- 
pression " cover," may be derived from the participle 
'^Q]^ copher." 
t nn3D Exod. xxv.^^^, .,6.^<j ;ni.K^^' 



170 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



word. It is expressive of the hoar-frost,* 
which, in a serene but sharp wintry morn- 
ing, covers the houses, covers the trees, 
covers the whole face of nature. So the 
blood of Jesus, according to the Psalmist's 
representation, covers all our guilt, and 
hides every offence. (Psalm xxxii. 1.) 
Insomuch that, when this blood is applied 
by the divine Spirit, the Lord " sees no in- 
iquity in Jacob." (Num. xxiii. 21.) He 
acts, as if he saw none ; neither punishes 
the guilty, nor abhors the polluted sinner. 

The same expression is used with refer- 
ence to a covenant, and signifies the aboli- 
tion of the contract ;f which was done by 
cancelling the deed, or expunging the ar- 
ticles of stipialation. By the covenant of 
works, all mankind became obnoxious to 
condemnation, were bound over to death. 
By the grace of Christ our obligation to 
pimishment is disannulled, and the hand- 
writing of condemnation is blotted out. 
Should you ask, how this is effected ? By 
paying a ransom, and offering a sacrifice. 
Should you farther inquire, of what this 
ransom and this sacrifice consisted? Of 
nothing less than the precious blood,| the 
inestimable life,§ the divinely-magnificent 
person of Christ. || 

Ther. These then are the capital ideas 
included in the original word — a covering 
by way of defence, and a covering by way 
of concealment. 

Asp. They are, Theron. — As the brain, 
in the animal body^ is the source of sensa- 
tion, sends out various detachments of 
nerves to animate and actuate all the parts 
of the vital system ; so these two capital 
ideas branch themselves into a variety of 
subordinate, yet similar significations, which 
run through the whole economy of the gos- 
pel, to enliven and quicken the spirit of a 
believer. Let me instance in a few parti- 
culars. This richly-significant word de- 
notes — the exercise of divine mercy, (Deut. 
xxxii. 43,) the pardon of sin, (Deut. xxi. 
8 ; 2 Chron. xxx. 18,) a cleansing from 
guilt, (Numb. xxxv. 33,) purging from 
transgression, (Psalm Ixv. 3,) reconciliation 



* J Psal. cxlvii. 16. The idea deduced from 
noar-frost, is not so exact and striking, in ournorth- 
ern clime, as in the more southern regions. There, 
the exhalatii rrs and dews being more copious, the 
hoar-frost must fall thicker, lie deeper, and more ful- 
ly correspond with the notion of covering. 

t Isa. xxviii. 18. *lP)^abolebitur. "Propriesonat, 
oblinetur, obliterabiter, est enim. "^^^ Hebrais pro- 
prie quid obducere, atque inde (cum obducta et oblita 
dispareant) delere, abolere." Thus, I apprehend, the 
words should be pointed. 

± " Notrby the blood of goats and calves, but by 
bisown blood," Heb.ix. 12. 

§ " The son of man came to give his life a ransom 
for many," Mark x. 45. 

II " Who through the eternal Spirit offered himself 
without spot to God," Heb. ix, 14. 



for iniquity, (Dan. ix. 24,) the pacifying of 
wrath, (Ezek. xvi. 63.) Do not these pas- 
sages (which are expressed by some branch 
of the verb that conveys to us the idea of 
atoning) plainly intimate, that the atone- 
ment of Christ is the meritorious cause of 
all these desirable effects ? is the foundation 
of every act of divine goodness ; and the 
origin of every blessing vouchsafed to sin- 
ners ? 

Ther. After all, this is the consideration 
which principally offends and perplexes me : 
God is a spirit, an absolutely perfect and 
infinitely pure being ; remote, inconceivably 
remote, from whatever is gross or corporeal. 
How then can he take pleasure in the effu- 
sion of blood, or the burning of flesh ? How 
can any such low carnal inducements make 
him merciful to sinners, or appease what 
you call his wrath. 

Asp. Rather, what the Scriptures call 
his wrath. You mistake our doctrine, my 
dear Theron. We never maintain that any 
sacrifice whatever, not even the propitiation 
of Christ's death, was intended to make 
God merciful ; only to make way for his 
eternal purposes of mercy, without any pre- 
judice either to the demands of his law or 
the rights of his justice. Our sentiments 
on this head are exactly consonant to his 
own declaration, and his own procedm-e, 
in the case of Job's friends ; (see Job xlii. 
7, 8. ) Though displeased with their con- 
duct, he was merciful to their persons ; 
nevertheless, he would not exercise that 
mercy till they had first offered a sacrifice, 
and acted faith in a dying Saviour. 

Neither is it ever supposed, that the infi- 
nitely wise and pure God can take pleasure 
in the effusion of blood, or the burning of 
flesh, simply considered ; only as they had 
a reference to that noble and inestimable 
sacrifice, which brings the highest honour to 
his name, which those slaughtered animals 
exhibit in a figure, and to which every true 
Israelite had a believing regard. 

I say, had a believing regard. For it is af- 
firmed by the author of the Hebrews, that the 
gospel was preached to the Israelites in the 
wilderness, ( Heb. iv. 2. ) What does he 
mean by the gospel ? The very essence of 
this benevolent scheme, according to the 
apostle's own definition, is, that " Christ 
died for our sins," (I Cor. xv. 3.) How 
was this gospel preached to our fathers in 
the wilderness? By significant emblems; 
especially by slaughtered animals, and bleed- 
ing victims, by which Christ was almost 
continually, though not so evidently as in 
these latter times, " set forth crucified for 
sinners." (Gal, iii. 1.) 

In this sense alone, those canial usages 
were worthy the wisdom of God to appoint, 
and the majesty of God to accept. This 



DIALOGUE III. 



gave tlaerA a peculiar dignity and importance, 
and set them far above all the similar obser- 
vances used in the heathen worship. They 
were also, when thus explained, thus improv- 
ed, extremely profitable to believers ; as they 
directed their contemplation to the futm-e 
sufferings of a Saviom-, and ratified to their 
faith the benefits of his ever-operating sac- 
rifice ; which, we were assured by an infalli- 
ble voice, was effectual for the redemption 
of the transgressions under the first cove- 
nant."* 

Tker. So you apprehend, that in those 
usages practised by the ancient Jews, the 
gospel was emblematically preached, and 
Christ in a figure exhibited ? 

Asp. Most certainly, Theron. And for 
this cause, under the law, almost all things 
were purged with blood, (Heb. ix. 22.) 
The multiplicity, the variety, the constancy 
of their sacrifices, were all designed to im- 
press upon their minds, and familiarize to 
their thoughts, this great evangelical truth. 
Was any one overtaken by a fault ? He 
must present a victim, and the priest must 
slay it, by way of trespass-offering ; to sig- 
nify, that the guilt which was contracted coul d 
be done away only by the atoning death of 
Christ. Had any one received a signal 
blessing? A beast was slain byway of peace- 
offering; as a public expression of gratitude 
for the mercy, and also as an emphatical 
declaration, that all good vouchsafed to fal- 
len man is owing to the Redeemer's ransom. 
Was any one to be invested with the priest- 
ly office, or admitted to minister in the sanc- 
tuary ? A ram or a bullock must bleed, byway 
of atonement, and for the purpose of conse- 
crating, (Lev. viii. 22. Numb. viii. 12.) in 
order to testify, that no man can officiate 
veith acceptance in the worship of God ; 
that no service, though of a religious kind, 



• Heb. ix. 15. When I reflect on these words, I 
wonder how any one can assert, that all the Jews 
died under the curse of the law. Died under the 
curse of the law ! even though the apostle has war- 
ranted it for a ti-uth, that " all these" (meaning Abra- 
ham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob,&c.) "died in faith," Heb. 
xi. 13. Even though he has elswhere laid it down as 
a maxim, "so then they which are of faith," (in 
whatever period of time tney live, or under whatever 
dispensation of religion they worship,) " are blessed 
with faithful Abraham." Gal. iii. .9. Even though 
the Psalmist in one place affirms "blessed are they 
whose unrighteousnesses are forgiven, and whose sin 
is covered ;" and, in another place, declares concern- 
ing himself and his pious cotemporaries, "look how 
wide the east is from the west ! So far hath he set 
our sins from us." Psalm xxxii. 1. Psalm ciii. 12. 

From these and many other texts, I think it is 
evident, that the faithful Jews no more died under 
the curse of the law, than the faithful Christians. 
The death of Christ procured the pardon and accept- 
ance of believers, even before he came in the flesh. 
From the beginning, he had covenanted with the 
Father, as their Mediator ; and God, to whom all 
things are present, saw the certain accomplishment 
of his undertaking. He was therefore, by virtue of 
the divine decree, and in point of saving efficacy, " a 
Lamb slain from the foundation of the world." 
Though he laid down his life in the reigi^ of Tiber- 
ius, he was a real Redeemer in all ages. 



Itl 

can be pleasing in his sight, till the former 
is interested in the merits, unless the latter 
is recommended by the death of the great 
High Priest. 

And not only by their solemn sacrificial 
acts, but even by their ordinary meals, this 
grand lesson was inculcated. They were 
forbidden to eat the blood, in order to 
awaken and preserve in their consciences 
a reverential and fiducial regard to the pre- 
cious blood of Christ. The Holy Ghost 
assigning a reason for this sacred prohibition, 
says expressly, " Because the blood maketh 
an atonement for your souls," (Lev. xvii. 
11.) the blood of beasts typically, the blood 
of Christ effectually. O that Christians 
would, in this particular, learn of Jews ; 
learn, at least, from Jewish ordinances, to 
have their attention incessantly fixed on that 
divine High Priest, who, by one offering, 
hath perfected for ever, — not barely condu- 
ced or contributed to the work, but hath 
fully accomplished it, and obtained complete 
remission for — them that are sanctified, 
(Heb. X. 14.) 

Ther. Some offerings were made Avithout 
any effusion of blood. What could those 
mean ? Or how could they typify the sac- 
rifice of Christ? 

Asp. Perhaps the apostle might foresee 
such an objection when he used that guarded 
expression, almost all things were purged 
with blood. If, in these cases, there was 
no effusion of blood, yet there was a des- 
truction of the substance. The meat-offer- 
ings were consumed by fire ; which is much 
the same to inanimate things, as shedding of 
the blood is to living creatures. The same ef- 
fect is ascribed to these oblations, as to those 
of the sanguinary kind. It is expressly de- 
clared of the poor man's trespass-offering, 
which consisted of fine flour, and was burnt 
upon the altar, " It shall make an atone- 
ment for him," (Lev. v. 11, 12, 13.) So 
that here also was what we may truly call a 
visible prediction of Christ. The offerings 
which flamed, as well as the victims which 
bled, showed forth our dying Lord : whose 
one "oblation of himself once offered," com- 
prized all the qualities, and realized the 
whole efficacy represented by every other 
sacrifice. 

Ther. Another odd circumstance has 
often given me disgust, and been apt to pre- 
judice me against the institutions of the Old 
Testament. Many of them appear mean, 
contemptible, and perfectly puerile. " Can 
these," I have said within myself, " be or- 
dained by a God of infinite wisdom, and 
transcendent glory ? Can we reasonably im- 
agine, that a mandate should be issued from 
the court of heaven, on purpose to forbid 
the boiling, and enjoin the roasting of some 
particular piece of meat? (Exod. xii. 9.) 



THEHON ASPASIO. 



Will t1ie Great BLiiler of the skies concern 
himself about the precise manner of killing 
one bird, and releasing another? (Lev. xiv. 
4, 5, 6, 7. ) Will he who claims the wor- 
ship of the heart, have such an especial re- 
gard to a drop or two of despicable blood, 
put upon the tip of the right ear, or the 
thumb of the right hand? (Exod. xxix. 20.) 
Surely, such childish ceremonies are too 
minute and trivial for the notice, much more 
for the solemn appointment, of the supreme 
Majesty !" 

Asp. You will please to remember, that 
when those ceremonies were ordained, it 
was the infancy,* at least the minority of the 
church. If we advert to this circumstance, 
we shall have reason to admire both the all- 
comprehending wisdom, and the no less con- 
descending goodness, of Jehovah. His all- 
comprehending wisdom, in conforming so 
accurately and so minutely the type to the 
event, though the former was established 
long, long before the latter existed. Many 
ages before the Desire of Nations appeared, 
his picture was drawn, was presented to 
public view, and is now found to correspond 
in every feature with the illustrious original. 
What hand could be equal to such a task, 
but only the hand of an omniscient limner ? 
His condescending goodness, in adapting the 
tenor of his revelation to the state of his 
people ; " speaking unto them even as unto 
babes." (1 Cor. iii. 1.) not by naked pre- 
cepts, or abstracted truths, but by earthly 
similitudes,t and (if I may so express my- 
self) by embodied instructions, such as were 
level to their low capacities, and calculated 
to affect their dull apprehensions. 

The institutions to which you hint were 
undoubtedly mean and trifling, if considered 
in themselves. Accordingly, their wise and 
majestic author cautions his "people against 
such erroneous and unworthy notions. " I 
spake not unto your fathers, nor commanded 
them, in the day that I brought them out of 
the land of Egypt, concerning burnt-offer- 
ings or sacrifices," ( Jer. vii. 22.) *' It was 
not my design that they should acquiesce in 



• St. Paul calls the church of those times " nepios." 
an infant, or babe. Gal. iv. 1 , 3. And the ceremonial 
institutions have been styled, with as much truth as 
ingenuity, evangelium elementare et prasliminare. 

T This seems to be our Lord's meaning, when he 
says to Nicodemus, "if I have told you earthly 
things." He had been treating of that internal spiri- 
tual renovation, which is the root and spring of all 
holiness. He had been speaking of that Divine 
Spirit, whose gracious and almighty agency produces 
this desirable change. The nature of the former 
was represented, under the similitude of a birth, by 
which we enter upon a new state, form new ideas, 
and habituate ourselves to new practices, pleasures, 
pursuits. The operations of the latter were des- 
cribed, by the common and well known properties of 
the wind. This he mentions, as a plain and fami- 
liar metliod of teaching : this he opposes to telling 
him of heavenly things; or delivering refined and 
exalted truths, not accommodated to the capacity, 
not brought within the compass of an infantile un- 
derstanding, by an assimilation to sensible objects. 
John iii, 12. 



the shadow, and neglect the substance. I 
never intended that they should rest in the 
porch, but pass through these ordinances to 
much sublimer things. Christ and spiritual 
blessings were principally in my view ; to 
which all the Mosaical usages were relative, 
subservient, and one continual manuduction." 
Considered in this light, as bearing a refer- 
ence to the ever-blessed Mediator, as em- 
blems of his person and pledges of his grace, 
they acquire a real magnificence, and convey 
the most salutaiy lessons. 

The blood put upon the tip of the ear, 
and thumb of the hand, denotes oirr personal 
application of the death of Christ ; without 
which all its virtue, though boundless and 
inconceivable, will profit us nothing. 
Those particular parts of the body may sig- 
nify the perceptive and executive faculties ; 
in both which we offend, and for both which 
we need the great propitiation. Of the two 
birds you mention, one was to be killed, the 
other was to fly away, after it had been dip- 
ped in the blood of its fellow. Thus the 
Lord Jesus was crucified for our sins ; and 
we being washed in his blood, being inter- 
ested in the atonement of our holy victim 
and elder brother, are acquitted from guilt, 
and escape condemnation. Concerning the 
paschal lamb, it was particularly enjoined, 
That the flesh should not be eaten raw, nor 
sodden with water, but roasted with fire, and 
of every offering from the herd or from the 
flock, the fat and the inwards were, by an 
express command of God, delivered up to 
the devouring flame. All this was an em- 
blem of that tremendous indignation, which 
" is poured out like fire," (Nah. i. 6.) which 
seized our immaculate Sacrifice, that it 
might spare polluted sinners ; and which 
must have consumed utterly any mediator, 
who was less than infinite, or other than di- 
vine. 

Had you beheld our renowned Newton 
blowing up with great assiduity and attention, 
his little watery visicles into the air, you 
would perhaps, have despised the venerable 
philosopher, and have thought him little bet- 
ter than a hoary idiot. But when you was 
told, that in every one of these volatile soapy 
bubbles he discovered the beauteous colours 
of the rainbow, and from this seemingly child- 
ish experiment he explained the natiu-e of 
that wonderful arch ; you would then en- 
tertain a different notion, both of the man 
and of his employ. So when you discern 
the blessed Jesus looking forth at these win- 
dows, and showing himself through these 
lattices of the Jewish economy, you will. 



» Cant. ii. 9. The word, in the first edition, is 
" flourishing through." It was taken from the He- 
brew, without consulting the English Mble, and is a 
literal translation of yi^^^* Which signifies more 
than barely showing himself with lustre and beauty ; 
like a delicate flower, in its blooming state and glossy 



DIALOGUE III. 



178 



I hope, concen e a higher opinion of them, 
and derive richer advantage from them. 
^ Ther. There are several persons, as well 
"as ritual observances, of a very singular 
^'tharacter, mentioned in the Mosaic law. 
"'The leper, for instance, the Nazarite, with 
others of the same antiquated and grotesque 
stamp ; which seem, to me at least, so many 
unmeaning narratives, that convey no man- 
ner of edification to readers in the present 
age. I have frequently had an inclination, 
: and now I have a proper opportunity, to ask 
your opinion upon these points. 
. « Asp. I thank you, Theron, for giving me 
'^the hint. What you propose is by no means 
"foreign to the topic of our discoiu"se. Those 
persons were truly remarkable ; neither are 
the peculiarities of their case recorded in 
vain. They picture out, in dismal atid de- 
lightful colours, the sinner and the Saviour. 
To know ourselves, and to know Christ, is 
true wisdom; is indeed the consummation of 
all knowledge. Here we have a lecture of 
hieroglyphical instruction, on both those im- 
poitant subjects. 

The leper was an emblem of a sinner ; 
(see Levit. chap. xiii. xiv.) His disease 
extremely afflictive to himself, and intoler- 
ably loathsome to others. Sin likewise is 
the sorest of all miseries to the wretch who 
commits»it ; and most detestably odious to 
the God who forbids it. The leper was 
secluded from the benefits of society, and all 
communication with his fellow citizens. 
The sinner also, while impenitent and un- 
pardoned, is an alien from the common- 
wealth of Israel, (Eph. ii. 12.) without any 
enjoyment of the comforts, or any interest 
in the privileges of the gospel. If he dies 
in this condition, he must be for ever shut 
out from the kingdom of heaven ; for ever 
cut off from the presence of the Lord. 

The contagion was sometimes so pesti- 
lent, that it not only tainted the clothes of 
the diseased, but spread itself over the 
walls of his house, and infected the timber 
of the beams. It was sometimes so hive- 
terate, that it could be eradicated no other 
way but by burning the garment, and demo- 
lishing the building. Does not this give us 
a clear, but melancholy view, of original 
corruption ? which has transfused its poison 
through all the faculties of the soul, and all 
the members of the body ; nor will ever be 
entirely expelled, till death releases the for- 
111 er, and consigns the latter to the dust. 

What could cure this terrible distemper, 
even in its mildest state ? Not all the balm 
of Gilead ; not all the drugs on a thousand 
hills ; nothing but the consecrated oil, and 



colours; yet flourishing through lattices; manifest- 
ing himself not completely, but in part; concealing 
some, wlvile he reveals much, of his mediatorial 
glory. 



sacrificial blood duly applied by the High- 
priest. And what can heal the disorders 
of our fallen souls ? so far heal them as to 
purge away their guilt, and subdue the pre- 
valence of their iniquities ? No acts of mor- 
tification, no vigilance, nor any efforts of 
our own ; nothing but the atoning death, and 
sanctifying spirit of the blessed Jesus. The 
malignity and virulence of this plague of the 
heart, are absolutely incorrigible by any 
other expedient. But, blessed be divine 
grace, this remedy, provided by our great 
High-priest, and administered by our great 
Physician, is sovereign, and never fails. 

The case of the Nazarites, (see Numb, 
chap, vi.) was the very reverse of the state 
of the lepers. " Her Nazarites," Jeremiah 
says, " were purer than snow, they were 
whiter than milk, they were more ruddy in 
body than rubies, their polishing was of sap- 
phires ; (Lam. iv. 7.) A faint represen- 
tation of the only begotten Son, who is the 
fairest among ten thousand j the brightness 
of his Father's glory, and the express image 
of his person ? both God and man in one sa- 
cred, wonderful, adorable Saviour. They, 
during the time of their separation, abstained 
from wine, withdrew from secular business, 
avoided every kind of pollution ; and de- 
dicated themselves in an especial manner, to 
the service of God. A type of that glorious 
Nazarite, who was separated for a season 
from the fruitions of heaven ; who was 
holy, harmless, and undefiled, both in his 
nature and all his conversation, who sancti- 
fied himself, and devoted his life and labours, 
his soul and body, to the gloiy of his Fa- 
ther, and the redemption of his people. The 
Nazaiites, even when they had djschai'ged 
their vow, and were ceremonially clean, yet 
were obliged to offer a sin-offering, a burnt- 
offering, and a peace-offering. So the great 
Redeemer, thotigh he had perfectly obeyed 
all the preceptive parts of the divine laiy^ 
yet was required to offer up a sacrifice-f^ 
even the incomparably precious sacrifice of 
himself — in order to consummate the wprK 
of our salvation. 

Ther. Have you a sufficient warrant for 
this strain of interpretation ? Is it sound, is 
it rational, or conformable to any authentic 
standard of scriptural exposition ? Me- 
thinks it looks more like the child of fancy, 
than the offspring of judgment ; more like 
the sally of a sportive imagination, than the 
result of a sober disquisition. ^ 

You cannot be ignorant, Aspasio, hcr^^ 
the ruling passion tinctures the whole co^«y 
duct. Hence it is, I apprehend, thatyotiF 
religious inamoratos find heavenly beauties, 
where Scripture intended no more than na- 
tural truths. Hence it is that they tuig) 
plain facts into profound figures, and alle*^ 
gorize comnaon sense into pious absurdity^ 



174 



THERON AND ASAPSIO. 



Have you never seen the mystic interpreta- 
tions of some ancient, and, I may add, some 
modern divines? The honesty of their design 
IS transparent, and the piety of their lives is 
unquestionable ; otherwise we should l?e 
tempted to suspect, that they meant to bur- 
lesque the Scriptures, and disgrace their 
Author. 

Who can ever persuade himself, that the 
supremely wise God would send us to search 
for a body of divinity in a bundle of rods ? 
or set us to spin all the mysteries of Chris- 
tianity from a few fleeces of wool, ring- 
streaked, speckled, and spotted? (Gen. 
xxxi.) Thus to expound the Scriptures, is 
not to open them clearly, and apply them 
judiciously, but rather to whip them into 
froth.* 

Asp. We have the authority of our 
Lord himself, who has informed us, that 
the brazen serpent lifted up in the wilder- 
ness (John iii. 14.) was figurative of his 
own suspension and death on the cross : 
that the temple built on mount Sion was 
typical of his immaculate body, in which 
dwelt all the fulness of the Godhead, 
(John ii. 19. 21; Col. ii. 9:) that the 
prophet Jonah, lodged in the belly of the 
whale, and discharged from that strange con- 
finement on the third day, (Matth. xii. 39, 
40.) was an emblem of his own descending 
into the grave, and rising again before his 
flesh saw corruption. 

We have also the testimony and the prac- 
tice of the chiefest of the apostles, for our 
warrant. He assures us, that the rock 
smitten by Moses had a reference to Christ, 
(1 Cor. X. 4 ;) who was wounded for our 
sins, and is the foundation of our hopes : 
that the waters issuing at the stroke, were 
significative of those spiritual blessings which 
flow from a crucified Saviour : that as the 
former followed the sons of Jacob through 
all the circumvolutions of their tedious 
journey, the latter accompany the disciples of 
Jesus in every stage of their earthly pilgri- 
mage. Let the great teacher of the Gen- 
tiles be our expositor, and we shall see the 
veil of the temple dignified with a significan- 
cy, richer far than its costly materials and 
curious workmanship. Its silk and em- 
broidery exhibit to the eye of faith the pure 
and spotless flesh of Christ, (Heb. x. 20.) 
As, by rending the material veil, the holy 
of holies, became visible and accessible ; so, 
by piercing the body, and spilling the blood 
of Christ, the God of heaven was manifest- 
ed, and the way to heaven opened. 

Every reader must admire those flivided 
waves, wliich instead of overwhelming the 
■Israelites with a resistless deluge, stood 
like a wiill of defence on their right hand 



« Luther used to call such far-fetched and unnatu^ 
ra' allegories 'spumara scrip turae." 



and on their left, as they marched through 
the depths of the sea. Every reader must 
admire that suspended cloud, which spread 
itself like a spacious canopy over the hosts , 
of Israel, and screened them from the ^n- t 
noying sunbeams as they passed through the 
sultry desert. Our admiration must be 
heightened when we find that wliich was a 
cloud by day becoming a pillar of fire, by 
night, and illuminating their camp with the 
most amazing as well as the most cheering 
splendour- But St. Paul discerned a gi-eater 
glory, and a deeper design, in those un- 
paralleled events. The people, he says, 
" were baptized unto Moses, in the cloud 
and in the sea," ( 1 Cor. x. 2. ) These sym- 
bolically represented the baptism of water 
and of fire ; or the application of Christ's 
blood to our souls, and the efficacy of his 
spirit on our hearts: — in the former of 
which consists our justification ; fi om the 
latter of which proceeds our sanctification. 

I fear you will think my discourse some- 
what like the journey just now mentioned ; 
but I must not wholly omit the epistle to 
the Hebrews, which is the most unexcep- 
tionable vindication, as well as the faultless 
model, of allegorical exposition. It is de- 
lightful to observe what propriety of address 
the inspired writer uses. He speaks to 
the Jews in their own way ; allude* to their 
own usages, ordinances, and ceremonies ; 
proves them to be types of, and guides to, a 
more clear, a more benign, and in all re- 
spects a more excellent economy.* More 
particularly he displays the transcendent 
superiority of Christ and his gifts, even to 
those persons and privileges which they held 
in the highest esteem. These, like the 
morning star, were introductory to, yet to- 
tally eclipsed by, the rising sun. 

They had exalted apprehensions of the 
angelic excellencies. The apostle therefore 
celebrates the Redeemer as the Lord whom 
angels obey, as the God whom angels adore. 
They always reckoned Moses to be the 
first favourite of heaven, and chief among 
the children of men. He lets them know, 
that Moses, with all his extraordinary en- 
dowments, was but a servant in the house 
of Jesus. It was his greatest honoxu*, to 



* He styles the legal oblations, and the whole ser- 
vice of the Jewish sanctuary, " the example and sha- 
dow of heavenly things;" or of Christ Jesus; and 
evangelical worship, and spiritual blessings, Heb. viii. 
5. — The original signifies " the pattern ; " somewhat 
like the strokes pencilled out upon a peace of fine 
linen : which presents you with the figure of sprigs of 
leaves, and of flowers ; but have not yet received their 
splendid colours, their curious shades, and beautiful 
enrichments, from the labours of the needle. — The 
original signifies likewise "a shadowy representa- 
tion ; which gives you some dim and imperfect idea 
of the body; but not the fine features, not the dis- 
tinguishing air, none of those living graces which 
adorn the real person. Yet both the pattern and the 
shadow lead our minds to sometlmig nobler than 
themselves. The pattern,, to that which compjttes 
it; the shadow to that which occasions it. 



DIALOGUE III. 



175 



mirthstei* iinto this Prince of Peace. As 
the priesthood and sacrifices were some of 
their distinguishing privileges, he shows the 
pre-eminence of Christ's office to all the 
Aaronic orders. He demonstrates the ex- 
tensive and everlasting efficacy of Ms one 
atonement, in preference to every form, and 
the whole series of Levitical oblations. 

Ther. Thus interpretated, I must ac- 
knowledge, the book of Levitical ceremonies 
is significant and edifying; whereas, ab- 
stracted from this evangelical improvement, 
nothing can be more empty and jejune. I 
once thought, that to peruse those obsolete 
canons, was like sitting down to an enter- 
tainment of dry bones. But, if such be 
their import, they may yield marrow and 
fatness to the attentive mind. 

Due care, however, should be taken, not 
to suppose a type where there is no apparent 
foundation of analogy in the thing itself, or 
no hint of this nature given us by the un- 
erring Spirit ; lest, instead of being guided 
by truth, we are bewildered by fancy. And, 
when either or both these handles present 
themselves, I think we should beware of 
straining the subject beyond the bounds of 
a just and reasonable comparison ; lest, in- 
stead of following the clue, we stretch it tiU 
it breaks. If the first caution is not obser- 
ved, the sense of Scripture will lie so deep, 
or be removed to such a distance, that none 
but persons of the most acute discernment 
can find it, or none but persons of the most 
excursive imagination can reach it. If the 
second is not regarded, the meaning of those 
divine volumes will become so vague and 
volatile, that there vdll hardly remain any 
possibility of ascertaining or fixing it. 

Asp. As to the expedience and necessi- 
ty of these cautionary limitations, I have 
the pleasure of agreeing entirely with my 
friend. Let our fancy submit to the reins of 
judgment, otherwise her excursions will be 
wild and lawless. Let our zeal borrow the 
eyes of discretion, othemise her efllbrts will 
be blind and extravagant. And let all, thus 
tempered, thus regulated, be under the influ- 
ence of enlightening grace. Then to spiritual- 
ize the ancient Scriptvu-es, will be to convert 
the stones of the sanctuary into the jewels of 
a crown ; and to fetch, not water only, but 
milk and honey, from the flinty rock. 

Then, how pleasing must it be, as well 
as instructive, to discover the blessed Jesus, 
in all the institutions of the Mosaic law ! 
To see his incarnation prefigured by the 
feast of tabernacles, when the Israelites 
were to relinquish their houses, and lodge 
in booths. (Lev. xxiii. 34. 40. 42.) Even 
as the son of God left the bosom of his 
Father, and the seats of bliss, to inhabit 
a cottage of clay, and sojourn in a vale of 
tears. To see our spotless and divine vic- 
tim, typiciilly slain at tlie joyful solemnity 



of the passover, and the anniversary fast of 
expiation. To see his death, that inesti-» 
mable ransom for our souls, presented to 
our faith, in every morning and evening sa- 
crifice, (Exod. xxix. 38, 39.) his interces- 
sion, that prevailing recommendation of our 
prayers, most sweetly expressed by the rich 
incense which attended the sacred rite. To 
see the various methods of purification ; 
some pointing at the fountain for sin and 
for uncleanness, opened in our Iledeemer's 
bleeding heart, (Exod xxix, 4 ; Psal, li. 7.) 
others referring to those sanctifying opera- 
tions of the Spirit, which act as a refiner's 
fire, or as a fuller's soap, (Numb, xxxi. 23 ; 
Isa. iv. 4.) To see, in the city of refuge, 
that perfect seciu"ity which Christ's meri- 
torious sufferings 'in our stead, afford to 
every penitent and believing sinner, (Numb. 
XXXV. 11, 12.) 

Was it so very affecting and so very encour- 
aging to jSEneas, when hebeheld the story of 
the Trojan heroes pictured upon the walls of 
the Carthaginian temple?* How much 
greater encouragement and joy must arise 
in the Christian's breast, when he perceives 
the amiable lineaments of his everlasting 
friend pourtrayed in all the peculiarities of 
the Jewish worship, and in the most distin- 
guishing events of the Jewish liistory ! This 
must highly ennoble the Bible, and inexpres- 
sibly endear it to our affections. This 
spreads lustre. Life, and glory, through every 
page of that blessed book. And though I 
would forbear indulging what might be call- 
ed a pious wantonness of imagination ; yet 
I should much rather choose, in expounding 
the Scriptures, to ramble with Augustine, 
than err with Grotius, see, or think I see, my 
Saviour, even where it may not perhaps be 
easy to make out the traces of his dignity to 
the satisfaction of a rigorous inquirer ; ra- 
ther than shut my eyes upon the display 
of his perfections when they beam forth with 
the most inviting beauty. 

Ther. How soon is this walk finished ! 
How imperceptibly has the time stole away .' 
These garden-gates I always used to approach 
with a particular complacency. They seem- 
ed to afford me a welcome retreat from the 
impertinence and vanity of the world. Now, 
methinks, I enter them with reluctance, 
because they are likely to put a period to 
this agreeable conversation. However, as 
my Aspasio enters with me, I am recon- 
ciled, I am satisfied. It wiU be in his 
power to restore the pleasure which must 
now be interrupted. And this is what I shall 
ere long request ; because I have not spoke 
my whole mind upon the present subject. 

Asp. Whenever you think proper, The- 
ron. This is to me a favourite subject ; 
and not to me only, but to incomparably 



* Vivg. ^,n. 1. 



176 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



better judges. The man who had been 
caught up into the third heavens, and seen 
the visions of God, *' determined to know 
nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucifi- 
ed/' (1 Cor. ii. 2.) At the grandest as- 
sembly that ever was convened on earth, 
this furnished the principal, if not the only 
topic of conversation. And in that world 
where the voice of joy and thanksgiving is 
perpetually heard, this constitutes the bur- 
den of the song, " Thou wast slain, and 
hast redeemed us to God by thy blood," 
(Rev. V. 9.) 



DIALOGUE IV. 

Ther. I must now desire my Aspasio to 
inform me, what that grand assembly was, 
(which he mentioned in the close of our 
last discourse), and where convened ? 

Asp. Can you not guess, Theron ? — Was 
it in the plains of Thessaly, when Xerxes 
drew together the forces of more than half 
the known world, and appeared at the head 
of all the potentates of the east ? Was it in 
the Roman forum, when the Senators were 
assembled in their robes, and the barbarians 
took them for a synod of gods ? No : it 
was on the mount of transfiguration, where 
the Son of the true God, the Lord of eter- 
nal glory, shone forth in some of his celes- 
tial and native splendour; with garments 
white as the snow,* and a countenance 
bright as the sun : where he conversed with 
two of his most distinguished saints, just 
come down from the regions of bliss and 
immortality ; with Moses the great deliver- 
er of the law, and with Elijah the resolute 
restorer of its honours : where he was at- 
tended by three of his principal ambassa- 
dors, who were to be the reformers of man- 
kind, and the lights of the world. 

This, I think, is the most venerable and 
august assembly that the annals of history 
have recorded. And "what was the topic 
of conversation among these illustrious 
personages ? Not the affairs of state, nor 
the revolutions of empires ; not the curious 
refinements of literature, nor the wonderful 
discoveries of philosophy; but the igno- 
minious and bloody exitf which the divine 



* Mark ix. 3. The evangelist's description is, like 
the scene, remarkably bright, and the gradation of 
his images is almost as worthy of observation as 
the memorable fact. The garments were white — ex- 
ceeding white — white as the snow— whiter than any 
fuller on earth could make them : surpassing all the 
works of art, equalling the first and finest productions 
of nature. Nay, so great was the lustre, that it glis- 
tered like the lightning, and even dazzled the sight. 

t Does not this very delicately, yet very strongly 
intimate, that the sufFerings and death of Christ were 
the principal end of the Mosaic institutions, and the 
principal subject of the prophetic teachings ? For is 
It not natural to suppose, that Moses and Elijah in- 
tended, when ministering on earth, that very thing, 
which their conversation dwelt upon, when they de- 
tcended from heaven ? . 



Jesus was soon to make at Jerusalem. This 
circumstance, methinks, should strongly re- 
commend the subject to our frequent dis- 
course, even though it was less eminent 
for intrinsic dignity, and comfortable import. 

Talking in this manner, they arrive at 
the park ; which the moment you enter, 
fills the view with its bold, enlarged, and 
magnificent sweep. It was diversified with 
level and rising ground. Here scooped 
into mimic amphitheatres, with the deer 
pendent on the little summit, or shooting 
down the easy precipice ; there raised into 
gentle hillocks, some of which were cano- 
pied with a large spreading, solitary oak, 
others were tufted with a cluster of taper- 
ing and verdant elms. Two or three cas- 
cades, gleaming from afar, as they poured 
along the slanting rock or the grassy slope, 
gave a pleasing variation to the prospect ; 
while they startled the timorous inexper- 
ienced fawns with their foaming current 
and watery roar. Grandeur and simplicity 
seemed to be the genius of the place. 
Every thing breathed an air of noble negli- 
gence, and artless majesty. 

In the centre of all rose a curious roman- 
tic mount. Its form was exactly round, 
somewhat like a sugar-loaf, lopt off a little 
below the point. Not coeval with natiu-e, 
but the work of human industry. Thrown 
up, it is supposed, in those perilous times, 
when Britain was alarmed by foreign in- 
vasions, or bled with intestine wounds. It 
was covered, all ai'ound, with alder shrubs ; 
whose ranks, gradually arising, and spread- 
ing, shade above shade, composed a kind of 
woody theatre, through which were struck 
two or three spiral walks, leading, by a 
gentle ascent, and under embowering ver.. 
dm-e to the summit. At proper intervals, 
and on every side of the hill, were formed 
little arborets with apertiu-es cut through 
boughs to admit a prospect of the country. 
In one or other of these leafy boxes you 
command, at eveiy hour of the day, either 
the enlivening sun, or the refreshing shade. 
AU along the circling avenues, and all a« 
round the beauteous rests, sprung daffodils, 
primroses, and violets ; which, mingling 
with hyacinths and cowslips, composed 
many a charming piece of natural mosaic. 

How agreeable, as they climb and wind 
themselves round the hill, to reflect on the 
happy change which has now taken place ! 
Wliere steely helmets gleamed, or brazen 
shields clashed, the goldfinches twitter 
their loves, and display their painted plumes. 
The dens of rapine, or the horrid haimts of 
bloodshed, are become the retreats of calm 
contemplation, and friendly converse. In 
yonder lower spaces, where the armed 
troops were wont to patrole, from whence 
they made exclu sions to ravage the villages 



177 



terrify the swains, the fallow-deer trip 
„,,^ghtly or the fulL-headed stags stand at bay. 
From a small emineiioe, but at a consid- 
erable distance, gushed a couple of springs, 
vvhich, rambling through a grove, lost one 
^^nother in the shady labyrinth. Emerging 
^^e.t length from the gloom, they approached 
|j,iiearer and nearer, and fell into embraces at 
g[ the foot of this hill. They rolled, in ami- 
i^jQable conjunction along the pebbly channel 
j jvrhich encircles its basis, and added their 
^jsober melody to the sprightly warbling of 
fjthe birds. Flowing off in one common 
^stream, they formed the fine pieces of water 
which beautified the park. From thence 
they stole into the meadow, and widened into 
river. There, enamoured, as it were with 
s.each other, they glide by wealthy towns, and 
vSWeep through tioweiy vales ; regardless of 
: tlie blooming toys which deck the one, and 
*of the noisy crowds which throng the 
J. Other. 

^ So, said Aspasio, may Theron and his 
Selina, pleasing and pleased with each other, 
pass through the busy and the amusing 
scenes of life ; neither captivated by the 
one, nor anxious for the other. With such 
harmonious agreement, and ihdissokible 
-ji^iioji, may they pursue the course marked 
put by Providence, their happiness increas- 
.ing, and their usefulness enlarging, as they 
draw nearer the Ocean of aU good ! Then, 
parted by a gentle stroke of fate, like the 
waters of some ample stream severed by 
the piers of an intervening bridge, may 
they speedily reunite ! reunite in consum- 
mate bliss, and never be separated more ! 
^ TTier. I thank you, Aspasio, for your 
^affectionate compliment. Nor can I wish 
you, by way of return, a greater recom- 
pence, than the continual exercise of such 
a benevolent temper. For to exercise be- 
nevolence, is to enjoy the most refined and 
exalted pleasure ; such as makes the near- 
est approaches to the felicity of the Eternal 
Mind, who, as the Scripture most beauti- 
fully speaks, " has pleasure in the prosper- 
ity of his servants." 

But while we are seated on this mount, 
our situation reminds us of (what you just 
now mentioned) the grand conference re- 
latijig to the death of Chiist — a business 
for which you have indeed accounted, but 
in a manner that may be thought not the 
most honourable to the divine attributes. 

Asp. I have represented it as a ransom 
for our souls, and a sacrifice for our sins. 
If you disapprove my account, be pleased 
.to favour me with your own. lor what 
purpose, according to your opinion, did that 
eVer-blessed person die ? 
, Ther. To confirm the ti-uth of his doc- 
trine, and leave us a pattern of the most 
perfect resignation. 

Asp, And is this all ? Shall we thus im- 



poverish the riches of grace ? Was this no- 
tion defensible, it could never be desirable. 
But it has as little to support it as it has 
to recommend it. For, upon such a suppo- 
sition, where is the difference between the 
death of Christ and the death of the 
martyrs ? They confirmed the truth of 
the gospel : In their sufferings was obe- 
dience and resignation, the same in quality, 
though not in degree. Upon such a sup- 
position, what benefit could the ancient 
patriarchs receive from the Redeemer ; 
since none coidd be improved by the exam- 
ple of his patience, or the pattern of his 
obedience, till they were actually exhibited, 
or how could Christ be styled " the Lamb 
slain from the foundation of the world ?" 
(Rev. xiii. 8.) the advantages of whose 
death commenced from the very beginning, 
as they wiU be prolonged even to the end of 
time. 

Not to depend on consequential argu- 
ments, let us hear the express declaration of 
our divine IVIaster himself : " This is my 
blood, which is shed," — for what ? To give 
credibility to my gospel, or yield an example 
of entire resignation ! Rather — " for the re- 
mission of sins," (Matth. xxvi. 28. ) Will any 
one attempt to make the remission of sins, 
and the proposal of a pattern, or the ratifica- 
tion of a doctrine, synonymous terms ? They 
who can torture and transmute the genuine 
sense of words at this extraordinary rate, 
may metamorphose any expression into any 
meaning. 

If, then, we would consider our Lord's 
death in its due amplitude, we must con- 
sider it both as a pattern of piety and as a 
ransom for sinners : we must neither sepa- 
rate nor confound these very distinct, yet 
very consistent effects. 

Tlier. Is it not inconsistent with the ac- 
knowledged principles of justice, that the 
innocent should be punished instead of the 
offender ? 

Asp. If the innocent person has an ab- 
solute power over his own life, willingly 
substitutes himself in the place of the guilty, 
and by his vicarious sufferings fully answers 
all the purposes of a righteous government ; 
— in this case, which was the case with our 
Lord, I see not the least repugnancy to the 
rules of justice. 

The Bible, that authentic transcript of 
the counsels of heaven, avows, and by 
avowing, vindicates the practice, " The 
Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us 
all.* When aU we like sheep had gone 
astray, and were exposed to the stroke of 

vengeance, as those wandering creatures to 

■ i* 

* Isa liii. 6. 1^ ^^'^^Pi i^<le to meet, or * 
fall upon, in a hostile vindictive manner; with a design 
to take vengeance, or inflict death; as an armed man 
falls upon his enemy, or a fierce lion oa the helpless 
lamb. 



f-^ie ravenous beasts ; the good shepherd in- 
tt>rj)osed, and the just God made that ven- 
geance to fall upon him, which must other- 
wise have been executed upon us. " He 
suffered," says another inspired writei', " the 
just for the unjust," (1 Pet. iii. 18.) that, 
by expiating our guilt, " he might bring us 
to God ;" now to his gracious favour, here- 
after to his blissful presence. 

You will permit me to add a passage 
from our common favourite, Milton. Be- 
cause it is no less beautiful in itself, than 
it is pertinent to the occasion ; must please 
the critic, and may expound the apostle. 
Messiah, pleading in behalf of fallen man, 
thus addresses his Almighty Father : 



THE RON i4ND AS FAS ID. 



Man dead in sins and lost. 



Atonement for himself, or oft'ering meet, 
(Indebted and undone !) hath none to bring. 
Behold me then ! me for him ! Ufe for life 
I offer. On me let thine anger fall. 
Account me man : I for his sake will leave 
Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee 
Freely put off; and for him lastly die' 
Well-pleased : on me let death wreak all his rage." 

Milton, b. iii. 1. 233. 

Ther. The fine imagination of a poet 
will hardly pass for a decisive argument. 
When we are searching after truth, we 
must attend to the dictates of reason, not 
follow the vagaries of fancy. And reason, 
Aspasio, remonstrates against your notion 
of a vicarious sacrifice ; Reason, that pri- 
mary guide, and final test, both in discover- 
ing and determining the sense of Scripture. 

Asp. Suppose you, then, my dear The- 
ron, that none are in possession of reason 
but the pupils of Socinus, and the zealots 
for Deism ? or that none make use of reason 
in their religious inquiries, but men of this 
mould? 

Wrong not the Christian, think not reason your's ; 
'Tis reason our great Master holds so dear: 
'Tis reason's injured rights his wrath resents ; 
'Tis reason's voice obeyed his glorious crown. 
Through reason's wounds alone thy faith can die. 

Night Thoughts, No. IV. 

i Poets, you see, are far from disclaiming 
reason. Equally far is Christianity from 
discarding the sober, the sanctified use 
of this noble faculty. When reason is un- 
der the influence and direction of the divine 
Spirit, we have the same high opinion of 
her excellence as yourself. And, when 
thus regidated, we have, I am persuaded, 
the sanction of her authority for all oiu' 
sentiments. 

Reason, as she operated in the sagest of 
the heathen world, instead of rejecting, ap- 
proved and adopted this very scheme ; ap- 
proved it even under the disadvantage of ! 
mutilated and defective, or rather of a per 
verted and dead form. The current Ian 
guage of the classic authors, and almost 
every historian of Greece and Rome, are 
vouchers for the truth of this observation. 
-As. the Gentiles were imanimous in the 
custom of offering, sacrifices, and equally 



unanimous in supposing their vicarious na^ 
ture, so also are the Je\\ ish writers. 

The7\ What man of sense pays any re- 
gard to the Jewish writers ? Legendary thejr 
are, and extravagant to the last degree. 
Dotards I might call them, rather than 
writers. 

Asp. They are, I believe, extravagant 
enough in their comments upon Scriptiue ; 
but they relate, with sufficient exactness 
and fidelity, the prevailing belief of their 
nation. In this case, their testimony is ais 
unexceptionable, as, in the other, their noi 
tions are chimeiical. Now, had it been a 
mistaken belief, surely our blessed Lord, 
that infallible judge, and impartial reprov- 
er, would have testified his disapprobatioi? 
of it. Surely his disciples, who were ac- 
tuated by the unerring and undaunted spirit 
of their Master, would have entered their 
protest against it. Surely St. Paul, in his 
epistle to that very people, and in his trea^ 
tise on that very subject, would have set 
himself to rectify such an error, and have 
weeded out the tares before he sowed the 
good seed. But there is not the least hint 
of this kind in all the discourses of our Sa- 
viour, or in all the writings of his apostles. 

They speak to a people who were accus- 
tomed to look upon their sacrifices as piar- 
cular oblations,* and a typical expiation of 
guilt. They speak of our Redeemer's cri^- 
cifixion, and the benefits of his death, in 
the sacrificial terms, that were of current 
use and established signification. If, there- 
fore, the popidar opinion was imj^roper, 
their manner of expression and address 
must be calculated rather to authenticate 
error, than to propagate truth. So that, I 
think, even the silence of the inspired j)en- 
men on this occasion, is but little inferior 
to a loud attestation. Did they only say 
nothing against the doctrine of satisfaction 
by sacrifice, it would in effect, and. circum- 
stances considered, be saying abundance for 
it. But they are very copious and explicit 
upon the point. 

Thei: Where are they so copious ? If 
you have such a heap of their allegations, 
it will be easy to pick out a few, and giVe 
us a specimen. 

Asp. It is as easy, Theron, as it is de- 
lightful. " Messiah shall be cut off," says 
the Prophet Daniel, "but not for himself." 
(Dan. ix. 26.) For whom then, and for 
what? Isaiah informs us concerning both. 
" For the transgression of my people was 
he stricken," (Isaiah liii. 8.) Because this 
is an article of the last importance, it is re- 
peated, it is confirmed, it is explained, wifii 
the most remarkable particidarity : " He was 
wounded for our transgressions ; he was 



* This, I think, is incontestably proved by 0\itram- 
in his treatise De Saciificiis. 



i)JALOGUE IV. 



179 



bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement 
of our peace was upon him, and with his 
stripes we are healed." (Isaiah liii. 5.) 
Our Lord himself asserts the same truth in 
the very same style : " I am the good shep- 
herd, and lay down my life for the sheep," 
(John X. 15.) St. Paul, in a multitude of 
passages, sets his seal to this momentous 
doctrine. St. Peter maintains it in very 
forcible words : " Who his own self bare 
our sins in his own body on the tree."* 

The sacred wiiters not only assert this 
capital article, but use every diversity of 
speech, in order to give it the fullest evi- 
dence, and the strongest establishment. " He 
made reconciliation for the sins of the 
people." (Heb. ii. 17.) "Jesus Christ 
the righteous is the propitiation for our 
sins." (1 John ii. 2.) " He loved us, and 
washed us from our sins in his own blood." 
(Rev. i. 5.) " He was made sin for us, 
though he knew no sin." (2 Cor. v. 21.) 

Ther. Nobody makes any objection to 
these texts ; but the sense, the true sense 
of such phrases, is the thing in question. 

Asp. What you call the question, to me 
appears so plain, as not to want a decision, 
or admit of a doubt. However, since you 
seem to demand a critical scrutiny, it will 
not be thought pedantic if I make an ob- 
servation or two upon the original lan- 
guages ; or rather, as you are not acquainted 
with the Hebrew, on that language of which 
you yourself are a judge and a master. 

If one died for all, then were all dead. The 
preposition v^rt^ in this connexion, must ne- 
cessarily signify more than " on oiu- account, 
or for our advantage." Because, if it be 
taken in this unsettled rambling sense, the 
apostle's argument is vague and inconclu- 
sive. In case oiu: Lord had suffered, only 
*' to free us from some evil, and procure us 
some benefit," this would by no means im- 
ply that all were dead, under the sentence of 
condemnation, obnoxious, and doomed to 
death. (2 Cor. v. 14.) The utmost you 
can infer from such premises is, that aU 
stood in need of a deliverance from some 
evil, or wanted the procurement of some 
good. Whereas, suppose the sacred writer 
to intend that our Lord's death was truly 
vicarious, and undergone in our stead ; that 
he suffered what was our due and our doom ; 
then the reasoning is just, and the inference 
undeniable. 

He gave himself ccvnXvr^ov vfi^, a ransom 
for all. (I Tim, ii. 6.) If this does not im- 
ply the notion of vicarious, I very much 
question whether language itself can ex- 
press it. At/rgav is a ransom, which con- 



* 1 Pet. ii. 24^ Very forcible words indeed. He bare 
»— himself bare — our sins — in his own body ; intended, 
one would imagine, to make the article of our Lord's 
vicarious sufferings clear beyond all misapprehension^ 
and sure beyond all doubt. 



veys a vicarious sense, in its most common 
and authorized acceptation, Avrty which is 
equivalent to instead,* still more fully as- 
certains and strengthens the idea. 'Tors^, 
which is translated for, and denotes a sub- 
stitution of one in the place of another ; t 
this added to all, renders the expression as 
determinate and emphatical for the purpose, 
as words can possibly be. 

Shall I argue from a more obvious topic, 
which has no such dependence on the pre- 
cise significancy of the original ? " Surely," 
says the prophet; he speaks with vehe- 
mence, as of an affair which is very weighty ; 
he speaks with confidence, as of a fact 
which is very certain : " He hath borne 
our griefs, and carried oiu- sorrows, (Isa. 
liii. 4. ) What can this mean, but he hath 
taken upon himself that affliction and those 
miseries which properly belong to us ? Let 
us read on, and this meaning will present 
itself in the clearest view. " We did es- 
teem him stricken, smitten of God, and 
afflicted ;" we took him for a real malefac- 
tor, and thought that he was punished for 
his own misconduct. In opposition to 
which injurious and false surmise it is added, 
" but he was wounded for om- transgressions, 
he was braised for oiu" iiuquities." May 
I not here borrow the prophet's language, 
and say, with an air of certainty, Surely 
this is the phunest proof in the world, that 
our sins were the meritorious cause of 
Christ's sufferings ; and if our sins were 
the meritorious cause of his sufferings, our 
guilt must be charged upon him, and pun- 
ished in him. 

St. Paul affirms that " Christ hath de- 
livered us from the curse of the law," (Gal. 
iii. 13.) How? By taking our place, and 
enduring what we desen ed ; or, as the apos- 
tle himself spealcs, to the same effect, but 
in a much more emphatical manner, "by 
being made a curse for us." Does not this 
evidently denote both a commutation of 
persons, and a translation of punishment ? 
He suffered, who was innocent ; not we, 
who were guilty. He also suffered that 
very sentence which the law denounced on 
us, for it is \vritten, " Cursed is eveiy one 
that continueth not in all things," (Deut. 
xxvii. 26.) to this we were obnoxious. It 
is written again, " Cursed is every one 
that hangeth on a tree," Gal. iii. 13.) to 
this Christ submitted. And if Christ en- 



» Airi, Matt. ii. 22. By this word, the septua- 
gint translate the Hebrew, Jirm- And that 
Pinr\ denotes the substitution of one instead of 
another, no student of the sacred language will ven- 
ture to deny. See Gen. xxii. 13; 2 Sam. xviu. 33; 
2 Kings X. 24. 

I ywff Xg/s-sf " We beseech you in 

Christ's stead," 2 Cor, v. 20. lyz vri^ ffS tioatovn 
[aoi., that in thy stead he might have mirdstered unto 
me. Philem ver. 13. 



mo 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



dured tliat very curse which we deserved — 
if, by this means, he delivered us from 
all malediction — either this must be suflPer- 
ing in our stead, or else nothing can be 
called by that name. 

Shall I descend lower stilly and refer our 
point to the determination of illiterate men ? 
Ask any of your serious tenants, what ideas 
arise in their minds, upon the perusal of the 
aforementioned texts? I dare venture to fore- 
tel, that artless and unimproved as their under- 
standings are, they will not hesitate for an an- 
swer. They will neither complain of ob- 
scurity, nor ask the assistance of learning ; 
but will immediately discern, in all these 
passages, a gracious Redeemer sufifering in 
their stead, and by his bitter, but expiatory 
passion, procmring the pardon of their sins. 
Nay farther, as they are not accustomed to 
the finesses of criticism, I apprehend they 
will be at a loss to conceive how it is pos- 
sible to imderstand such passages in any 
other sense. 

Say not this is an improper appeal, or 
these are incompetent judges. The Scrip- 
tures were written for their edification ; not 
to exercise the ingenuity of subtle dispu- 
tants, but to instruct the meanest of man- 
kind in the way of salvation. Therefore, 
on fundamental articles, we may assuredly 
conclude the expression will be easy, and 
the doctrine perspicuous ; so that "he who 
runs may read, and the wayfaring men, though 
fools, shall not err therein."* And though 
I am far from undervaluing the aids of litera- 
ture, yet, upon those momentous subjects 
which are inseparably connected with our 
eternal felicity, I cannot but regard the com- 
mon sense of plain, honest, humble Chris- 
tians, as the very best of critics. 

Ther. It has been said by a learned cri- 
tic, " That a vicarious punishment or suffer- 
ing gives us too low ideas of the Son of God, 
as it sinks them to the pain and suffering 
of a malefactor, the very meanest idea we can 
have of them. 

Asp. The idea is plainly suggested by the 
word of prophecy, and supported by the at- 
testation of sacred history. In that it was 
foretold, and in this it is recorded " that he 
was numbered with transgressors," (Isa. liii. 
12; Luke xxii. 37.) To this purpose speaks 
St. Paul, though somewhat more cautiously 
than your critic. He was made, not indeed 
sinful flesh, but in the likeness of sinful 
flesh.; and though perfectly innocent, was 
left to endm-e the vengeance due to the 
vilest miscreants. 

Yes, my dear Tberon, that glorious per- 
son, whom the highest angel adores, " suf- 

* Isa. XXXV. 8i The word fools seems to denote per- 
sons of slow understanding and dull apprehensions, as 
Lulc»xxiv^25 ; or else it signifies those who, tor want 
©fa cultivated education and the improvements of 
literature, are accounted foois by the sons of science, 
as- 1 Cor. i, 27, 



fered, as if he had been the criminal, tfie- 
pain and punishment which we, or equiva- 
lent to that which w^ the real criminals, 
should have suffered." If to consider this, 
gives us a low idea — if to suffer this, was a. 
deep abasement — ^how exceedingly high, and 
how immensely grand is the goodness and 
the grace manifested therein ! the lower you 
draw the arrow on the string, the loftier 
flight it makes in the sky, and the great- 
er pur Lord's humiliation for us, the more- 
wonderful and adorable hiy love to us. 

Ther. As there cannot be a vicarious 
guilt, or as no one can be guilty in the stead 
of another, so there cannot be a vicarious 
punishment, or no one can be punished in- 
stead of another ; because punishment, in 
its very nature, connotes guilt in the per- 
son who bears it. 

Asp. If you mean by guilt the conscious- 
ness of having committed a sin, and the- 
internal defilement consequent upon it, we 
never suppose such a vicarious guilt It is- 
not so much as intimated, that Christ was 
stimg with the remorse, or stained with the 
pollution of the adulterous David, the perfi- 
cUousPeter, and the persecuting Saul ; buttbat 
he was treated by the righteous God as if he 
had perpetrated these, andall the crimes of aJl 
believers, ei ther in the past or succeeding ages. 

If by guilt you mean the charge of a cri- 
minal action, and the obligation to suffer the 
penalty, your assertion is nothing more than 
begging the question. It nakedly affirms the 
very thing in debate : and bare affirmations, 
unsupported by evidence, are seldom admit- 
ted as decisive proofs. We, on the otbep 
hand, are inclined to believe, that all our 
criminal actions were charged upon Christ, 
and that he suffered the punishment whicL 
they deserved. The former of these is not 
so properly called vicarious guilt, as real 
guilt — contracted by one, imputed to an- 
other. The latter we readily allow to be 
vicarious punishment, sustained in theic 
stead Vi'hose guilt was imputed. For both' 
these points we have the authority of truth 
itself, speaking in the Scriptures, " The 
Lord laid on him the iniquities of us ail :" 
here is the imputation, "Christ has redeemed 
us from the curse of the law, being made a 
curse for us here is the vicarious punish- 
ment. And you know to what casuists we 
submit the interpretation of these texts — 
common sense, and an honest heait. 

' Ther. Is not this shocking to suppose ? 
horrid to affirm ? If guilt was really imputed 
to Christ, then punishment was his due. 
Justice might insist upon it, and he could 
not escape it. 

Asp. To suppose this> is so far from; 
shocking my apprehension, that it appears,, 
even on your own pi'inciples, right and^ 
necessary. Right, because punishment, as 
you yourself have declared^ always connotes 



DIALOGUE lY. 



181 



^Ailt ; 1 would add either contracted, or at 
least imputed. And indeed the sufferings 
■of Christ could not be of a penal nature, 
unless he endured them as under a charge 
of guilt. It is necessary to suppose this, 
otherwise how wiH. you vhidicate the justice 
of God ? He bid his s^vord awake, and 
smite the blessed Jesus, (Zech. xiii. 7.) But 
«hall the Judge of all the earth do wrong ? 
Shall he smite, where there is nothing but 
■innocence ? no guilt, either personal or im- 
puted ? That be far from him ! The thought 
be far from us ! 

Whereas, upon this supposition, it be- 
•comes a just and righteous thing, that God 
-should inflict, and that Christ should sus- 
tain, the most rigorous punishment. And 
•I do not know but this might be the cause of 
our Lord's silence, when he was accused 
at Pilate's bar and at Herod's judgment-seat. 
It is probable he considered himself as 
standing before a higher tribunal, and re- 
sponsible to eternal justice for the criminal 
actions of all his people. In this situation, 
and in this capacity, clear himself of per- 
sonal demerit he coidd, clear himself of im- 
vputed guilt he could not. Therefore he 
was dumb, he opened not his mouth. For 
though, as the Son of the most high God, 
^glory and immortality were his undoubted 
j-ight ; yet, as the Surety for sinful men, tri- 
bulation and death were his condign portion. 

And why should this be thought shock- 
iing ? It is not the least derogation to the 
transcendent excellency of Christ. It casts 
■'jfiot the least stain on the unspotted sanctity 
cither of his natm-e or his life. To bear 
sin as a s^oluntary surety, is infinitely dif- 
ferent from committing it as an actual trans- 
•gressor. To say that Christ was punished 
lor any in-egularity of his own, would be 
lalse, impious, and hoirid. To say that 
lie was charged with our guilt, and endured 
-the punishment due — in the plain and fuU 
sense of the word — due to our sins, is so far 
from being injurious to his dignity, that it 
pays the proper honour to his mediatorial 
undertaking. It pays him the honour of 
the highest obedience to his Father's will, 
the deepest humiliation of his own illus- 
trious person, and the most boundless be- 
nevolence to mankind. 

Ther. God is love, Aspasio, all love. 
■ Whereas you would 

Asp. Not often interrupt a friend's dis- 
course. But I cannot forbear intei-posing 
a query, on this occasion. Is there, then, 
no just displeasure in the Deity? What 
meaneth that solemn denunciation of the 
supreme Lawgiver ? " The anger of the 
Lord shall fimoke against that man ?" 
^Deut. xxix. 20.) Whatmeanelh that aw- 
ful declaration of the Apostle ; " The 
wrath of God is revealed from lieaven, upon 
all imgodliness and unrighteousness of 



men?" (Rom. i. 18.) Or in what sense 
are we to explain that alarming interrogatory 
of the prophet, " Who can stand before his 
indignation ? and who can abide in the 
fierceness of his anger? (Nah. i. 6.) 
Whence could those avenging visitations 
proceed, which destroyed Sodom and Go- 
morrah with a tempest of fire ? ( Gen. xix. 
24.) which swept away so many thousands 
of the polluted Israelites with a raging pes- 
tilence ? (Numb. XXV. 9.) and consigned 
over so many legions * of rebellious angels 
to chains of darkness ? 

Surely, Theron, if there be any deter- 
minate signification in language, if any les- 
son to be learned from the most tremend- 
dous judgments, it is, that the Lord, though 
free from all the discomposure of passion, 
is nevertheless angry with the wicked, 
(Psal. vii. 11. Deut. ix. 8.) and will make 
impenitent offenders feel the effects of his 
wise and holy indignation. 

TTier. Does not your doctrine represent 
the all-merciful God as a rigorous being, 
who, when once displeased, vnU. hardly be 
pacified ? Whereas, the Lord himself de- 
clares by his prophet, " P\n y is not in me." 
Men of satirical wit would be apt to insin- 
uate, that you had mistaken Jehovah for 
Moloch, and was erecting a Christian church 
in the valley of the Son of Hinnom. 

Asp. We take our representations of 
God, not from the vain conjectiu-es of men, 
but from the records of infallible tnith. 
There he is described as a righteous God, 
a jealous God, (Exod. xx. 5.) and, to in- 
corrigible sinners, a consuming fire, (Heb. 
xii. 29.) though wonderfully condescending, 
yet transcendently majestic, insomuch that 
none of the fallen race are permitted to ap- 
proach his tJu'one, but oJily through the in- 
tervention of a great Mediator, (John. xiv. 
6.) and without shedding of blood, even 
the blood of a person higher than the hea- 
vens, there is no remission of any offences, 
(Heb. ix. 22 ; \-ii. 26.) 

When the Lord says, Fury is not iii 
me," (Isa. xxvii. 4.) the words have a pecu- 
liar reference to his church, which, in a pre- 
ceding verse, he had styled, " a vineyard 
of red wine." The connexion seems to do- 
note, that his fierce anger was turned away 
from his people, on account of the satis- 
faction made by their Sanom-. Though 
his OMTi people are the objects, not of his 

* Millions. — The name of the fallen angels is no- 
where specified, and the veil sits deep upon the spirit- 
ual world ; so that we can see no farther than revela- 
tion has discovered. Yet, I think, there is sufficient 
room to ground a conjecture upon the reply which 
one of those execrable apostates made to our Lord. 
" My name is legion," (a word signifying a great mul- 
titude, five or six thousand;) " for we are many." 
I r so many were employed in tempting and tormenting 
a single person, what armies, what m.yriads of those 
invisible enemies, must exist through universal na- 
ture? It is an alarming (liought ! should make us fly 
to our divine Protector, and almighty Deliverer. Sea 
Mark v. i), and 2 Pet, ii. 4. 



182 



TIIERON AND ASPASIO. 



indignation, but of his love, let no ungodly- 
wretches audaciously presiime : It is not so 
with them. They are " the briars and 
thorns"" mentioned in the next clause; 
cumberers of the ground, unprofitable and 
noxious. Them he wai-ns, them he chal- 
lenges : " Who will set them in battle 
against me ?" Let them come on ; they shall 
find it a fearful thing to fall into the hands 
of the living God. 

Nay, he will not stay for their approach : 
" I will march against them," in his threat- 
ening : " I will pass through them ; I will 
burn them together," This will certainly 
be the case, if not in the present yet in a 
futiire world. When once the master of 
the house is risen up, and has shut to the 
door, mercy is gone for ever. Then nothing 
must be expected, nothing will then be ex- 
perienced, but " vengeance and fiery indig- 
nation, to devour the adversaries of the 
gospel." God will then " execute judgments 
in anger, and in fury, and in fiuious re- 
bukes," (Ezek. V. 15.) with such awful 
severity aiid immense glory, as will cause 
heaven to adore, and hell to tremble. 

Yet in all tliis there is not the least tinc- 
ture of that outrageous temper, which in 
man we properly call fury. In man, fury 
implies an immoderate degree of resent- 
ment, which will hearken to no reasoning, 
and accede to no terms. The gospel ac- 
count proves, even to a demonstration, 
that this has no place in the divine nature. 
So fr.r from it, that God, though highly 
provoked, has proWded an atonement^ has 
made overtures of reconciliation to his dis- 
obedient creatures, has even besoughtf a 
guilty world, to accept of forgiveness, 
(2 Cor. V. '20.) This is the piu-port of 
that gracious invitation w^hich follows in 
the prophet : " Let him," let the wicked 
man forsake his way, " and take hold of 
my strength ;" let him fly to my crucified 
Son, who is the power of God for the sal- 
vation of sinners ; cleaving to his merits by 
faith, as some poor delinquent to the horns 
of the altar.:}: Thus he shall make peace ; 

« There is a fine contrast between the vineyard and 
the thorns, at the same time a regular continuation of 
the metciphor. As nothing is more common than to 
see the latter shooting up amidst the former ; so no- 
thing is more common than to have hypocrites inter- 
mingle themselves with believers. 

"i- 2 Cor. V. 20. It was an instance of singular com- 
passion in the blessed God, that though offended with 
Job's friends, he admitted of a sacrifice, and directed 
them to an intercessor ; both typical of Christ Jesus. 
But what unparalleled condescension, and divinely 
tender mercies, are displayed in this verse! "As 
though God did beseech you by us; we pray you in 
Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." Did the 
judge ever beseech a condemned criminal to accept 
of ])ardon ? Does the creditor beseech a ruined 
debtor to receive an acquittance in full ; yet our al- 
mighty Lord, and our eternal Judge, not only vouch- 
safes to offer these blessings, but invites us— entreats 
us-y-with the most tender and repeated importunity 
solicits us— not to reject them ? 

t This is the precise idea included in the original 
Dirf and the idea is as charming, as the image is ' 
expressive. Isa. xxvii. 5. 1 Kings i. 50. 



all his iniquities shall be forgiven, and all 
my displeasure shall be pacified. So that 
the insinuations of our satii-ical gentlemen 
are as egregiously mistaken, as they are 
shockingly worded. 

You are a inan of sense, Theron, and es- 
teem that character far above the idle re- 
putation of a wit. As such, let me ask 
you seriously, is it not for the honour of the 
divine majesty to exercise justice as well as 
mercy? Always to pardon, and never to 
punish, woidd be tameness, rather than be- 
nignity ; a renunciation of holiness, rather 
than a display of goodness. Or can it be 
right in us so extravagantly to magnify the 
amiable, as depreciate, nay even anni- 
hilate, the awful attributes of Deity : This, 
says a poet, is the theology, not of Christ- 
ians, but of infidels ; 

"Who set at odds heaven's jarring attributes. 
And with one excellence another wound ; 
Maim heaven's perfection, break its equal beams. 
Bid mercy triumph over— God himself, 
Undeified by their opprobrious praise : 
A God all mercy is a God unjust. 

Night Thoughts, No. IV, 

Ther. But we have lately been told, that 
the pardoning grace of the La-wgiver is not 
obstructed by any demands of law and jus- 
tice ; for he can set them aside. 

Asp. What ! Set aside a law, which is v 
holy, righteous and good ! set aside a jus- 
tice, w4iich is eternal, inflexible, and in- 
finite ! — St. Paul gives a very diflferent so- 
lution of this difiiculty. He tells us, not 
that God set aside his law and his justice ; 
" but that he set forth the blessed Jesus for 
a propitiation, through faith in his blood," 
with this express design, " that he m'ght 
declare his righteousness," (Rom. iii. 23,) 
might demonstrate, not only his clemency, 
but his justice, even that vindictive justice 
whose essential character and principal 
office is to pimish sin. 

This seems to be the import of the word 
righteousness in the present connexion, and, 
I think, more than seems, if we consult the 
following verse, " to declare, I say, at this 
time has righteousness, that he might be 
just,"* evidence himself to be strictly and 
inviolably righteous, in the administration' 
of his government ; even while he is the 
all- forgiving, gracious justifier of the sinner 
that believeth in Jesus. According to this 
plan, mercy and truth meet together ; right- 
eousness and peace kiss each other," (Psalm 
Ixxxv. 10,) all the attributes harmonize ; 
every attribute is glorified ; and not one 
superseded ; no, nor so much as clouded. 

Ther. If some are verging to one ex- 



* Rom. iii. 26. The attribute of justice must be 
preserved inviolate ; and inviolate it is preserved, if 
there was a real infliction of punishment on our Savi- 
our. Nothing else can thoroughly clear up this great 
evangelical para<iox-^'* Just, yet Justifier of the un- 
godly." 



DIALOGUE ly. 



183 



tretne, are not you inclinii!g to the other ? 
Our eaj's tingle, and oiu: blood runs chill, at 
the very thoughts of so severe a vengeance, 
executed on an object so worthy and illus- 
trious. Besides, how can we suppose that 
the beneficent Creator and preserver of men 
shoidd take pleasure in the sufferings of the 
most unblamable person that ever existed ? 
Especially since he himself has made this 
tender declaration, " I will have mercy and 
not sacrifice." (Matt. ix. 13.) 
. Asp. A tender declaration indeed it is ; 
signifying, that God is better pleased ^vith 
the duties of humanity and charity, than 
\yith the most costly and pompous train of 
sacrifices ; nay, that he wUl even dispense 
^vith the observance of his own ceremonial 
institutions, when they interfere with our 
exercise of beneficence one to another thus 
resigning (so admirable is his goodness!) 
the services due to himself, for the benefit 
and conafort of his creatures. But all this 
has no sort of relation to the sacrifice of 
Christ, which was the most noble, and the 
most acceptable oblation ever made to the 
King of heaven. 

We are assured by a prophet, that " it 
pleased the Lord to bruise his holy child 
Jesus." God not only gave up his Son to 
sufferings, but gave him up with a divine 
complacency.* In like manner, the blessed 
Jesus addressed himself to the dreadful 
task, not only without reluctiince, but with 
the utmost alacrity.f " I delight to do thy 
v/ill," was the language of his soid. Should 
you ask, how could the Son take pleasure 
in undergoing, or the Father in infiicting, 
siich amazing sorrows ? No otherwise, than 
upon account of those gi'and and everlasting 
advantages which were to result from them. 

" A severe vengeance," you say, " such 
as makes oiu- ears to tingle." This is the 
very thing intended, to awaken and alarm pre- 
sumptuous offendei'S ; that they " may hear 
and fear and do no more wickedly." It is 
such a method of dispensing grace, as is cal- 
culated to strike the deepest terror, even 
while it cherishes the brightest hope ; strike 
the deepest terror on every persevering sin- 



* This is the idea included in the original word 
i*3n . Isa. liii. 10. Which is but poorly and faintly 
represented by the BsXerai of the Septuagint. 

t Utmost alacrity — There is no inconsistency be- 
tv.een this assertion and our Lord's supplication; 
" Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me ; 
nevertheless, not my will but thine be done." Such 
a deprecatory request, put up with so much earnest- 
ness, yet with so much submission, only shows the 
extreme severity of our Redeemer's anguish, and the 
prodigious weight of his woes. And this indeed it 
shows beyond tlie power of description. His ardent 
love to inankind, and his fervent zeal for his Father's 
g\oTy. prompted him to desire these sufferings. His 
invincible resolution, and unequalled magnanimity, 
emboldened him not to decline, but to meet them. 
Yet they were so great, so terrible, that his nature 
being human, could not but recoil a little, and he 
sthrted at their approach, and had it not been divine 
.3^0, must inevitably have simk under the-load- 



ner — while it cherishes the brightest hope 
on every penitent trajisgressor. 

Ther. If one of my servants had affront- 
ed or injiured me, I should upon his sub- 
missive acknowledgment, forgive his fault, 
and not insist upon satisfaction for the 
wrong, WiU you make the father of com- 
passions more inexorable in his nature, 
more rigid in his demands than a human 
master ? 

Asp. When you have a servant that 
owes his being to your power, that has re - 
ceived innumerable benefits from your 
bounty, yet has offered you innumerable af- 
fronts, all attended with the most aggravat- 
ing circumstances, and all in defiance of the 
most righteous threatenings ; when you are 
possessed of infinite majesty, and unblem- 
ished sanctity ; when truth inviolable, and 
justice inflexible, are essential to your cha- 
racter ; then, Theron, the parallel \v\\\ hold 
good, and your conduct shall be a pattern 
for the procedure of Jehovah. 

Till then, you and I must be willing to 
forgive, because God has made it oiu* ow-Ji 
bounden duty ; and because we have incom- 
parably more to be forgiven by the Judge 
of the world, than we can possibly lemit to 
our fellow-creatures. In the mean time, 
you ^\'ill allow the great God, who is glori- 
ions in holiness, to communicate his hea- 
venly favours in a manner becoming him- 
self; on such august and honourable terms, 
as shall maintain the rights of his universal 
government, and manifest the glory of his 
adorable attributes. 

T7ier. JMight not God have cancelled our 
transgressions, and received fallen men into 
his favour, without any propitiation ? To 
deny this, would be to limit the Holy One 
of Israel, and impose conditions on that 
uncontrollable Sovereign, " who giveth no 
account of any of his matters." 

Asp. We need not embarrass ourselves by 
entering upon inquiries, which may seem to 
lie beyond the limits of human understand- 
ing ; — -enough for us to know, that this 
propitiation was absolutely necessary with 
regard to the first covenant. For as God 
had solemnly declared, In the day thou 
eatest thereof, dying thou shalt die," his 
truth and justice stood engaged to execute 
the threatening. And no second Adam 
could restore the first, but by taking thisi^iu'se 
upon himself. 

" Die man, or .justice must ; unless for him. 
Some other able, and as willing, pay 
The rigid satisfaction, death for death." 

Milton, b. 3. 1. 210. 

Therefore the divine Jesus, who lay in 
the bosom of the Father, and knew the 
counsels of heaven, says, " The Son of man 
must be lifted up,"* on the cross. There 



* John. iii. 14. Ay r/jv, 5;c, The sime expres- 
sion is used, Luke xxiv, 26. 



184 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



Was a necessity for his crucifixion ; because 
this was stipulated in the covenant of peace 
made between the Father and the Son : be- 
cause it was expressly foretold by the an- 
cient prophets, (and the scriptm-e cannot be 
broken), that the Messiah should be cut off 
out of the land of the living ; because a va- 
riety of types, and a multitude of sacrifices, 
prefigiu-ed his death : one of the types point- 
ed out the very manner of his suffering; 
and all the sacrifices, detached from their 
dependency on this great oblation, would have 
been beggarly elements— mere unavailing 
empty ceremonies. 

I apprehend, it is no limitation of the 
great God to suppose him incapable of acting 
otherwise than -in perfect and perpetual con- 
sistency with himself. Neither is it any 
infringement on his absolute sovereignty, 
that he cannot but order all afifairs for the 
honour of his justice, his fidelity, and each 
of his exalted perfections. This is the very 
thing which the sacred writers express in 
their plain but strong language, " God who 
cannot lie," (Tit. i. 2.) " He cannot deny 
himself," (2 Tim. ii. 13.) 

Ther. God is often said to forgive our 
sins ; particularly in that sublime passage, 
where he proclaims his name to Moses : 
" The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and 
gracious, long-sutFering, abundant in good- 
ness and truth ; keeping mercy for thousands, 
forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin." 
Now, pardon is a free thing. Freeness is 
implied in the very nature of forgiveness. 
Take away the former, and you destroy the 
latter. If an equivalent be given, pardon is 
no longer pardon, but a purchase. For- 
giveness ceases to be an act of grace, and 
becomes the payment of a debt. 

Asp. The text you quote is truly sublime 
and equally comfortable. But you forget 
to mention one article of very great moment, 
which closes and completes the glorious 
character ; which seems added on purpose 
to prevent any wrong apprehensions of the 
Deity, and to guard against all abuse of the 
doctrine : " He will in no wise clear the 
guilty. "* — God will not, on any consideration 
whatever, absolve the obstinate, persevering, 
irreclaimable offender ; neither vidll he ac- 
mit any of the guilty race, absolutely, im- 
^nditionally, or without such a satisfaction 
as may repair the honour of his injured law. 



* Exod. xxxiv. 7. This text is not without its dif- 
ficulty, especially in the original. Steuchus inter- 
prets the words, Et innocens non erit sine piaculo, 
" He shall not be acquitted without a piacular sacri- 
fice." I think they may be translated, with a little 
more propriety and exactness, thus : " Pardoning in- 
iquity, transgression, and sin," J^p^l Ji^^ rTpDI 
though not with impunity; or rather, "though he 
will by no means let it go unpunished," meaning sin ; 
which is the immediate antecedent, is expressed in 
the three preceding words, and may very properly be 
referred to in this clause. 



" V/ e have redemption through his blood," 
says the apostle, " even the forgiveness of 
our sins," (Eph. i. 7.) It is forgiveness, 
you see, though bought vnth a price. It is 
remission, though procured by blood. It is 
free with regard to that Sovereign Being 
who pardons ; for he was imder no obliga- 
tion to admit of a propitiatory sacrifice, but 
might, without any diminution of his dignity, 
have left all mankind to perish in their sms. 
It is free wdth regard to the obnoxious crea- 
tures who are pardoned ; for it is vouchsaf- 
ed without any satisfaction demanded at 
their hands, or any penalty inflicted on their 
persons. It is in this respect also free, 
that an interest in the great atonement is 
granted to us, without the least merit, or 
any deserving qualifications of our own. 

In all this God is" not only merciful but 
most tenderly and immensely merciful. And 
will any one calumniate this adorable me- 
thod of exercising mercy, because provision 
is also made for the glory of God's truth, 
God's holiness, and supreme authority ? 

Ther. Does not your notion of a propi- 
tiatory sacrifice derogate from the goodness 
of the Almighty Father, and transfer all our 
obligations to the incarnate Son? 

Asp. Is there not goodness in allowing a 
substitute to suffer in our stead ? Is there 
not still greater goodness in providing a sub- 
stitute for us, without any solicitation on 
our part ? Is there not the very highest 
exertion of goodness, in appointing a dear, 
an only, an incomparably excellent Son for 
the purpose ? This marvellous scheme, far, 
very far from obscuring, most illustriously 
displays the superabundant loving-kindness 
of the Father. 

" God so loved the world," apostate and 
polluted as it was — How did he love it ? 
To a degree unutterable by any tongue, 
inconceivable by any imagination, and only 
to be expressed by the infinitely-precious 
effects : Loved it so, " that he gave his only 
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on 
him should not perish, but have everlasting 
life;" (John iii. 16.) And does this dero- 
gate from the goodness of the Almighty 
Father, to give not barely pardon and life, 
but give them through the hands, nay, 
through the wounds, the agonies, the death, 
of his divinest, dearest Son ? 

Such privileges, vouchsafed on any terms, 
must challenge the devoutest acknowledg- 
ments. But when attended with this ad- 
ditional demonstration of favour, they are 
enough to inflame us with gratitude, and 
transport us with admiration. They not 
only manifest, but commend* the divine 



* Rom.v. 8. '^uvi^niri. It seems to be an image 
taken from the practice of tradesm.en ; who, in show- 
ing their goods, point out their excellencies, and set 
in the clearest light whatever may bespeak their 
worth, or recommend them to the purchaser. 



DIALOGUE ly. 



185 



love ; show it to the greatest advantage, in 
the highest perfection, with every circum- 
stance of recommendation and endearment. 
By this means, blessed God ! thou hast un- 
speakably enhanced thy benefits ! thou hast 
rendered them, though invaluable in them- 
selves, exceedingly more so by the manner of 
conferring them ! 

Ther. Again in yoiu* elevations, As- 
pasio ? The veorld, you know, is grown 
very rational and inquisitive ; will admit 
nothing but upon clear evidence and full 
conviction. We expect, in all religious in- 
quiries, not the flights of fancy, or the sal- 
lies of zeal, but a sobriety of reason and so - 
lidity of argument. 

Asp. The world, rational as it is, seems, 
by the taste oT the present age, no enemy 
to works of fancy. The world therefore 
may not be displeased with an affecting 
stoiy. And a story, suitable to the occa- 
sion, just occurs to my mind ; such as may 
serve to shadow forth, though very faintly, 
the surpassing benignity and grace of our 
crucified Lord. 

An Asiatic queen, departing this life, 
left behind her three accomplished sons, all 
arrived to years of maturity. The young 
princes were at strife who should pay the 
highest respect to their royal mother's me- 
mory. To give scope for their generous 
contention, they agreed to meet at the place 
of her interment, and there present the 
most honourable gift they knev/ how to de- 
vise, or were able to procure. — The eldest 
came and exhibited a sumptuous monument, 
consisting of the richest materials, and orna- 
mented with the most exquisite workman- 
ship. The second ransacked all the beau- 
ties of the blooming creation ; and offered 
a garland of such admirable colours, and de- 
lightful odours, as had never been seen be- 
fore. The youngest appeared, mthout any 
pompous preparation, having only a crystal 
bason in one hand, and a silver bodkin in 
the other. As soon as he approached the 
tomb, he threw open his breast ; pierced a 
vein, tlmt lay opposite to his heart ; received 
"the blood in the transparent vase ; and, 
with an air of affectionate reverence, placed 
it on the beloved parent's monument. The 
spectators, struck with the sight, burst into 
a shout of general applause, and immediate- 
ly gave the preference to this last oblation. 

If it was reckoned such a singular ex- 
pression of love, to expend a few of those 
precious drops, for the honour of a parent ; 
O how matchless, how ineffable, was the 
love of Jesus, in pouring out all his vital 
blood, for the salvation of enemies ! 

Ther. My greatest objection is stLll to 
come. If Christ suffered in our stead, he 
must suffer that very punishment which 
was due to our iniquities. This your or- 
thodox divines aiFirm to be incomparably 



worse than bodily death ; to be nothing else 
than the everlasting displeasure of God. 

Asp. The punishment due to oui- ini- 
quities, was shame, death, and the divine 
wrath. 

As for shame — Was ever shame like that 
shame which oiu" despised Redeemer bore? 
Though prince of the kings of the earth, 
yet born in a stable, and laid in a manger. 
When an infant, exiled from his own coun- 
try, and a vagabond in a foreign land. 
When engaged in the discharge of his mi- 
nistry, accused of the most flagitious crimes, 
and branded with the blackest names. 
When brought to his exit, apprehended as 
a thief; condemned as a malefactor, nay, 
the vilest of malefactors, a robber and a 
murderer is preferred before him. His 
executioners poured contempt upon all his 
venerable offices. As a king, they ridi- 
culed him, by putting a mock sceptre into 
his hand, and crowning him with ragged 
thorns* instead of a royal diadem. They 
vilified his prophetic character by hood- 
winking his eyes, striking his blessed head, 
and then asking, in cruel derision, " who it 
was that smote him ?"f They cast reproach on 
his priestly undertaking, when they sharpen- 
ed their tongues with malicioiis irony, and 
shot out those bitter words, " He saved 
others, himself he cannot save," (Matth. 
xxvii. 42.) To render his infamy as pub- 
lic as it was shocking, they hung him on a 
tree ; and exposed him, defiled as he was 
with spitting, and disfigured vidth wounds, 
to the gazing eyes and contumelious scoffij 
of numberless spectators. 

If you doubt whether Christ sustained 
the wath of God, let us follow him to the 
garden of Gethsemene — a scene, which I 
would always recollect when I walk along 
the fertile vale, or expatiate amidst the 
flowery garden, or enjoy the delights of any 
rural retirement. — He had no remorse to a- 
larm his spotless conscience ; yet fearfulness 
and trembling came upon him. No ^^o- 
lence was offered to his sacred person ; yet 
a horrible dread overwhelmed him. It was 
night, cold night ; and though our divine 
Master lay prostrate upon the earth, amidst 
the fall of chilling dews, he sweat — sweat 
blood — sweat great drops of blood, run- 
ning down in reeking streams to the ground ! 
— " He was anointed with the oil of 
gladness above his fellows," (Psal. xlv. 
7.) yet so insupportable was his affiiction, 
that he could not forbear crying out, " My 
sovil is sorrowful — exceeding sorrowful — 

* To have crowned the blessed Jesus with straw, 
would have been a vile insult, and treating him like 
an ambitious madman. But to crown him with keen, 
pungent, lacerating thorns, was adding cruelty to 
their insults; unheard-of barbarity to the most con- 
temptuous mockery. Matt, xxvii, 29. 

t Scornfully insinuating, that his sacred prophetic 
office v/as fit for nothing, but to serve such despicable 
purpcrses, Matt. xsvi. 68. 



166 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



soiTQwful even unto death !" (Mat. xxvi. { 
38.) What cause, what adequate cause, ( 
can be assigned for this amazing anguish ? t 
None but the wrath of his Almighty Fa- t 
ther, who was now become an inexorable i 
Judge ; and treated him no longer as the . 
Son of his love, but as the Surety for un- ] 
numbered millions of guilty creatures. t 

Ther. Was it possible that the innocent 1 
Ji,nd holy Jesus, the dearly beloved Son of s 
God, should be an object of his Father's i 
wrath ? ] 

Asp. It was not only possible, but una- i 
voidable and necessary : unavoidable, with \ 
respect to the divine holiness ; necessary, t 
for the procurement of our redemption. 
Sin was charged upon Christ ; all the sins c 
of all believers, in all ages and places of the 5 
world. And could the infinitely-righteous . 
God behold such a deluge of iniquities, ( 
(those abominable things, which he hateth) 
without expressing his displeasure? Or 1 
could the blessed Jesus be punished, truly 1 
punished for them, without any painful sen- ( 
sation of their horrid evil, and of that tre- < 
men dons indignation which they deserved ? ^ 
, If this was not the case, who can main- 
tain the dignity of his conduct diu^ing the i 
agony in the garden ? Was there no pouring * 
out of the divine displeasure ? Then his be- - 
liaviour in that hour of trial did not equal 1 
{he intrepidity of the three Hebrew youths, 
who continued calm, and without the least 
perturbation, while the furnace was heated 
into seven-fold rage, (Dan. iii. 16, 17, 18.) 
IBut if this was the time in which, no creat- 
ed ai-m being strong enough to give the blow, 
" it pleased the Loi'd to bruise him," (Isa. 
iiii. 10.) if the most high God " bent his 
bow like an enemy, and stood with his right 
hand as an adversary," (Lara. ii. 4.) it is 
easy to account for the prodigious conster- 
nation of our Redeemer. It is not to be 
wondered, that his heart, though endued 
with otherwise invincible fortitude, should 
become like melting wax. For who know- 
eth the power of that wrath, at which " the 
pillars of heaven tremble ?" (Job. xxvi. 
11.) 

Ah ! Theron, the vinegar and the gall 
which they gave him to drink, were not half 
so bitter as the cup of his Father's wrath ; 
yet, for our sake, he drank it off to the very 
dregs. The nails that pierced his hands, and 
the spear that cleft his heart, were not half 
so sharp as the frowns of his eternal Fath- 
jer's countenance ; which, for our consolation, 
he patiently submitted to bear. — He was 
j-ent with wounds, and racked with pain ; 
his bones were dislocated, and his nerves 
convulsed : a thousand thorny daggers were 
planted in his temples, and life flowed out 
kt ten thousand gushing veins. Yet this, 
all this was gentle, was lenient, in compari- 
ison of those inexpressible agonies, which 



penetrated his very soui The formfer fetrh^ 
ed not a single complaint from his mouth ; 
the latter wrung from his breaking heart 
that passionate exclamation ; " My God ! 
my God ! why hast thou forsaken me ?" — • 
Astonishing words ! Surely, a distress, be- 
yond all imagination grievous,* uttered 
them. Surely, the vengeance, not of men, 
but of heaven itself, extorted them. Every 
syllable of which speaks what the mourn- 
ing prophet describes, " Is it nothing to 
you, all ye that pass by ? Behold and see 
if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, 
wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in 
the day of his fierce anger?" (Lam. i. 12.) 

Here now is our whole pimishment en- 
dured ; the shame of the cross, and the 
sorrows of death ; the suspension of the 
Almighty's favour, and the terrible sensar. 
tions of his wrath. 

Ther. Be it so. Yet all this amounts 
to no more than part of payment. For 
these sufferings were transient, temporary 
only, not eternal. Therefore the main cir- 
cumstance, the most bitter ingredient, was 
wanting. 

Asp. In the estimate of divine justice, 
and in point of penal satisfaction, they were 
equivalent to our endless punishment ; 
especially if we consider the severity of the 
sufferings and the dignity of the Sufferer. 

The severity of the sufferings. At the 
last day, all those fierce eruptive flames, 
which have raged in ^(tna, in Vesuvius, 
and in every other burning mountain through- 
out the world ; all those confined subterra- 
nean fires, which have so terribly shaken 
the foundations of Jamaica, , Sicily, and Con- 
stantinople — in a word, the whole element 
of fixe, however employed through all the 
revolutions of time, wherever diffused 
through all the regions of the globe, will 
then be collected from all quarters, and 
burst forth into one vast, resistless, general 
conflagration. In some such manner, all 
that wrath, which was due to the innumer- 



* To heighten our idea of this distress, the evan- 
gelists make uae of the most forcible words—'/i^'^arix, 
1x6 , fz(})uc(la.t, he was seized with the most alarm- 
ing astonishment— a5>j^a«/v, he was overwhelmed 
with insupportable dejection — T'^iXvro;, he wr^ 
besieged on all sides, as it were, with an army of 
invading sorrov/s— He wrestled amidst strong cries 
and tears, not only with the malice of men and rage of 
devils, but with the infinitely more dreaded indign/v- 
tion of God; he wrestled even unto an agony of 
spirit, ay^Jvia, All these circumstances of horror 
and anguish, constitute what a celebrated poet very 
justly styles, 

" A weight of woe more than ten worlds could liear \" 
The critic, probably, will admire the propriety and 
beauty of this line, which, composed of nothing but 
monosyllables, and clogged with the frequent repeti- 
tion of a cumbrous consonant, ma kes the sound remark- 
ably apposite to the sense. May we all be sacred 
critics ! have not only a refined taste to relish such 
elegancies of composition, but an awakened heart, to 
feel the energy of such important truths. 



DIALOGUE IV. 



able multitude of sinners, redeemed from 
eveiy kindred, and tongue, and people, and 
nation, which, if executed on the offending 
creatures, had been prolonged to eternal 
ages — all that wrath was contracted into one 
inconceivably dreadful blaze, and at once 
poured out upon the interposing Surety ; at 
once flamed forth on our heavenly victim This 
will appear more than probable, if, among 
other particulars, we contemplate the un- 
equalled magnanimity of our Lord, who is 
styled "the Lion of the tribe of Judah," 
(Rev. vi. 5. ) and compare it with his bloody 
sweat in the garden, and his exceeding bit- 
ter cry on the cross. * 

The dignity of the Sufferer.— Had our 
Saviour's sufferings been the sufferings of a 
mere man, or of the most exalted angel, 1 
acknowledge they could have bore no pro- 
portion to our demerit. It were impossi- 
ble for a finite being to sustain the wrath, 
or discharge the debt. But they were the 
sufferings of the Prince of Heaven, and the 
Lord of Glory ; before whom aU men are 
as dust, and all angels as ^vorms. Was an 
infinite Majesty offended ? An infinite Me- 
diator atoned. Weigh the dignity, the im- 
mense dignity of the Redeem.er's person, 
against the everlasting dm-ation of our pun- 
ishment, and it will not only counterbalance, 
but preponderate. Finite creatures can 
never make an infinite satisfaction ; no, not 
through the most unlimited revolution of 
ages. Whereas, when our divine Lord un- 
dertook the work, being truly and properly 
infinite, he finished it at once. So that his 
sufferings, though temporary, have an all- 
sufficiency of merit and efficacy. They are, 
in this respect, parallel ; nay, on account of 
the infinitude of his nature, they are more 
than parallel to an eternity of our punishment. 

It was Emmanuel, it was the incarnate 
God, who purchased the church, and re- 
deemed sinners, with his own blood. (Acts 
XX. 28.) The essential grandeur of our Sa- 
viour communicated its ennobling influence 
to every tear he shed, to every sigh he heav- 
ed, and eveiy pang he felt. 

This renders his sufferings a perfect, as 
their vicarious nature renders them a pro- 
per, satisfaction. And though " the wood 
of Lebanon was not sufficient to bum, nor 
all the beasts thereof sufficient for a burnt- 
offering," (Isa. xl. 16,) this sacrifice fully 
answers the exigence of the case. This 
sacrifice sends up an ever-acceptable odour 
to the skies, and diffuses its sweet perfume 
through aU generations ; such as appeases 
heaven, and revives the world. 

Yes, Theron, you must give me leave to 

* I think the language of the Greek liturgy is the 
language of strict propriety, as well as of fervent de- 
votion, A/' ayvu'^-MV tn ■TTix.^'/i/u.aTMV. The suffer- 
ings of our Lord arc, in their measure and weight, 
to us unknown ; al/solutely beyond the reach of hu- 
man imagination. 



repeat the delightful truth: It was "the 
great God, even our Saviour Jesus Christ, 
who gave himself for us." (Tit. ii. 13, 14.) 
His sacrifice, therefore, must be inconceiv- 
ably meritorious. O that sinners, the vilest 
of sinners, knew its all-sufficient efficacy ! 
they woifld no longer be holden in the 
bonds of iniquity, by that destructive sug- 
gestion of the devil, " There is no hope." 
(Jer. ii. 25.) 

TTier. What valuable end could such vi- 
carious sufferings accomplish ? Suppose 
God absolutely inexorable, and they cannot 
avail. Suppose him divinely merciful, and 
they are needless. 

Asp. The difficulty you propose, I think, 
has been obviated already ; so that I have 
no occasion to solve your dilemma, but only 
to answer your query. These sufferings, as 
a punishment, gave ample satisfaction to the 
divine violated law ; as a sacrifice, they per- 
fectly reconciled us to our offended God ; 
as a price, they redeemed us from every 
evil, and purchased for us a title to all good. 

This is a subject of the most distinguish- 
ed importance. Let not my Theron ima- 
gine, I would abuse his patience, if I dwell 
a moment longer on the favourite topic. I 
might enumerate many ends, all magnificent 
and gracious, accomplished by this wonder- 
ful expedient. I content myself with spe- 
cifying a few ; but those, such as bring the 
highest gloiy to God, administer the most 
solid comfort to man, and most effectually 
promote the interests of piety. 

In this we have a manifestation of the 
most awful justice, and at the same time a 
display of imbounded goodness. Awful 
justice, in that the great and terrible God, 
though determined to exercise mercy, would 
exercise it only in such a manner as might 
vindicate the authority of his law, might 
testify the purity of his natiue, and declare 
the inviolable faithfulness of his word. Un- 
boimded goodness; in that he withheld not 
his Son, his only Son, but freely gave him 
up for us all ; gave up " the brightness of 
his glory," to be covered with infamy ; gave 
up " the beloved of his soid," to expire in 
agonies ; on purpose to obtain honour and 
immortality for apostate men. The tor- 
ments inflicted on all the damned in hell, 
are not so fearful a monument of God's jus- 
tice, as those dying agonies of the Lord 
Jesus Christ. Nor could a thousand worlds 
conferred on mankind, have been such an 
act of superabundant munificence, as that 
gift of his ever-blessed Son. 

Look we for power and wisdom ? To up- 
hold the humanity of Christ, under all the 
studied cruelties of men, under the insatiate 
rage of devils, and the far more tremendous 
curse of the divine law ;* to conquer sin, 

* Isaiah xliii. 6. " I the Lord, will hold thine 
liand, and will keep thee." This is spoken of the 



188 



THEEON AND ASPASIO. 



and dfeath, and hell, by a person bound with 
fetters, nailed to a tree, and crucified in 
weakness ; to expiate, by one offering, the 
innumerable millions of crimes committed 
by all his people from the beginning to the 
end of time : was not this power ? match- 
less power ! astonishing power ! And as 
for wisdom, how admirable was the contriv- 
ance, which could harmonize the seemingly 
opposite claims of mercy and of justice ! 
arid not only satisfy each, but magnify both ! 
Had punishment been executed in all its ri- 
gour on the sinner's person, mercy had lost 
her amiable honours. Had the sinner been 
restored to favour, without any penalties 
sustained either by himself or his Surety, 
justice had been set aside as an insignificant 
attribute. Whereas, by our Lord's vicari- 
ous and expiatory sulferings, both are mani- 
fested, and both are exalted. Therefore 
the Scripture affirms, that God hath not 
only exercised, but abounded in wisdom and 
prudence ; nay, hath abounded in all wis- 
dom and prudence, (Eph. i. 8,) by this 
combination of righteous vengeance and 
triumphant grace, which is at once so hon- 
ourabW to himself and so advantageous to 
his people. 

Ther. " Advantageous to his people." — 
I am glad you are come to this point. 
This is what; I want to have cleared up. I 
am for those doctrines, which glorify God 
by doing good to man. Give me the reli- 
gion whose aspect is benign, and whose 
agency is beneficial : not like a meteor, to 
dazzle us with a vain glitter ; or like a 
comet, to terrify us with a formidable glare ; 
but like yonder sun, whose beams shed 
light, and life, and joy all around. 

Asp. If this be what you seek, and what 
you prize, the Christian religion, this doe- 
trine in particular, will answer your warmest 
expectations, and challenge your highest es- 
teem ; for it is rich with benefits of the 
most needful, the most desirable, and most 
exalted kind. — The first and grand blessing 
is pardon of sins ; pardon, not of small sins 
only, but of the most aggravated, the most 
horrid, the most enormous. Be they flam- 
ing as scarlet, be they foul as the dunghill, 
be they black as hell itself — yet they shall 
be as the spotless wool, or as the virgin 
snows. Isaiah i 18. They shall " he, as 
though they had never been." Pardon, not 
of a few, but of all sins. Be they numer- 
ous as the hairs of our head, numerous 
as the stars of heaven, numerous as the 
sand upon the sea- shore, the blood of 
Jesus cleanseth from them all. ( 1 John i. 7. ) 



Messiah. It gives him assurance of effectual support, 
when the vengeance of heaven, the fury of hell, and 
the sins of the world, should fall upon him with unit- 
ed violence. To support the Mediator under these 
circumstances, is mentioned as a very distinguished 
act of that omnipotent ari.a, which created the hea- 
vens, and spread forth the earth, and giveth spirit 
to them that walk therein, vcr. 5. 



Hereby we have victory over death, and 
admittance into everlasting life. For thus 
saith the holy apostle, concerning the poor 
sojourners in clay: " Seeing therefore the 
children were partakers of flesh and blood, 
he also partook of the same : that, by un- 
dergoing death he might destroy him who 
had the power of death, that is the devil • 
and deliver those who, through fear of death, 
were all their lifetime subject to bondage." 
(Heb. ii. 14, 15.) And thus saith the ve- 
nerable elder, concerning the glorified saints 
in light : " These are they who came out 
of great tribulation ; and they have washed 
their robes, and made them white in the 
blood of the Lamb; therefore are they be- 
fore the throne." (Rev. vii. 14.) 

The Philistines rejoiced when Samson, 
the destroyer of their country, M'as delivered 
into their hands. How much greater rea- 
son have we to rejoice, since the blessed 
Jesus has vanquished our last enemy ! has 
made death the minister of endless life, and 
the grave a gate to eternal glory ! Joseph 
had cause to be glad, when he put off his 
prison-garments, and was clothed with 
change of raiment ; when he was brought 
from the dungeon to the palace, and hon- 
oured with a seat at the right hand of the 
king. But is it not an incomparably richer 
blessing, to have our robes washed in re- 
deeming blood, and our souls cleansed from 
all guilt .'' Is it not an incomparably higher 
advancement, to be admitted into the bliss- 
ful presence, and to possess the everlasting 
kingdom of God ? 

To comprehend all in a word. — Hereby 
are procured, even for the most unworthy 
creatures, all the benefits of the new cove- 
nant. Therefore the blood of Christ is 
styled by a prophet, " the blood of thy cove- 
nant," (Zech. ix. 11.) by an apostle, " the 
blood of the everlasting covenant," ( Heb. 
xiii. 20.) and our Lord himself says, "this 
is the new covenant in my blood," ( Luke 
xxii. 20.) Is it a privilege to know God, 
the hifinitely amiable centre and source of 
all perfection ? Is it a most valuable en- 
dowment to have his laws put into our 
minds, and written on our hearts ? Is it a 
branch of real felicity to have our number- 
less sins forgiven, and not one of our ini- 
quities remembered any more ? Is it the 
compendium of all happiness to have God 
for our portion and our exceeding great re- 
ward ? to be his peculiar treasiu-e, his lov- 
ing and beloved people ? (Heb. viii. 10 — 12. 
Of all these we may say, They are the pur- 
chase of Immanuel's blood ; and whoever 
is truly interested in the one, is unques- 
tionably entitled to the other. 

Who, then, would refuse so comfort- 
able — 

Ther. Too comfortable, we might ima- 
eine, to be either true in itself, or safe in 



DIALO 

ifs consequences. Must it not tend to im- 
bolden the sinner in the prosecution of his 
vices ? Who need scruple to transgress, or 
be very solicitous to repent, if an all-atoji- 
ing sacrifice has been oifered for eveiy kind 
and every degree of wickedness ? 

Asp. Would you have sinners intimidat- 
ed ? Nothing speaks such terror to the 
children of disobedience, as the bitter pas- 
sion and accursed death of Christ. All the 
rhetorical aggravations of sin, with regard 
to its loathsome nature, and execrable vile- 
ness ; all the severity of vengeance, execut- 
ed upon rebellious angels or wicked men; 
all, all are weak and inexpressive, compar- 
ed with the dreadful emphasis of this great 
transaction. For if the Lord Almighty, 
spared not his own Son, when guilt was not 
found in him, but only imputed to him ; 
how much less shall he spare incorrigible 
offenders, who both habitually commit, and 
obstinately persist in their daring impieties ? 

If, by repentance, you mean an ingenuous 
sorrow for our transgressions, nothing is so 
likely to break the stony, or melt the icy 
heart, as these doleful effects of sin. Let us 
imag-ine ourselves present at Calvaay, and 
standing by the cross. See ! the innocent, 
the amiable, the illustrious Saviour, hangs 
on a tree — a tree, torturous as the rack, 
and ignominious as the gibbet ! See ! his 
face is foul with spitting, and his sides are 
torn with the scourge. His veins stream 
with blood, and his heart is wounded with 
anguish. There he hangs, abandoned by his 
friends, reviled by his enemies, and forsaken 
even by his God. Can we reflect, that we, 
even we, were the cause of this inconsolable 
misery, and not feel remorse in our con- 
sciences, or sorrow in our minds ? Can we 
reflect, that for us, for us he bore this amaz- 
ing torment, a::d not smite our breasts, or 
be pained at our very souls ? 

If, by repentance, you mean a thorough 
renunciation of all iniquity, no motive is so 
effectual to divorce the heart from every 
abominable idol, and divert the feet from ever)' 
evil way, as an attentive consideration of 
our Redeemer's deiith. Whose indignation 
does not rise against the infamous wretch 
that betrayed the blessed Jesus ? who is 
not ready to detest those envenomed tongues 
which accused him, and those barbarous 
hands which crucified him ? How then 
can we cherish those horrid lusts, which 
were the principal actors in this deepest of 
tragedies ? How can we caress, how can 
we entertain, how can we endure those ex- 
ecrable iniquities, which were the betrayers 
and murderers of the Prince of Life? " He 
bore our sins in his own bleeding, agonizing 
body on the tree;" not that we should be 
imboldened to forsake them, but incited to 
abhor them, and induced to forsake them ; 
that, in our practice and our affections we 



QUE IV. 189 

should not only be averse, but even " dead to 
sin," (1 Pet. ii. 24.) 

If you would have benevolence, your fa- 
vourite principle, take place and operate, it 
is impossible to m-ge so endearing a per- 
suasive to universal good- will as this " kind- 
ness and love of God our Saviour," (Tit. 
iii. 4.) How can we indulge the sallies of 
resentment, or harbotu* the seeds of animo- 
, sity, when the meek, the merciful, the infi- 
nitely gracious Redeemer, laid doA-vu bis- 
life for his bitterest enemies ? How can 
we treat with contempt or indifference, even 
the meanest of mankind, since our divine 
Master gave his all-glorious person for vile 
wretches, and miserable sinners? Never 
was there so winning a call to disinterested 
charity, as the amiable example of Christ ; 
never so binding a cement of brotherly love, 
as the blood of the crucified Jesus. 

In short, would you have people possess- 
ed of every heavenly virtue, and animated 
to the practice of every good work ? No- 
thing administers so powerful an incitement 
to them all, as a lively and appropriating 
sense of this wondrous grace. Set home 
by the Holy Ghost,* it produces such a 
warm gratitude, and such a heart-felt joy, 
as are far more operative than the most 
awful threatenings, or the most cogent rea- 
sonings. So that, quite contrary to your 
suspicions, the native tendency of this ex- 
cellent doctrine is, to suppress ungodliness, 
and promote piety. 

Observe how the present calm eveningv 
yonder mild declining sun, and these soft 
balmy breezes, have imlocked the flowery 
prisons, and detached a profusion of odours 
through the air ; have inspirited the little 
songsters of the grove, and fetched lavish 
harmony from their throats. So sweetly 
will a true belief in Jesus Christ, and him 
crucified, di-aw forth all the powers of the 
soul, in acts of ready and cheerful obedience. 
He is therefore said, not only to justify, but 
also to " sanctify the people with his blood, 
(Heb. xiii. 12.) 

Let us consider the death of Christ, in 
this its full grandeur and extensive efficacy, 
and we shall discern the admirable proprie- 
ty of the apostle's remark, " It became him, 
for whom are all things, and by whom are 
all things, in bringing many sons unto glory, 
to make the Captain of their salvation per- 
fect through sufferings," (Heb. ii. 10.) It 



* The reader will give me leave, on this occasion, 
to subjoin the noble doxology of our church ; which, 
when thus applied, may be an excellent means, both 
of expressing our gratitude, and of quickening our 
devotion. " Glory be to the Father," for providing 
this all-sufficient atonement, and giving his Son to 
save a ruined world. " Glory be to the Son," for 
humbling himself to the death of the cross, and ob- 
taining eternal redemption for sinners. " Glory be to 
the Holy Ghost," for testifying of Christ in our 
hearts, and appropriating this great salvation to our 
souls* 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



,3 00 

becarae, as an a.ct of sovereignty in God, it 
comported with the dignity, and emblazon- 
ed (if I may so speak) the incomprehensible 
majesty of his perfections. As an execu- 
tion of impartial vengeance .on our Surety, 
it asserted the rights of divine government, 
and secured the utmost veneration to the 
divine law. As an emanatipn of rich in- 
dulgence to us, it redressed all our misery, 
and retrieves our whole happiness. In each, 
in every respect, it is worthy of the most 
grateful and adoring acceptance from sinful 
man, and such as will be had in everlasting 
honour by the choirs of saints, and the 
host of angels. 

Ther. I thank you, Aspasio. Your argu- 
ments have not indeed converted me, but 
they have strengthened my faith. I never 
was so unhappily mistaken, as to disbelieve 
the satisfaction made by our Lord Jesus 
Christ ; made to divine justice ; made for 
the sins of the world. But I now see more 
clearly its reasonableness and importance ; 
its cheering aspect on the guilty conscience, 
and its benign influence on the moral con- 
duct. 

Asp. I congratulate you, dear Theron, 
from my inmost soul, on your thorough con- 
viction of this important truth. May you 
have still more extensive and generous views 
of the glorious article ! and may every re- 
newed view be more and more influential 
on your heart ! 

Reviving, ravishing thought! to have him 
for our bleeding victim ! him for our great 
propitiation ! at whose feet the armies of 
heaven bow, and the saints in light adore ! 
reviving, ravishing thought ! to have all our 
punishment sustained, and the whole curse 
of the law exhausted ; so that justice itself 
can demand no moie ! Nay, to have so per- 
fect a ransom paid for our redemption, that 
it is not barely an act of favourable indul- 
gence, but of the highest righteousness* also, 
to pardon, accept, and glorify the believer. 
Jn such a method of reconciliation, how 
fully does the judgment acquiesce, and how 
securely the conscience rest ! 

Excuse me, Theron. ]My afl^ections are 
again upon the soar. But I clip their 
wings. — Only let me ask, is not this doc- 
trine the grand peculiarity of the gospel, by 
which it stands distinguished from every 
other religion professed in the world? Is it 
not the central point, in which all the lines 
of duty unite, and from which all the rays 



* Therefore the apostle says, " God is faithful and 
just to forgive us our sins." 1 John i. 9. Faithful ; 
because he had promised this blessing, by the unani- 
mous voice of all his prophets. Just; surely then he 
•will punish ! No; for this very reason he -will pardon. 
This may seem strange ; but, upon the evangelical 
principles of atonement and redemption, it is appar- 
ently true: because, when the debt is paid, or the 
purchase made, it is the part of equity to cancel the 
bond, and consign over the purchased possession. 



of consolation proceed ? Strike this article 
from the creed, and you reduce the mystery 
of godliness to a system of ethics ; yoirde- 
grade the Christian church into a school of 
philosophy. To deny the expiation made 
by our Redeemer's sacrifice, is to obscure 
the brightest manifestation of divine be- 
nignity, and to undermine the principal pilr 
lar of practical religion ; is to make a des- 
perate shipwreck of our everlasting interests, 
and to dash (such, I fear, it will be found 
in the final issue of things) ourselves to 
death on the very rock of salvation. 

Tlier. Now, I believe it is time to rep^iir 
homewards. And I hope it will be no dis- 
agreeable exchange, if we resign our seat 
on the mount for a place in the dining- 
room. 

Asp. Pray, let me inquire, as we walk 
along, (for I was unwilling to inten-upt our 
discourse, merely to gratify my curiosity,) 
what may be the design of yonder edifice, 
which rises on a small eminence, near the 
public road ? It is neither a tower, nor a 
dwelling-house ; but looks like a stately 
column, erected on purpose to beautify the 
prospect. 

Ther. It is a sort of monumental pile : 
erected, as the story goes, on a very me- 
morable occasion. Queen Eleanor accom- 
panied King Edward the First to (what 
was called) the holy war ; in which he 
gained signal advantages over the infidels, 
and acquked a large share of renown to 
himself. After many gallant exploits per- 
formed in the field, a treacherous and des- 
perate Saracen, demanding admittance into 
his chamber, under pretence of private busi- 
ness, wounded him with an impoisoned dag- 
ger. The consequence of which, his phy- 
sicians declared, must be inevitable and 
speedy death, unless the poison was sucked 
out by some human mouth. This might 
possibly preserve the royal patiejit, but 
would be extremely dangerous to the oper- 
ator. 

Dangerous as it v/as, his Queen claimed 
the office ; insisted upon it, as the consort's 
right ; and executed it so faithfully, that she 
saved the king's life — so happily, that she 
lost not her own. After this, she returned 
to England, lived many years, and bore se- 
veral children. But, sooner or later, royalty 
itself must pay the debt to nature. Dying 
on a journey to Scotland, she was brought 
back to the last and long home of our En- 
glish monarchs.* Wherever her corpse 
rested, in the Avay to its interment, a struc- 
ture,! (such as you now behold) was raised. 



* Westminster Abbey. 

t One of these structures stands on the high road, 
near Northampton. It is surrounded with a large 
flight of steps, at the bottom ; and ornamented to- 
wards the top, with four female statues, in full prQy 



DIALOCrUE V. 



191 



in order to peqietuate the memory of her 
conjugal affection. 

Asp. And should not our hearts be a 
monument of gratitude to the blessed Je- 
sus ? who drew the deadly venom, not 
from our veins, but from the immortal part 
of our nature ; and not at the hazard, but 
at the loss, the certain and unavoidable loss 
of his precious life ? He opened his breast, 
oj)ened his very soul, to the keenest arrows 
of vindictive justice ; that, transfixing him, 
they might drop short of us ; " the poison 
whereof drank up his spirits," (Job vi. 4,) 
that the balm of peace might refresh ours. 

O, my Theron ! let om- memories be the 
tablet, to record this unexampled instance 
of compassion and goodness. Let our af- 
fections dwell upon the tragical, the delight- 
ful history ; till they melt into contrition, 
and are inflamed with love. If we want an 
inscription, let us make use of those noble 
lines, which, in the finest climax imaginable, 
describe the magnificence and grace of tliis 
astonishing transaction : 

"Survey the wondrous cure. 

And at each step let higher wonder rise. 
Pardon for infinite oli'ence ! and pardon 
Througli means that speak its value infinite ! 
A pardon bought with blood ! with blood divine ! 
With blood divine of him I made my foe ! 
Persisted to provoke ! Though woo-'d and aw'd, 
Bless'd and chastised, a flagrant rebel still; 
Kor I alone! A rebel universe ! 
My species up in arms ! ot one exempt ! 
Ye-t for the foulest of the foul, he dies !" 

Night TlioughtSy No. iv. 



DIALOGUE V. 

Asp ASIC having some letters of import- 
ance to answer, as soon as the cloth was 
taken away, retired from table. His epis- 
tolary engagements being dispatched, he 
inquired for Theron. The servants in- 
formed him that their master walked into the 
garden. A very little search found him 
seated on an airy moimt, and sheltered by 
an elegant arbour. 

Strong and substantial plants of labur- 
num formed the shell, while the slender and 
flexile shoots of syringia filled up tlie inter- 
stices. Was it to compliment, as well as 
to accommodate their worthy guests, that 
they interwove the luxuriant foliage ? Was 
it to represent those tender but close at- 
tachments, which had united their afi'ections, 
and blended their interests ? I will not too 
positively ascribe such a design to the disposi- 
tion of the branches. They composed, how- 
ever, by their twining embraces, no inexpres- 
sive emblem of the endearments and the ad- 
vantages of friendship. They composed a 



portion. A latin inscription informs the traveller, 
concerning its occasion and design : 
" la perpetuam Regina Eleanors 
Conjugalis amoris memoriam." 



canopy of the freshest verdure, and of the 
thickest texture ; so thick, that it entirely 
excluded the sidtry ray, and shed both a 
cool refreshment, and an amusive gloom ; 
while every unsheltered tract glared with 
light or fainted with heat. 

You enter by an easy ascent of steps> 
lined with turf, and fenced with a balus- 
trade of sloping bay- trees. The roof was 
a fine concave, peculiarly elevated and 
stately. Not embossed with sculpture, not 
mantled over with fret-work, not incrusted 
with splendid fresco ; but far more deli- 
cately adorned with the syringa's silver tufts, 
and the laburnum's flowering gold ; whose 
large and lovely clusters, gracefidly pendent 
from the leafy dome, disclosing their sweets 
to the delighted bee, and gently waving to 
the balmy breath of spring, gave the utmost 
enrichment to the charming bower. 

Facing the entrance, lay a spacious grassy 
walk, terminated by an octangular basin 
with a curious jet d'eau playing in the centre. 
The waters, spinning from the lower ori- 
fices, were attenuated into inimmerable 
little threads, Avhich dispersed themselves 
in a horizontal diicction, and returned to 
the reservoir in a drizzling shower. Those: 
which issued from the higher tubes, and 
larger apertures, either sprung perpendicu- 
larly, or spouted obliquely, and formed as 
they fell, several lofty arches of liquid crys- 
tal, all glittering to the eye and cooling to 
the air. 

Parallel to the walk ran a parterre, plant-j 
ed with an assemblage of flowers, which 
advanced one above another, in regular gra-, 
dations of height, of dignity, and of beauty. 
First, a row of daisies, gay as the smile of 
youth, and fair as th-e virgin snows. Next, 
a range of crocuses, like a long stripe of 
yellow satin, quilted with threads, or diver- 
sified with s])rigs of green. A superior 
order of ranunculuses, each reseml)ling the 
cap of an earl's coronet, replenislied the 
third story with fidl blown tufts of glossy 
scarlet. Beyond this, a more elevated line 
of tulips* raised their flourished heads, and 



* Here is, it must be confessed, some little deviation 
from the general la%vs of the season ; some anachorism 
in the annals of the parterre. The flowers united in 
this reprtsentation do not, according to the usual pro- 
cess of nature, make their appearance together. 
However, as, by the economy of a skilful gardener,, 
they may be thus associated, I hope the possibility 
of the thin^ will screen my flowery productions from 
the blasts ot censure. Or, may I not shelter my bloom- 
ing assembly under the remark of a masterly critic, 
which is as pertinent to the case, as if it had been 
written on purpose for our vindication ; and in all 
respects so elegant, that it must adorn every work 
which quotes it, and charm every person who reads 
it? 

" A painter of nature is not obliged to attend her 
in her slow advances, which she makes from one sea- 
son to another ; or to observe her conduct in the suc- 
cessive productions of plants and flowers. He may draw 
into his description all the beauties of the Spring and 
Autumn, and make the whole year contribute some- 
, thing to render it more agreeable. His rose trees, wood 



192 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



opened tbeir enamelled cups ; not bedecked 
with a single tint only, but gloAving with an 
intermingled variety of almost every radiant 
hue. Above all arose that noble ornament 
of a royal escutcheon, the fleur -de-luce, 
bright with etherial blue, and grand with 
imperial purple ; which formed, by its 
gi-aceful projections, a cornice or a capital 
of more than Corinthian richness, and im- 
parted the most consiunmate beauty to the 
blooming colonnade. 

The whole, viewed from the arbour, 
looked like a rainbow painted upon the 
ground, and wanted nothing to rival that 
resplendent arch, only the boldness of its 
sweep, and the advantage of its ornamental 
curve. 

To this agreeable recess Theron had 
withdrawn himself. Here he sat musing 
and thoughtful, with his eye fixed upon a 
picture representing some magnificent ruins. 
Wholly intent upon his speculation, he 
never perceived the approach of Aspasio, 
till he had reached the summit of the mount, 
and was ready to take a seat by his side. 

Asp. Lost, Theron ! quite lost in 
thought ! and unafiected with all these ami- 
able objects ; insensible amidst this profu- 
sion of beauties, which, from every quarter, 
make their court to your senses ! Methinks, 
the snarling cynic in his tub, coidd hardly 
put on a greater severity of aspect than my 
polite philosopher in his blooming Eden. - 

Ther. Ah ! my dear friend, these flowery 
toys, which embellish the garden, are fami- 
liar to my eye, and therefore cheap in my 
esteem. I behold them frequently, and 
for that reason, feel but little of the pleas- 
ing surprise which they may possibly awaken 
in a straiiger. Something like this we all 
expei'ience with regard to events infinitely 
more worthy our admiring notice. Else, 
why are we not struck Avith a mixture of 
amazement, veneration, and delight^ at the 
grand machinery and magnificent produc- 
tions of natiu-e ? 

That the hand of the Almighty should 
wheel round the vast terrestrial globe, with 
such prodigious rapidity and exact punctu- 



binesandjessaminesmay flourish together,and his beds 
be covered at the same time with lilies, violets, and 
amaranthuses. His soil is not restrained to any par- 
ticular set of plants, but is proper either for oaks or 
myrtles, and adapts itself to the product of every cli- 
mate. — Oranges may grow wild in it ; myrrh may be 
met with in every hedge ; and if he thinlis it proper 
to have a grove of spices, he can quickly command sun 
enough to raise it. His concerts of birds may be as 
full and harmonious, and his woods as thick and 
gloomy as he pleases. He is at ncrmore expense in a 
long vista than a short one, and can as easily throw 
his cascades from a precipice of half a mile high, as 
from one of twenty yards. He has the choice of the 
winds, and can turn the course of his rivers in all the 
•variety of meanders, that are most delightful to the 
reader's imaj;ination. In a word, he has the model- 
ling of nature in his own hands, and may give her 
what charms he pleases, provided he does not reform 
her too much, and run into absurdities by endeavour- 
ing to excel." — Spect. Vol. vi. No. 418. 



ality, on purpose to produce the regular vi- 
cissitudes of day and night, on purpose to 
bring on the orderly succession of seed-time 
and harvest ! We wonder when we read of 
the Israelites sojom-ning forty years in the 
desert, marching backward and forward 
over its biu:ning sands, and find neither 
their clothes waxing old, (Deut. viii. 4,) 
by so long a use, nor their feet swelling 
with so painful jomnies. (Neh. ix. 21.) 
Yet we are neither impressed with wonder, 
nor afl^ected with gratitude, when we enjoy 
the benefits of the air, which clothes the 
earth, as it were, with a garment ; which has 
neither contracted any noxious taint through 
the extensive revolution of almost six thou- 
sand years, nor suifered any diminution of 
its natural force, though exercised in a se- 
ries of unremitted activity, ever since the 
elementary operations began. 

This draught in ray hand, shows us the 
instability of the grandest, most laboured 
monuments of human art. They are soon 
swept away among the other feeble attempts 
of mortality ; or remain only, as you see 
here, in shattered ruins, memorials of the 
vain and powerless ambition of the builders. 
How strange then, that a structure, incom- 
parably more tender and delicate, should be 
preserved to old age and hoary hairs ! That 
the bodily machine, which is so exquisite in its 
frame, so complicated in its parts, and per- 
forms so many thousands* of motions every 
moment, should contiime unimpaired, yet 
act without intermission, so many days and 
weeks, and months and years ! How 
strange all this ; yet, because common, how 
seldom does it excite our praise, or so 
much as engage our notice ! 

Asp. Your remarks are as just, as the 
neglect of them is customary.— Unaccount- 
able supineness ! Though " God doth great 
things," worthy of all observation, "yea, 
and wonders without number," vA^e ya\\'n 
with indolence, instead of being animated 
with devotion, or transported with delight. 
" Lo ! he goeth before us," in evident ma- 
nifestations of wisdom and power, yet we 
see him not ; " he passeth on also," and scat- 
ters unnimibered blessings from his provi- 
dential hand, " but we perceive him not." 
(Jobix. 10, 11.) 



* Thousands— Not to mention the spontaneous, if 
we consider only the mechanical motions, which are 
continually performed in the animal system ; the di- 
gestive action of the stomach — the vermicular agita- 
tion of the bowels — the progress of the chyle through 
the lacteal vessels — the many, many operations of the 
secreting glands — the compression of the lungs, and 
all their little cellular lodgments by every act of res- 
piration : above all, that grand impetus, the systole 
of the heart, which, by every constriction, darts the 
crimson current through an innumerable multitude 
of arteries : and drives, at the same instant of time, 
the refluent blood through an innumerable multitude 
of corresponding veins. Such a view will oblige us to 
acknowledge that Theron's account is far from being 
extravagant, that it rather diminishes than exagger- 
ates the real fact. . , . . ' 



DIALO 

This, tlioiigli greatly culpable, is to be 
reckoned among the smallest instances of 
our ungrateful insensibility. Are we not 
inattentive even to the work of redemp- 
tion ? That work, which according to the 
emphatical declaration of scripture, " ex- 
ceeds in glory," (2 Cor. iii. 9,) is by far the 
greatest, the most marvellous of all sub- 
lunary, perhaps of all divine transactions. 
Are we not shamefully unaffected, even 
with the appeai'ance of God in human flesh ? 
Though the King of kings vouchsafes to 
exchange his throne for the humiliation of 
a servant, and the death of a malefactor ; 
though he is pleased by the imputation of 
his active as well as passive obedience, to 
become " the Lord our righteousness j" 
yet 

Ther. You are taking an effectual way, 
Aspasio, to rouse me from my reverie, and 
make me indeed like the snarling philoso- 
pher. " Imputed righteousness is a scheme 
grossly frivolous and absurd, utterly insufh- 
cient to answer the end proposed ; and, 
one would think, could never be depended 
on, where there is the least degree of under- 
standing, and capacity for reasoning."* 

Asp. Who is warm now, Theron ? May 
1 not remind my friend, that the resentful 
is no more fitted to work conviction than 
the rapturous ? Perhaps you have not duly 
considered this subject, nor seen it in the 
proper point of view. I have sometimes 
beheld a ship of Avar several leagues off at 
sea. It seemed to be a dim cloudy some- 
thing, hovering on the skirts of the horizon, 
contemptibly mean, and not worthy of a 
moment's regard. But, as the floating cit- 
adel approached, the masts arose ; the sails 
swelled out ; its stately form and curious 
proportions struck the sight. It was no 
longer a shapeless mass, or a blot in the 
prospect, but the master-piece of human 
contrivance, and the noblest spectacle in 
the world of art. The eye is never weary 
of viewing its structiure, nor the mind in 
contemplating its uses. 

Who knows, Theron, but this sacred 
scheme likewise, which you now look upon 
as a confused heap of errors, may very 
much improve when more closely examined ; 
may at length appeal- a wise and benign 
plan, admirably fitted to the condition of 
our fallen nature, and perfectly worthy of 
all acceptation. 

Ther. I know not what may happen, 



* The reader will probably be disgusted at this 
heat of temper, this asperity of diction, and both so 
abruptly introduced. I have no apology to make for 
my Theron. The reader has reason to be disgusted, 
has reason to be chagrined. Only let me desire him 
to remember that this is the very spirit, nay, these 
are the very words of a celebrated opposer of our 
doctrine ; not added when he has fully proved the 
absurdity of the scheme, but assumed even upon the 
entrance to his discourse. 



GUE V. 193 

Aspasio ; but there seems to be very little 
probability of such a change. For, though 
my last opposition was a mock-fight, in my 
present objections I am very sincere, and to 
this doctrine I am a determined enemy. 
The notion of a substituted and vicarious 
righteousness, is absurd even to common 
sense, and to the most natural and easy re- 
flections of men. 

Asp. It may not, my dear friend, agree 
with our natural apprehensions, nor fall in 
with the method which we might have de- 
\dsed for the salvation of mankind. But 
this is the voice of scripture, and a maxim 
never to be forgotten : " God's thoughts are 
not as our thoughts, nor his ways as oiu: 
ways," (Isa. Iv. 8.) " His righteousness 
is like the strong mountains, and his judg- 
ments ai-e like the great deep," ( Psal. xxxvi. 
6. ) the former immoveable, the latter im- 
searchable. 

Ther. The mention of moimtains put me 
in mind of what I was reading yesterday ; 
the keen irony with which Abimelech's 
principal officer chastised the blustering 
Gaal : " Thou seest the shadow of the 
mountains, as if they were men," (Judg. ix. 
36.) He, it is sarcastically intimated, was 
afraid, and my Aspasio seems to be fond, 
of shadows. 

Asp. Happy for your Aspasio, that irony 
is no argument. If a jury was impannelkd 
to try me and my doctrine, I should cer- 
tainly except against irony. Generally 
speaking, he is neither a good man, nor a 
true ; and, if I remember right, you your- 
self consented to set him aside in this de- 
bate. I shall therefore adapt my reply ra- 
ther to what is solid than what is smart. 
" This notion," you say, " is absiu-d even 
to common sense." A saying, on \\liich 
I must beg leave to put a query. It was, 
I own, absolutely beyond the power of com- 
mon sense, unassisted by divine revela- 
tion, to discover this truth. I will grant, 
farther, that this blessing infinitely tran- 
scends whatever common sense has observed 
in all her converse with finite things. But 
if I have any the least acquaintance with 
common sense, I am very sure she will not, 
she cannot pronounce it an absurdity. To 
this judge I refer the cause. 

And to open the cause a little, let me 
just observe that God imputed our sins to 
his Son. How else could the immaculate 
Jesus be ptmished as the most inexcusable 
transgressor? " Awake, O sword, against 
the man that is my Fellow, saith the Lord 
of Hosts," (Zech. xiii. 7.) Is not this the 
voice of a judge, pronouncing the sentence, 
and authorizing the execution ? Or rather, 
does it not describe the action of justice, 
turning the sword from us, and sheathing 
it in Christ? Who, if he was our substi- 
stute, with regard to penal suffering, why 
o 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



19 i 

inay lie not stand hi the same relation with 
regard to justifying obedience ? There is 
the same reason for the o)ie as for the other, 
every argument, in favour of the former, 
is equally conclusive in behalf of the latter. 

lyier. I very freely grant, tliat Christ 
Jesus was ])unishefl in oiu- stead ; that his 
death is the exj)iation of our sin, and the 
cause of our security from penal suffering. 
13ut this — 

Asp. Will undeniably prove, that sin was 
imputed to him ; otherwise he could not 
truJy suffer in our stead, nor be justly 
punished at all. " And imputation is as rea- 
sonable and justifiable in one case as in the 
other, for they both stand upon one and the 
same foot; and, for that reason, he who 
throws down one, throws down both." I 
should not have interrupted my Theron, only 
to introduce this answer from an eminent 
<livine, who adds what should be very seri- 
ously considered : " And therefore, who- 
ever rejects the doctrine of the imputation 
of our Saviour's righteousness to man, does, 
])y so doing, reject the imputation of man's 
sin to oiu" Saviour, and all the consequences 
of it. Or, in other words, he who rejects 
the doctrine of the imputation, does, by so 
doing, reject the doctrine of the expiation 
likewise."* 

TJier. I know nothing of this divine; 
and,, eminent as he is, can hardly take his 
ipse dixit for a decision. 

Asp. I was in hopes you would pay the 
greater regard to his opinion, l-ecause he 
is not in the number of the whimsical fana- 
tics. 

Give me leave to observe farther, that the 
imputation of Christ's righteousnessbears an 
evident analogy to another great truth of 
Christianity. We did not personally com- 
mit Adam's sin, yet are we chargeable 
Avith guilt, and liable to condemnation, on 
that — 

T/iC7\ How ! we chargeable with guilt 
snd liable to condemnation on account of 
Adam's transgression ! This position I 
must deny, I had almost said, I must ab- 
hor. None other could, in the eye of jus- 
tice and equity, be blamable for any of- 
fence of our lirst parents, but they only. 

Asjj. So says Theron ; but what says St. 
Paul ? This may be the voice of natural 
reason, but what is the language of divine 
revelation ? " In whom," that is, in Adam, 
"all have sinned." 

Ther. The words, if I remember right, 
are, " For that all have sinned." 

Asp. In the margin, they are translated as 
I have repeated them. For tins interpre- 



* Staynoe upon " Salvation by Jesus Christ alone." 
¥ol. i. p. 334. Where the reader may find several 
weighty considerations, clearly proposed, and strongly 
urged, for the explanation and establishment of this 
capital doctrine. 



tation I might contend, as not in the leasg 
incompatible with the original phrase,* and 
as the most precisely suitable to the sacred 
argument. But I Avave this advantage. 
Let the words run into your mould, and the 
translation take your form. They are 
equally decisive of the point in debate. 
They assign the reason why death came 
upon all men, infants themselves not ex- 
cepted : " For that," or inasmuch as, " all 
have sinned." How ? not in their owii 
person ; this was utterly impossible. But 
in that first grand transgression of their fe- 
deral head, which, as it could not be ac- 
tually committed by them, must, according- 
to the tenor of the apostle's arguing, be im- 
puted to them. 

T7ie)\ Pray, what do you mean by that 
stiff, and to me unintelligible phrase, fe- 
deral head ? 

Asp. I mean what Milton celebrates, 
when he represents the Almighty Father 
thus addressing his eternal Son 

" Be thou in Adam's room 

The head of all mr.nkind, though Adam's- son. 

As in him perish all men, so in thee. 

As from a second root, shall be restored 

As many as are restored ; without thee none." 

Book 3. 1. 285. 

I mean Avhat the apostle teaches, when 
he calls Christ " the second man," (1 Cor. 
XV. 47.) and "the last Adam," (1 Cor. xv. 
45. ) The second ! the last ! How ? Not 
in a numerical seiise, not in order of time, 
but in this respect : That as Adam was a 
public person, and acted in the stead of ail 
mankind, so Christ was a public person, 
and acted in behalf of all his people. Tiat, 
as Adam was the first general represerua- 
tive of this kind, Christ was the second and 
the last ; there never was, and there never 
will be any other. That what they seve- 
rally did, in this capacity, was not intended 
to terminate in themselves, but to affect as 
many as they respectively represented. 
This is St. Paul's meaning, and this is ther 
foundation of the doctrine of imputation. 

T/ie7\ If you build it on no other founda- 
tion than your own particular sense of the 
apostle's words, perhaps your ground rany 
prove sandy, and treacherous to its trust. 

Asp. I build it upon mine, and I deduce 
it from yours, Theron. But I am far from 
resting the whole weight of the cause upon 
a single text. It is established, again and 
again, in this same chapter. Neither do I 
wonder at the prejudices which you and. 
others may entertain against the doctrine. 
It lies quite out of the road of reason's re- 
searches ; it is among the wonderful things- 
of God's law. This the inspired penman^ 
foresaw, and modelled his discourse ac- 
cordingly. Like some skilful engineer, who. 



* E(j&' u ^avTif r,fiC!.(>pro\,^ Rom. v. 12. 



DIALOGUE V. 



195 



though he makes the whole compass of his 
fortification strong, yet bestows peculiar and 
additional strength on those parts wliich he 
apprehends will be exposed to the fiercest 
attack ; so the ysise, the divinely wise apos- 
tle, has inculcated, and re-inculcated this 
momentous point, has enforced it with all 
the assiduity of zeaJ, and confij'med it by 
all the energy of expression. " If, through 
the offence of one, many be dead — The 
judgment was by one to condemnation — 
By one man's offence, death reigned by 
one — By the offence of one, judgment came 
upon all men to condemnation," (Rom. v. 
15, 16, 17, 18.) That there may remain 
no possibility of mistaking his meaning, or 
of eluding his argument, he adds, " By one 
man's disobedience, many were made sin- 
ners," (Rom. V. 19.) 

TTier. Sin, I am told by a celebrated ex- 
positor, sometimes signifies pumshment. 
He farther informs me, that we may be 
said to sin in Adam, not by the imputation 
of his disobedience to us, but by becoming 
obnoxious to those sufferings which were 
due to his sin. 

Asp. Then the apostle's reasoning ^^'^ll 
stand in this form ; " death came upon all 
men, for that all have sinned ;" that is, 
*' death came upon all men, because all have 
been punished, or, an obnoxiousness to pun- 
ishment came upon men, because all are 
become obnoxious to punishment." A 
goodly strain of argumentation for an unerr- 
ing writer to use ! But surely Gamaliel's 
pupil would disclaim, much more would 
Christ's ambassador scorn, such weak and 
unmeaning chicanery. He mentions sin 
and its punishment ; but never hints, that 
they are intended to signify one and the 
same thing. He all along maintains a dis- 
tinction between them ; represents the for- 
mer as the cause of the latter. Judgment, 
condemnation, death, are owing to sin, of- 
fence, disobedience. It is by the imputa- 
tion of these that we become obnoxious to 
those. 

This accoimt is clear, is natural, and 
wants no strained criticisms to support it. 
This account demonstrates the equity of 
that providential government, which exe- 
cutes the sentence of death even on those 
descendants of Adam who have not sinned 
in their own persons. It also illustrates 
the procedure of that sovereign grace, which 
treats as righteous, and entitles to life, even 
those believers in Jesus, who have not 
obeyed in their own persons. — What says 
our chm-ch ? You have a great veneration 
for the church of England, Theron. 

Ther. I have. But, I fear, my Aspasio 
has neither so honourable an opinion of her 
worship, nor so steady an adherence to her 
Constitution ; othenvise he would not so 
highly extol those ambitious and canting 



hypocrites the Puritans ; who were the 
most inveterate enemies of our excellent 
establishment, and would have rejoiced in 
its utter subv^ersion. 

Asp. As to the Puritans, you will do me 
the justice to acknowledge, that I speak 
only of their evangelical tenets, abstracted 
from all political principles. As to myself, 
your I'ears are friendly, but I trust they are 
groundless. I would only ask, who are to 
be deemed the most affectionate and faith- 
ful sons of their sacred mother ? Those, 1 
presume, who most cordially embrace her 
doctrines, and most dutifully submit to her 
precepts. By this touchstone let my fide- 
lity be tried ; and, for an immediate trial, 
be pleased to repeat her ninth article. 

The)\ I cannot say, that I remember the 
particular words of any, though I have often 
read, and veiy much approve them all. 

Asp. I wish you would commit to your 
memoiy four or five of the most distin- 
guished.* They are a valuable treasure, 
and contain the quintessence of the gospel. 

These are the words of the ninth article. 
" Original sin is the fault and corruption of 
every man, that natm'ally is engendered of 
the ofl^spring of Adam." It is ihe fault, 
says the pious Bishop Beveridge, and there- 
fore we are guilty of it ; it is the corruption 
also, and therefore we are defiled with it. 
Our homilies have recourse to no such pal- 
liatives, and qualifying interpretations, as 
my Theron's expositor uses. One of them 
affirms point blank, that "in Adam all men 
sinned universally." This seems to be a 
paraphrase on the text, whose translation 
you lately controverted. In what sense 
our great poetical divine understood the sa- 
cred writer is apparent fiom the following 
words, Avhich are supposed to have been 
spoken by Jehovah himself : 

" Adam's crime 

Makes guilty all his sons." 

Milton, book iii. 1. 290. 

And from another passage, where our re- 
bellious progenitor, bewailing his aggravated 
misery, and the extensive malignity of his 
sin, declares, 

. " In me all 

Posterity stands cursed." — Book x. 1. 817- 

For my own. part, I must confess, that 
if the transmission of original depravity be 
granted, I know not how the imputation of 
Adam's destructive apostacy can be denied. 

If we had no concern in the one, how 
could we be justly punished with the other ? 
I say punished. ' For to lose the primitive 
integrity of our nature, and inherit a de- 
praved disposition, is at once a most deplor- 
able calamity, and a most terrible punish- 
ment. Corruption transmitted, and guilt 
imputed, seem to be doctrines indissolubly 



* Especially Articles 9, 10, 11, 12, 13. 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



connected. To allow the former, and re- 
ject the latter, is in my apprehension to 
acknowledge the eflect without admitting 
the cause. 

Ther. To make us parties in a covenant, 
which we did not agree to, can this be 
equitable ? To ruin us for a crime which 
we never committed, can this be merciful ? 
Surely this is a flagrant injustice, never to 
be ascribed to the all-gracious God ; a dia- 
bolical barbarity, add some, never to be 
mentioned without the utmost detestation. 

Asp. I see no cause for such a tragical 
outcry of barbarity, nor indeed for any 
complaint of injustice. Not to insist upon 
the sovereignty of an all-creating God, and 
his unquestionable right, to " do what he 
will with his own," (Matt. xx. 15.) 1 
would only ask, did he not condescend to 
transact with man, not on the foot of abso- 
lute uncontrollable authority, but in the 
honourable and delightful way of a cove- 
nant ? Were not the terms of this covenant 
perfectly easy, and wonderfully gracious ? 
Wonderfully gracious ; for they proposed a 
state of inconceivable and everlasting feli- 
city to creatures who were entitled to no 
happiness; (Luke x. 28.) had not the 
l€ast claim to any good ; no, not so much 
as to the privilege of existence. Perfectly 
easy ; for what was the condition on mail's 
part ? Not any rigorous act of duty, nor se- 
vere course of self-denial, but the free en- 
joyment of millions of blessings and plea- 
sures, with only the prohibition of one per- 
nicious indulgence. Here, then, is made 
on one hand, a promise of the most glorious 
reward that God himself could give ; and 
nothing required on the other, but the 
smallest expression of allegiance that man 
himself could wish. And is this injustice ? 
is this barbarity ? 

Ther. All this was equitable enough 
with regard to Adam ; but why should we 
be condemned for his violation of the cove- 
nant ? Or how was such a constitution of 
things gracious with respect to us ? 

Asp. " Why condemned ?" Because we 
should have been partakers of the benefit 
and the glory, if he had persevered in his 
duty. To this, I presume, none would ob- 
ject. And if they would not to the one, 
they ought not to the other. 

You ask farther, " How was such a con- 
stitution of things gracious with respect to 
us ?" I answer, because it was the most 
likely means to secure the happiness of us 
and all mankind. Was not Adam, of all 
persons, by far the best qualified to act as 
a general head ? He had a perfection of 
knowledge, to discern his true interest ; a 
perfection of holiness, to capacitate him 
for obedience ; and a perfection of happi- 
ness, disposing him to perseverance. As 
Bone could have moie eminent qualifica- 



tions, none could have so many obligatiorigi 
His own welfare, both bodily and spiritual; 
was at stake ; the eternal interests of his 
rising family, and of his remotest posterity; 
were depending ; the lives, the souls, the ever- 
lasting all of the whole human race, were em- 
barked on the single bottom of his fidelity. 
Therefore the felicity of every individual 
that should spring from his loins, was d 
fresh motive to vigilance, an additional en- 
gagement to duty.* As his love to his 
offspring was more refined, more exalted, 
more god-like than ours, all these consider- 
ations, and inducements must operate upon 
him in their fuUest scope, and with the 
strongest energy. What an- intrenchment 
was here to keep out disobedience, and 
ward off ruin ! An intrenchment deep as 
hell, high as heaven, wide as the whole ex-* 
tent of the human species. — Here then I 
may venture to throw the gauntlet, and 
challenge the whole woiid. Let the most 
penetrating mind devise a scheme, so wisely 
and graciously calculated to ascertain the 
success of a probationary state. If this be 
impracticable, then must every mouth be 
stopped ; no tongue can have the least 
reason to complain : I, for my part, shali 
think myself obliged to admire the benignity 
of my Creator's conduct ; and God may 
justly demand of all intelligent creatm-es, 
" What could have been done more" for the 
preservation and felicity of mankind, " that 
I have not done ?" (Isaiah v. 4.) 

Especially, when to all this we add, that 
the same Almighty Being, who appointed 
Adam to be our representative in the first 
covenant, without asking our actual con- 
sent, appointed also Christ to be our repre- 
sentative in the second covenant, without 
staying for our actual solicitation. When 
we take this into the account, there remains 
not the least shadow of injustice ; but good- 
ness, transcendent goodness, shines forth 
with the brightest lustre. 

Ther. Goodness, Aspasio ! This is sur- 
prising indeed ! Why, if Adam's transgres- 
sion be laid to our charge, we are damnable 
creatures the very moment we exist ; and 
are liable to the torments of heU, even on 
account of his disobedience. To term this 
goodness, is the greatest of paradoxes ! ta 
affirm it of the Deity, is little less than blas- 
phemy ! 

Asp. Let us be calm, my dear friend, and 



* Should any pferson imagine himself more capable 
of standing than Adam, who was endowed with all 
the perfections of an innocent, holy, god-like nature ^ 
I think, by this very imagination he begins to fall ; 
fall into pride. Should any person suppose, that, front 
a view to his own particular salvation, he would con- 
tinue faithful; when Adam was not engaged to fide- 
lity, from a regard to his own and the final happiness 
of all his posterity ; he seems to be just as wise as the 
mariner, who persuades himself, that though a thou- 
sand anchors could not secure the ship in a storm^fc 
I yet one might have done it effectually 



DIALOGUE V. 



1-97 



Ts>ilsider the case impartially. If it is not 
a real truth, I shall be as willing to relin- 
quish it as yourself. 

Is not death, eternal death, the wages 
of every sin ? And if of every sin, then 
doubtless of original, which is the fountain 
from whence all the streams of actual ini- 
quity flow ; or rather the abyss from -whence 
all the torrents pour. That which could 
ROt be -pardoned, but by the humiliation and 
agonies of God's adorable Son, may reason- 
ably be supposed to deserve the most dread- 
ful vengeance. And it is affirmed, by an 
authority which you will not dispute, that, 
" for original as well as actual sin, the of- 
fering of Christ is a propitiation and satis- 
faction."* 

Does not St. Paul deliver it as a maxim 
in divinity. That, " by the offence of one," 
Adam he undoubtedly means, "judgment 
came upon all men to condemnation ?" 
( Rom. V. 18.) The import of the words, 
together with the connexion of the passage, 
lead us to understand this of a condem- 
nation to eternal misery. The import of 
the words ; for they are donbled,f to make 
them peculiary strong in their signification ; 
and each word, within the compass of this 
very epistle, is used in that av/ful latitude 
of meaning, ( Rom. ii. 3 ; iii. 8 ; viii. 1 . ) The 
connexion of the passage ; because it stands 
opposed to that justification which is unto 
life. This, we are sure, includes the idea 
of an everlasting duration. And why should 
its tremendous counterpart be less exten- 
sive ? 

This sense is evidently patronized, and 
tliis doctrine most peremptorily asserted by 
our established church. What says the 
book of Homilies, when treating of the 
miseries consequent upon the fall ? " This 
go great and miserable a plague, if it had 
only rested on Adam, who first offended, it 
had been much easier, and might the better 
Imve been borne. But it fell not only on 
him, but also on his posterity and children 
for ever ; so that the whole brood of 
Adam's race should sustain the self-same 
fall and punishment, which their forefather 
by his offence most justly had deserved. "| 
Lest any should misapprehend the design 
of our reformers, and suppose the pmiish- 
ment to consist only of some bodily suffer- 
ing, or the loss of immortality, it is added 
in the same alarming discourse, " Neither 
Adam, nor any of his, had any right or in- 
terest at all in the kingdom of heaven ; but 
were become plain reprobates and castaways, 
being perpetually damned to the evei-lasting 
pains of hell." 

Lest you should imagine this might be 



* Article XXXI. 

•)* K^/^a its 'TO y.-'.-9.< nj,f. 

X Homiiyon the nativity: of Christ. 



written under a sally of hasty zeal, or thfsA 
it is to be reckoned among the doting opi- 
nions of a credulous antiquity, let me re- 
mind my friend, that it is ingrafted into the 
Articles: those articles, which were ap- 
proved by the archbishops and bishops of 
both provinces, were ratified by the general 
consent of the clergy, and are to this day 
the national standard of our belief. The 
ninth article, beginning with a description 
of our depraved nature, subjoins an account 
of its proper desert : " In every person born 
into the world, it deserveth God's wrath and 
damnation."* 

Ther. How miserable then is man ! 

Asp. In himself he is miserable beyond 
expression. But a conviction of this misery 
is the beginning of all happiness. The valley 
of Achor is a door of hope, t 

Ther. Explain yourself, Aspasio. You 
seem to deal very much in the incompre- 
hensible. 

Asp. Such a conviction would demon- 
strate the absolute insufficiency of all hu- 
man attainments, and all human endeavours 
to procure life and salvation. For in case 
we could perform every jot and tittle of the 
divine law, offend in no instance, fall short 
in no degree, persevere to the A cry end ; yet 
this would be no more than our present 
bounden duty. Not the least pittance of 
merit could arise fiom all tliis. Much 
less could this be sufficient to expiate ori- 
ginal guilt, or remove the di-eadful entail of 
the primitive all-destroying sin. 

1 his, therefore, ^\•ould most effectually 
preclude every false confidence, and sweep 
away at one stroke " every refuge of lies," 
(Isa. xxviii. 17.) It would lay us under 
an immediate, indispensable, and happy ne- 
cessity of betaking ourselves to Christ. I 
say happy necessity; because then we should 
know by experience what each part of our 
Loid's awful yet tender declaration mean- 
eth ; " O Israel, thou hast destroyed thy- 
self, but in me is thy help," (Hos. xiii. 9.) 
W e should then find, that as sin and misery 
hath abounded through the first Adam, 
mercy and grace have much more abounded 
through the second. For, if v/e were ruin- 
ed by a crime which we committed not, we 
are recovered by a righteousness which we 
performed not ; a righteousness infinitely 

* I am surprised to see a learned author attempting 
to sheath the sting of this awful denunciation; at- 
tempting to prove that the words "do not signify 
God's eternal wrath, and the damnation of hell." I 
shall take no pains to confute what he is pleased to 
advance. I leave the question in the reader's own 
breast. Let him discover, if he can, a different 
meaning in the sentence. Unless he has a pretty 
shrewd nack at sophistry, I am persuaded he will find 
it a difficult matter to give any other tolerable turn 
to the passage. Surely it must be a reproach to our 
venerable mother, if she delivers her doctrine in lan- 
guage so fallacious, as must necessarily mislead the 
generality of her sons ; or in terms so abstruse, as 
even a good undertanding cannot develope, without 
some proficiency in critical legerdemain. 

t Hgs, ii. 15- Achor signifies trouble. 



198 



TIIERON AND ASPASIO. 



surpassing whatever we could have acquired, 
even though our nature had been transmitted 
to us free from any depravity, and exempt 
from all guilt. 

Ther. In your opinion, then, and accor- 
ding to your scheme, salve and regimen are 
better than a sound constitution. 

Asp. No, Theron. My opinion is, that 
none can think himself aggrieved, or have 
any reason to complain, at that grand and 
beneficent regulation, which suffers the 
glimmering taper to be obscured or ex- 
tinguished, but sheds abroad the boundless 
and majestic beams of day. And if any 
comparison be made between the most per- 
fect human obedience, and the everlasting 
divine righteousness of Christ, it should be 
taken from the glimmering taper and the 
meridian sun. 

Ther. I cannot persuade myself to ad- 
mire such mysterious and unaccountable no- 
tions. They must puzzle some, will of- 
fend others, but cannot edify any. 

Asp. This point, that " we all died in 
Adam," were undone by his apostacy, can- 
not puzzle the simplest, if unprejudiced, 
mind. Nor will it offend any but the 
proud philosopher, or the self-righteous 
moralist. And I assure you I should not 
mention it, much less insist upon it, did 
it not subserve, and in a very singular 
manner, the purposes of edification. The 
doctrine of a Redeemer obeying and dying 
in our stead, is the very hinge and cen- 
tre of all evangelical revelations — is the 
very life and soul of all evangelical bless- 
ings. This doctrine is not a little illus- 
trated, and comes greatly recommended, by 
the imputation of Adam's sin. 

Contraries, you know, cas.t light upon and 
set off each other. Winter and its severe 
cold make spring and its cheering warmth 
m.ore sensibly perceived, and more highly 
pleasing. Such an influence has the pre- 
sent subject with respect to the vicarious 
obedience of our Mediator. The more 
clearly we see the reality of the first, the 
more thoroughly we shall discern the ex- 
pediency, the excellency, the glory of the 
last. The more we are humbled under a 
conviction of the former, the more we shall 
covet, or the more we shall triumph in, the 
enjoyment of the latter. The apostle draws 
a long parallel, or rather forms a strong con- 
trast between them, in the fifth chapter to 
the Romans. He speaks copiously of Adam's 
guilt, imputed to all mankind for condem- 
nation and death ; that he may speak the more 
acceptably, the more charmingly of Christ's 
righteousness, imputed to all believers for 
justification and life. In that dark ground, 
he well knew, this fairest, loveliest flower of 
Christianity appears with peculiar beauty ; 
indeed with all the beauty of consummate 
wisdom, and adorable benignity. 



Ther. It really seems to me a thing im- 
possible, that one man's righteousness should 
be made another's. Can one man live by 
the soul of another ? or be learned by the 
learning of another? — Good Aspasio, never 
attempt to maintain such palpable absurdi- 
ties. They will expose Christianity to the 
scorn of infidels. 

Asp. If infidels scoff at this comfortable 
truth, their scoffing will be, like aU their 
other cavils, not the voice of reason, but the 
clamour of prejudice. 

My friend's objection insinuates, what we 
never assert, that the essence of this right- 
eousness is transfused into believers ; which 
would doubtless be in fact impossible, as it 
is in theory absurd. But this we disavow 
as strenuously as you can oppose. The 
Redeemer's righteousness is made ours, not 
by infusion, but by imputation. The very 
terms we use may acquit us from such a ri- 
diculous charge ; as imputation signifies a 
placing to the account of one what is done 
by another. Accordingly, we believe, that 
the essence of this righteousness abides in 
Christ, but is placed to oiu" account ; that 
Christ, and Christ alone, actually performed 
it ; that Christ, and Christ alone, personally 
possesses it ; but that, performing it in our 
stead, and possessing it as our covenant- 
head, God imputes it to us, God accepts us 
for it, accepts us as much as if we had, on 
our own behalf and in our own persons, 
severally fulfilled it. 

Though one man cannot live, be actuat- 
ed with a principle of life, by the soul of 
another; yet you must allow, that one 
man, nay, that many men may live, be 
continued in the possession of life, for 
the righteousness of another. Or else you 
must do, what I am sure you abhor, you 
must charge with absurdity and impossi- 
bility even the declaration of the Deity : 
" If I find in Sodom fifty righteous within 
the city, then will I spare all the place for 
their sakes." (Gen. xviii. 26.) 

Ther. Not all your refinements can re- 
concile me to this uncouth notion. The 
practice is unexampled, and absolutely in- 
consistent with the rules of distributive jus- 
tice. 

Asp. Ah ! my Theron, if we seek an 
example of God's unbounded goodness 
amongst the puny proceedings of men, we 
shall be led into the most egregious misap- 
prehensions. To measui'e one of the sparks 
on your ring, and fancy we have taken the 
dimensions of the Alps or the Andes, 
would be, in comparison of this error, a 
small mistake : Since between a brilliant 
speck, and a range of mountains there is 
some proportion, but between human bene- 
ficence, and heavenly bounty there cannot 
possibly be any.. However, the all-condes- 
cending Creator has been pleased so to dis- 



■DIALOGUE V. 



^ense his infinitely rich grace, that we may 
find, though nothing parallel, nothing cor- 
respondent, yet some faint shadow of its 
manner among the affairs of mankind ; 
something that may perhaps give us such 
an idea of the stupendous subject, as a 
glow-worm would give of the sun's splend- 
our, in case a person had never beheld that 
magnificent luminary. This remark I must 
entreat you to recollect, whenever I attempt 
to elucidate the mysteries of the gospel by 
the occurrences of common life. 

When your worthy minister was disabled, 
by a rheumatic disorder, from attending on 
the business of his function, several of the 
-neighbouring clergy gave him their assist- 
ance. Was he not, by this vicarious per- 
formance of his office, entitled to all the 
profits of his living? It seems, therefore, 
not so unexampled a thing for one person 
to act in another's stead. And when a 
sei-vice is thus discharged by the proxy, the 
benefit may, according to the received max- 
ims of mankind, accrue to the piincipal. 
Did not Jehu's descendants, even to the 
fourth generation, reap the advantage of 
their great-grandfather's zeal ? (2 Kings 
X. 30.) Does not the Duke of **** en- ' 
joy the honours and rewards won by the 
sword of a victorious ancestor ? And may 
.not the whole world of believers, with equal, 
Vk'ith far greater justice, receive life and sal- 
vation on account of their all-deserving Sa- 
viour, especially since he and they are one 
mystical body, represented as such in scrip- 
ture, and considered as such by God. 

No, say you, this is contrary to the rules 
of distributive justice. What is your idea 
of a Surety ? How was the affair stated, 
and how were matters negotiated, with re- 
lation to your generous acquaintance Phil- 
ander ? He, you know, was bound for an 
unfortunate brother, who lately stepped 
aside. 

Ther. The debt by his brother's abscond- 
ing, devolved upon Philander. Pie was re- 
sponsible for all, and obliged to pay the 
whole sum. 

Asp. Was not his payment as satisfac- 
tory to the creditor, as if it had been paid 
in the debtor's own person, by the debtor's 
■own hand ? 

Ther. Certainly. 

Asp. Was not the debtor, by this vicari- 
ous payment, released from all fear of pro- 
secution, and acquitted from any future de- 
mand on this score ? 

Ther. He was. 

Asp. Apply this instance to. the redemp- 
tion of sinners by Jesus Christ, who is in 
<the sacred writings expressly styled a Surety. 
( Heb. vii. 22.) If Philander's act v/as 
-•deemed, in the estimation of law, the act 
of his brother ; if the deed of the former 
vv'u-j imputed, in point of advantage, entirely 



to the latter ; why should not the same ef- 
fects take place, with regard to the divine 
bondsman and poor insolvent shmers ? Why 
should that be exploded in our systems of 
divinity, which is universally admitted in 
our coiu-ts of j ustice ? 

Ther. Obedience and righteousness are, 
in the nature of the things themselves, per- 
sonal qualities, and only so. Every man is 
that only (and can be nothing else) which 
he is in himself. 

Asp. Righteousness, as dwelling in us, 
is undoubtedly a personal quality ; and obe- 
dience, as performed by us, comes under 
the same denomination. But does this 
supersede the necessity, or destroy the ex- 
istence of imputed rigbteousness ? Your 
first proposition is ambiguous. Let it 
speak distinctly ; add inherent to yoiu* right- 
eousness, and the sense becomes determi- 
nate, but the argument falls to the ground. 

Every man is that only (and can be 
nothing else) v/liich he is in himself." If 
I had never seen the Bible, I should have 
yielded my ready assent to this proposition. 
But, when I open the Old Testament, and 
find it written by the prophet, " in the 
Lord shall all the house of Israel be justi- 
fied," (Isa. xlv. 25,) when I turn to the 
New Testament, and hear the apostle say- 
ing, " Ye are complete in him, who is the 
head of all principalities and powers." (Col. 
ii. 10.) I cannot concur with Theron, 
without contradicting revelation. Israel, 
or the true believer, is said to be justified ; 
and the foundation of this blessing is declar- 
ed to be, not in himself but in the Lord. 
The Colossians are said to be complete, 
which we are very certain they were not in 
themselves, and are expressly assured they 
were so in Christ. Ilence it appears quite 
contrary to my friend's assertion, that sin- 
ners both have and are that in Christ, which 
they neither have nor are in themselves. 
They have by imputation a righteousness in 
Christ ; they are, by this imputed right- 
eousness, complete before God. 

I believe your mistake proceeds from ne- 
glecting to distinguish between inherent 
and imputed. We never suppose that a 
profiuie person is devout, or an intemperate 
person sober. This is inherent righteous- 
ness. But we maintain that the profane 
and intemperate, being convinced of their 
iniquity, and betaking themselves to the 
all-suiiicient Saviour for redemption, are in- 
terested in the merit both of his life and of 
his death. This is imputed righteousness. 
V/ e farther affirm, that though really abo- 
minable in themselves, they tu-e fully accept- 
ed by God for his beloved Son's sake. This 
is justification tlu'ough imputed righteous- 
ness. 

Plowever strange this may seem, it is no 
prectuious or imwarrantable opinion, but 



200 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



the clear and positive declaration of scrip- 
ture. He justifieth, he absolves from guilt, 
he treats as righteous — Whom? Upright, 
obedient, sinless creatures ? This were no- 
thing extraordinary. — No, but " he justifieth 
the ungodly, that believe in the Lord Je- 
sus," (Rom. iv. 5,) imputing as the ground 
of this justification, their trespasses to him, 
and his righteousness to them. 

Ther. I see no occasion for such nice 
distinctions and metaphysical subtilties, in 
plain popular divinity. Hard terms and 
abstruse notions may perplex the head, but 
seldom improve the heart. 

Asp. Why then do you oblige us to make 
use of them ? If some people twist and en- 
tangle the reins, it behoves others to clear 
them of the embarrassment, and replace 
them in their due order. Many writers, 
either from an artful design, or through a 
strange inadvertence, have jumbled and 
confounded these two very different ideas. 
Hence they have started objections to oiu- 
doctrine, which, the moment you introduce 
this obvious distinction, vanish into air. 
They fall into a mistake of their own, and 
then charge the absurdity upon others, 

I am no more fond of hard terms and 
abstruse notions than my Theron. Neither 
can 1 think the instance before us so ab- 
struse a notion. I am very certain, you are 
capable of comprehending much higher and 
nicer refinements. Therefore I must once 
again intreat you to remember the very ma- 
terial difference between inherent and im- 
puted righteousness. The former is the 
essence of sanctification, the latter is the 
ground of justification. By this, we are 
restored to the favour of God ; by that, we 
are made meet for his heavenly kingdom. 
Let this distinction, which is easy, which is 
scriptural, which is important, take place, 
and we may for the future dismiss what 
you call the metaphysical subtilties. Our 
disagreement will cease^ and our opinions 
tally. 

Ther. I question that, Aspasio. There 
are other difficulties to be got over before 
I can digest so crude an opinion. If we 
are justified by the righteousness of Christ, 
then the righteousness which justifies man- 
kind is already wrought out. 

Asp. And this you take to be a most 
enormous falsehood, whereas I look upon 
it as a most delightful truth. The right- 
eousness which justifies sinful man was 
set on foot, when God sent forth his 
Son from the habitation of bis holiness and 
glory, to be born of a woman, and made 
subject to the law. It was carried on 
through the whole course of our Saviour's 
life, in which he always did such things as 
were pleasing to his heavenly Father. It 
was completed at that ever memorable, that 
grand period of time, when the blessed 



Emmanuel bowed his dying head, and cried 
with a strong triumphant voice, " it is fin- 
ished !" 

If the justifying righteousness was to be 
wrought by ourselves, we could never be 
truly and fuUy justified till death, till our 
warfare is accomplished, and our last act of 
obedience exerted. But how uncomfort- 
able is such a notion ! How miserable 
would it render our lives ! And how direct- 
ly does it run counter to the determination 
of the apostle, " Ye are justified," (I Cor. 
vi. 11.) 

Ther. Soothed, then, with this pleasing 
surmise, may not the libertine say to his 
sold, " Soul, take thine ease in the most 
indolent security. All my carnal appetites, 
indulge yourselves without restraint. Con- 
science, be under no solicitude to live sober- 
ly, righteously, and godly, for the work is 
done, all done to my hands. I am like 
some fortunate heir, whose parents have 
been successfully industrious, and have left 
nothing to exercise the diligence of their 
surviving son, but only to possess the inhe 
ritance, and live on labours not his own." 

Asp. The libertine, who only speculates or 
disputes, may indeed abuse the doctrine of 
grace. But the believer, who feels the 
power of grace, will improve it to better 
pmposes. Where the former only fluctuates 
in the understanding, such detestable conse- 
quences may ensue. Where the latter ope- 
rates on the heart, it will always produce 
very different effects. Such a person, from 
such a faith, will be no more inclined to in- 
activity or licentiousness, than our busy 
humming companions are inclined, by this 
bright sunshine, and all those expanded 
blossoms, to sleep away their hours in the 
hive. And you may as soon expect to see 
these colonies of the spring swarm in 
December, clinging to an icicle, or dispers- 
ing themselves to gather honey on the snow, 
as to see a truly gracious man " who is dead 
to sin, living any longer therein," ( Rom. vi. 
2. ) Whoever, therefore, so shamefully per- 
verts so sweet and glorious a doctrine, is a 
witness against himself, that he has neither 
lot nor portion in the inestimable privilege. 
If an animal suck poison from the most 
wholesome herbs, we are siu-e, from that 
infallible indication, it is the vile spider, or 
some envenomed insect, not the valuable 
and industrious bee. 

Ther. Truly, Aspasio, I know not how 
to call that doctrine sweet, much less can I 
recommend it as wholesome, which renders 
repentance, personal reformation, and inhe- 
rent rectitude, needless. And if your tenet 
is once received, all these duties may fairly 
be dismissed. So that if the tiring was 
possible, yet it would be pernicious. 

Asp. The prophet was of another mind : 
" They shall look on him whom they have 



DIALOGUE V. 



201 



pierced, and mourn," (Zecb. xL 10.) Sin- 
ners sball look by faith to their crucified 
Lord ; shall see him fastened with nails to 
the cursed tree ; see him stabbed to the heart 
by the bloody spear. And remembering 
that this was the punishment due to their 
provocations, believing that by this punish- 
ment they are freed from all penal suffer- 
ings, and entitled to all spiritual blessings, — 
they shall not be tempted to transgress, but 
incited to mouni ; not play the profligate, 
but act the penitent. The apostle exactly 
agrees with the prophet ; and both are dia- 
metrically opposite to my friend : " The 
goodness," the transcendent and amazing 
goodness of God oiu: Saviour, instead of di- 
verting from, " leadeth to repentance," 
(Rom. ii. 4.) 

Far from obstructing, it powerfully pro- 
m.otes personal reformation. For thus saith 
that all-wise Being, who intimately knows 
our frame, and discerns what is most effec- 
tual to work upon our minds : " The grace 
of God, which bringeth salvation, hath ap- 
peared ; teaching us, that, denying all un- 
godliness and worldly lusts, we should live 
soberly, righteously and godly, in this pre- 
sent evil world," (Tit. ii. 11, 12.) Grace, 
you observe, even that gloriously free grace, 
which bringeth salvation to unworthy crea- 
tures, is a disuasive of all vice, and an en- 
couragement to every virtue. 

As to inherent rectitude, how can that be 
rendered needless by imputed righteousness? 
Is health rendered insignificant by the abun, 
dance of our riches ? Does ease become 
superfluous, through the beauty of our ap- 
parel ? Holiness is the health of our souls 
and the ease of our minds ; whereas, ungo- 
vernable passions create keener anguish than 
a brood of vipers gnamng our bosoms. 
Inordinate desires are a more intolerable 
nuisance than swarms of locusts infesting 
our abodes. To regulate those, and to re- 
strain these, can never be needless, till com- 
fort and sorrow change their properties — till 
the diabolical nature becomes equally desir- 
able vidth the divine. 

Ther. The believer, indeed, out of mere 
generosity, may, if he please, add works of 
righteousness of his own. But his main 
interest is secure without them. 

Asp. Rather, Theron, he must out of 
duty, he will out of gratitude ; and, from 
the new disposition of his nature, he cannot 
but add to his faith works of righteousness. 

How runs the heavenly edict in this case 
made and provided ? " I will, that they who 
have believed in God, be careful to main- 
tain good works.* — How beats the pulse of 



* Tit. iii. 8. The original word -Jre^oi^ottrtxi has a 
beauty and an energy, which, I believe, it is impos- 
sible for our language to preserve, by any literal 
translation. It implies, that a believer should not 
only be exercised in, but eminent for, all good works ; 



a believing soul ? You may feel it in that 
trulygenerous demand made by the Psalmist, 
" What shall I render unto the Lord for all 
the benefits that he hath done unto me," 
(Psalm cxvi. 12.) A grateful heart wants 
not the goad, but is a spur to itself. How 
leans the bias of his nature ? He is new 
born ; " created in Christ Jesus unto good 
works," (Eph. ii. 10.) "his delight is in the 
law of the Lord," (Psalm i. 2.) And 
whatever is our supreme delight, we are 
sure to prosecute, and prosecute with ar- 
dotir. " We cannot but speak the things 
which we have seen and heard,* was the 
profession of the apostles ; and, if applied 
to practical godliness, is the experience of 
the Christian. 

Nor can his main interest be seciu-e with- 
out a holy obedience. Because the Judge of 
the world, at the day of eternal retribution, 
will declare to the workers of iniquity, " I 
never knew you ; depart from me," (Matt, 
vii. 23. : Because holiness, though not the 
cause of our admittance to the beatific vi- 
sion, is so necessary a qualification, that 
" without it no man shall see the Lord," 
(Heb. xii. 14.) Without it, there is no 
access to heaven, neither could there be any 
enjoyment in heaven. 

Ther. Pray recollect yourself, Aspasio, 
According to the tenor of your own illus- 
tration, the necessity of personal obedience 
is evidently vacated. For how can the law 
demand a debt of the principal, which has 
been fully discharged by the surety ? 

Asp. The debt of penal suffering, and 
the debt of perfect obedience, are fully dis- 
charged by our divine Surety, so that we 
are no longer under a necessity of obeying, 
in order to obtain an exemption from pun- 
ishment, or to lay the foundation for our 
final acceptance. We are nevertheless en- 
gaged, by many other obligations, to walk 
in all dutiful and conscientious regard to 
the law ; because this is the most authentic 
proof of our love to the gracious Redeemer : 
" If ye love me, keep my commandments," 
(John xiv. 15.) This is a comfortable 
evidence of oiu" union v>'ith that exalted 
head : " He that abideth in me, and I in 
him, the same bringeth forth much fruit." 
(John XV. 5.) This is also the most ef- 
fectual method of adorning our profession, 
of magnifying its Author, and of winning 
our neighbours to embrace the gospel : " Let 



should show others the way, and outstrip them in the 
honourable race; be both a pattern, and a patron of 
universal godliness. 

* " Cannot but"— This is an expression used by 
the apostles, Acts iv. 20. It describes the genuine 
and habitual propensity of their new nature. As 
the compassionate bowels cannot but yearn at spec- 
tacles of misery : as the benevolent heart cannot but 
dilate with pleasure at the sight of a brother's happi- 
ness ; so the new creature in Christ cannot but desire 
1 to glorify, and delight to obey the ever-blessed God. 



202 THERON xVN 

your light," the light of your exemplary 
conversation, not only appear, but " shine 
before men, that they, seeing your good 
works," may think honourably of your re- 
ligion, (Matt. V. 16,) "may glorify your 
Father which is in heaven ;" and say, with 
those proselytes mentioned by the prophet, 
" We will go with you." 

Do we then make void the law," through 
the imputed righteousness of our Lord ? No, 
verily ; but if gratitude to our dying Savi- 
our have any constraining influence ; if a 
concern for our own comfort have any per- 
suasive energy ; if there be any thing invit- 
ing, any thing desirable in the prospect of 
honouring God, and edifying man — " we 
establish the lav/." By all these generous, 
manly, endearing motives, we enforce its 
precepts, and provide for its observance. 

Ther. Should we admit this doctrine, 
mankind could no longer be considered as 
in themselves, and solely in themselves, ac- 
countable creatures. Nor would the future 
judgment be an equitable distribution of re- 
wards and punishments, but only God's 
awful and uncontrollable execution of his 
own arbitrary and irreversible decrees. 

Asp. I have never been accustomed to 
-coDsider mankind, under the gospel dispen- 
sation, as accountable solely in themselves ; 
because in this comfortable and benign 
scheme a Mediator intervenes, undertakes 
to answer for his people, and bears the 
chastisement of their peace. Were we ac- 
countable solely in ourselves, Chiist as our 
great High- Priest would be set aside, and 
his sacrifice as a propitiation for sin be of 
none effect. 

Why may not the future judgment be an 
equitable distribution of rewards and pun- 
ishments ? If those who reject the atone- 
ment of the dying Jesus, and refuse to de- 
pend on his consummate righteousness, are 
left to stand or flill according to the issue 
of their own obedience ; if believers, on 
the other hand, are accepted through their 
most meritorious Redeemer, but rewarded 
with higher or inferior degrees of felicity, 
in proportion to the sanctity of their na- 
ture and usefulness of their lives : — I see 
nothing arbitrary in this procedure, but an 
admirable mixture of just severity, and free 
goodness : on those who reject the atone- 
ment, just severity ; to those who rely on 
their Saviour, free goodness, 

Ther. The obedience of Christ was 
wholly due for himself, and therefore could 
not merit for another. 

Asp. A bold assertion this ! ¥/hoever 
can make it good, will infallibly overthrow 
my opinion, and at the same time destroy 
all my hopes. Bat surely, Theron, it is 
not your real sentiment. 

Could it then be matter of duty in the 
eternal Son to be burn of a v/oman j and in 



D ASPASIO. 

the Lord of lords to become the servant 
of all ? Could it be matter of duty in the 
Bang of Glory, to embrace the infamy of 
the cross ; and in the Prince of life, to 
pour out his soul unto death ? If all this 
was matter of duty, the ever-blessed Jesus 
(how shall I speak it ! who can believe it ?) 
was no better than an unprofitable servant. 
For such is the acknowledged character of 
every one who does no more than is his 
duty to do. (Luke xvii. 10.) 

Ther. Not so fast, nor quite so vehement, 
my friend. Remember what the scripture 
affirms. Christ is said to receive a com- 
mandment, and be subject to the law ; both 
which expressions evidently imply duty. 

Asp. In order to accomplish our redemp- 
tion, the Son of God submitted himself to 
the authority of the law, and became obedi- 
ent to its precepts. But this was his own 
spontaneous act, the matter of his free 
choice ; to which he lay under no manner 
of obligation, till he engaged to be our 
Surety. 

" Being in the form of God," he was 
Lord of the law ; and no more subject to 
its commands than obnoxious to its curse. 
Nevertheless, " he took upon him the form 
of a servant, and was made under the law." 
Wherefore ? That he might obtain ever- 
lasting life and glory for himself? No ; but 
that he might " redeem those who were 
under the law." (Gal. iv. 5.) From which 
it appears, that both his engagement and 
his obedience were, not for himself, but for 
his people. Therefore the prophet cries 
out, with holy exultation, " To us a Child is 
born ; to us a Son is given !"* His incar- 
nate state and human nature, together with 
all that he did and sufljered in both, were 
for us ; those assumed on our account, these 
referred to our advantage- 
Let us consider this, and be amazed, and 
be charmed. The great universal Lord 
vouchsafes to pay universal obedience : 
What condescension was here ! He vouch- 
safes to pay it, for us men, and for ovu- re- 
demption : What goodness was this ! 

Ther. Before we indulge the devotional 
strain, we should take care that our devo- 
tion is founded on rational principles ; other- 
wise it may prove, like the flash of a sky- 
rocket, transient and momentary. 

Asp. For this, I think there is a solid 
foundation in reason, as well as scripture. 
As soon as the man Christ Jesus was unit- 
ed to the second person of the Trinity, he 
m.ust have, by virtue of that union, an un- 
questionable right to everlasting life and 
gloiy J therefore he could be under no ne- 



* Isa, ix. 6. "Est prasterea emphasis singularis in 
voce nobis. Significat id, quod omncs sentiunt, nos- 
tro bono et commodo natura esse hunc Puerum Im- 
peratorem." — Vitring. in loc. 



DIALOGUE V. 



203 



cessity of obeying, in o'rder to procure 
either honour or happiness for himself. 
But ail that he performed in conformity to 
the preceptive part of the law, he perform- 
ed under the character of a public person, 
in the place and for the benefit of his spiri- 
tual seed, that they might be interested in 
it, and justified by it. 

Ther. Be it so : the believer is interested 
in Christ's righteousness. Pray, is he in- 
terested in all, or only in part ? If in all, 
then every believer is equally righteous, and 
equally to be rewarded ; which is contrary 
to an allowed maxim, that there will be dif- 
ferent allotments of happiness in the hea- 
venly world. If in part only, how will you 
ascertain the degree — ^Nvhat proportion be- 
longs to this person, and what to the other ? 
Either way, your scheme is inextricably em- 
barrassed. 

Asp. The reply to my Theron's inquiiy 
is easy ; and the embarrassment he men- 
tions is but imaginary. Every true believer 
is interested in all Christ's righteousness — in 
the whole merit of his spotless nature, of 
his perfect obedience, and expiatory death. 
■ Less than the whole would be unavail- 
able. Whereas the whole renders us com- 
pletely justified. 

You are a great admirer of anatomy, 
Theron, and must undoubtedly remember 
the very peculiar structure of the ear. Other 
parts of the body are progressive in their 
growth : their bulk is proportioned to the 
infantile or manly age. But the organs of 
hearing, I have been informed, are precisely 
of the same size, in the feeble infant and 
the confirmed adult. Justification likewise, 
being absolutely necessary to a state of ac- 
ceptance with God, is in eveiy stage of the 
Christian com'se, and even in the first dawn 
of sincere faith, complete. With regard to 
the existence of the priAolege, there is no 
difference in the babes, the young men, the 
fathers in Christ.* The perception, the 
assurance, the comfortable enjoyment of the 
mercy, may increase ; but the mercy itself 
is incapable of augmentation. 

The varioug advances in sanctification 
account for the various degrees of future 
glory ; and not account for them only, but 
render them entirely reasonable, and, accord- 
ing to our apprehension of things, unavoid- 
able. As to settling the proportion, we 
may safely leave that to the supreme 
Arbitrator. He, " who meteth out the 



* To the same purpose speaks one of our most cele- 
brated divines ; as great an adept in sacred literature 
as ages have produced. — " All are justified alike ; the 
trutli of faith justifying, not the measure. Justifica- 
tion therefore is the" same in all that believe ; though 
th.eir belief be in diiferent degrees. So, once in the 
wildei-.iess, ail gathered not manna in the same mea- 
siue, yet v/lien'all came tomeasure, they had all alike; 
none above an omer, none under." 



heavens ■with a span, and setteth a compass 
upon the face of the deep," cannot be at a 
loss to adjust this particular. 

Ther. The organs of hearing, though not 
precisely, are very nearly, of the same bulk 
in the babe and the man. They acquire, 
from advancing years, scarce any thing more 
than an increase of solidity. So that I 
make no objection to yoiu" illustration, but 
to yoiu- doctrine. 

If Christ has done all, and we are en- 
titled to his whole merits only by belie%ing 
— to be saved must be the easiest thing in 
the world : whereas the Bible represents 
Christianity as a race and a warfare, a state 
of conflict and a course of striving. In 
good truth, Aspasio, you prophesy pleasing 
things. Divinity is not your profession, or 
else I should number you among " the 
smooth emollient downy doctors." For, 
according to the articles of yoiu- creed, there 
is no more difficulty in securing heaven, 
than in rising from our seat. 

Asp. A speculative assent to all the princi- 
ples of religion, is, I acknowledge, a very 
easy matter. It may, it must exist, wherever 
there is a tolerable capacity for reasoning, 
and a due attention to eAidence. This no- 
tional faith forced its way into the breast of 
Simon the sorcerer, (Acts \n\. 13,) and ex- 
torted a confession from the dying lips of Ju- 
lian* the apostate. Irresistible as the stroke 
of lightning, terrible also as its fiery glare, it 
flashes conviction into the very devils. 
Even those execrable spirits, "believe and 
tremble." (James ii. 19.) 

But the faith which, far from resting in 
speculation, exalts the desires, regulates the 
passions, and refines the whole conversa- 
tion ; the faith which, according to the ex- 
pressive language of Scripture, " purifies 
the heart, overcomes the world, and sets the 
affections on things above ;" — this truly 
noble and triumphant faith is no such easy 
acquisition. This is the gift of an infinite 
Benefactor, the work of a divine Agent ; 
called therefore by way of super-eminent 
distinction, " faith of the operation of God," 
(Col. ii. 12,) because God himself, by the 
efi"ectual working of his mighty power, pro- 
duces it in the human soul. 

The exercise of this faith I would not 
compare to an active gentleman rising from 
his seat, but rather to a shipwrecked mari- 
ner, labom'ing to gain some place of safety.- 
He espies a large rock which rears its head 
above the boisterous flood. To this he bears 
away, and to this he approaches ; but whirl- 
ing winds and dashing waves drive him back 



* It is related in ecclesiastical history, that the Em- 
peror Julian, that royal but wretched apostate, in an 
engagement with the Parthians, was mortally wound- 
ed; and that he cried, with his expiring breath, " Vi- 
cisti, O Galilsee !"— I am vanquished,0 Galilean ; thy 
right hand hath the pre-eminence ! 



204 



THERON A]ND ASPASIO. 



to an unhappy distance. Exerting all his 
strength, he advances nearer still, and at- 
tempts to climb the desirable eminence, 
when a sweeping surge interposes, and 
drenches him again in the rolling deep. By 
determined efforts, he recovers the space he 
had lost. Now he fastens on the cliff, and 
has almost escaped the danger. But there 
is such a numbness in his limbs that he can- 
not maintain his hold, and such an impetu- 
ous swell in tl>e ecean that he is once more 
dislodged, and plunged afresh into the rag- 
ing billows. What can he do ? His life, 
his precious life is at stake. He must re- 
new, still renew, and never intermit his en- 
deavours. Neither let him abandon him- 
self to despair. The Master sees him 
amidst all his fruitless toil. Let him cry 
earnestly, " Lord save me, I perish !" and 
he who xjommandeth the winds and the 
waves will be sure to put forth his benefi- 
cent hand, and rescue him from the devour- 
ing sea. 

Such, my friend, so painful, so assiduous 
are the struggles of faith, before it can rest 
in peaceful security on the " Rock of Ages, 
Christ Jesus." Of this you may, some 
time or other, be assured, not only from my 
lips, but from your own experience. 

Ther, What may happen in some future 
period of time, is beyond my power to fore- 
see. At present, I am apt to think, we must 
piit a stop to the theological lecture. Do 
you not remember our engagement with 
Altinous? and you will own, that punctuali- 
ty in performing our jjromises is at least a 
moral virtue, if it be not a Christian grace. 



DIALOGUE VI. 

AspASio's affairs called him to London. 
He staid in tovm a few days ; but as 
soon as business was finished, h« quitted 
the city, and hastened to his friend's coun- 
try-seat. Upon his arrival, he found some 
agreeable company, that came to spend the 
evening with the family. This incident 
prevented the immediate prosecution of 
their subject. As the next morning proved 
misty, and unfit for walking abroad, The- 
ron invited Aspasio to pass an hour in his 
study. 

It was situated at the extremity of a 
large gallery, which, while it conducted the 
feet to a repository of learning, interposed 
between the ear, and all the disturbance of 
domestic affairs ; so that you are accommo- 
dated with every thing that may regale a 
situdious mind ; and incommoded with no- 
thing that may interrupt a sedate attention. 
Aapasio readily consented to the proposal ; 
hnt desired fij'st to take a turn in this beau- 



tiful oblong, and divert himself with the 
decorations of the place. 

Asp. A very short survey, Theron, is 
sufficient to discover the correctness of your 
judgment, and the true delicacy of your taste. 
Here are no impertinent and frivolous ex- 
hibitions of romantic tales or poetic stories. 
Here are no indecent pieces of imagery, that 
tend to corrypt a chaste, or inflame a wan- 
ton fancy. On the contrary, I am present- 
ed with a collection of maps, accurately 
drawn by the most able hands ; and with 
several remarkable transactions of aniquity, 
most eloquently told in the language of the 
pencil. You have happily hit that grand 
point, which the gentleman of refinement, 
as weM as the author of genius, should ever 
keep in view — the union of the beneficial 
with the delightful. 

Ther. Indeed, my Aspasio, I have often 
been disappointed, sometimes even shocked, 
in the gardens, the porticos, and the walks 

of some modem virtuosi Their portraits 

and statues are little else but an assemblage 
of elaborate trifles. Ixion stretched upon 
the wheel, or Phaeton precipitated from the 
chariot. Apollo stringing his lyre, or Ju- 
piter (I beg his supreme highness' pardon, 
for not giving hirn the precedence in my 
catalogue) bestriding his eagle and balancing 
his bolts. Pray, where is the advantage of 
being introduced to this fabulous tribe of 
gentry ? What noble idea can they awaken, 
or what valuable impression leave upon the 
mind ? The best we can say of such perform- 
ances is, that they are limning and sculp- 
ture expensively thrown away. 

This celebrated trumpery one can bear 
with however. But when the painting and 
sculpture, instead of cultivating virtue, and 
improving our morals, are calculated to be 
the very bane of both — will you call this an 
elegant entertainment? No : it is a nuisance ; 
it is a pest. In the statues, I grant, every 
dimple sinks, and every muscle swells, with 
the exactest propriety. The countenance 
is animated with life, and the limbs are 
ready to start into motion. The picture, 
I am sensible, is as highly finished as the 
effigy : the distributions of light and shade 
most artfully adjusted ; the diminutions of 
the perspective true to a nicety ; nor can 
any thing exceed the easy flow of the robe, 
unless it be the graceful attitude, and al- 
most speaking aspect, of the principal figure. 
But is this masterly execution an equiva- 
lent for the most malignant effects ? for 
sullying the purity of my fancy, and poison- 
ing the powers of my im^ination ? 

Is it an indication of the owner's judi- 
cious taste, to prefer regularity of features 
in the hammered block, before orderly and 
harmonious affections in his own breast'-' 
Does it bespeak a refined disposition, or a 
benevolent temper, to be so extravagantly 



DIALOGUE VI. 



205 



enamoured witli tbe touches of a lascivious 
pencil, as to expose them in the most fre- 
quented passages, and obtrude them on every 
unwary guest ? Surely, this can create no 
very advantageous opinion of a gentleman's 
intellectual discernment ; much less can it 
raise an amiable idea of his moral charac- 
ter.* On such occasions I am strongly 
tempted to suspect that real honour is a 
stranger where common decencyf is want- 
ing. 

As for the artist, one can hardly forbear 
execrating his hateful folly, who coidd pros - 
titute such fine talents to such infamous 
purposes. Detested be the chisel that 
teaches, though with inimitable dexterity, 
the cold obdurate marble, to enkindle dis- 
solute affections. Abhorred be the pencil 
that makes no other use of the most lovely 
colours, than to pollute the canvass, and in- 
snare the spectator. 

It is argued, I know, that many of those 
pieces are the completest models extant. 
- An everlasting reproach this to the art ; 
but no apology for the performances ; since 
the more nicely they are executed, the more 
mischievous^ is their influence. It strikes 
the surer, and sinks the deeper. It dresses 
destruction gay, and paves with beauty the 
way to ruin. 



* It is a pity, but the advice of Cicero, that great 
master of eleg .nt taste and polite manners, was re- 
ceived as a standard of regulation by all our connois- 
seurs in the fine arts : "In primis provideat, ne or- 
namenta sedium atque hortorum vitium aliquod in- 
dicant inesse moribus." — De Offic. 

+ A gentleman observing some gross indelicacies of 
this kind at the seat of a person of distinction, very 
acutely (and, 1 believe, too justly) said, '' His paint- 
ings are the gibbet of his name." 

t 1 hope it wiil not be thought improper, I wish it 
was entirely needless, to animadvert upon a practice, 
which is not only a reproacli to our Christian profes- 
sion, but an insult upon national decorum — the prac- 
tice of exposing to public view, and offering to pub- 
lic sale, such shameful prints, as are fitted only to 
create licentious desires and cherish the most profli- 
gate dispositions. 

iSuch spectacles are a species of the rankest poison. 
Andean the poison be less pernicious, because it is 
received at the eye, instead of passing through the 
lips ? Because it tends more immediately to debauch 
the morals, and but remotely to destroy the constitu- 
tion ? No wonder so many of our youths are corrupt- 
ed, and so many robberies committed, whilesuchscenes 
of pictured lewdness are suffered to inflame them with 
lust, and habituate them to impudence. 

Another very indecent custom has unaccountably 
stole its way into several performances of genius and 
elegance. The custom, I mean of representing the 
muses, the graces, and other romantic personages in 
the form of beautiful ladies, partly, if not entirely, 
raked. It is true, here are no loose adventures ; no 
immodest gestures, nay more, he artist expresses his 
own and consults your modesty,by presentingyou with 
a position in profile, by the intervention of a foliage, 
or the lappet of a robe. But let me ask the ingenious 
operator, if he would choose to introduce his wife or 
his daughter, in such a manner, to public company ? 
Is he sta-rtled at the question ? is he shocked at the 
thought? Then let him reflect, and let others consider, 
whether that can be graceful or allowable in a picture, 
which would be brutal and unsufferable in common 
life. 

Socrates (who, before his application to philo- 
sophy, practised as a statuary) could not but blush 
at this abuse of his art : and, being to form a repre- 
sentation of the graces, he represented them properly 
habited. 



It is my chief ambition, Aspasia, to hare 
all my decorations so circumstanced, that 
the beholder may learn some valuable lesson 
i-n morality, or be reminded of some import- 
ant event in history, — may find, even in the 
scenes of his amusement, something to es- 
tablish his virtue, or enlarge his know- 
ledge. 

I frequently entertain my eldest son, who 
is reading the Greek and Latin historians, 
with an explanation of my principal draw- 
ings, that he may behold in colouring, what 
he has perused in narrative. — At this in- 
stant, the youth happened to make his ap- 
pearance, paying his respects to Aspasio-, 
and dutifully saluting his father. It just 
recurs to my memory, said Theron, that 
some necessary affairs of the family require 
my attendance for a few minutes. Will 
you excuse my absence, good Aspasio ; and 
permit my son to supply my place. 

You will very much obUge me by leav- 
ing me such a companion — And come, my 
dear Sir, addressing himself to Eugenio, as 
I know you are a lover of leannng, what 
think you of diverting oiu-selves with these 
agreeable books ? which give us their in^ 
structive lessons, not in puzzling languages, 
but in pleasing coloius. Eugenio spoke his 
consent, and expressed his modesty, by a 
becoming blush, while Aspasio proceed- 
ed 

Asp. This is a striking pietiu-e indeed: 
Hills piled on hills form a most astonishing 
prospect. What horrible magnificence reigns 
amidst those wild and shaggy rocks ! Na- 
ture seems to have designed them for the 
bciindaries of the world. Yet those divring 
troops are attempting to pass the prodigious 
barrier : Who are they, Eugenio ; and whom 
shall we call their leader ? 

Eng. This, Sir, is the famous Hannibal, 
heading and encouraging his ai-my in the 
passage of the Alps. I'he sons of Africa 
seem to shiver with cold, as they traverse 
those frozen regions, and march among the 
clouds. 

Asp. It is the very same. Some, you 
observe, climb with excessive toil, the steep 
and craggy cliffs. Others, with far greater 
difficulty, descend through dreadful declivi- 
ties of ice, exposed all the while to the ar- 
rows of the mountaineers. Some, endea- 
vouring to avoid the showers of steel, slip 
\Wth their feet, and tumble headlong down the 
vast projecting promontories. See from what 
a height they are falling ! carriages and their 
drivers, the horse and his rider, and at what 
a distance still from the stony abyss below ! 
Some lie with closed eyelids and ghastly 
features, dashed to death at the very bottom. 
Others, writhing with the torture of mangled 
limbs and broken bones, lift up an agonizhig 
look to their comrades. Their comrades, 
insensible of a brother's misery, and wholly 



206 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



intent upon their own preservation, hang 
frightfully suspended on the edges of the 
precipice. The precipice seems to tot- 
ter as they cling ; and the alarmed specta- 
tor expects every moment a hideous down 
fall. Are you not startled at the view, 
Eugenio, and in pain for the hardy adven- 
turers ? 

Eug. I am, Sir. And I wonder how they 
will extricate themselves from these peril- 
ous circumstances. I have read in Livy, 
that they cut their way through the rocks, 
after they had softened them with vinegar. 
But is this probable ? how could they pro^ 
cure a sufficient quantity amidst those deso- 
late mountains ? 

Asp. I believe their resolution and their 
perseverance were ihe vinegar. These open 
a road through ro;'ks. These, under the 
conduct of prudence, and the favour of hea- 
ven,* surmount all obstacles. Influenced 
by these, the survivors press boldly on, and 
are determined to vanquish the horrors of 
nature, as a prelude to their victory over 
the forces of Kome. Let these, resolution 
andperservancelmean,bethe companions of 
my Eugenio's youthful studies, and they will 
enable him also to conquer difficulties — even 
all the difficulties which lie in his way to 
true religion and sound learning. 

What is our next draught ! At each end we 
have a group of living figures. All the inter- 
mediate space is an extensive tract of land, 
diversified only by rapid rivers, horrid de- 
serts, and mountainous, ridges ; with here 
and there a few savage natives in uncouth 
dresses, and formidable arms. It is more 
like a map than a picture ; and the nrost 
remarkable beauty is the aerial perspective ; 
which puts a very agreeable cheat upon our 
eyes ; causing us to behold on an ell of can- 
vass the space of many hundreds of miles. 

Eug. This represents the retreat of the 
ten thousand Greeks. First we behoki 
them in the plains of Media ; at an immense 
distance from their native country ; without 

* Under the favour of heaven. I cannot but wish 
that the relator of Lord Anson's voyage round the 
world had anticipated Aspasio's remark; had made 
some grateful acknowledgments to an interposing 
Providence, in that masculine, nervous, noble narra- 
tive : A narrative of such signal deliverances, so cri- 
tically timed, and so surprisingly circumstanced, as 
in the course of one expedition, are scarcely to be par- 
alleled. 

I am persuaded, it would have been no disparage- 
ment of the great commander, and his gallant offi- 
cers, to have it thankfully recognised, on some very 
unexpected, yet most advantageous turn of affairs, 

this hath God done !" Neither couid it have de- 
tracted from the merit of the brave sailors, to have 
confessed, on many hazardous emergencies, that ail 
their resolution, all their address, and the exertion 
of their utmost abilities, had been only lost labour, 
without the remarkable co-operation of divine good- 
ness. And I am apprehensive, that it must consider- 
ably diminish the delight of many readers, to observe 
the blessed author of all these mercies passed by un- 
noticed, unacknowledged, and without any share of 
the praise. 

The sarcasm on Pope Adrian and his exploits, I 
fear, would be too proi^er on this occasion, Hie Deus 
nihil fecit. 



guides ; without pro^asion ; and, what is the 
most desperate calamity of all, deprived of 
their ablest officers l;y treachery and murder. 
Well may they look dejected ! How have 
I pitied them as I read their story? abhor- 
red the perfidy of their enemies ; and vt^ish- 
ed them all success in their hazardous en- 
terprise ! 

Asp. Do not you perceive their drooping 
spirits begin to revive, and some gleam of 
hope diffuses itself through their counten- 
ances, while they listen to the eloquent 
Xenophon, who stands conspicuous in the 
midst, harang-uing his soldiers, and roxxsing 
their courage. But, ah ! M'hat a vast ex- 
tent of unkno^vn climes must they traverse, 
mth a numerous and victorious army hai- 
assing them in flank, or hanging upon their 
rear? What fatigues must they sxxstain, 
what hardships endure, before they arrive 
at their wished-for Lome ! — Fired by the 
enchanting name, and animated by their 
brave philosophic leader, they resolve to 
push their way through all the extremes of 
peril and of pain. To scatter, with their 
little band, the encircling millions of bsr- 
barians, is the smallest of their achieve- 
ments. They cross rivers, they scale rocks, 
whose slippery banks, and craggy summits, 
are lined with opposing nations. They 
wade through deserts of snow ; and pass 
over inhospitable mountains, the far more 
dreaded abodes of desolation, drought and 
famine. They encounter the keenness of 
the northern storm, and all the rigour of the 
most malignant seasons. As some of these 
articles are incapable of being expressed by 
the pencil, the artist remits us to the his- 
torian, and has contented himself with 
marking out the most distinguished stages 
of this memorable expedition. Only we 
view the courageous itinerants, once again, 
on a pretty lofty eminence. There they 
appear, not with their former dejection, but 
in all the transports of joy. 

Eug. This, Sir, is the mountain Tecqua, 
from whence they had the first view of the 
sea, and the first dawn of safety. There 
they embrace one another, and extol their 
commanders, especially the noble Xeno- 
phon, whose history gives me great delight, 
and his manly yet benign aspect strangely 
attracts my esteem. Methinks, under such 
a general, I could have been wiUing to take 
my share in all the toil and all the hazards 
of the expedition. 

Asp. W ould my Eugenio ? Then I will 
list him under a Captain unspeakably more 
accomplished and beneficent. Young as you 
are, you shall, from this hour commence a 
soldier and a traveller ; — a soldier, to fight 
against sin, and eveiy temptation — a tra- 
veller, to pass throxxgh the wilderness of 
this world, unto the land of everlasting rest. 
Though your enemies may be numerous. 



DIALO 

and your jonnicy tedious, yet faint not, 
neither be discouraged. The Lord of hea- 
ven is your guide, and heaven itself shall 
be your exceeding gi'eat revA'ard. When 
you arrive at those happy abodes, your de- 
light will infinitely surpass all that the 
Grecians felt on Tecqua, when their ra- 
vished eyes beheld, and their tongues \\dth 
ecstasy shouted, " the sea ! the sea !" 

The scene of yonder picture, I would 
venture to affirm, lies among the ancient 
Jews. 

Eug. How can you tell this, Sir, at such 
a distance ? 

Asp. By " the fringes in the borders of 
their garments, and on each fringe a riband 
of blue." God Almighty commanded all 
the Jews to observe this peculiarity in their 
habit,* that their very clothes, being differ- 
ent from the apparel of their heathen neigh- 
bours, might admonish them not to be con- 
formed to their idolatrous worship and li- 
centious manners. This, as well as every 
other divine command, our Lord Jesus 
Christ most exactly obeyed. Therefore 
we are told by the evangelical historian, 
that the diseased woman, " who touched 
but the hem of his garment, was restored 
to health." Hem it is in our English bibles ; 
but, if you consult that most excellent of 
all books, the Greek Testament, you will 
find, that the original word might more pro- 
perly lie rendered fringe,\ However, let us 
pass from the drapery to the design. 

Eug. Here we see David in one of the 
most threatening exigencies of his whole 
life. Saul, more like a blood-hound than 
a king, pursues the best of sons, and the 
most valuable of subjects. He has extend- 
ed the wings of his very superior army, in 
order to surround| the injured hero and 
his handful of associates. 



* One would wonder hoiv the Jews can so tenaci- 
ously adhere to their law, and yet so apparently ne- 
glect its precepts. Where are the sons of Abraham, 
who observe tiiis express and positive command of 
Jehovah ! Though this indeed might be obeyed, yet 
many of the Mosaical injunctions are rendered, and 
by nothing less than the dispensations of Providence, 
absolutely impracticable. Is not this, therefore, a 
most incontestible proof— a proof, not invented by 
tlie arts of sophistry, but written by the finger of the 
Almighty himself— that the legal ordinances are abol- 
ished, in order to make way for a better dispensa- 
tion ? When the avenues are become inaccessible, the 
house untenantable, and the principal apartments ir- 
reparably decayed ; is not this the most cogent ad- 
monition to the inhabitants, that they betake them- 
selves to some new and more commodious residence ? 
See Numb. xv. 38. 

t Matt. ix. 20. K^xTi'i'Sov. 

i To this, or some such incident, may be applied a 
passage of the Psalms, which, in our translation, is 
very obscure ; has scarce any sense, or if any, a very 
unjustifiable one. '* Wherefore should I fear in the 
days of evil, when the wickedness of my heels com- 
passeth me round about?" Psalm xlix. 5. Where- 
fore ! The reason is very apparent r When wickedness 
cleaves to a person's heels, or habitually attends his 
goings, it raises an army of terrors; it unsheaths the 
sword of divine vengeance, and levels at his guilty 
head every threatening in the book of God. 

Surely then another translation should be given to 



GUE VL 207 

Asp. This is the most animated, and I 
think the most masterly performance, that 
has hitherto come under our notice. Con- 
sternation and doubt agitate their looks. 
Shall they surrender themselves, as so many 
tame victims, to a tyrant's fury ; or shall 
they cut their way to safety, through the 
hearts of countrymen, friends, and brothers ? 
Dreadful dilemma ! While they are debat- 
ing, the pursuers are closing upon them. 
A few, a few minutes more, must decide 
their fate. But who is the person that in- 
tervenes, just at this critical juncture ? 

Eng. It is a messenger from the princi- 
pal inhabitants of Judea. He comes breath- 
less and trembling, amazement in his face, 
and dust upon his head. " An invasion !" 
he cries, " an invasion ! The Philistines 
have pom-ed themselves upon our frontiers ! 
The Philistines are overrunning the land !"♦ 

Asp. Upon the receipt of this news, 
see what vexation reddens in the disap- 
pointed monarch's aspect ! What anger 
lightens in his eye ! At the same time, 
v.'hat pale reflections on his country's dan- 
ger mingle themselves with the fiery pas- 
sions, and almost quench the flame enkind- 
ling in his cheeks. Shall the vulture re- 
linquish his prey, even when it lies fluttering 
under his talons ? Galling thought ! But 
his kingdom is at stake. If he does not 
immediately advance to repel the enemy, 
his all, his all is lost. Biuning therefore 
wdth indignation, yet chilled with fear, he 
turns, hasty though reluctant, away. Are 
you not charmed, Eugenio, with this de- 
scription of tumultuous and contrary pas- 
sions, which aflford the finest subject for 
historic painting, and are so happily ex- 
pressed in this piece ? 

Eug. Indeed, Sir, I am shocked, rather 
than charmed. The very looks of that re- 
vengeful monarch fill me with horror. 
What must he suflfer in his mind, who dis- 
covers such rage and anguish in his features ? 
I would not have his furious temper, for 
all his royal power. 

Asp. Then, my dear Eugenio, you must 
endeavour to suppress every emotion of 



the words, and a different turn to the sense ! And 
another translation the words will bear; a different 
sense the connexion demands: "Wherefore should 
I fear, when wickedness compasseth me about at my 
heels?" This is a fine spirited interrogation. This 
implies a great and edifying truth. From this also 
the verse appears, not only with propriety, but with 
beauty. When wickedness, or the malicio'us attempts 
of wicked men — compass me about, surround me, 
threaten me on every side — nay, when they are atmy 
very heels, just upon the point to seize, overwheka 
and crush me, so that the danger seems both inevitable 
and imminent; yet even then, having God's almighty 
power and in violable faithfulness for my protection, 
wherefore should I be alarmed ? alarmed ! No ; con- 
fiding in such a safeguard, I will bid defiance to my 
enemies, and bid adieu to my fears. 

* This event is related 1 Sam. xxiii. 25, &c. And 
it is one of the most extraordinary instances of a di- 
vine interposal, at the very crisis of need, that any 
history has recorded. 



THERON AJfPvA^PASIO. 



envy and malevolence. You must clierisli 
a cordial good-^yill to all men ; and leam to 
rejoice in tlieir excellencies and happiness, 
as well as in your own. Envy is the worm 
that gna^vs, envy is the fury that embroils 
his wretched heart. And an author, with 
whom you Avill ere long be acquainted, has 
assured us, 

Invidia Siculinon invenere tyranni 
Tormentum majus. — Hop., 

The next is a kind of night-piece. Stars 
are in the sky, and the new moon rides on 
the skirts of the hemisphere ; which affords 
just light enough to distinguish objects. 
This is a perfect contrast to the foregoing : 
We see no contlict of jarring passions ; but 
the principal person appears sedate and 
composed, as the night that surrounds him. 
He stands on the bank of a river, thought- 
ful and attentive, as though he was ponder- 
ing or executing some important project. 
^' 'Eug. This is Cyrus the Great. He 
sKds upon the banks of the Euphrates, 
not far from Babylon. He points with his 
sceptre, and is giving directions to his army. 
The directions are, to pass through the 
channel of the river (which is drained of its 
water) in order to surprise the city. 

Asp. This is a prince of very superior 
dignity, the honoured instrument of execut- 
ing Jehovah's counsels. He was foretold 
by the prophet Isaiah, and even mentioned 
by name, more than two hundred years be- 
fore his birth. (Isaiah xliv. 28; xlv. 1.) 
Let us wish him prosperity ; for he goes to 
humble the pride of Babylon, and release 
the captivity of Israel. See with what re- 
gular movements and what calm alacrity 
his troops advance ! Silence seems to es- 
cbrt them, while, under covert of the shades, 
atTd with Providence at their head, they 
march along a road never before trodden 
by the foot of man. The soldiers of the 
garrison have abandoned their station on 
the wall, to join in the dissolute indulgence 
of this fatal night. The inhabitants, like 
many a heedless sinner, are lulled in indo- 
lence, and dreaming of pleasures, even on 
the very brink of ruin. 

Eng. Why are those brazen gates which 
lead to the river, placed in such a distin- 
guished pohit of view ? They strike my eye 
more, I think, than all the monuments of 
art and grandeur, which adorn that superb 
city. And let me farther ask, whether the 
painter has not offended against probability, 
in suffering them to stand wide open ? On 
approach of so formidable an adversary, I 
should expect to have found them shut with 
all possible security. 

Asp. In this particular, the painter has 
showed his judgment, and not forgotten his 
piety. God had devoted that haughty and 
oppressive metropolis to destruction. And 
you will perceive, from this circumstance, 



how wonderfully he overrules all events 
for the accomplishment of his sacred pur- 
pose. Had those ponderous gates been 
shut,* the city had continued impregnable, 
and the whole enterprise been defeated. 
But, through some accidental forgetfulness, 
occasioned by the disorders of this riotous 
solemnity, or rather by a very signal inter- 
position of divine vengeance, they are left 
open, and afford an easy entrance to slaugh- 
ter and death, which msh upon the unhappy 
creatures, all sunk in sleep, or overcharged 
with wine, as a concealed snare in some 
dreadful unexpected moment springs up, 
and inextricably entangles the unwary bird. 
Was I to inscribe this picture with a motto, 
I would choose the apostle's admonition, 
" be sober ; be vigilant." 

Who is this, with his length of hairf 
flowing upon his shoulders, mth such ampli- 
tude of personage, such magnificence of 
mein, and noble plainness of habit? 7, 

Eng. This is my favourite piece. My.^ 
father sometimes shows me the heads o£,; 
the j)hiIosophers ; but there is something 
so uninviting and severe in Socrates and.,, 
Diogenes, that I could never much admire 
them. But this. Sir, is Scipio ; the thun-^. 
derbolt of war, as Virgil calls him. Her^f- 
is something so lovely and engaging, as[.^ 
well as grand and majestic, that I am nevej?,. 
weary of looking on him. . . ; 

Asp. He appears \^dth a lady of distin- 
guished beauty in his hand. 

Eng. This is the captive princess, whO j 
had been taken in war, who was set apart r 
for the General's prize, but whom he is, 
now restoring to her espoused husband. 

Asp. You ai-e right, Eugenio. He has ,: 
just led in his lovely captive, attended by. ; 
her husband and parents, amidst a full as>- ; 
sembly of Romans and Celtiberians, the,;; 
victors and the vanquished. His modes^ 
eyes, you observe, are rather turned from,^* 
than gazing upon the blooming virgiri., . 
Carmot you suppose, how the spectators s 
must be affected, upon the opening of this t 
extraordinary scene? Every one beholds, 
the hero with admiration, the lady with de^;;; 
light. Every bosom is big with expectatioii?; 



* See this very momentous, though seemingly in- ' 
considerable circumstance, finely illustrated by Mr.- 
Rollin, and compared with a remarkable prophecy in 
Isaiah, Ancient Hist. vol. ii. p. 144, &c. A work, in 
which the most entertaining and instructive events of 
antiquity are regularly digested, elegantly related, and. 
stripped of those minuter incidents, which make the 
story move slow, and are apt to fatigue the attention. 

t I believe it was not customary with the Romans, 
especially their warriors, to have long flowing hair. 
This, therefore, might seem an offence against what 
the Italians call il costume, if the painter was not sup- 
ported by the authority of Livy ; who, in his descrip- 
tive picture of Scipio, gives us the following touches-: • 
' Species corporis ampla ac magnifica. Prseterquara 
quod suaptenatura multa majestas inerat, adornabat 
promissa Cassaries, habitusque corporis, non cultus 
mvmditiis, sed virilisvere ac militaris,3rJfciib„ jtssjUtj 



DIALOGUE VL 



209 



m in pain ft)r the event. After a short 
pause, he addresses himself to the lover, in 
words to this effect ; *' I am no stranger to 
your interest in this fine woman : The for- 
tune of war has put her entirely into my 
power. The circumstance of my youth 
cannot render me insensible to so engaging a 
person : But with us Romans, honovu- and 
generosity have a more prevaiHng influence 
than transitory gratifications. Take your 
biide ; be happy in each other ; and when 
you look upon this gift, admire the Ro- 
mans, be a friend to Rome." Upon this 
he delivers her (as you behold the action 
here represented) to the enamoured prince. 
— See how the crowds, that cluster and 
hang around, are struck with the beneficent 
deed ! In the Celtiberians, we behold a 
mixtiu-e of veneration and surprise. Their 
looks are full of meaning. Methinks they 
are going to cry out, " excellent man !" In 
the Romans, we discern a conscious supe- 
riority, and exultation of mind. Triumph is 
in their features, as though they would say, 
" this wondrous man is ours." In the lady, 
we admire the accomplished and modest 
fair, uniting all the dignity of her birth with 
all the delicacy of her sex. What soft 
confusion and what tender joy appear in her 
countenance ! She is lost in wonder, and at 
a loss for words : she speaks the acknow- 
ledgments of her heart by the silent elo- 
quence of a tefu', which steals down her 
glowing cheek to bedew the kind hand that 
has protected her innocence, and is deliver- 
ing her to her lord. Her lord is under 
an apparent and a graceful struggle of love 
and gratitude : He doats upon his charming 
princess, and he almost adores his generous 
benefactor. We can hardly tell whether 
he is going to clasp the former in his arms, 
or tlu-ow himself at the feet of the latter. 
The aged parents express their transport in 
a different manner. Their knees are bent 
to the earth ; their eyes are lifted up to 
heaven ; they implore for their noble guard- 
ian, every blessing that the gods can be- 
stow. Scipio himself displays all the mag- 
nanimity of the conqueror, tempered with 
the sedateness of the philosopher, and soft- 
ened with the gentleness of the friend. He 
gives happiness ; but he enjoys a greater. 
His eyes sparkle with a sublime delight ; 
and he seems to anticipate the applause, 
which this truly heroic act will gain in all 
countries and in all ages. 

Eng. Is not this a greater victory than any 
that he had won in the field of battle ; and 
a nobler triiunph than any that could be 
voted him by the applauding senate ! Ami- 
able Scipio ! Might I be a Roman, I would 
be no other than Scipio. 

Asp. I wish you, my dear Sir, the tem- 
perance and generosity of Scipio ; but 
from a better motive than his. He, I fear. 



was too much swayed by a spirit of am- 
bition, which you must endeavour to suppress 
rather than cherish. A spirit of ambition 
which pants after distinction, and thirsts for 
applause, is diametrically opposite to the 
genius of the gospel, (Gal. v. 26.) It is a 
lesson which must infallibly be unlearned, 
if ever we become possessors of faith, oi 
partakers of Christ, (John v. 44.) It is " a 
root of bitterness," which naturally produces 
envy, (Gal. v. 26.) that most odious, and 
(as you have just now seen) most self-tor- 
menting of all tempers. It is a habit of 
mind, which generally renders men incen- 
diaries in the chru-ch, and disturbers of its 
tranquillity, (3 John 9, 10.) It is, there- 
fore, more like an inchanted potion which 
inebriates, than a genuine cordial which 
animates. 

Eug. From what motive then would you 
encourage me to be diligent in the pursuit 
of learning, and in the cultivation of eveiy 
virtue ? 

Asp, Not, that you may acquire the poor, 
contemptible, perishing honour, which 
comethfrom men ; — but that you may please 
God, your Almighty Creator ; that you may 
glorify Christ, your infinitely condescending 
Redeemer ; that you may yourself attain 
what is the true dignity and only felicity of 
your nature ; and may be serviceable to the 
best interests of your fellow-creatures — even 
their present holiness and their eternal hap- 
piness. 

These are the grand and endearing en- 
couragements which our holy religion pur- 
poses. These will operate, I am bold to 
aver, with a much sweeter and a far more so- 
vereign efficacy, than all the glittermg en- 
ticements which ambition can devise : and, 
what is above all other considerations 
weighty, these will be more likely, or rather 
these will be very certain, to receive the 
divine blessing. 

You told me you was never weary of 
contemplating Scipio. For which reason I 
promise myself, you wiU not be fatigued or 
displeased though I have so long confined 
yom" attention to this portrait. But have 
we no hero of Britain, fit to join this illus- 
trious triumvirate from Rome, Persia, and 
Judea ? 

Eug. The very next we meet is one of 
our English kings. But I cannot say that 
I remember either his name or his story. 
I Asp. How, my young gentleman ! Do you 
read the annals of other nations, and not ac- 
quaint yourself with the affairs of your own 
country ? If I was in your place, I would 
apply myself to the classical writers by way 
of study, and to some valuable English histo- 
rian by way of amusement. Such an amuse- 
ment is infinitely preferable to novels or 
romances, and will not only relax your at- 
tention, but enrich your mind. 

p 



210 



TllERON AND ASPASIO. 



'"^ Engr. I tliank yon, good Sir, for yoiirad- 
'monition, and, if you }>lease, I will now be- 
^in the study you recommend. Your ex- 
planation of these drawings shall be the ru- 
diments of my knowledge, and I shall think 
it a happiness to receive my first instruc- 
tions from so able a master. 

Asp. It ishonoiu* enough for me, Eugenio, 
to have given you the hint. I only point out 
yourgame, or spring the covey ; you shall be 
taught by a more expert proficient, to make 
it your own. Yet, though others may di- 
tect you with greater skill, none will rejoice 
in your successful pursuit, more sincerely 
than myself. 

This is our renowned Henry the Fifth, as 
he appeared after the victory of Agincourt. 
You see the gallant conqueror clad in steel, 
and recent from the slaughter of the insult- 
ing foe. He seems to breathe an heroic 
ardour, which is irradiated and exalted by a 
lively devotion. If courage can be expressed 
by the pencil, this is its genuine likeness ; 
keen, yet composed ; grasping the sword, 
yet looking up to heaven. He that a little 
while ago drove the battle, like a whirlwind, 
on the legions of France, now bends a sup- 
pliant knee, and oiFers the eucharistic hymn 
to the Lord God of Hosts. No turbulent 
or disorderly joy riots among the soldiery. 
They express not the triumph of their hearts 
in frantic exultations or drunken revels, but 
in acts of thanksgiving to Jehovah : in an 
attitude which speaks the devout ac- 
Knowledgment of the prophet, " Thou art 
our battle-axe and weapons of war," ( Jer. 
li. 20.) or the grateful declaration of the 
Psalmist, " Not unto us, O Lord, not unto 
us, but unto thy name be the gloiy," (Psal. 
cxv. 1.) 

This last instance informs my Eugenio, 
that prayer is an honourable employ; has 
been practised by persons of the most ad- 
mired endowments ; is the surest method 
of obtaining success in whatever business 
we undertake, and of enjoying prosperity, 
in whatever circumstances we are placed. 

The next piece is different from all the 
preceding. In those, armies with their 
banners displayed, ships of war riding at an- 
chor, battering engines, and instruments of 
death, form the perspective. In this, we 
have all around, a lovely and rural landscape, 
expressive of peace, and enriched with 
plenty. Corn and cattle in the valleys, fruit- 
ful -saneyards on the hills, and beautiful gar- 
dens surrounding the houses. But who is 
that graceful and august personage, seated 
on a stately throne of ivory and gold ? 

Eug. This is Solomon, having an inter- 
view with the Queen of Sheba. A large 
train of her attendants throng the avenues 
of the palace; some leading foreign ani- 
mals ; some bearing vases and caskets ; all 
arrayed in strange apparel. The Israelites 



stare upon their outlandish visitants, their 
costly presents, and peculiar habits. Their 
visitants ai'e as much surprised at the walls, 
the towers, and especially the temple of Je- 
rusalem. But you. Sir, I apprehend, are 
most pleased with the venerable person who 
fills the throne. 

Asp. Indeed I am ; and so his royal guest. 
You observe in her robe, her retinue, her 
deportment, an unpolished kind of grandeur. 
But all in Solomon is so splendid, and at 
the same time so elegant ; displays such a 
delicacy of taste and such a magnificence of 
spirit, that the Sabean princess is perfectly 
in raptures. See how she stands fixed and 
gazing with speechless admiration,* like one 
lost in astonishment and transported with 
delight ! Her looks speak what, when she 
recovers the power of utterance, her tongue 
expresses : " It was a true report, that I 
heard in my own land, of thy acts, and of 
thy wisdom. Howbeit, I believed not the 
words, until I came, and mine eyes had seen, 
and behold, the half was not told me ; thy 
wisdom and prosperity exceed the fame 
which I heard." 

Etig. This is a great compliment. Is it 
right. Sir, to praise a man in such plain 
terms, and such high strains, to his very 
face ? I think I have heard Philenor blame 
such a practice, as inconsistent with i-efined 
manners ; and I have heard my father say, 
no one is a better judge of fine breeding 
than Philenor. And if the most agreeable 
behaviour, added to the most winning con- 
versation, are what you call fine breeding, 
I am sure Philenor is master of it to a very 
great degree. I love to be in his^ company, 
and am never better pleased than to hear 
him talk. 

Asp. The compliment is high, but it is 
just. It is strictly conformable to truth, 
and proceeds from the m.ost unaffected sin- 
cerity. If we take what follows into con- 
sideration, we shall have a pattern of tiue 
politeness ; a propriety, and a refinement of 
address, far surpassing her Majesty's ex- 
ternal state; " Happy are thy men ; happy 
are these thy servants, which stand con- 
tinually before thee, and that hear thy wis- 
dom." Instead of envying, she congratulates 
the domestics of Solomon, and rejoices in 
their supei'ior felicity. This is benevolence. 
" Blessed be the Lord thy God, which de^ 
lighted in thee, to set thee on the throne of 
Israel. Because the Lord loved Israel for 
ever, therefore made he thee king, to do 
judgment and justice." — Here she ascribes 
all his royal virtues, and matchless accom- 
plishments, to the boiuity of heaven. Though 
they are applauded in the person of Solomon, 



* This, I apprehend^ is the meaning of that remark- 
able strong express^ion used by the sacred historian ; 
•* There was no more spirit in her," 1 Kings x. 5. 



DIALOGUE VI. 



211 



-they are recognised as the free gift of God. 
This is piety. When the endowments we 
celebrate lead us to magnify, not their pos- 
sessor, but their author, then the poison is 
corrected, and turned into medicine. Praise 
thus circumstanced loses its malignity, and 
is rendered salubrious. 

It pleases me to perceive that you take 
so much notice of the con\'ersation which 
passes between your worthy father and his 
ingenious friends. I promise myself, you 
will also remember the maxim, which we 
have now learned from a queen — a queen, 
whom not only the sacred historian, but our 
Lord Jesus Christ himself vouchsafes to 
mention, and with marks of approbation ; 
whose name therefore will be had in ho- 
nour, when Semiramis and Cleopatra, the 
heroines and the beauties, are consigned over 
to oblivion. The maxim which I mean is 
this : There must be an union of sincerity, 
of benevolence, and of piety, in order to con- 
stitute true politeness. IVTioever pretends 
to fine breeding, and is destitute of these 
qualities, is nothing more than a pretender. 
He bears just the same proportion to this 
ornamental character, as the ape and the 
monkey bear to the man. 

But we have not sufficiently examined 
our picture. The dome is of cedar, sup- 
ported by pillars of marble, to which are 
annexed curtains of silk and embroidery. 
The pillars shine with the most glossy po- 
lish, and swell upon the eye with the boldest 
projections. The curtains, pendent in large 
and easy folds, seem not adhesive to the 
canvass, but waving in the air. The throne 
is exquisitely contrived, richly ornamented, 
and highly finished. It is evident the pain- 
ter had in his eye that remarkable observa- 
tion of Sciipture, " There was not the like 
made in any kingdom ;" and he has really 
done all whch art could devise, or coloui-s 
execute, in order to exempUfy the great en- 
comium. 

If the monarch was absent, we should 
desire no better entertainment than to view 
the beauties of the apartment ; but can hard- 
ly allow any attention to the edifice, when 
so graceful and so grand a presence bespeaks 
our regard. For I must own there appears 
to me something peculiarly excellent in this 
iigure ; a serenity and dignity, without any 
of that martial air which adds a tincture of 
ferocity to the warrior ; a sagacity and pe- 
netration not to be equalled by the wrinkles 
of age, yet transparent through all the bloom 
of youth. Piety and wisdom, the love of 
God and the grace of his Spirit, give an 
elevation to the mind, a sacred charm to the 
\countenance, and something more than mor- 
tal to the whole man. I am apt to sus- 
" pect, Eugenio, that you yourself are ready 
>i40ki^dopt a new favourite ; that you now 
'"-^Bipt. '§'^9moit even to Scipio ; and had 



rather be like the " beloved of the Lord," 
than the darling of Rome. 

Eug. Every thing in Solomon is so ve- 
nerable and heavenly, that I am filled with 
awe, i-ather than fired with emulation. It 
is not for a boy to think of imitating such 
high perfection ! 

Asp. Why not, my dear Sir ? It was God 
who gave Solomon his superior wisdom 
and exalted accomplishments. And God 
is " the same yesterday, to-day, and for 
ever ;" as ^\^lling to hear, and as able to 
help you, as he was to hear and bless his 
servant Solomon. Neither let your youth 
be a discouragement. " Out of the mouth 
of very babes and sucklings, he ordaineth 
strength, and perfects praise. ( Psalm viii. 
2. ) Samuel ministered in the temple when 
he was but a child. (1 Sam. ii. 18.) Jo- 
siah, while he was yet young, began to seek 
after the God of liis fathers. (2 Chron. 
xxxiv. 3.) Timothy was acquaiiited with 
the holy scriptures fi-om his earliest years. 
(2 Tim. iii. 15.) And Solomon himself 
was none of the oldest, when he was fa- 
voured with that extraordinary vision, and 
made that admirable choice, at Gibeon. (1 
Kings iii. 5, 6, &c.) a passage of scripture, 
which I dare say you have read, which I 
would recommend to your attentive consid- 
eration, and which I hope you will take for 
the model of your conduct. And if you, 
like that illustrious young prince, desire a 
\vise and understanding heart, more than 
the affluence of wealth, or the distinctions 
of honour ; " if you seek \visdom as silver, 
and search for her as for hid treasure ; 
then shall you also understand the fear of the 
Lord, and find the knowledge of God." 
(Prov. ii. 4, 5.) 

The next that occurs, presents us with a 
view of the sea ; and a most tremendous 
yiew it is. 

Eng. This is the voyage related by the 
evangelist, when our Lord sailed with his 
disciples, and bid the storm be still, and 
made the ocean calm. 

Asp. Then we may truly say, " a greater 
than Solomon is here !" Give me leave to 
hint, upon this occasion, that every picture 
of Christ must necessarily depreciate his 
glorious person. Therefore you wiil never 
think, that a few rays beaming round his 
sacred head, can properly distinguish the 
Son of God, or express the grace of his 
offices, and the divinity of his nature. It 
is not to display the perfections of the Lord 
Jesus himself, but only to give us an idea of 
one of his works, that the pencil has been 
employed on this grand subject. 

You will also remember, that it was not 
the main ocean, but the lake of Tibeiias, 
on which they sailed. However, the 
painter is at liberty to make his sea as large 
as he pleases, and his storm as terrible us 



212 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



he can. Accordingly he has collected all 
the horrors of a tempest. Lightnings fire 
the arch above ; and thunders, could thun- 
ders have been painted, woidd have rocked 
the ground below. Those flaming bolts have 
smitten a huge promontory, and tore its 
rugged brow. See how the rocky fragment 
is tumbling, with impetuous bound from 
cliff to cliff ! The waters, lashed by furious 
winds, heave and toss their tumultuous 
billows : Here they rise in rolling ridges, 
there they rage in devouring whirls. Amidst 
these horrible commotions, you behold a 
vessel in all the extremity of distress : 
Straining under the blast, battered and half 
overwhelmed by the surge, she can no long- 
er maintain the unequal conflict ; she yields 
to the resistless flood ; and begins, evident- 
ly begins to sink. Perplexed, amazed, and 
at their vidt's end, the disciples run to and 
fro. They shift the tackling, lighten the 
stowage, try every expedient ; and find, to 
their inexpressible affliction, every expedi- 
ent ineffectual. 

We cast our eye forward, and their di- 
vine Master appears, sedately rising from a 
gentle slumber. He sees the perplexity 
and horror of his companions, without the 
least emotion of alarm. He sees destruc- 
tion approaching, heaven and earth mingling; 
and instead of being dismayed, enjoys the 
elemental war. What composure in his 
mien ! what dignity in his attitude ! what 
majesty, sweetened with compassion, in 
his aspect ! such as could arise from no 
other cause, but a conscious and undoubted 
certainty that not one of the company 
shoidd perish, not a hair of their head be 
injured ; and that all this mighty uproar of 
nature should end in a demonstration of his 
mightier power, and a confirmation of his 
disciples' faith. He looks abroad into the 
mutinous sky, and the turbulent deep : He 
waves, with an authoritative air, his sacred 
hand ; and adds the great commanding 
word, " Peace ! be still." Do you inquire 
after the effect ? Let Milton declare it : 

Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar 
Stood ruled. 

This is expressed in another draught. 
IVTiere all is hushed, the tremendous agi- 
tations cease, and the most profound tran- 
quillity takes place. The water is smooth 
as glass ; we have the picture of a per- 
fect calm, and view those very persons, 
who a little while ago, were in the wildest 
distraction, and in the jaws of ruin, sur- 
roimding their Lord as men alive from the 
dead. Their consternation is tm-ned into 
wonder ; and their pangs of fear into ecs- 
tasies of joy. They acknowledge the om- 
nipotence, and adore the goodness of Jesus. 

Eng. Well may they acknowledge lus 
omnipotence, since Nvinds and waves obey 
him. Great reason have they to adore his 



goodness, since he rescued them from t^e 
very jaws of death — ^that worst of deaths, 
perishing in the stormy deep. 

Asp. If Jesus Christ had vouchsafed 
such a deliverance to my Eugenio, what 
woidd he have thought, or how would he 
have been affected ? 

E^lg. I should have thought myself inex- 
pressibly obliged, and that I could never 
show sufficient gratitude to so great a bene- 
factor. 

Asp. Assure yourself, then, my dear Sir,, 
that he has done infinitely more for you V 
That he has delivered you, not indeed from 
being swallowed up by the raging billows, 
but from sinking into the pit of everlasting 
perdition: That he has not only rescued 
you from endless destruction, but obtained 
eternal life and heavenly happiness for you. 
— This he has done, not by speaking 
word, or issuing a command ; but by bear- . 
ing your guilt, suffering your punishment, 
and dying the death, the most ignominious 
and tormenting death, in your stead. Should 
you not then unfeignedly love him ? study 
to please him? and make it the reigning 
endeavour of your life to glorify him ? 

Here Theron returned, and the young 
student withdrew, after receiving some af- 
fectionate and encouraging compliments 
from Aspasio, who was going to enlarge 
upon the excellent taste of his friend, the 
instructive style of his pictures, the good 
sense and great proficiency of his son : But 
Theron, far from coveting the praise, and 
fully satisfied with the consciousness of 
acting the becoming part, prevented his 
discourse by stepping to a pair x)f glass fold- 
ing doors, which, thrown open, admitted 
them into the study. 

A chimney-piece of grey marble, with 
plain, but bold and protuberant mouldings, : 
formed a veiy handsome appearance. In \ 
various little niches were fixed elegant 
busts ; and on the several interstices hung 
beautiful prints, representing many of the 
most eminently learned men, who were the 
ornaments and blessings both of ancient and ? 
modem times. The shelves all around 
were accommodated, not encumbered, with 
books. Aspasio, running over the lettered 
backs, observed a collection of the most 
valuable authors in history and natural phi- 
losophy, in poetry and divinity. 

You will easily perceive, said Theron, ^ 
that I am somewhat singular in furnishing 
my study, as well as in ornamenting the 
avenue. My books are not for show, but 
use ; and claim a regard, rather on account 
of their worth than their number. An im- 
mense multitude of volumes, I have alwaj's 
thought, is more likely to embarrass the at- ■ 
tention than to im])rove the understanding. ^ 
A huge libraiy seems to resemble a per- 
plexing labyrinth ; and often bewilders the ; 



ttiiliid, instead of leading it expeditiously to 
the acquisition of truth. 

When people are eager to peruse a mul- 
tiplicity of ^^Titings, it frequently happens, 
that in reading all they digest none.* They 
taste some empty and transient amusement, 
but collect no solid or lasting advantage. 
Their minds are somewhat like those capa- 
cious looking-glasses, which we have seen 
exposed in the most frequented and popu- 
lous streets of London. They receive all 
manner of shado^vy images, but no substan- 
tial impression. A thousand figures pass 
through them, not one abides in them. 

Our books, replied Aspasio, as well as 
our friends, should rather be select than 
numerous. For my part, I would desire 
no more than two or three of the most cor- 
rect and masterly writers in any science. 
These a person of moderate capacity may 
be able to comprehend ; and not compre- 
hend only, but enrich his memoiy with the 
choicest sentiments, and make the substance 
of their works his own. He will, by re- ' 
petition and familiar converse, enter inio : 
their spirit, and acquire their manner ; j 
while a rambler in reading does little more 
than gratify his fancy, without reiining his ^ 
taste, or amending his heart. i 

Upon this Aspasio turned himself, and i 
espied, in one corner of the apartment the 
celestial and terrestrial globes ; in another, 
a large reflecting telescope ; and on the top 
of a bureau, one or two of the best micros- 
copes. 

■ These instruments, resumed Theron, have 
opened an inexhaustible fund of the finest 
entertainments. They have furnished us 
with new eyes, and brought up, I may ven- 
ture to say, a new world into our view. They 
give us a sight of wonders, which may seem 
incredible to the incurious vulgar, and were 
utterly unknown to the most inquisitive 
sages of antiquity. They charm the eye with 
a display of inimitable beauties, where no- 
thing worthy of notice was expected. They 
throw the mind into a pleasing transport 
of admii-ation ; and from the meanest, low- 
est objects, raise the most amiable and exalted 
ideas of the all-glorious Creator. 

I have often regretted, that such rational 
and manly gratifications should be almost 



* The author of Night Thoughts has touched this 
subject with great judgment, and equal sprightliness. 

Voracious learning, often over-fed, 
, - Digests not into sense the moatly meal. 

This forager on other's wisdom leaves 

Hernative farm her reason quite untill'd. 
■ '-"With mixed manure she surfeits the rank soil, 

Dung'dj but not dress'd : and rich to beggary, 
■j-. Gentlemen of taste and seriousness cannot, I 
think, have a nobler piece of furniture for their 
studies, than the microscope and the telescope, the 
orrery and the air-pump. This apparatus would af- 
ford them a most delightful and improving amuse- 
ment in a solitary hour; it would also give them an 
opportunity of entertaining their company in a truly 
elegant and very instructive manner. It would open 
a fine and ample field for displaying the glories of 
God the Creator, and of God the Redeemer. 



universally supplanted by the fantastical 
and childish amusements in vogue. Why 
should not the contemplation of nature's 
surprising novelties be as acceptable an 
entertainment as the stale diversion of quad- 
rille ? be as refined an employ for a leisure 
hour, as to count the spots on a pack of 
cards ? The ladies, 1 am very sure, might 
find brighter colours and more delicate or- 
naments, in the robes and head-dress of a 
common fly, than ever they found amidst the 
trinkets of a toyshop. And was the fair 
circle of females once acquainted mth the 
radiant varnish and rich studs which ena- 
mel the cover of a beetle's wing, I am apt 
to think, they would view with less rapture, 
with more indiflference, perhaps with a be- 
coming disdain, all the pretty fancies of a 
beau's wardrobe. 

A few days ago, when the accomplished 
Maniha favoured us with a visit, I showed 
her, through a magnifying glass, the sting of 
a bee, the scale of a soal, the wing of a gnat, 
and some other beautiful minims of nature, 
together with the powder wliich adheres t-O 
our finger when we touch the body of a 
moth. " Amazing !" cried the young lady; 
" What elegant figures ! What enchimting 
finery ! 

" Smallest lineaments exact. 

In ail the iiverie.s deck'd of summer's pride, 
With spots of gold and purple, azure and green." 

Milton, h, vii. 

" IJow perfect the polish, and how high 
the finishing, of that little weapon ! This 
piece of defensive armoui-, how skilfully- 
contrived, and how curiously wrought ! Herej 
rising into little ridges, like the bosses of a 
buckler, fitted to repel injuries : there, 
scooped into little cavities, designed, I sup- 
pose to diminish its weight ; that the coat 
of mail may not encinnber, even while it 
defends, the puny wearer. What I took 
to be a whitish despicable rag, is the neatest 
fan 1 ever beheld, mounted on sticks" ini- 
mitably tapering and slender, tinged with all 
the soft and lovely colours of the most 
glossy mother-of-pearl. But what astonishes 
me more than all, is the view of that co- 
loured dust, which your instrument has 
turned into a cluster of feathers. Every 
one wrought oflf with a regularity and a de- 
licacy that are beyond the power of descrip- 
tion. The finest stroke drawn by the Ita-' 
lian pen, compared with the extreme mi- 
nuteness of the shaft, is broad and bulky as 
an admiral's mast. A speck of leaf gold, 
could it be weighed against the exquisite at- 
tenuations of the vane, t would seem more 
substantial and ponderous than yonder mar- 
ble slab. 



* These sticks are the little ribs, which support, 
at proper intern als, the fine transparent membraue 
of the wing. 

\ Vane ii> the feathery part of a quill. 



214 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



" How nice, even to a prodigy, must be 
the mechanism of the animalcule race ! I 
see globules, I see tides of blood, rolling 
through meanders inexpressibly finer than 
the finest hair. — Stranger still ! I see whole 
shoals of active creatures expatiating in a 
single drop of water ;* taking their pastime 
amidst such a scanty canal, as unstraitened, 
and as much at large, as leviathan in the 
abysses of the ocean. A whole kingdom 
of those creatures, though collected into a 
body, are quite undiscernible by the naked 
eye. What then must be the size of every 
individual ? Yet in every individual there 
is a complete system of limbs ; each endow- 
ed with spontaneous motion ; all assembled, 
though not crowded, in a living atom. To 
reflect upon the texture of vessels, and the 
operation of organs, so complex, so numer- 
ous, yet so inconceivably minute ; how it 
awakens admiration, fills me with reverence 
of the Almighty Maker, and yields a pleasure 
infinitely superior to all the modish amuse- 
ments of our sex ! Yoiu* discoveries of 
life in miniature have given me a disgust of 
what is called high life, and its solemn fop- 
peries. You have spoiled me, Theron, for 
a fashionable trifler. I shall no longer relish 
the dull economy of the fan, or the poor pa- 
rade of the snuff-box." 

Asp. Have you nothing to say of the te- 
lescope ? — I believe it must be my province 
to celebrate this admirable invention ; and 
I wish I could do it, with Manilia's brilliant 
imagination. If the microscope leads us 
downward, to the curious secrets of the ani- 
malcule creation, the telescope bears us 
upward, to the grand peculiarities of the 
starry regions. The eye, conducted by this 
wonderful guide, visits a variety of majestic 
orbs, which would otherwise be lost in un- 
measurable tracts of ether. This, far more 
surprising than the discoveries of Columbus, 
has found out new colonies of worlds in 
every quarter of the nocturnal skies. This 
has placed a glittering crescent on the brow 
of onef of the planets ; and has given others 
a most stately train of attendants. ;|l 

Tell me, Theron, could you discern 
the full choir of the constellations, or 
distinguish the variegated face of the moon. 



* In a single drop of water. Dr. Hook is said to 
have discovered, with his microscope, eight millions 
two hundred and eighty thousand animalcules. This 
is mentioned, because it is the prevailing philosophy 
of the age; though I must confess that M. Gautier 
seems to have gone a considerable way towards giving 
it another turn ; as he has proved, before a learned 
assembly at Paris, that the vermiculares of Lewen- 
hoeit, and the livmg moleculae of M. de Buffon, were 
only balls of air agitated by the fermenting of the 
seed. If so, it is not impossible but Dr. Hook's ani- 
malcules may be nothing more than balls of air, agi- 
tated by the fermenting of the pepper. Be this as it 
will, the young lady's remarks on the wonde' s of me- 
chanism in the animalcule creation, I believe, will 
never be controverted. 

•f The i)Ianet Venus. 

t The satcllitea of Jupiter and Saturn 



without the aid of our telescopic tube ? 
Could you, with your unassisted eye, get 
a sight of Jupiter's satellites, or procure 
a glimpse of Saturn's ring? Without that 
supplementary aid to our sight, they are 
quite imperceptible ; though the satellites 
of the former are incomparably more mag- 
nificent than the retinue of all the rnonarchs 
in the world ; and, compared with the ring ; 
of the latter, all the bridges on ten thousand 
rivers, are less than the ferule of your cane. 

As the telescope to the eye, so is revela- 
tion to the understanding. It discovers 
truths, which, exclusive of such a discovery, 
had been for ever hid from the most saga- 
cious minds. It is strange to the unlearn- 
ed observer, that this ponderous globe of 
earth and seas should wheel its rapid circuit 
round the sun. But the telescope has ren- 
dered this fact clear to a demonstration. 
It is strange likewise to our natural appre* 
hensions, that we should die in Adam, and 
be undone by our first parent's disobedience ; 
nor less so, that we should be made alive in , 
Christ, and derive oiu" recovery from his im- 
puted righteousness. But revelation makes 
this doctrine as certain as it is comfortable. 

TTier. Does revelation make it certain? 
— This is a point not yet established but, 
taken for granted. I rather apprehend, 
that revelation in no place maintains it— in> 
many places disavows it. Since your ab- 
sence, Aspasio, I have spent some time in. 
searching the scriptures, with a particular 
view to this tenet ; and I can find no such; 
expression in the whole Bible as the impu- 
tation of Christ's righteousness. If it was 
so leading an article as you represent, surely, 
it could not have been entirely forgotten by 
the inspired writers, nor utterly excluded 
from their body of divinity. 

Asp. The very identical expression may 
not occur, and yet the doctrine be abun- 
dantly taught. I believe, you never met 
with the word resurrection in any part of" 
the Pentateuch, nor ever read the phrase 
satisfaction in all the New Testament. Yet 
our Lord fully proved the truth of the for- 
mer from the writings of Moses ; and you 
yourself have acknowledged the latter to be 
the unanimous sense of the apostles and 
evangelists. 

In the Epistle to the Romans, we have 
express and repeated mention of a right- 
eousness imputed. What or whose right- 
eousness can be the subject of this asser- 
tion ? Not the righteousness of angels : 
They are a superior class of beings, and 
have no such intimate connexion with oUr 
nature. Not the righteousness of eminent 
saints : This is the exploded error of Po- 
pery ; and furnishes the Romish zealots 
with that chimera of arrogance and folly, 
works of supererogation. Not any right- 
eousness of our own : for it is positively 



declared to lae without works, (Rom. iv. 6,) 
in which no works of our own have any 
cohciirrence, or the least share. — What 
other righteousness then can be meant, but 
the righteousness of oiur great Substitute, 
Surety, and Savdour, who took our nature, 
discharged oiu* debt ; and is therefore styled, 
" Jehovah our righteousness." (Jer. xxiii. 

Ther. This seems contrary to the whole 
tenor of the sacred instructions. What 
says the prophet? " When the wicked man 
tumeth away from his wckedness that he 
hath committed, and doth that which is 
lawful and right, he shall save his soul 
alive." (Ezek. xviii. 27.) Here that great- 
est of blessings, the salvation of the soul, 
is ascribed to a departure from evil, and a 
perseverance in good ; to a real alteration 
in a man's own temper and conduct, not to 
any fanciful application of some transmis- 
sive righteousness from another. 

Asp. Let me ask my Theron, is there 
no wickedness but riot and debauchery, pro- 
faneness and injustice ? Unbelief, though it 
may pass vwthout censure or notice in a 
system of morality, is, in the volume of re- 
velation, declared a capital crime. Our 
Lord, speaking of the Holy Spirit, mentions 
it as a signal part of his office, that " He 
shall convince the world of sin." Of what 
sin? Scandalous violations of moral recti- 
tude ? This were a needless employ. The 
light of reason is sufficient to evince such a 
chai'ge, and the court of conscience is erect- 
ed to pass the deserved sentence. Of sin, 
adds the heavenly Teacher, " because they 
believe not on me," (John xvi. 9,) on my 
death, as the cause of their forgiveness ; on 
my righteousness, as the ground of their 
acceptance ; on my Spirit, as the powerful 
principle of their holiness. 

Unbelief treats God as a liar, ( 1 John v. 
10,) because it rejects the testimony which 
he has bore concerning his beloved Son. 
Unbelief tramples on the blood of Christ, 
and is a most contemptuous affront to all 
his saving offices. Unbelief would coun- 
teract the operations of the Holy Ghost, 
whose peculiar work it is to testify of Christ, 
and make manifest his righteousness. Un- 
belief instigates (could we have thought it 
possible ?) a child of dust, a slave of sin, to 
idolize himself and his own performances. 
To say all in a word, unbelief is that great, 
that comprehensive iniquity, which scorn- 
fully rejects, or impiously renounces, the 
most glorious method of salvation which 
Omniscience itself could devise. 

The wicked man, therefore, never turns 
from his wickedness, tiU he turns, by a true 
faith, to Jesus Christ. TiU then, he is a 
rebel against the gospel, however he may 
pj^iSpme specious and partial regard to the 
law. So flagrant a rebel, that he stands 



particularly ejrcepted, in the act of evange- 
lical indemnity. For as " he that belie veth 
on the Son, hath everlasting life ; so he that 
believeth not, is condemned already, and 
the wrath of God abideth on him."* 

TTier. What are the Psalmist's sentiments 
on this subject ? Does not he represent the 
matter in a very different light ? " Thou, 
Lord, art merciful ; for thou rewardest 
every man according to his," not another's 
"works." (Psalm bdi. 12.) 

Asp. Weighty saying! May it impress 
our very hearts ! God is merciful, and there- 
fore rewardeth. From whence it appears, 
that what we call a reward is really an act' 
of mercy rather than of justice. " The 
wages of sin is death ; but the gift," (says 
the apostle, altering his style, and making a 
most important distinction,) the gift of God 
"is eternal life." (Rom. vi. 23.) The in- 
spired penman subjoins, not for but accord- 
ing to, every man's works. His works are 
the measure, not the meritorious cause.- 
To merit, is the sole prerogative of the Sa- 
vour. To him it is owing, that our im- 
perfect services are honoiu-ed with any ac-^ 
ceptance ; much more that they are recom- 
pensed with any reward. 

Ther. Does not this exposition of yours 
clash mth that truly generous acknowledg- 
ment of St. Peter ? " In every nation, he 
that feareth God, and worketh ri;^hteou9> 
ness, is accepted with him." (Acts x. 35.) 
Here it is undeniably e\adent, that accept- 
ance with ovu" Creator is founded on a 
man's own piety, and personal integrity. 

Asp. Rightly to understand this text, 
we should inquire into the circumstances of 
the history. The apostle had heen strongly 
and most unreasonably prejudiced in favour 
of the Jews ; imagining, that the salvation 
of Christ, like the dispensation of Moses, 
must be confined to his countrymen. But 
now, ha\-ing considered the pm^ort of his 
late heavenly vision, having compared it 
with the angelic message delivered to Cor- 
nelius ; and being made acquainted with 
the character of that valuable man ; he 
breaks out into this truly catholic declara- 
tion : " My prejudices are vanished. My 
sentiments are enlarged. From the instance 
before me, it is demonstrably certain, that 
God does not appropriate the blessings of 
his covenant to any particular person, fa- 
mily, or people. ' But, in every nation, he 
that feareth him, and,' fiom a principle of 



* John iii. 18, 36. Tlie words are exceedingly em- 
phatica], and no less awful. Not barely he shall come 
into condemnation, but he (that believeth not) is. 
condemned already. Though ever so civilized or refin- 
ed in his outward cx)nversation, he lies under a sentence 
of death, and is theobject of divine wrath. Which not 
only will visit him, but abideth on him. So that, 
wherever he may be, whatever he may do, the dis- 
pleasure of the tremendous Jehovah hangs over him, 
like a dreadful destructive sword ; which, if he dies 
in such a condition, will inevitably fall upon liim, 
and cut him in pieces eternallv. 



m 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



religion in the heart, * worketh righteous- 
ness' in the life, * is accepted ;' so accepted, 
as to be an object of the di\'ine favour, and 
an inheritor of eternal happiness/' 

This, I think, is the exact meaning of 
the place. And let it be recollected, that 
no one truly fears, or can possibly please 
God, without faith. (Heb. xi, 6.) For 
which reason, it seems necessary to suppose, 
that Cornelius, though a heathen by birth, 
had believed through grace. Nay, it is 
evident from the context, that he hswl heard 
of Jesus Christ ; had some acquaintance 
with the design of his coming, and the ex- 
ecution of his office ;* enough to be the 
ground of a real, though perhaps an in- 
fantile faith. The business of the apostle 
was, to lead this convert into the clear light, 
and full privileges of the gospel ; to ratify 
and confirm his title to them, by the sacred 
seal of baptism ; and introduce him, as the 
first fruits of the Gentiles, into the Christ- 
ian church. ^ 

So that nothing can be concluded from 
this passage, but that the glad tidings of 
Cluistianity are for Jews, for Gentiles, for 
all people ; that faith, even when weak, is 
productive of good works ; and when sin- 
cerely improved, will certainly be increased 
— " Avill go from strength to strength." 

Ther, Does not our Saviour, in describ- 
ing the process, and fortelling the issue of 
the last decisive trial, assign a kingdom to 
the righteous ? assign it in this precise 
view, as a proper remuneration of their own 
good works ; saying in the most express 
terms, " Come, ye blessed of my Father, 
inherit the kingdom prepared for you from 
the foundation of the world : For I was an 
hungered, and ye gave me meat : for," &c. 
(Mutt. XXV. 30.) 

Asp. Be pleased to take notice of the 
expression. They are bidden to inherit; 
and what is freer than an inheritance ? Ob- 
serve also the reason alleged, and compare 
it with the rule of judicature : " He that 
believeth," saith the supreme judge, " shall 
be saved." This is the avowed, the invari- 
able standard, by which he proceeds in ad- 
ministering everlasting judgment. Ac- 
cordingly, he confers eternal life on the 
righteous, as persons entitled to this great 
felicity on the foot of his own gracious ap- 
pointment. 

For denotes, not the foundation, but the 
evidence of their right. "I acquit such a 
person," says the arbitrator in a judicial 
claim ; ** for the witnesses depose that the 



\ * Acts X. 36, 37. Indeed it could hardly be othor- 

wise, since Cornelius was settled at Cesarea, the resi- 
dence of the lord-lieutenant, and seat of the civil, as 
Jerusalem was of the ecclesiastical government. In 
a place of such general resort, so very remarkable an 
event could not be unknovv'n, espstially as Philip the 
evangelist had fixed his abode in that city. Kec Acts 
viii. 40. 



debt is paid." The deposition, which an- 
swers to these righteous acts, is the proof ; 
payment of the debt, which coiTesponds 
with Christ's perfect obedience, is the 
cause* of the discharge. " For ye have 
given, ye have abounded in all instances 
of duty to me, and love to yowr brethren ; 
and thereby have manifested yourselves true 
believers." 

It may be farther observed, that our Lord 
says not ye have done it to your fellow-creai 
tures, but to " these my brethren," (Matth^ 
xxv. 40.) He commends not every randon*' 
act of good nature or generosity, but such- 
kinds of beneficence only as carry the Ghrisw 
tian stamp — were exercised to a disciple^ 
" in the name of a disciple. " And those most 
evidently spring from faith j these unde- 
niably attest its sincerity. 

Ther. Are not these distinctions more 
subtile than solid? 

Asp. To me they appear in no such light. 
If you think otherwise, let us appeal to 
those excellent persons themselves. The 
turn, the very remarkable turn of their sen^ 
timents wiU fully decide our question. Do 
they lay any stress upon their own religious 
duties and beneficent deeds? Far from re- 
lying on them, farther still from pleading 
them, they bestow not a single thought upon 
them. Having fixed their hopes on the 
Rock of Ages, they forget these transient 
bubbles,! Nay, they wonder, that their ex-^ 
alted Master should condescend to make 
any honourable mention of such imperfect 
services. O that we may be enabled, through 
the whole course of our lives, to follow the 
example of their piety ! and, when we stand 
before the tremendous tribinial, to imitate 
their humility and wisdom ! Their humili- 
ty, in renouncing themselves^ and disclaim- 
ing all desert of their own : their wisdom, 
in reposing their whole confidence on the 
merits and righteousness of their Redeemers = 

Ther. Our Lord makes no mention of 
this doctrine in his sermon on the mount; 
Whereas if it had been so very material, he 
would at least have touched upon it in that 
comprehensive suramaiy of true religion. ^ 

Asp. Our Lord says not a word concerii-- 
ing the sacrifice of his death. Neither is' 
there a syllable relating to his intercession' ' 
for transgressors. But are these articles of^ 
our faith to be deemed fictitious or super*- 



* The spring is come, says the countryman: foir 
the orchard blooms, and the blackbird sings. The ' 
blooming of the trees, and the melody of th^ bird^^; 
were never supposed to create, only to characterise, ; 
the delightful season. They are not its cause, but' 
the proof of its taking place. - .i 

t Bubbles they are, compared with the all-glorious 
obedience of Christ, or considered in reference to th&' 
grand affair of justification before God. But as bubf 
bles, or v/atery vesicles inflated with air, are the 
means of exliibiting the beautiful colours of the rain- 
bov/; so these services, lliough )wor and defective, 
hear lestimonv to Ihe existence of that precious grace 
—faith. 



fluous, because they are not expressly indiU 
cated in that admirable treatise of practical 
divinity ? 

However, upon a more attentive examina- 
tion, perhaps, we shall find the point most 
strongly implied, though not distinctly spe- 
cified : its necessity demonstrated, though 
its mature be not explained. The illustrious 
Teacher opened his mouth, and with a pe- 
culiar solemnity said, " Blessed are the poor 
in spirit," (Matth. v. 3.) But who are they ? 
Not the persons who soothe themselves with 
the flattering conceit of the Laodicean 
church, " I am rich in obedience, and in- 
creased in spiritual goods," (Rev. iii. 17.) 
Those rather, who see their indigence, be- 
wail their guilt, and hunger and thirst after 
the justifying merit of a Redeemer ; wh©, 
from the very bottom of an humbled heart, 
confess, " Lord, I am no more able to con- 
form all my conduct to thy most holy law, 
than I am capable of atoning for my innu- 
merable sins. Christ must be my righteous- 
ness, as well as my propitiation, or else I 
am irrecoverably undone." 

The inimitable preacher farther assures 
his hearers, that, " unless their righteous- 
ness exceed the righteousness of the Scribes 
and Pharisees, they shall in no wise enter 
mto the kingdom of heaven," (Matth. v. 20.) 
How must Christians exceed the Pharisees? 



do not tindfefi-sfand' yote'iSiea&iiig, ''!A^f^ 



Asp. You will observe, then, that oitf 
Lord's reply was not an universal direction, 
but an answer, adhominem, peculiarly adapted 
to the young gentleman's application, which, 
however it may be admired, was none- of 
the wisest. Instead of asking, " How shall 
a poor guilty mortal, who is every day of- 
fending, obtain forgiveness from the right- 
eous God ?" instead of saying, " How shall 
I, who am not able to think a good 
thought, make sure my title to an eternal 
weight of glory?" our querist demands," what 
good thing shall I do, that I may inherit 
eternal life ?" The reply proceeds upon th^ 
inquirer's own principles, " If you expect 
salvation upon such legal terms, know, that 
your obedience must be nothing less than 
a perfect conformity to the di\ane law. 
Perform all its precepts, in their utmost 
extent, and with an unremitted perseverance, 
then" — But, alas ! such perfection is too 
high for fallen creatures, they cannot attain 
unto it. Necessarily, therefore, must they 
drop all such pretensions, and have recourse 
to some other method of justification. 

T/ier. Why did that " wonderful counsel- 
lor," if such was the purport of his answer, 
express himself so obscurely ? Why did he 
not divert his promising schohir from this 
Not only in being sincere, in having respect fruitless attempt, and put him in the right, 
unto all God's commandments; but also in ' the practicable way of obtiiining salvation? 
possessing a complete righteousness, such Asp. This he did with the finest address, 
as the divine holiness can with complacency ! and in the most skilful manner. 



accept, and in which the divine justice may 
with honour acquiesce. Nor can this be 
any thing less than the perfect obedience of 
the great Mediator. St. Paul's memorable 
testimony, concerning his attainments in the 
Pharisaical, and his hopes in the Christian 
state, afford the very best comment u})on this 
important declaration of our Lord, (Phil, 
iii. 7, 8, 9.) 

, Ther. The Oracle of heaven, you know, 
was once consulted upon that most momen- 
tous of all questions, how a person may as- 
certain his title to life and immortality ? 
And what is the tenor of the sacred res- 
cript ? We aie referred to the ten command- 
ments ; and, in the most explicit terms, 
with the most peremptory air, told, "this do, 
and thou shalt live." (Matth. xix. 17. Luke 
X.29,) 

Asp. That particular person, if you please, 
was leferred to the ten commandments ; 
not Ave, and mankind in general. Our Lord, 
itf ^the preceding verses, had been informing 
his-' disciples, that they must receive the 
kingdom of God, or the grace of the gospel, 
Hud the blessings it proposes, as a little 
child. And this can hardly signify, in con- 
seque)ice of their own doings. 

!7y<p/-. " That particular j)erson referred 
t8f'NBr\VeiMd^ rfiahkihd 'in genend I 



Had our 

Lord atliinied, " You are worldly, you are 
covetous, your riches are your god ;" such 
a charge would in all probability have been 
as confidently denied as it was plainlyurged. 
Therefore he brings this specious hypocrite 
to a test* which could not be evaded, and 
which was sure to discover the truth, a test 
which laid open the palpable and enormous 
defects of his so much boasted obedience ; 
which made it a])pear that, instead of keep» 
ing all the commandments, this vain self- 
justiciary had not obeyed the very first; 
but amidst all his towering imaginations of 
himself, had been, and at that veiy instant 
was, a sordid grovelling idolater, who pre- 
ferred his transitory possessions on earth 
to an everlasting inheritance in the kingdom 
of heaven. Could any expedient be more 
suitable to the case, or better calculated to- 
reduce him, intoxicated as he was mth 
pride, to a sober humble mind ; to beat him 
off from his false foundation, " the right-' 



* Matt. xix. 21. " If thou wilt be perfect, sell all 
that thou hast, and give to the poor." This direc- 
tion seems to be much of the same nature with that 
other part of our Lord's reply: " If thou wilt enter 
into hfe, keep the commandments." Both were per- 
sonal, both occasional, Ix)th adapted to particular 
circumiitauces. The latter id no more the stated evan- 
gelical way to heaven, than the former is indispens- 
ably obligatory on all Christians. 



THERON ANi) ASJ'ASIO. 



eousness which is of the law," and lead him 
to a reliance on the promised, the expected, 
the present Messiah ? 

It puts me in mind of my friend Saga- 
cio's conduct, which seems to have some 
conformity with oiu- Lord's procedure, and 
may possibly tend to illustrate its propriety. 
Visiting one of his unlearned neighbours, 
he found him in company with a certain 
talkative stranger, who was haranguing at 
an extravagant rate on the wonders of as- 
tronomy. Sagacio soon perceived that the 
chief furniture of this extraordinary adept 
lay in a little acquaintance with the tech- 
nical terms, and somewhat more than a lit- 
tle share of assurance. How should he 
bring the self-plumed sciolist to a little 
modesty of sentiment, and decorum of con- 
versation? He took leave to ask, " What 
the word astronomy might signify ? The 
orator was struck dumb in a moment. 
He had never informed himself, it seems, 
that astronomy related to the order and re- 
gulation of the stars. This single question 
taught our minute philosopher more effec- 
tually than twenty lectures on the subject. 
It taught him his own ignorance, and that 
he had the very rudiments of his so much 
admired science stiU to learn. 

Ther. What will you say to those famous 
passages in the epistle of St. James, " By 
works a man is justified," — " Was not 
Abraham our father justified by works ?" 
(Jam. ii. 21, 24.) Can any words be 
plainer in their meaning ? or can any mean- 
ing be more directly opposite to the whole 
scope of yom" argumentation ? 

Asp. This I would say, Theron : the 
passages you quote, when detached from 
the context, may seem inconsistent with the 
declarations of another apostle ; as a limb, 
when wrenched from its natural situation, 
appears with an air of disproportion. Where 
as, reduce the dislocated part, and it will 
recover the symmetry of its shape, it will 
harmonize exactly with the animal system 
Replace likewise these assertions, consider 
them in connexion with the whole para- 
graph, and they will be found, if not uni- 
sons, yet perfect concords with the strain 
of St. Paul's teaching. 

What is the point which St. James un- 
dertakes to illustrate? To distinguish a 
genuine from an insincere faith. " If a man 
say, he hath faith," (Jam. ii. 14.) this is 
mentioned as the boast of some hypocritical 
professor. So that the apostle is evidently 
dealing with a pretender to the precious gift ; 
and therefore replies, " Shew me thy faith," 
prove the reality of thy claim ; prove it to 
me and to the church, to thy fellow-crea- 
tures and fellow- Christians. If unproduc- 
tive of righteous and godly works, we must 
pronounce it spurious, worthless, dead. 
Having detected the counterfeit, he pro- 



ceeds to describe the sterling; The grand 
characteristic of which is, a frame of mind^ 
and a course of action, corresponding with 
the doctrine believed. By this touchstone, * 
the faith of our reno^^^led progenitor wasf 
tried, and, being tried, was " found unto 
praise, and honour, and glory." " Was not 
Abraham our father justified by works ?" 
Justified ! How ? As to acceptance with 
the Supreme Judge? No: this was effect- 
ed long before the Patriarch offered up 
Isaac. But when he exercised that heroic 
act of self-denial, resignation and obedience, 
then his justification was evidenced to all 
generations. " His faith was made per- 
fect," answered its proper end, and appear- 
ed to be of the true, the triumphant, the 
scriptural kind, since it overcame the 
world, overcame self, and regarded God as 
all in all. ' 

Upon the whole, St. Paul speaks concern- 
ing the justification of our persons, St;; 
James concerning the justification of oilr' 
faith.* St. Paul describes the manner of 
being justified before the all-seeing God; 
St. James points out the prooff of a justi- 
fied state, as it is visible to men. The 
former proceeds from the immaculate right- 
eousness of Christ, placed to our account ; 
the latter consists in the fruits of righteous- 
ness adorning our life. Rightly understood, 
therefore, these passages are not the least 
contradictory to the epistles of St. Paul, 
or to the scope of my argumentation. But 
are a seasonable caveat, and a proper pre- 
servative, against misunderstanding those/ 
or perverting this. 

Ther. I wish you would read that con^ 
cise but judicious abridgment of true reli- 
gion, comprised in the fifteenth psalm. The 
sacred penman, for his own, and for the in- 
formation of all mankind, asks, " Lord, who 
shall dwell in thy tabernacle, or who shaH 
rest upon thy holy hill?" To this most in- 
teresting inquiry, the following verses are 
a full and satisfactory answer ; the whole 
of which turns upon the discharge of mord 
duties ; " walking uprightly and working 
righteousness ;" without a syllable, or a 
single hint, concerning the very superior 



* That the expression used by St. James signifies 
this declarative justification is plain from 1 Tim. iii. 
16, where the apostle, speaking of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, says '■^ix.Kiu6ny He was justified in or by the 
Spirit ; declared to be tlie true Sou of God ; manifest- 
ed on earth, and recognised from heaven, as the un-. 
doubted Saviour of the world. 

t A very little reflection, I should imagine, must 
convince every unprejudiced reader, that St. James 
cannot possibly be stating the method of justification 
before the infinitely righteous God ; because he never 
so much as mentions the death of Christ, ' • who m.ade 
his soul an offering for sin ; to whom gave all the 
prophets witness, that whosoever beheveth in him, 
shall receive remission of sins; and besides whom, 
there is no other name given under heaven, wl\ereby 
we can be saved. Could an apostle so absolutely for- 
get his Lord; and in a case where every other in- 
spired writer acknowledges Him; nay, acknowledges 
him to be all in all 1 



excellence of faith, or the extreme necessity 
of a vicarious obedience. 

Asp. I have often read, and I well re- 
member, that beautiful, that instructive 
psalm. And I beg leave to observe, once 
for all, with relation to such passages of the 
Old Testament, that they suppose the per- 
sons whom they describe to be convinced 
of their natural corruption, to be humbled 
under a sense of their actual guilt, and to 
live in a conscientious observance of the 
expiatory sacrifices ; all which had an in- 
variable reference to Christ, and derived 
their whole virtue from his mediation. 

Would any of the Jewish saints, think 
you, have dared to advance a plea for eter- 
nal blessedness, upon the foot of their owti 
conformity to such moral directions ; ne- 
glecting, at the same time, the sacrifices of 
the three great festivals, or a believing im- 
provement of the daily oblation ? By no 
means. They were, and they would ac- 
knowledge themselves deplorably defective ; 
they would plead the promise of free grace, 
and fly to the blood which God himself 
had appointed to make an atojiement for 
their souls. By such sentiments, and such 
a conduct, they reduced to practice the very 
essence of our doctrine ; disavowing their 
own deeds, however virtuous or religious, 
and trusting in the strength of Israel, " the 
Lord our righteousness," who alone fulfill- 
ed all the precepts contained in this excell- 
ent formulary of duty ; who was also the 
substance of every purifying and of every 
propitiatory rite. 

Ther. Has not the sacred writer ex- 
pressly said, at the close of the psalm, 
" Whoso doeth these things, shall never 
faU?" 

Asp. He has ; and this, I apprehend is 
his meaning. " Persons of such a temper, 
and such a practice, bear the marks of God's 
children, and are meet for his glory. Ac- 
cordingly, they shall never fall either into 
total apostacy here, or final condemnation 
hereafter. They are now heirs, and in due 
time shall be possessors, of his eternal king- 
dom." 

But you ^vill take notice, that aU these 
duties and qualifications only characterise, 
not constitute, the inheritor of heaven. 
You will likewise advert to another very 
remarkable circumstance in the description : 
" He setteth not by himself, but is lowly in 
his own eyes or, as the more expressive 



t Psal XV. 4. D^^DDV DiyrriDl I cannot say 
that I admire the Bible translationof this clause: " In 
whose eyes the vile person is contemptible." Me- 
thinks, it does not savour of the tender and benign 
spirit of our religion, which teaches us to honour all 
men, to despise no one's person, but only to detest the 
wickedness of the wicked. 

Should the sense I have opposed have its weight, 
the sense I have preferred is incomparably weip^htier. 
If to despise the vile, is a religious act, to tnink 
vieanly of ourselves, is a much more advanced, and a 



original speaks, he is despicable and \^Ie iff 
his o\vn sight ; so far from aspiring to selft 
justification, that he even condemns and ab* 
hors himself, and falls down, as a most un- 
worthy wretch, at the foot of infinitely frei^ 
grace. 

Tfier. I cannot but think it is the currenjF- 
doctrine of scripture, and I am sure it is 
one of the first principles which the light? 
of nature teaches, — That the most higU 
God must necessarily love righteousiies^ 
and take pleasure in the righteous. - 

Asp. If the light of nature was to pub^''^ 
lish a gospel, I believe it would be forme;* 
upon yom- plan. It would bestow favour 
only on the innocent, the ^drtuous, and the- 
holy. But the gospel of Christ runs in a 
very different strain: This brings pardon 
for the condemned, and blessings for the 
acciu'sed : This is health to the sick, and^ 
recovery to the ruined. " The Lord hath 
anointed me," saith its divine Author, " to; 
preach good tidings to the meek,"* who are 
humbled under a sense of their sinfulness.; 
" He hath sent me to bind up the broken 
hearted," who are wounded wth a conviction 
of their undone state ; — " to proclaim liber-; 
ty to the captives," the wretched captivesi 
of Satan ; " and the opening of the prison 
to them that are boimd," boimd in the chains- 
of ignorance, impotence, and misery. 

As I am myself a most luiworthy sinner, 
you must not be displeased if I espouse the 
cause of those unhappy creatures. Yet 
though a friend of sinners, I am no enemy 
to the righteous. I entirely agree with my 
Theron in allo\^ing, that the most high 
God necessarily loves righteousness. Only 
I want to be informed, where this admira- 
ble and lovely quality is to be found ? Not 



far more difficult instance of true religion. This is 
to copy the highest pattern of human excellence, who, 
notwithstanding his very superior attainments, ac- 
counted himself less than the least of all saints, nay, 
the very chiefest of sinners. 

* Isa. Ixi. 1. Upon this passage of Jsaiah I would 
beg leave to obser^'e that the word meek seems not to' 
answer or convey the prophet's idea. By glad tidings 
to the meek, we are inclined to think of persons en- 
dued with that placid and quiet spirit, which is in the 
sight of God of great price. This might discourage 
many people, who know themselves to be destitute of 
such a gracious habit. This might lead others to sus- 
pect, that some amiable disposition is previously ne- 
cessary, in order to receive the benefits of redeeming 
grace. Which is a very mistaken, and will prove a 
most uncomfortable forbidding notion. 

The original QIO^ signifies, in this place, the 
afHicted ; not so much those who are beautified with 
meekness as those who are oppressed with misery, spi- 
ritual misery especially ; not excepting even those 
who are slaves to their own unruly passions. The 
Lord Jesus never finds, but makes people meek. Meek- 
ness is one of the fruits of his Spirit, one of the bless- 
ings which he bestows on the unworthy. 

J'he whole paragraph is a description of extreme 
wretchedness. What can be more distressed than the 
man whose outward circumstances are impoverished 
and ruined ; whose spiritis broken under the weight of 
his calamities, who is taken captive by the enemy, is 
thrown into a dungeon, and loaded with irons ? This 
is the prophet's representation, this is the picture of 
unconverted sinners ; and to these, to thctie Clfiiit 
Jesus is a ransom, a delivercr,a portiotu, - - ^ 



2^ 



amofig the Gentiles : They have swerved 
from the dictates of natural conscience. 
Not among the Jews : They have broke 
the holy commandment delivered on mount 
Sinai. Not among Christians : For, if 
God should enter into judgment with us, 
we could not answer him one of a thousand. 
In the kingdom of Ethiopia, or in the 
country of the Moors^ where will you find 
the native whites ? 

The Son of God found none among the 
race of Adam that were entitled to the 
character of righteous. He who gave him- 
self a ransom for all, makes no application 
to such persons.* Why? Because he sul- 
lenly disesteemed personal goodness, or was 
unable to distinguish the excellency of in- 
herent virtue ? No ; but because he knew, 
that, amiable as these qualifications are, 
they have no existence in the human heart, 
tiU the sinner, reconciled by his death, be 
sanctified also by his Spirit. 

You remember, perhaps, that remarkable 
answer which the Spaitans once returned 
to a threatening embassy from some of the 
neighbouring states ? Nothing could be more 
concise ; and, I think, nothing was ever 
more spirited and significant. 

Ther. Those neighbours gave them to 
understand, by their ambassadors, " That, 
if they entered , their territories, they would 
burn their to\vns, make the inhabitants pri- 
soners, and spread destruction wherever 
they advanced. " To which msolent me 
nace, the brave Lacedemonians made no 
other reply, than — If. Is this the story to 
which you refer? 

Asp. The very same. And when you 
are speaking of human righteousness, as the 
cause of our acceptance with the eternal 
God, I would borrow the language of a 
Spartan. If, shall be my reply. — If, se 
elusive of the obedience, and independent 
on the Spirit of Christ, you can furnish 
yourself with this endowment ; or if you 
can carry your righteousness to that perfec- 
tion, which may equal the purity of the law, 
and comport mth the majesty of the L^- 
giver ; then trust in it — let it be the ground 
of your confidence, and seek no better 
fdimdation. 

But M^hosoever shall in this manner seek 
foi: his recommendation to the favour of 
God, will act like the mistaken countryman 
in Horace, who, being unable to ford the 
river, took up a resolution to wait till the 
stream was all run by : 

, — - — ■ "AtiUe 

Labitur, et labetiir in omne volubilis jEvum."|- 

^Ther. Here, I fancy, we must take leave 
of your countryman. If he adheres to his 



THERON ANi>^^j^^SIO. 

resolution, we shall find him in the very 
same situation when breakfast is over ; and 
may resume our subject, just where it is 
discontinued. i^irt 



DIALOGUE yU..^amim 

Ther. To me, who have spent the gr^at- 
est part of the winter in town, these scenes 
of the country are inexpressibly pleasing. 
Take who vidll the gilded saloon, and the 
silken settee, so long as I can shelter my- 
self under the canopy of such a spreading 
beech, and use one of its coarse misshapen 
roots for my seat. 

It is true we see no longer those splendid 
brocades, and elegant toupees, which dis- 
tinguish the Park and the Mall : but we 
have full in our view a multitude of honest 
rustics, pursuing their cheerful labours in 
yonder meadow ; some mowing the luxuri- 
ant herbage ; some raising it into regular 
cocks ; others loading their waggons with 
the hay, or clearing the ground with, their 
rakes. The ground, cleared of its soft en- 
cumbrance, appears fresh and green, like 
another spring ; while the exhalations of 
the tedded grass, floating in the air, give a 
rural perfume to the gale. And which^ 
my Aspasio, which are the most valuable 
objects : — The little labourers of the hive, 
that enrich themselves, and regale their 
masters ? or the gay flutterers of the garden, 
whose whole life is nothing but sport, and 
their highest character is, to be insignifi- 
cantly pretty ? 

Asp. In this retirement we hear none of ^ 
the wanton and corrupting airs of the opera j 
no, nor the majestic and ennobling melodys 
of the oratorio.* But we have a band of 
music stationed in the grove, and a concert 
of native harmony warbling from the boughs- 
We are entertained with the music which 
charmed the human ear long before Jubal 
found out his instruments, (Gen. iv. 21,) 
and thousands of years before Handel com* 
posed his notes. The bulfinch, and a mul- 
titude of little tuneful throats, strike the 
key. The thrush below, and the skylark 
responsive from above, diversify and exalt 
the strain. The blackbird, somewhat like 
the solemn organ, with notes perfectly meU 



* Matth. ix. 13. " I came not to call the righteous 
but sinners to repentance. ' 
if Vain mail desist ; such flattering hopes forego : 
It flows, and flows, and will for ever flow. 



low and gracefully sonorous. 



the 



choir ; while the turtle's melancholy voice,- 



* Majestic and ennobling.— This, I tliink, is the truC , 
character, and expresses the real tendency of the ora- 
torio. Nevertheless, it may not be improper to ob- 
serve, that if we carry a trifling or irreligious spirit to 
the entertainment; if we attend to the musical airs, 
but disregard those sacred truths which enter into tlie 
composition; such a behaviour will be little better 
than 'a profanation of hol_y things, 
species of taking God's 
vain. 



I fear it will be,fi, 
adoiabteatrd gl6nidusM^ne*ilt 



DIALOGUE VII. 



Li 



and the miii'muring water's plaititive tone, 
deepen and complete the ufiiversal sym- 
phony. 

This is the music which constituted the 
first song of thanksgiving, and formed the 
first vocal pi-aise, that the all-gracious Cre- 
ator received from his new made world. 
This is neither the parent of effeminacy, 
nor a pander for vice, but refines the affec- 
tions, even while it amuses the imagination. 

Titer. All the entertainments of nature 
are calculated to secure our innocence, as 
well as to gratify our fancy. And what is 
another very agreeable circumstance, those 
gratifications which afford the sublimest 
j)leasure are exhibited gratis, while those 
which enervate the mind and debauch the 
affections must be dearly purchased. Every 
one cannot gain admittance into the boxes 
or the pit, when some celebrated tragedy is 
brought upon the stage ; but every one may 
behold the beauteous exhibitions of spring, 
and the finished productions of autumn. 
All may contemplate the machinery of na 
ture, and the wonders of creation ; thereby 
enjoying a far more exquisite amusement, 
without any of the guilt or any of the dan- 
ger. 

The inhabitants of yonder villages ha\ e 
never beheld the spleiulid procession which 
solemnizes the coronation of a monarch, 
nor the gaudy illuminations which distin- 
guish the anniversary of his birth. But 
they see, almost every morning, a much 
nobler spectacle displayed in the east. They 
see the great Ruler of the day, or rather 
the envoy from day's eternal Sovereign, 
making his entry amidst the spaces of the 
sky. The heavens are strewed with co- 
lours, which outvie the pinks and carnations. 
The grass is decked with dew-drops, and 
every plant is strung, as it were, with peai ls. 
All around, the darkness retires, and sweet 
refreshing gales arise. At length the mag- 
nificent Imninary appears. And what is 
all the ostentatious pomp of kings, what is 
ail the glitter of the most brilliant court, 
compared with his transcendent lustre ? 
This spectacle we may behold without loss 
of time or prejudice to health. Nay, we 
cannot behold it ^vithout improving one and 
redeeming the other. So beneficial are 
even the pleasures which nature yields ; so 
serviceable the- Mei|C;^diKefraons to which 
she invites! ■^<;^r\(^ r«'':?^ ' ' - 

Asp. Hhxxs gracious is the Almighty 
Maker in the constitution of material things. 
The substantial and the valuable are open 
to every one, are accessible by all. Only 
th^ tinsel and the trappings are the property 
Ckfiift few, the poor prerogative of wealth, 
•=^No less gracious is God in the disposal 
of spiritual favours. These are infinitely 
more excellent, and yet ai"o equally fi-ee. 



money and without price." Cisaiah Iv^ K> 
What do you give for the benefits of the 
rising sun, or the delights of this iwal me- 
lody ? The case is much the same with re- 
gard to the righteousness by which we ai-e 
justified, and all the blessings of salvation. 

Ther. This brings to our remembrance 
the countryman w^hom we left on the banks 
of the river. And for aught I can see, 
Theron and the rustic are pretty much upon 
a footing : the first as far from acceding to 
your notions, as the last is from gaining his 
point. 

Asp. Have you any objection, Theron, 
to these gifts of nature, because they are 
neither purchased by your money nor pro- 
duced by your own toil ? 

Ther. But who can ever expect to ob^ 
tain pardon, and acceptance, and etemal 
salvation, at so cheap a rate ! It seems to 
be all delusion, Aspasio. 

Asp. So cheap ! Then you would pay 
somewhat, I perceive, by way of price. 
But give me leave to ask, what price did 
you pay to God your Maker, for fatihioning 
you in yoiu' mother's womb ? what price 
have you paid to God your Preserver, for 
upholding you ever since you was born? or 
what price do you think of paying to God 
the supreme Proprietor, for the gi"ound on 
which you tread, for the air in M hich you 
breathe, for the light by which you see ? 
Just the same ])rice must you advance to 
God your Saviour, for all his justifying 
merits. 

Both these and those proceed from the 
same bcne.'actor. They are all absolutely . 
necessary, either for the welfare of the 
body, or the happiness of the soul. And- 
they are all vouchsafed on the .'•ame free 
terms. For thus saith the proi>het ; " Hi^ 
going forth," in the dispensation of thegQS- 
pel, " is prepared as the morning." (.'luist, 
with all his precious privileges, " shall 
come unto us as the rain, as the latter and 
former rain unto the earth." (Hos. vi. 3.) 
However, if you are acquainted with a dif- 
ferent or a better way, be so good as to 
communicate your knowledge. 

Ther. Some, you may observe, depend 
upon their inoffensive behaviour. They 
live peaceably ; they do no harm to their 
neighbours ; they are guilty of no gross of- 
fence against God. And why should they 
not hope to obtain his favour? They ap- 
prehend the prophet Samuel establishes 
their hope, when he makes this solemn ap- 
peal : " Whose ass have I taken ? whose 
ox have I taken ? or whom have I defraud- 
ed ?"(! Sam. xii. 3,) Nay, they imagine, 
that our Lord himself has authorized their 
expectation, by giving this character of Na- 
thaniel : " An Israelite indeed, in whom is 
no guile." (John i. 47.) A freedom fVom,j 

outM-ard hijiistice'iand >4»waFd -^ypocriay/ is 

•a k-vVsol !iiw ban ,2woR im .moff-Sl 



222 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



all the qualification, applauded in the one 
case, avowed in the other. 
• Asp. This negative goodness (if it de- 
serves to be called goodness) was a plea for 
the empty Pharisee. But none, I presume, 
would choose to be associated with such a 
companion, either in character here, or in 
condition hereafter. 

Samuel, in the place you mention, is vin- 
dicating himself only to his fellow-crea- 
tures, and only in the capacity of a magis- 
trate. He speaks not of his justification 
before the Judge of quick and dead. This 
he well knew must be derived from another 
source, and must rest upon a firmer bot- 
tom. 

The " Israelite wdthout guile," was a per- 
son who not only abstained from every sin, 
but performed every duty ; and without any 
wilful neglect of the one, or any allowed 
indulgence of the other. This instance, 
therefore, will by no means prove the suf- 
ficiency of your negative righteousness, 
which seems to have just the same degree 
of excellency as a fountain that never issues 
in water, or as a cloud that never descends 
in rain. 

Ther. In this particular, Aspasio, your 
sentiments are mine. But I would add 
morality to civility ; the virtuous to the in- 
offensive conversation. And if we not only 
cease to do evil, but learn to do well ; if we 
use temperance, exercise charity, and keep 
all the commandments to the best of our 
power, is not this a sufficient foundation for 
our hope ? 

Asp, Yes, Theron ; if, as you add mo- 
rality to your civility, you add perfection to 
both. Otherwise you must be ranked, not 
among the claimants, but among the delin- 
quents. You have no title to a reward, but 
stand in need of pardon. 

It is a principle of justice, founded on the 
unalterable constitution of things, that the 
debtor be acquitted, when he has paid the 
debt. But supposing him, instead of gold 
to bring iron ; instead of talents to return 
pence, instead of defraying, to increase the 
score daily ; can he then reasonably expect, 
or legally claim a discharge ? 

With respect to such an obedience, we 
may pass our verdict in the figvirative, but 
very expressive language of Isaiah : " The 
bed is shorter than that a man can stretch 
himself on it ; and the covering narrower 
than that he can wrap himself in it." (Isa. 
xxviii. 20.) It can neither give rest to the 
alarmed conscience, nor afl?brd protection to 
the guilty soul. If we have nothing better 
to plead, we shall not be able to lift up our 
heads in the last decisive judgment ; " but 
must enter into the rock, and hide ourselves 
in the dust, for fear of the Lord, and for 
the glory of his majesty." (Isaiah ii. 10.) 

Ther. We will go a step farther, and take 



in the exercise of devotion. We will , read 
God's word, pray to his divine Majesty, and 
regularly attend on his public worship. 
Here now are social accomplishments and 
moral virtues, completed by the performance 
of religious duties. 

Asp. Completed ! I fear that expression 
will scarcely abide the test of a single query. 
Have you then performed all your duties, 
with that ardent love of God, and undivided 
view to his glory ; with that adoring grati- 
tude to the blessed Jesus, and that child- 
like dependence on his Spirit, which the 
nature of things requires, and the scriptures 
of truth enjoin ? If not, your duties, be they 
moral or religious, or both, are far from be- 
ing complete ; nay, they are utterly defec- 
tive, and for that reason absolutely insuffi- 
cient for your justification. They are clip- 
ped or sophisticated coin ; and will that be 
current in the world of glory ? 

Ther. Allowing them to be defective, 
they are at least sincere. And though not 
free from all alloy, yet if they bear the iruage 
and superscription of integrity, why should 
they be rejected as " reprobate silver ?" 
(Jer. vi. 30.) Why should they not obtain 
the currency you mention ? 

Asp. " Alas !"says a judicious and admir- 
ed writer, " the imperfections of our best 
services daily forfeit the blessings of time. 
How impossible then is it, that the sincerity 
of them, amidst so many frailties and de- 
fects, should purchase the glories of eter- 
nity !" 

Ther. Be your writer ever so judicious, 
I can confront him with others, equally ca- 
pable of judging, and diametrically opposite 
in opinion. What says that wise and brave 
man, the successor of Moses, and generalis- 
simo of the armies of Israel ? Joshua, I am 
sure, declares himself on my side ; " Fear 
the Lord, and serve him in sincerity," is his 
last solemn charge to the people. (Joshua 
xxiv. 14.) Even the great apostle, on a 
review of his ministry, makes it matter of 
self-gratulation, that he " had his conversa- 
tion in godly sincerity," (2 Cor. i. 12.) 

Asp. You have quoted the charge de- 
livered by the servant ; be pleased to recol- 
lect the protestation made by the master : 
" Not for thy righteousness," says Moses, 
" or for the uprightness of thy heart, dost 
thou go to possess their land." (Deut. ix. 
5. ) Even an earthly Canaan was not given 
to the Israelites, as the reward of their own, 
either outward obedience or inward sinceri- 
ty. Much less can we expect the kingdom 
of immortality on account of any upright- 
ness of our intentions, or piety of our ac- 
tions. 

However, as the doctrine of sincerity is 
the favourite and the fashionable tenet, I 
will conform a little to the taste in vogue. 
You shall have no reason to complain, that 



DIALOGUE VII. 



223 



l am either a cynic or a stoic* Let it 
s«fiice us to be sincere ; only let us refer 
ourselves to the apostle for a description of 
this darling qualification ; " That ye may be 
sincere, being filled with the fiiiits of right- 
eousness, which are by Jesus Christ, unto 
the praise and glory of God." (Phil. i. 10, 
II.) 

Here are three properties of acceptable 

sincerity It must bear fruits, "the fruits 

of righteousness ;" and bear them abundaTit- 
ly, so that we may be filled with them. The 
branch and the fruits must derive, — that its 
vigour, these their flavour, and both of them 
their very being — from the all-suppoiting, 
aU-supplying root Christ Jesus. Then, in- 
stead of terminating in self-justification, 
they must redound to the honour of God. 
It is not said, these shall justify you, but 
" these shall glorify your father which is in 
heaven." 

This kind of sincerity can never be too 
highly esteemed, nor too zealously encou- 
raged. But this, you will observe, flows 
from the grace of Christ, and issues in the 
glory of God ; therefore does but very poor- 
ly attest, either the sufficiency of human 
ability to perform good works, or the suffi- 
ciency of human works to win the prize of 
our high calling. 

Ther^ Do you then exclude all works ? 
Will you make a mere nothing, both of our 
moral endowments, and of your evangelical 
obedience ? 

Asp. They are excluded, both the one 
and the other, from all share in justifying 
us ; yet not by me, but by an authority to 
which there can be no objection, and from 
which there lies no appeal. Speaking of 
salvation, thus saith the wisdom of God, 
" Not of works " 

Ther. Works of the ceremonial law, I 
suppose. These, we all acknowledge, are 
under the Christian dispensation, as a bond 
cancelled or an act repealed. But sure you 
will allow a better office, and a nobler cha- 
racter to that course of obedience which is 
regulated by the commands of Christ. 

Asp. St. Paul will allow it no such office 
as that for which my Theron is pleadmg. 
** Ye are saved," says the apostle. Ye are 
delivered from wrath, reconciled to God, 
and made heirs of his kingdom. How ? 
"By grace, through faith," (Eph. ii. 8.) 
Grace, like a magnificent sovereign, from 
the riches of his own bounty, and without 
any respect to human worthiness, confers 
the glorious gift. Faith, like an indigent 
petitioner, with an empty hand, and without 
any pretence to personal desert, receives the 
heavenly blessing. 

1 — . - 

^HwtJl'^ff W/'/^ '''"^^ no coin])laisa«ce, the stojc >.;is 



Both grace and faith stand in direct op- 
position to works, all works whatever — 
whether they be works of the lav/, or works 
of the gospel; exercises of the heart, or 
actions of the life ; done in a state of na- 
ture, or done under the influences of grace ; 
they are all and eveiy of them, equally set 
aside in this great aiFair. 

That the bill of exclusion is thus exten- 
sive, or rather quite unlimited, aj)pears from 
the reason assigned : " Lest any man should 
boast," Eph. ii. 9 ; that all pretence of 
glorying may be cut oflT from fallen crea- 
tures ; that the whole honour of obtaining 
salvation may be appropriated to him, 
" who hid not his face from shame and 
spitting." — And is he not worthy, unspeak- 
ably and infinitely worthy, to receive this 
unrivalled honour as a recompense for his 
unparalleled humiliation ? 

Ther. All om' good works, we allow, are 
recommended by Christ. They prevail for 
our justification only through his merits. 
So that we still depend upon the Redeemer ; 
and, by this means, pay him the highest 
honour. 

Asp. Depend upon the Redeemer ! No, 
my dear friend ; you rely upon your own 
pious acts, and moral qualifications. They, 
they are your grand recommendation. The 
office consigned over to the divine Jesus, is 
nothing more than to be (as it were) master 
of the ceremonies. He may have the credit 
of introducing your fine accomplishments 
with a kind of graceful air. But is this an 
office suited to his incomparable dignity ? 
Was it for this that he bowed the heavens 
and partook of our nature ? Was it for this 
that he became subject to the laAv, and obe- 
dient unto death? Only for this, that he 
might usher in our own endowments with 
a plume and a scarf? Surely, Thprjn, you 
can never entertain such low thoughts of 
the incarnate God, and of Christ's media- 
torial undertaking. 

Ther. Neither can I entertain such low 
and vilifying thoughts of our own- virtuous 
attainments. They distinguish persons of 
eminence and worth from the sordid wretch, 
and execrable villain, just as the noble fa- 
culty of reason distinguishes the man from 
the brute. 

Asp. To deny good works the merit of 
justifying us, is very diflferent from vilifying 
them. You are going to build a new house, 
Theron : Pray, do you intend to hew yoirr 
timber from the flimsy tendrils of the vine ? 

T7ier. No certainly. 

Asp. Because you do not think its feeble 
shoots proper to form the beams, and sup- 
port the roof, of your intended edifice ; do 
j you therefore affront them, de])reciate them, 
! or disallow their usefulness ? By no means. 
1 Tliey may be-cvutify your walls with their 
1 ornamental spread, and enrich the desert 



224 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



with tbeir delicious fruit. This is an office 
suitable to the nature of the plant ; and 
from this it receives sufficient estimation, 
without pretending to the honours of the 
oak. 

Virtuous attainments, I own, are a con- 
siderable disth)ction in the present state of 
things ; and, what is a higher encomium, 
(I shall now outshoot you in your own 
bow,) they will distinguish the true believer 
from the hyprocritical professor, even at 
the great tribunal. But let them be con- 
tent with their province, and not intrude 
upon the Saviour's prerogative. To effect 
justification be his, to discriminate the 
justified, theirs. Neither let them elate 
their possessors with a vain conceit of 
themselves, who, though they v^^ere meek 
as Moses, holy as Samuel, and wise as 
Daniel, must confide in nothing but the 
boundless mercies of the Lord, must plead 
nothing but the infinite merits of his 
Christ. 

This is the theology both of the Psalmist 
and of St. Paul. They derive the bless- 
edness promised in scripture, not from the 
shallow stream of human accomplishments, 
but from the inexhaustible ocean of divine 
grace : " Blessed is he whose imrighteous- 
nesses are forgiven, and whose sins are co- 
vered." (Psalm xxxii. 1.) 

Ther. Will Aspasio then, like many of 
our modern disputants, mutilate the holy 
word ? industriously display what seems to 
strengthen his argument, but artfully secrete 
what tends to overthrow his scheme ? How 
could you forget, or why should you sup- 
press the following clause, " and in whose 
spirit there is no guile." Was you afraid 
it would demolish your opinion ; and point 
out an upright honest mind as the cause of 
this blessedness ? 

Asp. Far was I, my dear Theron, from 
any such groundless apprehensions, and 
equally far from all such delusory designs. 
" Shall I talk deceitfully for God?" (Job 
xiii. 7.) His sacred cause does not need it, 
and his exalted majesty would disdain it. 
No, I would condemn my tongue to etei'nal 
silence, rather than speak a syllable, either 
to conceal or disguise the truth. 

Most readily we will admit the sentence 
you mention, " In whose spirit there is no 
guile." It is evident from the context, that 
these words are not descriptive of a person 
in whose heart and conversation there is no 
iniquity, but of a penitent sinner, whose 
mouth freely confesses the iniquity of them 
both, confesses without any reserve or the 
least attempt to palliate ; Mdnch, instead of 
invalidating, corroborates my argument, 
since, according to your own allegation, the 
highest merit consists in a free acknow- 
ledgment of sin, or a total renimciation of 
all worthiness. 



Ther. When, tierefofe, we join repent- 
ance to all our other works, lament our de- 
ficiencies, and implore forgiveness, surely 
this must be available with a merciful God, 
and cannot but entitle us to the happiness 
of heaven. 

Asp. How strange does it soimd, at least 
in my ears, for poor miserable guilty crea- 
tures, to talk of entitling themselves to the 
happiness of heaven by any deeds of their 
own ! when it is owing wholly to God's 
rich forbearing mercy, that they are not 
transmitted to heU ; owing wholly to God's 
free preventing grace that they ai-e enabled 
to think a good thought. 

But not to enlarge upon this considera- 
tion, I would ask, whether those peniten- 
tial exercises were attended with a hearty 
detestation of sin, and an utter abhorrence 
of the sinner ? (Ezek. xxxvi. 31.) If they 
were, you would then renounce yourself 
universally. You would never think of 
placing the least dependence on any thing 
of your own, nay, you would even loathe 
yourself. If they were not, then yoiu- very 
repentance falls short, and is to be repented 
of. It is as if " one came to the press-fat 
for to draw out fifty vessels, and there were 
but twenty." (Hag. ii. 16.) It is, if I 
may continue the prophet's metaphor, and 
the prophet's language, " the scant measure, 
which," in this your spiritual traffic, as well 
as in the affairs of secular commerce " is 
abominable." (Micah vi. 10.) 

Or, should your repentance be without a 
failure and without a flaw, I must still say 
to my friend, as our Lord replied to the 
yoimg ruler, "one thing thou lackest." In 
all these acts of humiliation, you have only 
taken shame to yourself, Avhereas a right- 
eousness is wanting which may magnify 
the lavv^ and make it honourable. Should 
God, without insisting upon this, pardon 
and reward, he would not act according to 
his glorious character, nor be at once " a 
just God and a Saviour." (Isaiah xlv. 21.) 
And if you can find this righteousness, 
" either in the depth, or in the height 
above ;" in any person or any object, save 
only in the imputed obedience of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, I retract whatever I have ad- 
vanced. 

Ther. A preacher and an author has 
lately assured us, that we are to be " accept- 
ed of God, and saved by our o>vn obedi- 
ence." If so, I need not scruple to re]>eat 
my assertion, that our own duties, especially 
when accompanied with repentance, are a 
real and proper foundation for life eternal. 

Asp. Then the apostle veas under a great 
mistake, when treating of Christ and his 
merits, he ventured to assert, " other foun- 
dation can no man lay, save that which is 
laid, even Jesus Christ." (1 Cor. iii. 11.) 

Ther. Ifvou will not credit a modern 



DIALOGUE VIL 



225 



preacher, I can produce a decision, made by 
one of tlie most ancient and authoritative 
synods : " Then hath God also to the Gen- 
tiles cjranted repentance unto life." (Acts 
xi. 18.) Repentance unto life is their 
unanimous voice, and my unexceptionable 
voucher. 

Asp. I can easily guess the assembly to 
which you refer. But I can hardly grant 
it the venerable name of a synod. It con- 
sisted of some Judaizing converts, who 
adhered mth a tenacious and bigoted zeal 
to the Mosaic rites. However, though I 
might scruple my Theron's appellation, I 
readily acquiesce in their determination. 

It is not said, those Gentiles were peni- 
tent, and therefore God granted them life. 
This should have been the language of the 
assembly, in order to establish my friend's 
way of thinking. On the contrary, they 
were dead in sin. God, of his free good- 
ness, granted them repentance, which is 
both the beginning and a substantial part 
of true life, even of that life which is 
founded on justification, is carried on by 
sanctification, and completed in glory. 

I would fiirther observe, that repentance 
is a turning of the heart. And wlaen it is 
repentance unto life, it is a turning of the 
heart from every other object, to the great 
and sole fountain of good, Christ Jesus. 
(Acts xix. 4.) — Were men slaves to sensu- 
ality ? When they repent, they are turned 
to Christ, for refined and heavenly affec- 
tions. Were they wont to confide in them- 
selves and their own works? As soon as 
they truly repent, they turn to Christ for 
a better righteousness ; and thereby, for 
everlasting acceptance with God. In short, 
they turn from every false stay, and fiy 
only to Christ, depend' oniy on Christ, look- 
ing not to their own tears of humiliation, 
not to their own duties or graces, but " look- 
ing for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ 
unto eternal life." (Jude 21.) 

Ther. Suppose it should be wrong to 
expect such a vast reward, as the inconceiv- 
able glories of heaven, on account of our 
own duties, yet to set them wholly aside, 
to allow them no influence at all, not so 
much as the least co-operation in turning 
the scale ; this is an access on the other 
hand. If the former is presumption, the 
latter is fanaticism. 

Asp. I must confess, I do not thoroughly 
imderstand what you mean by fanaticism. 
Neither is it of much significancy to enter 
upon the disquisirion of an obnoxious term. 
I would only maintain, that on us unwortliy 
sinners, whatever is besto\^ed by the right- 
eous God, is bestowed, not as a debt* to 



our works, but as the donation of pure 
grace. 

TTier. I think, it is sufficiently of grace, 
if we acknowledge good works to be 
A\Tought by the assistance of the divine 
Spirit ; and then admitted, together wdth 
our Saviour's merits, as a recommendation 
to the divine favour. 

Asp. The Pharisee could make his ac- 
knowledgments for the assistance of grace : 
" God, I thank thee," was his language. Yet 
this did not exempt him from the charge of 
pride, nor secure him from the sin of boast- 
ing. Besides, if good works are wrought by 
the operation of the divine Spirit, they draw 
a bill upon our gratitude, not upon the bank 
of heaven ; they render us the obliged, not 
the deserving party. To think or teach 
othenvise, is errant popery,* however it 
may lurk under a veil of Protestantism. 

You bring to my mind a memorable 
stoiy. Two persons were travelling through 
the deserts of Arabia- The one utterly 
unarmed, the other wore a sword and car- 
ried a musket. As the place was exceed- 
ingly dangerous, the latter, solicitous for 
the safety of his companion, makes him a 
present of his firearms ; which was no 
sooner done, than a lion espies them, and 
advances fiercely towards them. The for- 
most discharges his piece, and wounds their 
horrid aggi'essor. The wound neither kill- 
ing nor disabling, only enrages the mon- 
ster. He seizes the unfortunate marksman, 
and is Upon the point to tear him limb from 
limb. His fellow-traveller flies to his suc- 
cour, snatches up the carbine, which dropt 
from the other's hand, and fells the raven- 
ous beast to the gi-ound ; then, drawing his 
sword, stabs him to the heart, and rescues 
his friend. 

The lion thus slain, they take oflF the 
skin, which he who slew the lordly savage 
claims as his own. " No," says his grateful 
friend, " as you did part of the execution 
with my weapon, I insist upon half of the 
shaggy spoil. I expect satisfaction likewise 
for tLe loss of my piece, which you broke 
in the encounter." To obtain both, he com- 
mences a law-suit against that generous as- 
sociate, who not only gave liim the weapon, 
but saved the prosecutor from the very jaws 
of destruction. 

Ther. If I had been judge, I shoidd, 
without much hesitation, have determined 
such a cause. Instead of costs and da- 
mages for my plaintifl^, I should have trans- 
mitted the wretch to the pillory. 

Asp. 1 believe all the world would ap- 
plaud your sentence. Only be pleased to 
remember, that the procedure on which you 



* Bestoived as a debt, is, I must allow, somewhat 
like jargon. But perhaps jargon and inconsistency 
may not be without their propriety in this place, as 
they tend to show the genius of that doctrine which 
wijuld fcunect such convradictory ideas. 



* Good wotksj siays a champion for the church of 
Rome, are " mercatura regni coelestis, — ^the price we 
pay, or the' commodity we barter, for the kingdom 
of heaven. 



226 



THERON AND ASPASIO 



so justly animadvert, is the very picture of 
om- excessive unreasonableness, if we pre- 
sume to write ourselves creditors, and the 
divine Being debtor ; because he has de- 
livered us from the bondage of corruption, 
and enabled us to perform the duties of 
godliness. 

Theron paused, as somewhat struck by 
the representation. After a short interval, 
Aspasio resumed the discourse. 

Believe me, my dear friend, salvation, 
both in the root and all its branches, is en- 
tirely of grace. Or else believe me, for 
the many cogent testimonies of scripture, 
which most circumstantially ascertain this 
great truth. Election is of grace : "■ Hav- 
ing predestinated us into the adoption of 
children," not on account of human worthi- 
ness, but, "according to the good pleasure of 
his will, (Eph. i, 5.) Equally gratuitous is 
our effectual vocation : " God hath called us 
with an holy calling, not according to our 
works, but according to his purpose and 
grace," (2 Tim. i. 9. ) Faith, with all its 
precious fruits, is owing to the same cause : 
" By grace ye are saved through faith," 
(Eph. ii. 8.) From hence springs justifi- 
cation, together with all its attendant pri- 
vileges : " Being justified freely by his 
grace."* This is the origin of regeneration, 
and every living principle of godliness : 
" Of his own will begat he us by the word 
of truth," (Jam i. 18.) The consummation 
of bliss flows from the same all-supplying 
source : " The gift of God is eternal life," 
(Rom. vi. 23.) It is, in every respect, a 
gift, not only without, but contrary to all 
desert of ours. — So that the foundation is 
laid in the riches of grace ; the superstruc- 
ture is reared by the hand of grace, and 
when the top- stone is brought forth, when 
our felicity is completed in the kingdom of 
heaven, the everlasting acclamation will be, 
" Grace, grace unto it !" (Zech. iv. 7.) 

This is that glorious gospel, which hu- 
man learning could never have discovered ; 
which carnal reason cannot understand ; 
which the wisdom of this world accounteth 
foolishness ; which the envy of the devil, 
and the pride of man, will always oppose. 

Ther, What say you to the opinion which 
Ouranius so strenuously maintains, that we 
are justified, not by the merits of Christ 
imputed to us, but by Christ himself form- 
ed in our hearts ? And Ouranius is none 
of your proud or carnal people. His writ- 
ings are remarkable for their strict piety, 
and his life is as exemplary as his princi- 
ples- 



* Rom, iii. 24. A^u^^av T'/j awrn z^^'i''^'' ^^'^e 
of these woids raight have served to convey the 
apostle's meani}-:g. ''But he doubles his assertion, in 
Older to give us the fullest conviction of the truth, 
and to impress us with a sense of its peculiar import- 
ance; " Freely by his grace." 



Asp. You know, Theron, T have nothing 
to do with the persons of men, but with the 
truths of the gospel. Ouranius, though 
eminently devout, may be mistaken : And 
if this is his way of thinking, he quite mis- 
apprehends the doctrine of grace. 

What is written in the oracles of scrip- 
ture ? " The Lord justifieth the ungodly," 
(Rom. iv. 5.) What is implied in the 
maxim of Ouranius ? He justifieth the 
holy, the heavenly, the Christ-like. — " A 
man is justified by faith," (Rom. v- 1,) says 
the secretary of heaven. He is justified by 
works, says the pen of Om-anius : only let 
them be works of a superior order, such as 
are internal, spiritual, and wrought by the 
operation of Christ on the soul. — Accord- 
ing to this notion, every one is justified by 
his own love, his own purity, his own zeal. 
Whereas, an unerring writer has most so- 
lemnly declared, " that by one man's obe- 
dience, many myriads of sinners, even all 
the redeemed world, shall be made righte- 
ous." (Rom. V. 19.) 

This notion, I think, is legalism in its 
gi'eatest subtilty, or highest refinement. It 
disannuls the merit of Christ, it vacates all 
imputation, and makes our salvation to co)i- 
sist wholly in the work of sanctification. 
Against vv'hich, if you remember, I entered 
my protest in one of our fii'st conferences.* 
And now, having ventured to animadvert 
on the tenets of others, it may reasonably 
be expected, that I should give an account 
of my own faith. — " I am justified ; my soul 
is accepted ; not because Christ has put his 
laws in my mind, but shed his blood for my 
sins ; not because I myself am enabled to 
walk in all godly conversation, but because 
the Lord Jesus has fulfilled all righteous- 
riess as my surety." 

Ther. 1 am for neither of the extremes. 
The middle way is most eligible. This is 
what somid sense approves, and the sacred 
system authorizes, " Whoso believeth on 
me," says our Lord, " shall not perish, but 
shall have everlasting life," (John iii. 15.) 
" Blessed," adds the beloved disciple, " are 
they who do his commandments ; that they 
may have a right to the tree of life ; and 
may enter in, through the gates, into the 
city, (Rev. xxii. 14.) 

Conformably to these texts of scripture, 
I would neither reject our Redeemer's me- 
rits nor repudiate good works. As this 
shady tree, and these cooling breezes, unite 
their properties, to render our situation 
agreeable ; so those two causes, acting in 
coniunction, exalt us to the favour of God, 
and constitute us heirs of heaven. God 
himself has joined them. And I must urge 
my remonstiance in our Lord's own words. 



* See Dialogue II. p. 160. 



DIALOGUE VIL 



227 



" What God hath joined together, let no man 
put asunder." 

Asp. Would you then make impotence 
itself a coadjutor with omnipotence ? does 
this humble the sinner ? does this exalt the 
Saviom-? No: it is a most injurious in- 
fringement of his mediatorial dignity. In- 
stead of excluding, it evidently introduces 
boasting. In consequence of such a 
scheme, it would be said by the inhabitants 
of the heavenly world, " Thanks to our 
blessed Redeemer for this happiness ! yet 
not to him only, but to our own righteous- 
ness also. 

Can you imagine, that the obedience of 
Christ is insufficient to accomplish our jus- 
tification? Must its efficacy be reinforced 
by the accession of our works ? And what 
are these works of ours, that they should 
enhance the value, the immense value of 
our Redeemer's ? Maimed, tarnished, worm- 
eaten things : eaten by the worm.s of self- 
seeking, self-admiring, self-love ; tarnished 
by a thousand vanities, maimed by ten 
thousand negligences. To join these in 
commission with our divine Master's right- 
eousness, would be infinitely more disgrace- 
ful than to tack the beggar's rag on the mo- 
narch's robe ; Avould be altogether as need- 
less as to dream of augmenting the sea by 
the di ops of our bucket. 

Ther. Worm-eaten ? What reason have 
you to represent our acts of obedience 
imder this sordid and shameful image ? 

Asp. 1 thought you could hardly brook 
this disparaging expression. It is somewhat 
like petty treason against the dignity of 
man. My reasons I would postpone to 
some other opportunity, when if you please 
we will give the cause a full hearing. 

At present, to make amends for this vile 
slander, I will suppose your v/orks, to have 
no delect ; nay to have all the perfection 
which you yourself could wish. Will you 
glory on this account ? You are too mo- 
dest, I am sure, to avow or patronize such 
a practice ; yet, if we say or think concern- 
ing any attainments of our own, " This is 
the ground on which I expect to escape con- 
demnation, and inherit life ;" we do, in the 
most olFensive, though not in the most ex- 
plicit manner, glory.* 

Or, will you reckon, that these services, 
because faultless, are in any degree merito- 
rious ? Let us hear our Lord's decision in the 
case : " When ye have done," not only 
some, " but all those things which are com- 



4: " Omnis causa justitise et salutis est materia et 
objectum xav^ncnuj;. Unde apostolus: Nam si Abra- 
ham ex operibus justificatus est, ex-"^'^" Z'^f^'"' ;" 
i. e. Whatever is the cause of righteousness and sal- 
vation, is a real and proper foundation for glorying. 
Therefore the apostle acknowledges, "If Abraham 
were justified by works, he hath whereof to glory." 
Roin. iv. 2. 



manded you." And where is the man, or 
what is his name, who, in any nation, or in 
any age, has done all that is commanded ? 

Where shall I find him ? Angels, tell me where? 
Shall I see glories beaming from his brow ? 
Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers ? 

Yet even in such a case, if all this were 
performed, what shall we say ? We are no 
better than unprofitable servants ; we have 
done nothing more than what vras our in- 
dispensable duty to do, (Luke xvii. 10.) 
And have, on this footing, just the same 
claim to honours and rewards, as the negro 
slave, after the despatch of his daily busi- 
ness, has upon the estate or the wealth of 
an American planter. 

The?\ But what say you to those pas- 
sages of scripture which I have quoted? 
You have given them a hearing, but no an- 
swer. They, I do insist upon it, expressly 
assert, therefore incontestably prove, an 
union of Christ's merit and our own works 
in the business of salvation. 

Asp. It is written in the book of Revela- 
tion, " Blessed are they that do his com- 
mandments." And wherefore ? Because the 
obedience of faith is attended with a real 
blessedness on earth, and demonstrates our 
title to eternal blessedness in heaven. It 
is, though not the purchase, yet the evidence 
of our right to the tree of life. 

All this I acknowledge. But where, I 
beseech you, does the scripture join the 
obedience of Christ and the obedience of 
man, as mutually conducive to the justifica- 
tion of a sinner ? The scripture utterly dis- 
avows such a copartnership, and asserts 
what our homily exjjresses, " surely, there 
can be no work of any mortal man (be he 
ever so holy) that shall be coupled in merit 
with Christ's most holy act."* The scrip- 
tiu-e steadily declares, that, in this gi-eatest 
of transactions-, Christ is not an accessaiy, 
but the principal ; nay that he is all. " Be 
it known unto you, men and brethren, that, 
through this" illustrious and exalted " per- 
son,-)- is preached unto you the forgiveness 
of shis ; and by him all that believe are 
justified from all things," Through this 
person, without any partner or coadjutor. 
By him ; not by him and our works jointly, 
but by him solely ; v.dthout the concurrence 
of any other action or any other agent. 
This was typified by the high-priest, when, 
on the solemn day of expiation, he went 
into the tabernacle alone, and made the fi- 
gurative atonement without any associate, 
(Lev. xvi. 17.) From all things : by him 
they are wholly, as well as solely justified; 



§ Homily on Good Friday. 

t Acts xiii- 38. AiwrHTH, the word man is not in 
the original. So that I think, " this illustrious and 
exalted person," is the fullest and most exact trans-, 
lation. 



TKERON AND ASPASIO. 



freed from every charge, whether of omis- 
sion or commission, and rendered, not in 
part only, but completely acceptable. 

I hope, therefore, you will no longer con- 
sider the supremely excellent Jesus as a 
partial cause of our justification. What 
would be the consequence, if a person 
should fijc one foot on the bank of yonder 
river, and rest another on the duid stream? 

Ther. He must unavoidably fall. 

Asp. A nd what says our divine instructor 
to those double-minded Galatians, who 
could not believe themselves safe and com- 
plete in the merits of Christ alone, but 
must be seeking some other foundation, on 
which to repose a share at least of their 
confidence ? He says, and they are awful 
words ; they call for my Theron's most 
serious regard, " ye are fallen from grace." 
(Gal. V. 4.) 

Let me entreat my friend to beware of 
this error. I think it is the pievailing 
error of our times ; and so much the more 
dangerous, because it is somewhat specious. 
To pour contempt upon the blessed Jesus, 
with the hbertines and deists, would be 
shocking to a mind that retains the least 
reverence for sacred things. Entirely to 
set aside the meritorious efficacy of his un- 
dertaking, with the Arians and the Soci- 
nians, would be afflictive to a conscience 
that is impressed with the least sense of 
sin. "Whereas, to erect our merits on the 
foundation of Christ's ; to be found in his, 
yet not renounce our own righteousness ; 
this is both plausible to our reason, and pleas- 
ing to our vanity ; this seems to honour the 
divine Saviour, even while it gratifies hu- 
man pride. But this is an egregrious false- 
hood, and cannot stand : This is an abomin- 
able idol, and must be laid in the dust. 
Christ, like the real mother of the child, 
will have the whole or none, (1 Kings iii. 
26.) the whole — unshared, uiui vailed, mi- 
diminished glory of our salvation. 

Let me again entreat my dear Theron to 
beware of this error. It is the main pillar 
in the Roman heresy, and the master-policy 
of the Popish filacluavilians. Christ hath 
merited, that we may merit, is their grand 
maxim, and their grand delusion. Heiice 
come their penances and their pilgrimages, 
hence the hypocritical mortifications of some, 
and the extravagant austerities of others ; 
tliis enriches their shrines, and fills their 
cloisters. And to those seminaries of su- 
perstition let it be banished, let it be con- 
fined. There let them raise their scaffold- 
ing, and try to enlarge the dimensions of the 
sky ; there let them kindle their flambeaux 
and attempt to increase the lustre of the 
sun. And when they have effected this 
easier task, then will we Protestants fol- 
low their example, and adopt their system ; 
then will we also think of adding our own 



righteousness, by way of supplement to the 
dignity and efficacy of our Lord's. 

Ther. If we are justified wholly by our 
Lord's righteousness ; if nothing need be 
added, if nothing can be added to its all- 
comprehending fulness, what becomes of 
the generally-received opinion, that Christ 
obtained for us only a possibility of being 
saved, or put us into a capacity of acquir- 
ing salvation. 

Asp. It will be discountenanced and over- 
thrown, as extremely dishonourable to t^e 
Redeemer, and no less uncomfortable to the 
redeemed. When Christ procured our par^ 
don, and recovered our title to life, it v/as 
all his own doing. " Of the people there 
was none with him," (Isa. Ixiii. 6.) In 
both cases his work was perfect. Hear his 
own testimony : *' I have finished the work 
which thou gavest me to do," (John xvii. 
4.) Should you want an explication of 
these words, 1 refer you to the comment of 
an apostle : " He, that is, Jesus Christ, has 
obtained eternal redemption for us," (Heb, 
ix. 12.) This was his work, and it is fully 
executed. He has — he has obtained eter- 
nal redemption ; and left nothing for his 
people, but to accept the glorious purchase, 
and live as becomes the redeemed of the 
Lord. 

This truth is written, as with a sunbeam, 
in the pages of the gospel ; and sounds, as 
with a voice of thunder, in the songs of 
heaven. '* Salvation to our God," they cry, 
" that sitteth upon the throne, and to the 
Lamb," (Rev. vii. 10.) Those saints in 
glory ascribe the whole — the whole of their 
salvation they ascribe to the grace of God, 
and to the blood of the Lamb. 

Ther. Have not many of our ablest di- 
vines represented faith, obedience, and re- 
pentance, as the terms of acceptance ? 
Christ, according to this account, procured 
not the blessing itself, but only the grant of 
easier conditions on which it may be enjoyed. 

Asp. What says that subhme Being who 
gives the ablest divines aU their wisdom ? 
" My righteous servant shall justify many," 
(Isa. liii. 11.) not pave the way, or adjust 
the preliminaries, but despatch the very bu- 
siness ; " shall justify." The terms of ac- 
ceptance, for fallen and rebellious man, 
were a full satisfaction to the Divine jus- 
tice, and a complete conformity to the di- 
vine law. These, impracticable by us, were 
consigTied over to Christ. By him they 
were thoi-oughly accomplished ; and by this 
accomplishment of them, he purchased for 
us all blessings. Among others, he pur- 
chased the gift of faith, the grace of repent- 
ance, and ability to yield thankful, dutiful, 
evangelical obedience. These, therefore, 
are very improperly called, the terms which 
are really constituent parts of our salva- 
tion. 



DIALOGUE VII. 



229 



To mm up all in a word — ^the whole 
tenor of revelation shows, that there are but 
two methods whereby any of the human 
race can be justified : Either by a perfect 
obedience to the law, in their own persons ; 
and then the reward is of debt :* — Or else, 
because the Surety of a better covenant has 
satisfied all demands in their stead ; and 
then the reward is of grace. There is no 
trimming or reconciling expedient. You may 
choose either of the two ; but no third is 
proposed or allowed. 

Ther. Was there not a different method 
for the ancient people of God? 

Asp. None, Theron. In the state of 
primitive innocency, a perfect and persever- 
ing observance of the divine command was 
the condition of life and immortality. 
When, by the first grand apostiicy, this be- 
came impossible, a free pardon, and gracious 
acceptance, through the blessed Jesus, were 
substituted in its stead. Which economy, 
like a fountain of life, was opened, Avhen 
God promised " the seed of the woman to 
bruise the serpent's head," (Gen. iii. 25.) 
It ran like a salutary rivulet through the 
antediluvian world ; — continued its progress 
along the patriarcliial age ; — flowed, in 
broader streams, under the Mosaic dispen- 
sation.; — is derived down to us, abundantly 
enlarged, by the coming of Christ, and the 
ministry of his apostles ; — will be transmit- 
ted vnth an increasing spread to the latest 
posterity ; — nor ever cease to amplify and 
extend its influence, till, as the foimtain is 
become a river, the river is augmented into 
an ocean ; and " the knowledge of the 
Lord" our righteousness " fill the earth, as 
the waters cover the abysses of the sea," 
(Isa. xi. 9.) 

There was, I confess, a diversity in the 
administration, but no difference in the na- 
ture, of the blessing. Jesus Christ, how- 
ever variously manifested, was the " same 
yesterday," is the same " to-day," will be 
the same " for ever," (Heb. xiii. 8.) as it is 
the very same sun which gleams at early 
dawn, which shines in the advancing day, 
and glows at height of noon. 

My simile reminds us of the time, and 
leaves a most important doctrine upon our 
memories. Suppose we take the admo- 
nition, and begin to move homeward. 

Ther. We need be in no hurry, Aspasio. 
My watch tells me, that we have Imif an 
hour good. Besides, I have something far- 
ther to allege, and from a very great autho- 
rity, which seems directly contrary to your 
notion. 

Asp. Just as you please, Theron. If you 
choose to stay, I am all compliance with 



* Rom iv. 4. Pactional debt; founded on the iiro- 
inise of thecovenant, not ipringing from any wortn in 
the obedience. 



your inclination • and, would truth per- 
mit, I shoidd be all conformity to your opis- 
nion. 

Ther. You know who it is that asks, 
" What doth the Lord require of thee ?" 
And neither of us need be informed, what 
it is that the prophet replies ; " Do justice, 
love mercy, and walk humbly with, thy 
God, (Mic. vi. 8.) But I want to know 
what you think of this passage. 

Asp. 1 think it is absolutely inconsistent 
with your scheme. This passage incul- 
cates humility. But your scheme is the 
very reverse of that amiable virtue. A self- 
justiciary walking humbly with God, is 
little better than a conti'adiction in terms. 

The Lord has said, " Ye shall be saved 
by grace."* Your system replies, " No, but 
by our own works. — It is declared in scrip- 
ture, "that the gift o£ God is eternal life." 
It is implied in my friend's doctrine, that 
this happiness is the wages of our own 
deeds — " My son shall have all the glory 
of a sinner's salvation," is the unalter- 
able decree of the Most High. " We avlU 
have a share in the honour," is the language 
of youi- opinion. — Look, how wide there- 
fore is the east from the west ! so remote 
is such a strain of teaching from the prac- 
tice of walking humbly Avith our God. 

TTier. But consider, good Aspasio ; have 
I not the prophet's authority for my opi- 
nion ? Are not his words expressly on my 
side? does he not mention those duties of 
morality and ])iety as the appointed method 
of obtaining the divine favour. 

Asp. He mentions, I apprehend, a soli- 
citous inquiiy ; to which he gives a satisfac- 
tory answer ; then subjoins a practical im- 
provement of the whole. The inquiry is 
expressed in these words : " Wherewithal 
shall I come before the Lord, and bow my- 
self before the high God ? Shall I come be- 
fore him with burnt-offerings, with calves 
of a yeai- old ? Will the Lord be pleased 
mth thousands of rams ; A\at^ ten thousands 
of rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-bom 
for my transgression, the fruit of my body 
for the sin of my soul ?" (Mic. vi. 7, 8.) To 
which it is replied, He hath showed thee, 
O man, what is good," for this important 
purpose ; namely, the Messiah ; pointed out 
by all thy sacrifices, and described in the pre- 
ceding chapter. Atonement for sin, and 
peace with God, are to be made by a better 
hand, and in a better way, than thou pro- 
posest. He " whose outgoings have been 
from of old, from everlasting," (Mic. v. 2.) 
He, who is the Son of the highest, and yet 



* Eph. ii. 5. This text lays the axe to the very root 
of spiritual pride, and all self-glorying whatever^ 
Therefore, the inspired writer, foreseeing the back- 
wardness of mankind to receive it, yet knowing the 
absolute necessity of its reception, again asserts (ver. 
8.) tfie very same' trutii in the very same words. 



230 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



the seed of "her that travaileth ;"' (Mic v. 
3.) He has undertaken, and will fully exe- 
cute, this great office. 

" And what doth the Lord thy God re- 
quire of thee ?" What temper, what con- 
duct, what expressions of gratitude, from 
his people, Avho are reconciled through the 
blood of Christ, and admitted to the bless- 
ings of the uew covenant.* They are to 
testify their thankfulness, by the alacrity, 
uniformity, and constancy of their obedi- 
ence ; or by the conscientious discharge of 
every moral, social, and religious duty. 

11' this be a tme interpretation of the text, 
instead of establishing, it overturns your 
cause.— But I have another objection to 
your method, perhaps more weighty than the 
foregoing. 

Ther. Pray, let me hear it. — 1 am not so 
enamoured with my notions, but I can bear 
to have them censm'ed ; nor so attached to 
my scheme, but I can relinquish it for a 
better. 

Asp. I would illustrate my meaning, by 
a common experiment in optics. When ob- 
jects are viewed in a concave speculum, or 
in the hollow of a polished spoon, how do 
they appear ? 

Ther. Inverted. 

Asp. Such is my friend's system of reli- 
gion. He inveits the order of the gospel : 
Hetm-ns the beautiful building upside down, 
and lays that for the foundation which 
shoidd only be part of the superstructure. 
Not so the apostle Paul. Pie, like a wise 
master-builder, places Christ as the foun- 
dation-stone, and rears his edifice of prac- 
tical godliness on that all-supporting basis. 
— Examine his epistle to the Romans ; 
which is unquestionably the completest mo- 
del of doctrine, and the noblest body of 
divinity extant in the world. 

He first discovers the depravity of our 
nature, and the misery of our condition : 
He then displays the method of our reco- 
very by Christ, and the blessings freely 
vouchsafed in his gospel : After which he 
delineates the offices of morality, and en- 
forces them by the most engaging motives ; 
motives dra\TO from the free unbounded lov- 
ing-kir.dness of God our Saviour, and from 
the rich invaluable benefits of his grace ;f 



* Thy God is the phrase. Which denotes an in- 
terest ; implies an appropriation ; and is the peculiar 
language of the covenant — Thy God ; not made so by 
thy humble ^valking, but by an act of his own grace, 
previous to any obedience of thine. — /According to 
Theron's principles, the prophet should rather have 
said, " Walk humbly (not with thy God, but) that 
he may be thy God." 

t This, I think, is the best platform for an evange- 
lical catechism. The ruin of man, occasioned by sin— 
his recovery, effected by Christ— his gratitude, to be 
expressed by way of obedience. — This plan is carried 
into execution by the Palatinate divines : who have 
fonned upon it, a summ.ary of catechetical instruc- 
tion, than which I have met wi th nothing of the kind 
inoxe clear and satisfactory: more edifynig and ani- 
mating ; more exacty consonant to the benign spirit 



privilege he plants as the root ; from which 
duty blooms as the fiower ; godliness grow?, 
as the fruit. 

The same order is observed by St. Peter 
in his very concise, but very accurate map, 
of the way to heaven : Elect, according 
to the foreknowledge of God the Father, 
through sanctification of the Spirit, unto 
obedience, and sprinkling of the blood of 
Christ," (1 Pet i. 2.) First, the everlasting 
and electing love of the Father — Then, the 
erdightening and renewing agency of the 
Spirit ; who testifies of Christ, and applies 
his death to the soul, purifying the heart by 
faith ; from whence, as from a fountain of 
living water, flows true sanctification, and 
every act of filial obedience, every species 
of real holiness ; all which, being partly de- 
fective, and partly polluted, must be sprink- 
led with the blood of Jesus, and made acr 
ceptable by his dying oblation. 

Ther. Is this the constant method in 
which the sacred waiters represent the gos- 
pel salvation ? Do they always observe this 
particular order, in arranging its doctiines 
and its duties ? Or, is it not an insignificant 
circumstance which goes first, provided we 
take in both ? 

Asp. To observe this order, I am per- 
suaded, is no insignificant circumstance. 
It is of great consequence both to om' estab- 
lishment, and to our growth in grace. Is 
it a matter of indifference to the archer 
whether he send the point or the feather of 
his arrow foremost ? Can he, in either case 
hit the mark with equal ease, and equal cer- 
tainty. 

I believe, you will find, that the sacred 
writers, in all their evangelical discourses^ 
invariably adhere to this order. Nay, it 
took place even under the legal dispensa- 
tion. When the Lord God published his 
law from Mount Sinai ; when he wrote it 
with his own finger, on tables of stone ; 
how did he introduce the precepts ? how 
enforce their observance ? Let us attend to 
the preamble, which is the language of love, 
and the very spirit of the gospel : " I am 
the Lord thy God, who brought thee out 
of the land of Egypt, out of the house of 
bondage," (Exod. xx. 2.) "I have already 
delivered thee, with a mighty hand, from 
the most sordid and insupportable slavery. 
I have promised thee, for thy possession, 
the delightful country of Canaan, ' a godly 
heritageof the hosts of nations, (Jer. iii. 19.) 
Nay, I myself am thy portion ; a God in 
covenant with thee ; engaged by an irmo- 
lable contract, and with the exertion of all 



of the gospel, or better calculated to make mankind 
both holy and happy. This piece the reader may see, , 
together with a judicious, and very valuable exposi- 
tion of it, in the Latin works of Henricus Altingius, 
vol. i. quarto. Which, I believe, may be bought for 
a trifle, yet are more precious than gold. 



DIALOGUE VIL 



231 



my attributes to do thee good. Therefore 
keep the statutes, the judgments, and or- 
diuanoes, which I am uow going to esta- 
blish." Could there be a more winning in- 
ducement, or a more endearing obligation 
to obedience ? 

I might point out the same strain n;nning 
through the exhortations of Moses and the 
songs of David, the sermons of the prophets 
and the writings of the apostles. But this 
I wave, not rhrough an apprehension of its 
difficulty, only from a fear of prolixity. 
However, you will not think me tedious if 
I produce one more instance from the great 
master of our schools. " For we ovirselves 
were sometime foolish, disobedient, deceiv- 
ed, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living 
in malice and envy, hateful, -and hating one 
another," (Tit. iii. 3 — 8.) Here be sets 
before us a dismal but exact picture of our 
depraved and undone condition. Then he 
presents us with a delightful view of our re- 
demption, both in its gracious cause and 
precious effects. " But after that the kind- 
ness and love of God our Saviour toward 
man appeared ; not by works of righteous- 
ness which we have dorie, but according to 
his mercy he saved us, by the washing of 
regeneration, and renewing of the Holy 
Ghost ; which he has shed on us abundantly 
through Jesus Christ oiu* Saviour ; that be- 
ing justified by his grace, we should be 
made heirs according to the hope of eternal 
life." Having thus provided for our hap- 
piness, he then promotes our holiness. 
" This is a faithful saying, and these things 
I will that thou affirm constantly, that they 
who have believed in God might be careful 
to maintain good works : these things are 
good and profitable unto men." 

I make no comment* upon the passage ; 
because I hope you will commit it, as a 
noble depositum, to your memory. Your 
own diligent meditation, accompanied with 
humble prayer, will furnish out the best ex- 
position. Only I would just remark, that 
the apostle, always consistent, always uni- 



* Perhaps the reader will give me leave, though 
Aspasio has declined the office, to adda short exposi- 
tory stricture upon the most distinguished parts of 
this very important paragraph. I. We have the 
cause of our redemption; "not works of righteous- 
ness which we have done, but the kindness, the love, 
the mercy of God our Saviour." II. The effects; 
which are, 1st, Justification — being justified, having 
our sins forgiven, and Christ's righteousness imput- 
ed: allthi<, without any the least deserving quality 
in us; solely by his grace, and most unmerited 
goodness. 2d, Santification— expressed by the " wash- 
mg of regeneration, and renewmg of the Holy 
Ghost;" whose influences purify the soul, as the 
washing of water cleanses the body ; and introduces 
an improvement into all the faculties of the mind, 
somewhat like that annual renovation and general 
smile of nature, which the return of s]n'ing ^iflliseg 
over the face of the earth. III. The end and con- 
summation of all; "that we should be made heirs 
of the heavenly kingdom ; and live, now in the as- 
sured hope, hereafter in the full enjoyment of eter- 
pa} life." 



form, marshals his thoughts with his usual 
exactness. Good works are not disbanded, 
nor yet sufijered to lead the van, but made 
to bring up the rear,* When he mentions 
these fruits of the Spirit, he mentions them, 
not slightly as matters of small moment, but 
earnestly, as aflfairs of great importance. It 
is his desire and his charge, that all believ- 
ers should be careftd ;f have their hearts 
upon the business ; should use their best 
contrivance, and exert their utmost endeav- 
ours, not barely to practise, but to mam- 
tain ; to be exemplary, distinguished, and 
pre-eminent in the exercise of every virtue, 
because this virtue, and those works, though 
not the ground of a reconciliation with God, 
are amiable in the eyes of all, and honour- 
able to the Christian profession. They 
are also a necessary ingredient in personal 
happiness, and the apparent means of social 
usefulness. 

Tker. This view of the evangelical plan 
is, I must confess, new to me ; and parti- 
cularly your ordonnance of the epistle to the 
Romans. 

Asp. If this be new, perhaps what I am 
going to advance may be strange. We have 
been talking about acceptance with God, 
and debating whether our own good works 
are the cause of this inestimable blessing. 
What will you say, if we can perform no 
good work, till we are interested in Christ, 
and accepted by God ? 

Ther. Say ! — that this is razing founda- 
tions. 

Asp. It is razing the wong, the founda- 
tion falsely so called, which will certainly 
deceive as many as make it their trust. 
And is it not prudent, when we are build- 
ing for eternity, carefidly to examine the 
ground ? Is it not friendly to divert a man 
from the treacherous sand, and lead him to 
the unshaken rock ? For this cause I said 
it once, and for this cause I say it again^ 
that we can perform no good woi'k till we 
are interested in Christ, and accepted of 
God. 



* The same order is observed by St. John, Rev. 
xiv. 13. " Blessed are the dead which die in the 
Lord ; for they rest from their labours, and their 
works do follow them," Not go before, to open the 
everlasting doors, and give them admittance into the 
mansions of joy. But they fjilow them, when ad- 
mitted : As the robe, which, on a king's coronation 
day, flows from his shoulders, cannot but accompany 
him, wheresover he goes. It may be pertinent, on 
the mention of this illustration, jiist to hint, that as 
it is not the robe of state which makes the king; 
so neither is it the external practice of holiness which 
makes the Christian. An Lnion with Christ, an inr 
terest in his mprits, and the indwelling presence of 
his Spirit ; these, and nothing shor*- of these, consti- 
tute the true Christian. Yet, as the royal robe is an 
attendant on majesty, and distinguishes the monarch ; 
so practical godliness is inseparable from faith, and 
adorns the believer. 

t <P^ovT,^eotn, This is somewhat like that empha- 
tical expression, which so often occurs in the Old 
Testament, H'lli^!^'? llDli/n "^^ shall observe 
to do ; ye shall be very diligent to fulfil; ye shall bg 
very e^act in performing." 



232 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



Ther. Produce your reasons, Aspasio, 
And strong reasons they must be, which 
are forcible enough to support such an opi- 
nion. 

Asp. The case seems to speak for itself. 
How can a man that is evil do works that 
are good ? Would you expect to " gather 
grapes of thorns, or tigs of thistles ?" But 
let us hear what our unerring Teacher says ; 
*' As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, 
except it abide in the vine ; no more can 
ye, except ye abide in me." (John xv. 4.) 
Nothing can be more express and full to 
our purpose. But that which follows is 
far more awful and alarming to our con- 
sciences. " If a man abide not in me, he 
is cast forth as a branch and is withered ; 
and men gather them, and cast them into 
the fu-e, and they are burned." (John xv. 
6.) From which it appears, that the hu- 
man heart is never actuated by good tem- 
pers, that the human life can never be pro- 
ductive of good works, until a man is in- 
grafted into Christ, no more than a branch 
can bear valuable fruit, w^hile it continues 
in a state of separation from the tree.* It 
appears also, that persons alienated from 
Christ are, and all their performances too, 
like broken, withered, rotten boughs — fit 
for nothing, but to be committed to the 
flames, and consumed from the earth. Both 
they and their services, far from being me- 
ritorious, are, in the estimate of heaven, 
worthless and despicably mean. 

Ther. What ! are all the noble deeds, 
performed by the advocates for morality 
and lovers of virtue, worthless in them- 
selves, and despicable before the supreme 
Being ? Worthless and despicable (grating 
words ! ) only because they are not attended 
with the peculiarities of your faith ? Can 
the want of this little circumstance change 
their nature, and turn their gold into dross ? 

Asp. My dear Theron, call not the cir- 
cumstance little. It is sufficient, were your 
works more precious than gold, to debase 
them into tin, into lead, into dross — 
When the poor shepherd brought you, yes- 
terday morning, a present of some wood- 
strawberries, bringing them as an humble 
expression of his gratitude, they were kindly 
received. But if he had offered them as a 
price for your house, or as the purchase of 
your estate, how should you have regarded 
them in such a connexion ? No words can 



* This discovers an error which • is often commit- 
ted, in our attempts to instruct little children. What 
is more common than to tell them, " If they will be 
good, God Almighty will love and bless them." — 
Whereas, they should rather be informed, "that they 
are sinners; but that God Almighty has given his 
Son to die for sinners ; and, if they pray to him, he 
will forgive their sins, will make them holy, make 
them happy, and bless them with all spiritual bless- 
ings in Christ." 



express the disdain you would have con- 
ceived. When Barnabas presented a sum 
of money to the apostles, for the supply of 
their necessities and the relief of indigent 
believers, (Acts iv. 37,) it was welcome to 
them, and pleasing to God. But when 
Suncn the sorcerer offered his gold to 
Peter and John ; offering it, not from a 
principle of faith, but as an equivalent for 
the Holy Spirit ; not in order to testify his 
thankfulness, but rather to play the huck- 
ster with heaven, it v/as rejected with the 
utmost indignation. (Acts viii. 20.) 

I leave my friend to apply the preceding 
instances. Only let me beg of him to be- 
lieve, that if my words are grating, they 
are extorted by the force of truth. If I am 
obliged to blame what he calls good works, 
it is, as a great critic blames eloquence, 
" with the tenderness of a lover." But my 
censure falls only on their faulty origin and 
unbecoming aim. Let ihem spring from the 
grace of Christ as their source, let them pro- 
pose the glory of Christ as their end ; then, 
instead of putting a slight upon them, or giv- 
ing them a bill of divorce, I would court, ca- 
ress, and wed them. Whereas, if neither this 
end be kept in the view, nor that principle 
operate in the heart, I must persist in ques- 
tioning the genuineness of their character, 
nay, in denying the very possibility of their 
existence. There may be a mimicry of holy 
actions : but it is mimicry only ; as empty 
as the combs made by those M'asps, and no 
better than a flame that is painted. — I have 
an authority for this doctrine, which I think 
you will not offer to controvert. 

Ther. What authority ? 

Asp. That of our church : who declares, 
in her 13th article; " Works done before 
the grace of Christ, and inspiration of his 
Spirit, are not pleasing to God ; forasmuch 
as they spring not out of faith in Christ." 
Faith in Jesus Christ purifies the heart. 
Till this be done, we have neither disposi- 
tion nor capacity for holy obedience. Nay, 
without faith in Christ, our persons are 
abominable,* our state is damnable, and 
how can any of our works be acceptable ? 

Such a one, you say, is honest in his 
dealings, temperate in his enjoyments, cha- 
ritable to the poor. I allow it all. But 
unless these seeming virtues are referred to 
the glory of the supreme Jehovah, unless 
they flow from faith in the crucified Jesus, 
they may be acts of worldly policy, of self- 
ish prudence, of Pharisaical pride — they 
are by no means a pleasing oblation to the 



* " To thedefiledand unbelieving is nothing clean," 
Tit. i. 15. The apostle joins defiled and unbeliev- 
ing, to intimate, that without a true belief nothing 
is clean. The understanding and the conscience are 
polluted. Both the man and his doings are impure. 



DIALOGUE VIII. 



Lord Almighty.* Nay, instead of being 
acts of duty, and objects of approbation, 
they stand condemned in the scripture, and 
are breaches of the commandment. They 
stand condemned in that scripture, which 
declares, " without faith it is impossible to 
please God." (Heb. xi. 6.) They are 
breaches of that commandment, which re- 
quires, " whether ye eat or drink, or what- 
soever* ye do, do all to the glory of God." 
(1 Cor. X. 32.) 

Upon the whole, if we will submit to the 
determination of our established church, or 
acquiesce in the decision of our divine Mas- 
ter, we must acknowledge, that there is no 
such thmg as a good work, till we are re- 
conciled to God, and our persons accepted 
in his sight. Therefore, to represent our 
own works as the means of reconciliation 
and acceptance, is both chimerical and ab- 
surd. Chimerical, because it builds upon 
a phantom, and takes for a reality what 
has no existence : Absurd, because it in- 
verts the natural order of things, and would 
make the effect antecedent to the cause. 

Ther. Before we quit this agreeable 
retreat, let me ask my Aspasio, what he 
purposes by running down all those vrorks 
which are the produce of inward religion, 
and essential to true holiness : whose excel- 
lency is displayed in the clearest, and whose 
necessity is urged in the strongest terms, 
throughout the whole Bible ? 

Asp. I am far from running do\vn works 
which are the produce of inward religion, 
and therefore may be justly styled, *' works 
of faith, and labours of love." But I would 
caution my Theron and myself to take care 
that our works be accompanied with those 
circumstances which alone can render them 
truly good. Let them arise from faith, and 
bear witness to love ; or else we shall have 
" thistles instead of wheat, and cockle in- 
stead of barley." (Job xxxi. 40.) 

I would also persuade my friend, and I 
would habituate myself, not to repose our 
confidence in any works whatsoever ; lest 
they prove a bruised reed, that breaks un- 
der our weight — or a pointed spear, that 
pierces us to the heart. We. shall never be 
like the church, " w^ho comes up out of the 



* Might not this observation be made, with great 
propriety, in our infirmary and other charitable ser- 
mons ? Should not the audience be exhorted to 
abound in acts of benevolence, from a grateful re- 
gard to the infinitely-merciful and condescending Je- 
sus? 2 Cor. viii. 9. Should they not, before all 
thmgs, be directed to make sure their interest in the 
Redeemer's merits ? that their persons may find fa- 
vour, and their alms acceptance. Eph. i. 6. Should 
they not be admonished, that without this be ifviiig 
application to Christ, whatever they do, whatever 
they give, is worthless in the eye of their Maker, and 
will be fruitless to their own souls. Heb. xi. 6. In 
this respect our Saviour was eminently typified by 
the Jewish altar; on which every sacrifice, by whom- 
soever brought, was to be offered, and separate from 
which no sacrifice, however costly, could be accept* 
ed. Exod. xx. 24 ; Levit. xvii. 3, 4. 



wilderness, leaning upon her beloved," 
( Cant. viii. 5,) so long as we bolster up 
ourselves with a conceit of persoufil right- 
eousness. This was the error, the fatal 
error of the Pharisees ; this the lilm which 
blinded the eyes of their mind, and sealed 
them up under the darkness of final unbelief. 

Besides, my dear Theron, if you expect 
to be saved by your own duties, you v/ill be 
loath to see the worst of your condition. 
To see the worst of your condition, will be 
a dagger to your hopes, and as death to 
your soul. You wiW therefore be inclined 
to " daub vrith unterapered mortar," (Ezek. 
xiii. 10.) Instead of acknowledging the 
deep depravity of your nature, and the num- 
berless iniquities of your life, you will in- 
vent a thousand excuses to palliate your 
guilt ; and by this means erect a wall of 
partition between your soul and the merits 
of yoiu' Redeemer ; which will be a greater 
inconvenience, a more destructive evil, than 
to cut off all supply of provision from an 
army, or even to intercept the sunbeams 
from visiting the earth. 

Tlier. Kow you talk of armies, I must 
observe, that though I have scarce been 
able to keep my ground, in this argumenta- 
tive action, I cainiot allow you the honour 
of a victory, as a retreat is very different 
from a rout. 

Asp, I would also remark, that my friend 
has changed the intended plan of oiu- 
operations ; has almost continually acted 
upon the offensive ; while my part has been 
only to sustain the shock. At our next 
encounter, you may expect to have the or- 
der of battle reversed. I shall direct my 
forces to begin the charge. Put yourself 
therefore in readiness for a brisk attack. 

Ther. You act the fa r enemy, Aspasio, 
I must confess, in thus giving the alarm, 
before you make the assault. 

Asp. This hostility may appear fairer 
still, when I assure you, that my wea])ons 
aim not at the destruction of your comfort, 
or the demolition of any valuable interest. 
Only they woidd be " mighty through God, 
to pull down the strong holds" of unbelief, 
and bring eveiy self-exalting, every rebelli- 
ous thought, " captive unto Christ," (2 
Cor. X. 4, 5,) captive, in a professed sub- 
mission to his righteousness, as well as a 
dutiful subjection to his commands. And 
when such is the tendency of the campaign, 
it will be your greatest advantage to lose 
the victory ; it will be better than a triumph 
to acknowledge yourself vanquished. 



DIALOGUE VIII. 

Jim-. OuK last conversation ended with 
a challenge. To decline or delay the ac- 



THERON AND ASFASIO 



ceptance of it, Avould look like coM'ardice 
in me, and be a piece of injustice to you, 
Aspasio. Therefore I am now ready to 
give you all the satisfliction which a gentle- 
man can demand. Only, as the weather 
continues hazy, I believe my study must be 
the place of action. 

Asp. A challenge, Theron ! 

Ther. What, Sir ! do you bogle ? would 
you eat your v/ords, and play the poltroon ? 

Asp. Perhaps 1 may have an inclination 
to follow the example of a brother hero, 
who ran away from the field of battle just 
as his comrades were advancing to charge 
the enemy ; and when called to an account 
for his behaviour, right worthily alleged, 
tiiat liis retreat proceeded, not from any ti- 
midity of mind, no, but from a concern for 
the public good ; " for," quoth he, " if I 
.had been knocked on the head to-day, how 
should I have been able to fight for my 
country to-morrow ?" 

You smile, Theron, at my doughty war- 
rior, and his sage maxim. But, since you 
hav3 glanced at a certain modish custom, 
give me leave very seriously to assure you, 
that, if the affair was to be determined by 
sword and pistol, I should reckon such a 
conduct, a resolute refusal at least, not at 
all unmanly, but the truly wise and gallant 
behaviour. For surely it can never be an 
instance of wisdom, to hazard my life at the 
mere caprice of a turbulent ruffi<in, who is 
a stranger to all the principles of humanity 
and generosity, but a slave, an abandoned 
slave to his own ungovernable passions. 
Surely it can never be an act of real bravery 
to expose my person, because some fool- 
hardy practitioner in the fencing-school is 
desperate enough to risk his ! The gentle- 
man, the true gentleman, should exert a 
becoming dignity of spirit, and scorn to set 
his welfare on a level with that of an incon- 
siderate and barbarous bully.* 

Ther. But honour, my Aspasio, honour 
is at stake. Better to lose om: life than 
forfeit our reputation. Better to be in a 
gi'ave than to be the jest of every coffee- 
house ; and perhaps pointed at, as we pass 
the streets, for mean-spirited, sneaking, or, 
as the gentlemen of the sword so elegantly 
speak, white-livered anim.als. 

Asp. Forfeit our reputation ! Amongst 
whom, I beseech you ? A few rash and 
precipitate creatures, the pupils of La 



* Aspasio calls the person who gives the challenge 
a bully. And such, notwithstanding all the maxims 
of fantastical and false honour, he will certainly be 
found, when tried at the bar of reason or justice. 
For, if the most impetuous, irrational, and brutal 
barbarity, is allowed to constitute a bully, he has an 
indisputable title to the character, who, on account 
of a mere pvmctilio, or some slight affront, would 
destroy a life that might be of service to society, 
might be a blessing to various relatives, and is inti- 
mately connected with a blissful or miserable iramor- 
taiity. 



Mancha's knight ; the sons of chimera* and 
cruelty ; whose applause is infamy ; and 
their detraction the highest praise they can 
bestow. From every judicious and worthy 
person, your conduct will be siu-e to gain 
approbation, and your character esteem. 
When Caesar received a challenge from 
Antony, to engage him in single combat, 
he very calmly aiiswered the bearer of the 
message : " If Antony is weary of life, tell 
him, there are other ways to death, besides 
the point of my sword." Who ever deem- 
ed this an instance of cowardice ! All ages 
have admired it as the act of a discreet and 
gallant man ; who Avas sensible of his own 
importance, and knew how to treat the pe- 
tulant and revengeful humour of a discon- 
tented adversary with its deserved contempt. 

Barely to lose our life, is the smallest of 
those evils which attend this mischievous 
practice. It is pregnant with a long, an 
almost endless train of disastrous conse- 
quences to parents, wives, children, friends, 
associates, and the commimity. It is an 
infallible expedient to be deprived of the 
favour of the infinite God, and to be ex- 
cluded from the joys of his eternal king- 
dom. It is the sure way to become an ob- 
ject of abhorrence to the angels of light, and 
be made the laughing-stock of devils, in 
tlieir dungeons of dai-kness.f Sham.e, ever- 
lasting shame, shall be the reward of such 
gallantry, " the promotion of such fools." 
(Prov. iii. 35.) 

Ther. With regard to this point, I am 
entirely of your opinion, Aspasio, however 
I may differ in other particulars. 

Asp. Say you so, Theron ? Would you 
then tamely submit to affronts, insults, and 
injuries ? 

Tker. As to the trifling affronts of a 
peevish, incontinent torigue, I would treat 
them Vv'ith a superior scorn. And when 
thus treated, they are sure to recoil, with 
the keenest edge, and severest weight, 
upon the impotent malice which offers them. 
The wretch should see, that I could pity 
his miseiy, and smile at his folly. But as 



* This kind of gentry are styled, in a book, with 
which they have little or no acquaintance, but whose 
maxims will be had in reverence when their names 
are lost in oblivion, pi^ti^lD^ " the sons of bluster, 
or the children of noise." Jer. xlviii. 45. 

+ " Let me tell you with confidence," (says an ex- 
cellent person, addressing himself to one of these un- 
happy desperadoes) that all duels, or single combats, 
are murderous: blanch them over (how you list) 
with names of honour and honest pretences, their 
use is sinful, and their nature devilish." See the se- 
lect works of Bishop Hall, in one volume folio, page 
526, where the reader will find a happy mixture of 
true oratory and sound divinity ; arich vein of fancy, 
and a sweet spirit of piety ; contemplations upon the 
histories of scripture (which, I think, are our pre- 
late's master-piece) almost as entertaining and in- 
structive, as the subjects illustrated are important 
and wonderful. Notwithstanding a few stift or an- 
tique phrases, I cannot but esteem the works of this 
author amongst the most valuable compositions ex? 
tant in our language. 



DIALOGUE VIII. 



235 



.to inj-urks, tlie case is otherwse. Should 
any one assault my person, it is at his peril, 
. He would find, and perhaps to his smart, 

Et nos tela manu, ftiminque haud debils dextra 
, Spargimus, et uostro sequitur de vulnere sanguis. 

ViRG. 

Here the fundamental and everlasting law 
of self-preservation calls upon us to play 
the man. And I am sure, Christianity 
does not require us to yield our throats to 
tliQ kriife, or open our breasts to the dag- 

But to retire to deliberate, to sit dovvm and 
indite a formal challenge, seems to me al- 
together as savage and iniquitous, as to as- 
sault on the highway. He that demands 
my money on the road, or extorts it by an 
incendiary letter, or decoys me into the 
snare by a forged and counterfeit note, is 
stigmatized for a villain, is abhorred by 
every person of integrity, and when detected 
is rewarded with a halter. Why should 
we reckon the headstrong bravo less in- 
jurious, who makes his attempt uj)Oii my 
., very life, and thirsts with insatiable fury for 
my blood ? 

Asp. He allows you a fair chance, it is 
said. 

Ther. A chance ! Of what ? Either of 
falling a sacrifice to his rage, or of imbru- 
ing my hands in his blood. Which is nei- 
ther more nor less tiiaii reducing me to a ne- 
.cessity of launching into damnation myself, 
or of transmitfcirg a fellow-creature to eter- 
nal vengeance. And is this an extenuation ? 
this a mitigating circumstance ? It renlly 
proves the practice so inexcusably wicked, 
that nothing can be pleaded in its defence. 
The very argument used to justify the hor- 
rid deed, irrilames its guilt, and aggravates 
its malignity. 

It is a pity but the legislative authority 
would interpose for the suppression of such 
' a fliigrant wrong to society, and such a no- 
torious violation of our benign religion. 
Why should not the laws declare it felony to 
make the first overture for a duel ? Since 
it is always more heinous, and frequently 
more pernicious — is alwaj s murder in the 
intention, and frequently issues in double 
destruction ; the one uiflicted by the stab 
of violence, the other executed by the sword 
of justice. 

Might it not, at least, be branded with 
some mark of public infamy, or subjected 
to a severe pecuniary mulct ? so that a 
gentleman of spirit and temper might have 
it in his power to return the compliment 
of a challenging letter with some such an- 
swer: — 

Sir, 

" However meanly you may think of 
_your life, I set too high a value upon mine, 
to expose it as a mark for undisciplined and 



outrageous passions. Neither have I so 
totally renounced all that is humane, bene- 
volent, or amiable, as to draw my sword 
for your destruction, because you have first 
been overcome by precipitate and unreason- 
able resentment. You have given me an 
opportunity of acting the gentleman and the 
Christian. And this challenge I accept, 
as a note under your hand for five hundred 
pounds ;* which will very soon be de- 
manded according to law, by, Sir, 

" Yours, &c." 

Asp. But to resume the proper subject, 
the nature of our engagement ; which I now 
recollect, and which was explained when 
I ventured to give what you call the chal- 
lenge. As it is not my Theron, but the 
obstacles of his faith, and the enemies of 
his felicity, that I am to encounter, perhaps 
I shall have courage to stand my ground ; 
and, instead of violating all the obligations 
of equity, honour, and conscience, I shall 
certainly evidence my love to my friend, 
may possibly pr(>inote his truest good. 

Ther. I do not see how this can be ef- 
fected by your late attem])t. You under- 
took to run down all works of righteous- 
ness as absolutely wu.ljle to find acceptance 
with God, and equally insuflicient to re- 
commend us to his favour. It is for the 
credit of these, which Aspasio has depre- 
ciated, that I enter the lists. 

Asp. Pray, what is tlie standard to which 
these works of righteousness nuist be con- 
formed, and by which their sufficiency may 
be determined ? 

T/ier. The moral law, doubtless ; I 
know no other standard of righteousness, 
nor any other way of beconiisig lighteous. 

Asp. You will, I hope, eie long be ac- 
quamted with another way. At ])resent, I 
agree to your proposal. We wjII join issue 
on this footing, and try the merits of our 
cause before this tribunal. Youiself shall 
be the judge. I will only ask your opin- 
ion, and refer myself to yoiu: decision. You 
see, I am soon weary of the military style. 
I had obtruded myself on a part which I 
was not qualified to act, and now resume a 
more becoming character. 

Thei\ If you place me on the bench, I 



* Mii^ht not the refiiser of a challenge be dignified 
with some honorary distinction, resembling the civic 
crown amongst the ancient Romans; smce, by_ his 
cool and temperate bravery, he saves one life from 
the sword, another from tlie halter ? Was some ho- 
norary distinction, on the one hand, united to a pe- 
cuniary forfeiture on the other, I cannot but think, 
they would prove an effectual method to check the 
progress of this destructive evil. It would break the 
teeth of malice with her own wespops, and turn the 
artillery of revenge upon herself. Those detestable 
passions would be loath to indulge themselves in this 
horrid manner, if it was made the sure way to en- 
noble and enrich the object of their rage. — N.B, The 
civic crown was an ornament assigned to those sol- 
diers who had in battle rescued a fellow-citizen from 
I impending death. 



256 



THEKON AND ASPASIO. 



shall allow of no such digressions, but shall 
keep you close to the subject. 

Asp. Has your Lordship then considered 
the nature of the divine law, and the extent 
of its obligations ? 

Tlier. It obliges all persons, and com- 
prises the whole duty of man. It forbids 
all immorality, and enjoins every virtue. — 
Are not these your sentiments ? 

Asp. They are, when somewhat enlarged. 
— The empire of the law, as prohibitory of 
evil, extends both to the outward and in- 
ward man. It takes cognizance of the ac- 
tions ; it judges every word. All the ope- 
rations and all the dispositions of the soul 
come under its sacred jurisdiction. It is 
indeed a discerner, not only of the working 
thoughts, but also of the dawning inten- 
tions ; and arraigns them both at its awful 
bar. *' It pierces even to the dividing a- 
sunder of the soul and spirit." (Heb. v. 
12. ) Not the inmost recesses of the breast 
are too deep for its penetration, nor all the 
artifices of the deceitful heart too subtle for 
its detection. Other Jaws forbid the un- 
clean act ; this condemns the wanton eye, 
and irregulcU- desire. Other laws punish 
the injurious deed ; this passes sentence on 
the unguarded sallies of passion, and the 
most secret emotions of resentment. So 
eminently true is that remai*k of the Psalm- 
ist, " thy commandments are exceeding 
broad." (Psalm cxix. 96.) Tell me now, 
Theron, has your obedience been commen- 
surate to this extensive platform of duty ? 

Ther. If the law be so very extensive — 

Asp. Nay, my friend, you carmot sus- 
pect, that I have stretched, to an undue ex- 
tent, the obbgations of the divine law, since 
this interpi etation is established by an au- 
thority too great to be controverted, too 
clear to be misunderstood — even by the 
authority of Christ himself; whose sermon 
upon the mount is a professed exposition of 
the commandments, and maintains in the 
most explicit manner all that I have ad- 
A'anced. So that if our Lord's e:q)osition 
is just, I think it will be neither rash nor 
uncharitable to say, there is not a man upon 
earth but has broke them all. 

Ther. Are we all idolaters then ? all 
adulterers ? all murderers ? Shocking to 
imagine ! 

Asp. It is shoclcing, I confess. But 
how much more so, if such delinquents ex- 
pect justification by their own deeds ? 

Ther. This is no proof of your assertion, 
my good friend. 

Asp. To be fond of gold, to be enamour- 
ed with the world, to love any creature 
more than the ever-blessed Creator, are in- 
stances of idolatry, ( Col. iii. 5 ; Phil- iii. 
19,) not quite so gross, but altogether as 
real, as to set up idols in our temples, or 
pay acts of adoration to senseless images. 



Have you always been free from this apos- 

tacy of the affections ? 

Our infallible Teacher has informed us, 
that unreasonable anger, contemptuous lan- 
guage, and malevolent wishes, (Matt. v. 22,) 
are each a species of murder, and not many 
removes from the assassin's deadly st^b. 
Have you been always meek, always bene- 
volent, and never chargeable with this men- 
tal homicide ? 

We are farther assured, that the indul- 
gence of inoi-dmate desire is, in the impar- 
tial estimate of heaven, as the commission 
of the impure deed. (Matt. v. 28.) And 
evil concupiscence of every kind violates 
that sacred precept, " Thou shalt not 
covet. "* Has your will been invariably up- 
right, and warped with no irregular inclina- 
tion ? are you wholly unpolluted with this 
adultery of the heart ? 

I wait not for a reply. I have often 
heard you plea<I guilty to all — yes, to all 
and every of these charges respectively, 

Ther. Where, and when, Aspasio ? 

Asp. In the most sacred place, and on 
the most solemn occasion. And not yoa 
only, but a whole multitude of seif-con- 
denmed criminals. Our chiu'ch, you know, 
has ingrafted the decalogue into her public 
service ; and taught all' her members to an- 
swer, after the repetition of each command- 
ment, " Lord, have mercy upon us, and 
incline our hearts to keep this law." Is 
there any sense in these words? or have 
we any meaning when we utter them ? If 
we have, surely they must imply an ac- 



» Rom. vii. 7. Aspasio's observation brings to my 
remembrance a remarkable incident ; which, as it is 
quite pertinent to our purpose, the reader vnVl allow 
me to relate. It passed between a friend of mine, and 
a certain ingenious stranger, into whose company he 
happened to falL The gentleman was extolling, at 
an extravagant rate, the virtue of honesty ; what a 
dignity it imparted to our nature! how it recom- 
mended us to the Supreme Being ! he confirmed all 
by a celebrated line from Mr. Pope. 

" An honest man's the noblest work of God." 

Sir, replied my friend, however excellent the virtiie 
of honesty may be, I fear, there are very few men in 
the world that really possess it. You surprise me, 
said the stranger. Ignorant as I am of your charac- 
ter. Sir, I fancy it would be no difficult matter t(> 
prove even you a dishonest man. 1 defy you. Will 
you give me leave, then, to ask you a question or 
two, and promise not to be offended? Ask yqyr 
questions, and welcome. Have you never met with 
an opportunity of getting gain by some unfair meaife? 
The gentleman paused. 1 do not ask, whether ypu 
made use of, but whether you have met with such 
opportunity? I, for my paii, have; and 1 believe 
every body else has. Very probably I may. How 
did you feel your mind affected, on such an occasion ? 
Had you no secret desire, not the least inclination, to 
seize the advantage which offered ? Tell me, withcait 
any evasion, and consistently with the character you 
admire. I must acknowledge I have not always 
been absolutely free from every irregular inclination, 
but — Hold, Sir, none of your salvos. You have con- 
fessed enough. If you had the desire, though you 
never proceeded to the action, this shows you was 
dishonest in heart. This is what the scripture calls 
concupiscence. It defiles the soul. It is a breach of 
that law, which "requireth truth in the inner parts;" 
and, unless vou are pardoned through the blood of 
Christ, will be a just ground of your condemnation, 
" when God shall judge the secrets of men." 



DIALOG 

knowledgment of disobedience in every par- 
ticular. The criminal arraigned at the bar 
never falls on his knees, and craves for- 
giveness, till he either confesses or is con- 
victed. This then must be tlie purport of 
oiu" response. " We are verily guilty con- 
cerning this thing. And we humbly im- 
plore, both pardoning mercy for the past, 
and strengthening grace for the future." 

Give me leave to urge my question a 
little farther. Is there a single day in 
which you have not transgressed, some way 
or other, this sacred rule ? 

T/ier. If the law of God will dispense 
with no deviation, not even the first starts 
of thought, or the least wanderings of de- 
sire — But siu-ely to affirm this, is to extend 
the law beyond all reasonable bounds. The 
motions of evil desii'e, if indulged, are un- 
doubtedly ci-iminal. But are they also, 
when restrained, breaches of duty ? I should 
rather imagine, that such temptations are 
throuTi in our way for the trial of our obe- 
dience — which, had they no power over our 
affections, would not be trials ; and when 
they are resolutely withstood, cannot be 
faults. 

Asp- What was the judgment of our re- 
formers ? And what is the voice of our 
church ? We may find both in the ninth 
article. " Although there is no condemna- 
tion for them that believe and are baptized, 
yet the apostle doth confess, that concupis- 
cence and lust hath of itself the nature of 
sin." It is not said, concupiscence hath 
then only the nature of sin when it is ripen- 
ed into action ; but of itself, and before it 
breaks out into the commission of iniquity. 
Of itself it is contrary to the pure nature, 
and therefore cannot but be condemned by 
the perfect law of God. 

Ther. This I can truly plead in my own 
behalf, that it has not been customary^ with 
me to offend ; at least not presumptuously, 
or of deliberate wickedness. 

Asp. My dear Theron, do not offer to 
palliate your guilt. Such an opiate may stu- 
pify, but will not cure ; or rather, like 
opiates ill prepared, it will intoxicate the 
mind, and counteract the operation of every 
healing medicine. Besides, it is not only 
pernicious, but false and unreasonable. 
You know the use of that solar microscope, 
and are able to inform me of its effects- 

Ther. I ought to be pretty well acquaint- 
ed with these experimenis ; since it has 
long been my favourite diversion to employ 
a few spare hours in such agreeable specu- 
lations. 

Asp. You have seen the body of an in- 
sect, accomm.odated to the surprising in- 
strument. When, in this situation, the 
animal was pricked by a very fine needle, 
your eye, your naked eye, just j^.erceived the 
pui;cture, and discovered, perhaps a speck 



UE VIII. 237 

of moisture oozing from the orifice. But 
in what manner were they represented by 
the magnifying instrument ? 

TTier. The puncture was \A-idened into a 
frightful gash ; the speck of moisture swell- 
ed into a copious stream, and flowed like 
a torrent from the gaping wound. An ox, 
under the sacrificing knife, scarce looks 
more bulky, or bleeds more largely. 

Asp. Do you not apprehend my design ? 
— If we, short-sighted mortals, and almost 
blinded with self-love ; if we cannot but be 
sensible of our faults, how flagrant must 
they appear, in what enormous magnitudes, 
and with what aggravating circumstances, to 
an eye perfectly piure and infinitely penetrat- 
ing ! 

Instead of attempting to extenuate our 
offences, let us make some such improving 
reflections : " If this holy law, which pro- 
hibits the minutest failure, from the indict- 
ment ; if this all-discerning God, who sifts 
our conduct even to the smallest defect, be 
the judge ; if our personal goodness, which 
abounds with imperfections, be our plea; 
what can we expect at that decisive hour, 
when the Lord shall "lay judgment to the 
line, and righteousness to the plummet ?" 
(Isa. xviii. 17.) Surely, this consideration 
should incline us to adopt the wise and ar- 
dent wish of the apostle, " That we may" 
now, in this our day, "win Christ, and" 
at the last tremendous audit, be " found in 
him ; not having our own righteousness, 
which is of the law," for the foundation of 
our hopes, " but the righteousness which 
is of God, by faith in Jesus Christ." (Phil, 
iii. 8, 9 ) 

Consider the law in its nobler capacity, 
as enjoining whatever is excellent. Can 
you hope. Thereon, to be justified by it, if 
you fall short of its demands, not barely in 
a few instances, but in every- action of your 
life, and every temper of your heart ? 

Ther. Such a hope, cherished amidst sucli 
circumstances, would be fallacious and ab- 
surd. But I trust, I am not so very faulty, 
or rather so entirely abandoned, as your in- 
terrogatory supposes. 

Asp. Have you duly weighed the perfec- 
tion and spirituality of the divine law ? It 
is a transcript of the unspotted purity and 
absolute rectitude of the divine nature. It 
requires an unreserved obedience to all 
God's commands, and a most unfeigned 
submission to all his dispensations ; with- 
out regretting the former as a grievous yoke, 
or repining at the latter as rigorous treat- 
ment. It calls, not only for external duty, 
iiut also for the most upright imaginations, 
and devout affections. Nay, it insists upon 
the exercise of every virtue, and that in the 
highest degree : love to God, without the 
least lukewarmness, and love to all our 
neighbours, witliout any unkiiidness ; a 



•258 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



sanctity of desire, that knows no stain, and 
a humility of mind that is free fi om all 
elatement. In a word, it requires us to be 
perfect, " even as our Father which is in hea- 
ven is perfect."* 

Do any of your actions come up to this 
exalted standard ? Are any of your graces 
thus refined ? 

Tlien Am I then absolutely an insolvent 
before the great Lord of the xmiverse? 
Have I no lamb in my fold without a ble- 
mish ? nothing in my life, nothing in ray 
heart, but what is defective and defiled ? 

Asp. Indeed, my friend, this is not your 
condition alone, but the condition of the 
most irreproachable person on earth. There 
is none perfect, in any character, or in any 
work, no not one. None that obeys the 
divine law, uniformly, invariably, and com- 
pletely. 

Cast your eye upon the names which are 
subjoined to those beautiful prints. How 
elegant is the engraving ! How accurate 
are the letters ! The strokes most delicate- 
ly fine ! Their shape most exactly true ! 
Let me ask you to transcribe them with 
your pen ; and make the copy equal to the 
original. Preserve all the noble boldness 
of the Roman stamp, and all the graceful 
softness ot the Italian touch. What ! could 
you not execute this task, even in your pre- 
sent unimpaired health, and with the exer- 
tion of all your skill? How shamefully 
then must you fall short, if your eyes were 
dim with age ; if your hands shook with a 
paralytic disorder, and your understanding 
was oppressed \vith a lethargic dulness ! 
Such is really the case with regard to all 
the children of men. Our nature is de- 
praved ; our moral abilities are enervated ; 
and our intellectual faculties clouded. And 
can we, in such a state of impotence, tran- 
scribe that sacred system, which is the very 
image of God — transcribe it into our tem- 
pers, and render it legible in our lives, with- 
out diminishing one jot or tittle of its per- 
fect purity. 

Ther. Though I fall short, there are 
Christians of a much higher class ; Christ- 
ians, I do not doubt, who have these laws 
written on their hearts, all whose tem- 
pers are cast into this heavenly mould. 



* Mat. V. 48. Our Lord, having explained several 
commandments of the law, sums up the whole, and 
gives us the spirit of them all, in this most refined 
precept ; " Be ye perfect, even," &c. If the reader 
pleases to take this passage into consideration, he will 
nave a more satisfactory answer to Theron's objec- 
tion, concerning the first motions of evil desire; more 
satisfactory, 1 mean, than was suggested in the pre- 
ceding pages. There the reply turned upon human 
testimony ; here it rests upon divine authority. _ 

I hope, the candid reader wili, on other occasions, 
remember this observation. And if, at any time, the 
strongest reasons are not assigned, let him suppose it 
probable, that they are omitted in one place, only to 
be introduced and urged, perhaps with greater advan- 
age, in another. 



Nor am I myself i^-ithout hopes of making" 
more considerable advances in holiness. 

Asp. May your hopes be quickened into' 
vigorous endeavours, and yoxir endeavours 
be crowned with abundant success ! What 
you suppose concerning very eminent' 
Christians, I cannot wholly admit, neither 
do I wholly deny. They may have all 
their tempers cast into the heavenly mould ; 
but then they are conformed to the sacred 
pattern only in part. There is a resem- 
blance, yet not such as that clear and steady 
mirror (pointing to a fine glass over the ' 
chimney-piece) exhibits, but such as some 
turbulent and muddy stream reflects. If 
the breasts of these eminent Christians 
were formed on the model of Drusus'* 
house, I verily think you would have a 
lower opinion of their acquisitions and vir- 
tue. 

David, whom God himself dig^iifies with 
the most exalted of all characters, and 
" styles a man after his own heart ;" who 
to a most inflamed love added a most accu- 
rate knowledge of the divine testimonies, 
was deeply sensible of the truth I would 
inculcate. After an attentive contempla- 
tion of the sublimity, the extent, the sancti- 
ty of those heavenly institutes, he breaks 
out into t]}is humbling exclamation, " Who 
can tell how oft he offendeth?" ( Psalm xix, 
12.) " Was the most vigilant conduct, or 
the most purified soul, examined by this 
consummate rule, innumerable woidd be 
fotmd the slips of the former, and glaring 
wotild the failures of the latter appear." 

Ther. I cannot see the reason for de- 
grading human nature to such an extrava- 
gant degree, and ranking human works 
among the refuse of things. 

Asp. Do you ask the reason of this re- 
monstrance ? It is to preserve us from the 
mischievous error of the Pharisee, who, 
measuring himself, not by the true, sub- 
lime, and extensive sense of the law, but 
by a false, debased, and mutilated interpre- 
tation, became haughty in his own conceit, 
and abominable in the sight of God. Hear 
him trumpeting his own praise : " I am no 
extortioner, no adulterer." (Luke xviii. 
11.) This the poor vain creature fancied 
was a sufficient obedience paid to the second 
table. See him still strutting in his own 
imaginary plumes :f "1 fast twice in the 



* When Drusus, a noble Roman, was deliberating 
upon a model for his new house, the architect offered 
to build it in such a taste that no eye should overlook 
any of his rooms. " You quite mistake my inclina- 
tion," said Drusus, " I am for the reverse of your 
plan. I would have my house so contrived that every 
passenger may see whatever is transacted within."' 

f This seems to give the genuine signification of 
ro v^n^o'j iv av&^M'^ois, Luke xvi. 15, not "that 
which is highly esteemed," ivrtfzov (v'So^ov. The 
proposition, taken in this sense, is neither necessary 
nor universally true. The meekness of Moses, the 



DIALOGUE VIII. 



week ; I give tithes of all that I possess." 
(Luke xviii. 12.) This he foolishly dream- 
ed was a due compliance with the demands 
of the first table. The young ruler seems 
to have been under the same delusion, when 
he had the assiu-ance to declare, " all these 
things," which are prescribed by the divine 
law, "have I kept from my youth up." 
(Matt. xix. 20.) 

A more pestilent opinion it is scarce pos- 
sible for the mind of man to entertain, and 
nothing can appear more egregiously mis- 
taken, if we consider the vast comprehen- 
sive scope of the sacred precepts, and axe 
convinced that they require a most exact 
conformity, in every particular and every 
punctilio. 

Ther. Is there nothing valuable, then, in 
regularity of conduct and integrity of heart ? 
nothing valuable in our acts of charity, and 
habits of virtue ? nothing whatsoever that 
may recommend us to our Maker ? 

Asp. From our fellow-creatures they 
stand entitled to respect, imitation, and gra- 
titude ; but before infinite perfection, they 
must drop their claim, and lie prostrate in 
the dust, imploring forgiveness, not chjil- 
lenging a reward. We all discern a beauty 
and a twinkling lustre in the stars, when 
viewed under the shades of night. But 
when the magnificent source of day ajises, 
their beauty vanishes, their lustre is dark- 
ness. Such axe human accomplishments 
when compared with the perfect law, or 
beheld by the piercing eye of the supremely 
glorious God. 

Ther. Methinks this notion confounds 
the difference of good and evil and by ren- 
dering all our actions blamable would ren- 
der them aU alike. This is levelling with 
a witness ! 

Asp. It only shows, that there are ble- 
mishes in all • whereas, some are flaw and 
blemish all over. Is there no difference 
between the leopard's spots, and the raven's 
foot? If I maintain that neither of those 
animals are perfectly white, does this imply 
that both are equally black ? 

All we perform, however specious it may 
seem, is very far short of our elevated rule ; 
therefore cannot procure the divine fa- 
vour, or entitle us to the kingdom of hea- 
ven. Nay, if God should enter into judg- 
ment Avith us, on the foot of our own per- 
formances, he would discover such defects, 
even in the choicest instances of our obe- 
dience, as must render them matter of con- 
demnation,* not meritorious of applause. 



fortitude of Joshua, the wisdom of Soloi.ion, were 
mghiy esteemed among those very men to whom our 
i^orrt addressed his discourse; yet none can suppose, 
that the endowments of those illustrious personages 
were " an abomination in the sight of God." 

- To this assertion St. Cyril bears a very express 
testimony: "Even those of our actions which seem 
to be performed in a right manner, could not escape 



Be pleased to observe this penknife, — 
What can be more exquisitely keen than 
the edge, or more nicely polished than the 
blade ; but how do they appear when be- 
held through one of those microscopes ? 

Ther. The edge less sharp than the 
woodman's axe, or rather more blunt than- 
his iron wedge. The polish resembles a 
mass of coarse metal, rudely hammered on 
the anvil. 

Asp. How very delicate is the cambric, 
which forms your ruffles, and gives such an 
ornamental air to your whole dress ! No- 
thing can be finer than the threads, or more 
exact than the textiu-e. But what is their 
appearance in a microscopic view ? 

Ther. You would take the fine threads 
for hempen cords ; and Avould almost be 
positive, that they had been wattled toge- 
ther by the clumsy hands of the hurdle-ma- 
ker, rather than curiously wove in the ar- 
tist's loom. 

Asp. That lovely piece of enamel, which 
makes a part of your lady's pensile equipage, 
quite charms the spectator v.ith the just- 
ness of its figm-e, and the radiancy of its 
coloiu-s. But — 

Ther. Under the scrutiny of this search- 
ing instrument it loses all its elegance ; and 
instead of \\'inning oiu- admiration, provokes 
our contempt. It looks like a heap of mor- 
tar plastered on by the mason's trowel. 

Asp. You see then, Theron, what gross 
indelicacies, what bimghng inequalities, this 
supplementary aid to our sight discovers, 
even in the most finished works of human 
art. So, and abundantly more, does the 
immaculate purity of God discern imper- 
fections in our most upright deeds and most 
guarded hours. 

I said immaculate, and I ought to have 
said more ; for God is not only unerringly 
wise to detect, but infinitely ])ure to abhor, 
all contamination. Angels, and the spirits 
of just men made perfect, are endowed with 
immaculate, but the Lord is possessed of in- 
finite purity. Have you c(jnsidered this 
attribute of the Godhead, Theron ? 

Ther. I have ; and not without amaze- 
ment at the charming, the awful descrip- 
tions of it, which occur in the sacred writ- 
ings. God is not only holy, but, as the 
lawgiver of the Jev,'s very sublimely ex- 
presses himself, " glorious in holiness," 
Exod. XV. 11. The sacred penmen, treating 
of this illustrious perfection, seem to la- 
bour the important point. They indulge 
the loftiest flights of imagination : they 
employ the boldest figiu-es of speech ; and 
add the most, glowing colours of eloquence ; 
not \'\athout frequent acknowledgm.ents, 
that all the force of language is abundantly 
too feeble for the unutterable subject. 

censure and biame, if God should examine and brinf 
them to the test." 



240 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



One of the prophets, addressing the 
King eternal, immortal, invisible, breaks 
out into this ecstatic exclamation : " O 
Lord, my God, my Holy One, thou art of 
jHirer eyes than" (to allovi^, shall I say? 
Tliis is an ascription of pi'aise unspeakably 
too mean for thy surpassing excellency : 
Thou art of purer eyes than) " to look upon 
evil, and canst not behold iniquity," (Hab. 1. 
13.) Another, wrapt into a prophetic vi- 
sion, sees the seraphim veiling their faces 
in token of profound humiliation ; hears 
those sons of ardour and love, crying in 
loud responsive strains, " Holy, holy, holy 
is the Lord God of Sabbaoth!"* Nay, so 
transcendently holy, says another devout 
worshipper, that all created glory is totally 
eclipsed in his presence : " He looketh to 
the moon, and it shineth not ; yea, the stars 
are not pure in his sight, (Job. xxv. 5.) 



* Isa vi. 3. The poets and writers of a bold ima- 
gination are particularly fond of machinery ; of 
introducing celestial beings, in order to give some pe- 
culiar dignity to their plan, or someaddi tional strength 
to their sentiments. With what inimitable propriety 
and surprising emphasis is this species of fine writing 
used in scripture, especially in the passage quoted 
above. 

Let us only consider the personages. These are 
the seraphijn ; pure and active spirits, likened by the 
psahnist to flamesof fire; styled by the apostle domi- 
nions and principalities of heaven, who excel in 
strength and wisdom, in every high and bright accom- 
plishment. Their attitude. They wait around the 
King immortal, seated on his exalted throne. They 
stand ; are in a posture of service; with their wings 
outstretched, ready to fly at the first signal. They 
stand not with their eyes reverently cast down, but 
with their faces covered, to denote the deepest self- 
abasement, as creatures that are conscious and asham- 
ed of their own meanness, or as overcome with the 
insupportable glories which beam from uncreated 
majesty. Their action. They celebrate, not in cold 
conversation, but with rapturous songs, not with 
single voices but in a grand choir, (see Psalm Ixxxvii. 
a, G.) the amiable yet tremendous sanctity of the 
Lord Alir.iijhty. Their manner of expression. Though 
filled and penetrated with the prodigious theme, they 
attempt not to descri;)e it. Impracticable that, even 
by the tongue of angels ! They express themselves, 
therefore, m the language of profound admiration, 
in repeated, in reiterated acclamations to the wonder- 
ful attribute ; " Holy ! holy ! holy !" The effects of 
this aiigust appearance The posts of the door shake 
al the voice, — the ponderous and magnificent pillars 
of brass (see 2 Chron. iii. 17,) tremble like a leaf. 
The sp.u-io'is and beautiful house is filled with tokens 
of the divine indignation; is involved in clouds of 
smoke; and joins with the trembling columns, and 
adonng seraphs, to tell the thoughtless world, "what 
a fearful thing it is to fall into the hands of the living 
God !" The prophet himself is struck with astonish- 
ment, — is overwhelmed with awe, — and cries out, 
" as a woman in lier pangs."— Can any thing be more 
enlivened, impressive, and alarming ? 

If I shall not trespass upon the reader's patience, I 
v/oiild beg leave co add a remark concerning the word 
Sabaoth, which, though a. Hebrew expression, is re- 
tained in that excellent hymn entitled TeDeum ; and 
which some people, I am inclined to believe, inadver- 
tently confound with Sabbath. The latter signifies 
the rest of tlie seventh day, and in this connexion, 
yields a sense not very apposite, and comparatively 
mean. Whereas, the former denotes armies or hosts, 
and furnishes us with an image truly grand and ma- 
jestic, worthy to beadmitted into the songs of seraphs. 
It glorifies God, as the great, universal, uncontrol- 
lable Sovereign, who exercises a supreme dominion 
over all the orders of being, from the loftiest arch- 
angel that shines in heaven, to the lowest reptile 
that crawls in dust; who says to a legion of cherubs. 
Go ; and they go ; — to a swarm of insects. Come ; and 
they come ;— to any, to every creature. Do this ; and 
they do it. See Matth. viii. 9. 



And "his yery angels," those refined and ex- 
alted intelligences, " he chargeth with 
folly." (Job. iv. 18.) 

Asp. Veiy majestic descriptions ! And 
pray let us observe the impressions which 
such beamings of the divine effulgence made 
upon the saints of old. Moses, di'awing 
near the cloudy pavilion, the presence- 
chamber of the Holy One of Israel, says, 
with emotions of uncommon dread, " I ex- 
ceedingly fear and quake ! ' (Heb. xii. 21.) 
When Job is favoured with some peculiar 
manifestations of the omnipotent God, see 
his posture ! hear his words ! " I abhor my- 
self, and repent in dust and ashes," (Job 
xlii. 6. ) How strong is the language ! how 
deep the abasement ! When Isaiah saw the 
incomprehensible Jehovah sitting upon his 
throne, and the princes of heaven adoring 
at his footstool, seized with a pang of reve- 
rential feai', he cried out, " Woe is me ! I 
am undone ! for I am a man of unclean 
lips !" (Isa. vi. 5.) When Ezekiel beheld 
an emblematical representation of him who 
dwelleth in light inaccessible; when the 
Ancient of Days, veiled under a human 
shape, appeared to Daniel ; though one was 
a devout priest, and each was an eminent 
prophet, yet, overwhelmed with a mixture 
of veneration and terror, they both " fell 
down at his feet as dead," (Ezek. i. 28; 
Dan. X. 8, 9 ;) and this, not before a full 
display, but only before a glimpse of the 
Godhead, which, though partial and tran- 
sient, was too dazzlingly bright for an eye 
of flesh to bear, 

O my friend ! my Theron ! what figure 
must our mean performances, our low at- 
tainments, make before this immensely glo- 
rious (jod ? Let us examine the behaviour 
and spirit of Job a little more particularly. 
Pie is one of your favourite examples, and 
indeed very deservedly, for in piety he had 
no superior and no equal — " there was none 
like him in the earth ;" yet, when he has to 
do with the Maker of all tilings, and the 
Judge of all men, he pours out his abashed 
soul in these very remarkable professions : 
" If I justify myself, my own mouth shall 
condemn nie ; if I say I am perfect, it shall 
also prove me perverse." — (Job. ix. 20,21, 
30, 31, 32.) He declares yet farther, " If 
I wash myself in snow water, and make my 
hands never so clean, yet shalt thou," O 
righteous and eternal God, " plunge me iu 
the ditch ;" manifest me, notwithstanding 
all this care and circumspection, to be a 
guilty and filthy creature ; yea, so very guilty 
and filthy, that my own clothes, were 
they sensible of the pollution, could not 
but abhor me. 

This he confesses, not because he was 
an habitual sinner, or chargeable v/ith any 
scandalous immorality, but because his mind 
was filled with the most affecting sense of 



DIALOGUE VIII. 



241 



God's inconceivable holiness and infinite ] 
glory. " For," adds the venerable sufferer, 
he is not a man as I am but a Being of 
such extensive knowledge that nothing can 
escape his discemment, of such exalted pu- 
rity that every spot of defilement is loath- 
some in his sight. For which reason, it is 
absolutely impossible that I should an- 
swer him," with reference to my own per 
sonal righteousness, or that we should 
come together in judgment, on any such 
footing, without confusion to myself, and 
ruin to my cause. 

To all this he subjoins, what is still more 
memorable and exemplary ; " Though I were 
perfect, yet would I not know my soul, I would 
despise my life." He supposes himself in 
a higher state than your most advanced Chris- 
tian, " though I were perfect ;" yet even in 
such a state, were it attainable and attained, 
" I would not know my sovl ;" not dwell 
u})on, not plead, no, nor so much as cherish 
a thought of, my own accomplishments and 
acquirements. In the important business of 
justification, they should stand for cyphers ; 
they should be thro\TO into shades ; they 
should entirely disappear. Nay more, " I 
would despise my life:" my life, with all 
its most shining actions and most distin- 
guished virtues, should be reckoned insigni- 
cant and despicable, just as insignificant and 
despicable, with respect to this great tran- 
saction, as a wandering spark would be, if 
appointed to diffuse day amidst the darkness 
of night, or produce spring amidst the depths 
of winter. 

Tker. These are alarming hints, Aspasio, 
I must confess. A law which requires an 
exact and universal obedience, both in heart 
and life ! A God of such majesty, purity, 
and glory, that men of the most approved 
integrity are overwhelmed with confusion 
in his presence ! I shall consider them at 
my leisure with the attention they deserve. 
At present, I believe opportunity is giving 
us the slip. Yonder coach seems to be 
moving this way, and the liveiy looks like 
Philander's. 

Aspasio, desirous to fix those convic- 
tions, which are of the last consequence to 
our faith and salvation — very desirous to 
fix them on his friend's mind, replied : 

Asp. As your visitants are at a distance, 
give me leave to observe, that the wisest of 
men, attending to the first of these particu- 
lars, has poured contempt upon all human 
excellency : " There is not a just man upon 
earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not." 
(Eccl. vii 20.) The apostle of Christ takes 
shame to himself on the same account, and 
teaches all mankind to strike the sail of 
self-conceit : " In many things we offend i 
all." (James iii. 2-) David, considering | 
the latter of these points, prays with the ; 
utmost earnestness, " Enter not into judg- I 



raent with thy servant, O Lord !" and as- 
signs this humbling reason for his petition, 
" for in thy sight shall no man living be 
justified." (Psalm cxliii. 2.) This induced 
Nehemiah, who had been so nobly zealous 
for the honour of his God, not to confide 
in his own valuable services, but make 
application to forgi^nng goodness : " Spare 
me, O Lord, according to thy great mercy." 
(Neh. xiii. 22.) 

Had I set before you the example of the 
poor publican, who smote upon his breast, 
durst not lift up his eyes to heaven, but 
cried, from the bottom of a polluted heart, 
" God be merciful to me a sinner !" (Luke 
xviii. 13,) self-love might possibly have 
whispered, " Surely I am not to be I'anked 
with that abominable wretch. I stand upon 
some better footing than such an infamous 
offender." With respect to the enjoyment 
of eternal life, we stand upon no better, 
upon no other. And when low as that 
obnoxious despised creature, we are upon 
the veiy same ground A^'ith the most ex- 
alted saints. They all appear before the 
Majesty of Heaven, in tlie same attitude of 
unfeigned humiliation, and with the same 
acknowledgments of utter unworthiness. 
For it is a certain truth, and admits of no 
exception, that to justify sinners is not the 
privilege of human obedience, but the sole 
prerogative of "the Lord our righteousness/* 

Ther. Is not the practice of Hezekiah 
an exception to your rule ? These, if I re- 
collect aright, are the words of that holy 
king : " I beseech thee, O Lord, remember 
how I have walked before thee in truth, 
and with a perfect heart, and have done 
that which is good in thy sight. (2 Kings 
XX. 3.) You see, he puts the issue of his 
trial before the everlasting God, upon his 
own integrity and his own obedience. 

Asp. These are his words, but they are 
not used with this view. He humbly re- 
presents before the great Sovereign of the 
world, how beneficial his former life had 
been, and how ser\aceable his prolonged 
life might be, to the best interests of the 
Jewish nation. He recurs to his obedience, 
not that he may establish his hope of eter- 
nal happiness in heaven, but that he may 
obtain a reprieve from the grave, and a 
lengthening of his tranquillity on earth. 
Neither is this obedience gloried in by 
way of merit, but only pleaded by way 
of argument, as though he had said, " Re- 
member, gracious God, how I have ex- 
erted my royal authority to suppress idola- 
try, to extirpate vice, and to promote thy 
true religion. Consider hov/ greatly thy 
people stand in need of such a vigilant and 
zealous governor ; and to v.'hat a miserable 
condition both church and state may be re- 
duced, if thou takest away thy servant by 
this threatened but untimely stroke.' And, 

R 



242 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



for the welfare of Judah, for the honour of 
thy name^ for the support of thy own wor- 
ship, O spare me a little /" 

Aspasio paused, expecting a reply. As 
Theron continued silent and musing, As- 
pasio, with a smile of benevolence, pro- 
ceeded Come, my Theron ! why so deep 

in thought ? Have you any objection to the 
evidences I have produced ! They are 
some of the most dignified characters and 
illustrious personages that could be selected 
from all ages : kings, princes, and patriots ; 
priests, saints, and martyrs. Should these 
be deemed insufficient, I can exhibit a larger 
and nobler cloud of witnesses : — ^larger, for 
they are a great multitude, which no man 
can number, of all nations, and kindreds, 
and people, and tongues ; nobler, for they 
stand before the throne, and before the 
Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms 
in their hands. Ask those shining armies, 
who they are, and whence they came ? 
Their answer is comprised in one of my 
favourite portions of scripture, one of those 
delightful texts, from which I hope to de- 
rive consolation even in my last moments. 
For which reason, you will allow me to re- 
peat it, though it may perhaps be mention- 
ed in a former conversation : " We are 
they who came out of great tribulation ; and 
have washed our robes, and made them 
white in the blood of the Lamb ; therefore, 
are we before the throne." (Rev. vii. 14,15.) 

Some of them laid down their lives for 
the sake of Christ; many of them were 
eminent for works of righteousness ; all of 
them were endued with real holiness. Yet 
none of these qualifications constituted their 
passport into the regions of endless felicity. 
They had "washed their robes," had fled to 
the atonement, and pleaded the merits of 
Jesus their Saviour. Hereby they had 
" made them white ;" this was the cause of 
their acquittance from guilt, and their com- 
plete justification : and therefore, on this 
account, their persons were accepted ; they 
were presented without spot before the 
throne, and admitted to that fulness of joy, 
which is at God's right hand for evermore. 

Ther. I have no objection to your wit- 
nesses. But, methinks, your doctrine is 
strangely debasing to human natiu-e. 

Asp. A sign, Theron, that is agreeable 
to the genius of the gospel ; which is cal- 
culated, as the eloquent Isaiah foretold, to 
humble the sinner, and exalt the Saviour : * 



* This corresponds with a very valuable maxim, 
which an eminent divine once recommended to his 
people, as a touchstone to distinguish evangelical 
truth.—" That doctrine," he said, " which tends 

To humble the sinner; 

To exalt the Saviour; 

To promote holiness;" 
That doctrine which tends to accomplish all these 
designs, you may embrace as sound. That which is 
defective in its influence on any one of them, you 
should reject as corrupt. 



" The loftiness of man shall be bowed 
down, and the haughtiness of man shall be 
made low, and the Lord alone shall be ex- 
alted in that day." (Isaiah ii. 11.) " Man, 
though naturally vain, shall be made sensi- 
ble of his numberless offences ; shall see 
the defects which attend his highest attain- 
ments ; shall confess the impossibility of 
being justified by the deeds of the law ; and 
place all his hope upon the propitiatory 
death, and meritorious obedience, of the 
Lord Jesus Christ. 



DIALOGUE IX. 

Theron, impressed with the last conver- 
sation, was very desirous to resume the sub- 
ject, and renew the important debate. With 
this view he conducted his friend into a re- 
tirement commodious for the purpose. 

They enter a spacious lawn, which lay 
opposite to the house, and stretched itself 
in the form of an expanded fan. The mounds 
on either side were dressed in verdure, and 
ran out in a slanting direction. The whole, 
to an eye placed at a distance, bore the re- 
semblance of a magnificent vista j contract- 
ing by slow degrees its dimensions, and les- 
sening at last into a point, which the regular 
and graceful seat with all imaginable dignity 
supplied. 

Nature had sunk the lawn into a gentle 
decline, on whose ample sides were oxen 
browsing and Iambs frisking. The lusty 
droves lowed as they past, and the thriving 
flocks bleated welcome music in their mas- 
ter's ear. Along the midst of this verdant 
slope ran a spacious and extensive walk, 
which, coated with gravel, and fenced with 
pallisadoes, looked like a plain stripe of 
brown intersecting a carpet of the brightest 
green. At the bottom, two handsome ca- 
nals, copiously stocked with fish, floated to 
the breeze ; whose waters, beheld from 
every front room in the house, had a fine ef- 
fect upon the sight, not without a refresh- 
ing influence on the imagination. At the 
extremity of one stood a stately colonnade. 
The roof was elevated on pillars of the 
Ionic order ; and the area slabbed with 
stones, neatly ranged in the diamond fashion. 
Several forest chairs accommodated the ang- 
lers with a seat, while the bending dome 
supplied them with a shade. 

Corresponding, and on the margin of the 
other canal, was erected a summer-house, of 
a very singular kind — The lower part had 
an opening towards the north. It was cool ; 
it was gloomy ; and had never seen the sun. 
It carried the romantic air of a grotto, or 
rather the pensive appearance of a hermit's 
cell. The outside was coarse and rugged 
with protuberant stones. Partly overspread 
with ivy, partly covered with moss, it seem- 
ed to be the work of ancient years. You 



DIALOGUE IX. 



243 



descend, by steps of turf, through a low and 
narrow door. A scanty iron grate, instead 
of a large sweeping sash, transmits a glim- 
mering light, just sufficient to discover the 
inner structure, which appeared like one 
continued piece of rock- work — a cavern 
cut, you would imagine, from the surround- 
ing quarry. Above, hung an irregular arch, 
with an aspect rather threatening than in- 
viting. Below, lay a paving of homely peb- 
bles ; in some places a little furrowed, as 
though it had been worn by the frequent 
tread of solitary feet. All around were rus- 
ticity and solemnity ; solemnity never more 
visibly seen than through a gloom. The 
furniture o't the same grotesque fashion with 
the apartment. A bench hewed, you would 
suspect, by nature's chisel, out of the solid 
stone ; a sort of couch, composed of swell- 
ing moss, and small fibrous roots. From one 
corner trickled a pure spring, which crept 
with a bubbling moan along the channelled 
floor, till its healthy current was collected 
into a bason, rudely scooped from the ground- 
On the edge of this little receptacle lay 
chained a rusty bowl, and over it stood an 
antique worm-eaten table. On the least 
obscure part of the wall you discern, dimly 
discern, a parchment scroll, inscribed with 
that sage, but mortifying admonition, " Va- 
nity of vanities ! all is vanity !" 

Over this recess, so pleasingly horrid, and 
adapted to solemn musings, arose an open 
and airy Belvidere. You ascend by winding 
stairs ; and coming from the uncouth abode 
below, are sweetly surprised with an elegant 
hexagon. The ceiling lofty, and decorated 
with the softest, richest, almost flowing fret- 
work. The wainscot, in pannels of oak, 
retained its native auburn ; so beautifully 
plain, that, like an amiable countenance, it 
would have been disfigured, rather than im- 
proved, by the most costly paint. On this 
were disposed, in gilded frames, and to great 
advantage, a variety of entertaining land- 
scapes. But none surpassed, none equalled, 
all were a foil to the noble, lovely views 
which the windows commanded. The chim- 
ney-piece, of white shining marble, streaked 
with veins of vivid red. Over it" was carv- 
ed a fine festoon of artificial, in it was rang- 
ed a choice collection of natural flowers. On 
a table of glossy walnut lay a portable tele- 
scope, attended with Thomson's Seasons, 
and Vanierii Prcedium Rusticum* 

The whole was fitted up in the highest 
taste, and furnished with every pleasurable 
ornament, on purpose to harmonize with that 
lavish gaiety, which seemed to smile over 



* " Vanierii Pra;dium Rusticum." A most elegant 
Latin poem ; which treats of every remarkable pecu- 
liarity relating to the business of a country life, or 
the furniture of a country seat. It entertains us with 
a description of the most agreeable objects, in an easy 
flow of the purest language, and most musical num- 
bers. 



all the face of nature : on purpose to corres- 
pond with that vernal delight, which came 
breathing on the wings of every fragrant 
gale : I may add, on purpose to remind the 
beholder of those immortal mansions, which 
are decorated with images infinitely more 
splendid, with objects unspeakably more 
glorious ; where holy beings will spend, not 
a few vacant hours in refined amusement, 
but a boundless eternity in the consumma- 
tion of joy. For, to a well-turned mind 
nature is a preceptor; and these are her in- 
structive lessons : To the pure in heart, 
even sense is edifying, and these are its de- 
licate moralities. 

The redundant waters of the canal rolled 
off" in a spreading cascade ; which, tumbling 
from many a little precipice, soothed the air 
with a symphony of soft and gurgling 
sounds, nor ever intermitted the obliging of- 
fice, 

" From mom to noon, from noon to dewy eve." 

But when the fanning breezes dropt their 
wings, when the feathered choir were hush- 
ed in sleep, when not so much as a chirping 
grasshopper was heard throughout the meads, 
this liquid instrument still played its solo, 
still pursued its busy way, and warbled, as 
it flowed melodious murmurs. 

Asp. Such, Theron, so uniform, uninter- 
rupted, and invariable, should be our con- 
formity to the divine law. But, alas ! those 
sacred precepts are so exceeding broad, that 
the most enlarged human obedience is far 
from being commensurate to their extent ; 
so absolutely holy, that our highest attain- 
ments fall vastly short of their exalted per- 
fection. How then can we expect justifica- 
tion from such a consummate rule ? How 
dare we place our dependence upon such 
imperfect duties ? especially before a God 
of unerring discernment and immactdate pu- 
rity. 

Ther. Because mankind are incapable of 
pleasing their Maker, by yielding an absolute 
and invariable obedience to the moral law ; 
does it follow from thence, that they cannot 
render themselves acceptable to him, by an 
universal coin-se of sincere obedience ? 

Asp. I think it follows from what has 
been already observed. If you desire new 
arguments, they are at hand. 

The law, says the teacher of the Gentiles, 
is the ministration of condemnation.* How 
can this be true, if it requires no more than 
a sincere obedience ; such as is proportion- 
ed to our infirm state ? If this be sufficient 
to justify, and entitle us to our Creator's 
favour, the law ceases to be the ministration 



* 2 Cor. iii. 7. In this place, I apprehend, the apos- 
tle means the moral law, and that principally, as that 
alone was written and engraven on stones. Elsewhere, 
I believe he uses the word in a larger sense ; and in- 
tends to exclude all law whatever from bearing any 
share in our justification. 



2U 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



of condemnation. It becomes (which is 
flatly contradictory to the apostle s doctrine) 
the ministration of righteousness- 

The law is styled, by the same inspired 
teacher, " a schoolmaster to bring us to 
Christ.* How can it, upon your supposi- 
tion, be qualified for such an oflSce ? If a 
sincere obedience be the whole of its de- 
mands, it can no longer direct us to Christ, 
it will no longer deliver us over to a Re- 
deemer's merit ; but must draw and attach 
us to itself, teaching us to look upon its 
precepts, and our own conscientious observ- 
ance of them, as the tenure of eternal life. 

Do you insist upon a third proof ? A 
third presents itself; not so much founded 
on argumentation, as deduced from example. 
How was Abraham, the friend of God and 
father of the faithful, justified ? By a course 
of sincere obedience ? No ; but by faith 
in the promised Messiah. " Abraham 
worked not," with a view to obtain justifi- 
cation ; but believed on him, who justifieth 
the ungodly.f How was David, the man 
after God's own heart, justified ?f By his 
zeal for the Lord, and by his eminent ser- 
vices? No ; but by a righteousness imput- 
ed; even that righteousness of the blessed 
Redeemer, through which " iniquity is for- 
given, and sin pardoned." And can we be 
said to walk humbly, or can we be thought 
to walk surely, if, refusing to tread in the 
steps of these exemplary saints, we diverge 
into a path of our own devising ? 

Ther. " Of oiu" own devising !" No, my 
friend ; there is a milder law introduced by 
the gospel, condescending and merciful to 
our infirmities, which accepts of sincerity 
instead of perfect obedience. 

Asp. When was this milder law intro- 
duced, and the stricter abrogated ? Not 
upon the entrance of sin, I presume. At 
this rate, the original law must be the crea- 
ture of a few days, perhaps of a few hours 
only. But can we imagine, that the all- wise 
and unchangeable God would ordain a sys- 
tem of precepts to be disannulled as soon as 
enacted ? Not in our Lord's time, 1 am 



* Gal. iii. 24. ^^ll-r t^xyooyos" a schoolmaster; 
who pretends not to finish the education of youth, 
but directs them to, and prepares them for, higher 
studies or nobler employs. The law, in like manner, 
aims not at furnishing us with a title to happiness ; 
but fits, disposes, and disciplines us, for the all-suffi- 
cient Redeemer. 

t These two examples are, with the truest judg- 
ment, selected, and with the utmost propriety applied, 
Rom. iv. 1, &c. Rom. iv. 6, &c. Absaham was the 
most illustrious pattern of piety among the Jewish 
patriarchs: " In g!ory there was none like him," Ec- 
clus. xliv. 9. David was the most zealous and se- 
raphic of their kings ; '* a man after God's own 
heart," 1 Sam xiii. 14. If neither of these was justi- 
fied by his own obedience, but each by an imputed 
righteousness, if they both obtained acceptance with 
God, not as upright beings, who might claim it ; but 
as sinful creatures, who must implo e it; the conse- 
quence is glaring. It is such as must strike every 
attentive understanding, and must affect every indi- 
vidual person. 



very certain. That holy comnflartdmenf, 
which requires supreme love to God, and 
perfect charity to men, he assures us, was 
still in force, Matth. xxii. 37, 38, 39. Nay 
it is evident, from the nature of the Deity, 
and from our relation to one another, that 
it always will be in force, that it never can 
cease, but is necessary and everlasting. 

" A milder law, condescending to our in- 
firmities!" What can be the purport of 
such an institution ? It must be supposed 
to speak the following language : " Be it 
known unto you, O children of Adam, that 
you are no longer enjoined to love the Lord 
with all your strength, nor to love your 
neighbour as yourselves. Once, indeed, I 
insisted upon absolute purity of heart ; now 
1 can dispense with some degree of evil con- 
cupiscence. Since Christ is come, and his 
gospel preached, you need not always be 
clothed with humility ; but may feel some 
little emotions of pride. In short, because 
you are weak, I will connive, or even ac- 
commodate my demands to your enfeebled 
and depraved condition." 

Not to urge (what must be shocking to 
every ear) that such a doctrine would make 
the Holy One of God a minister of sin, and 
the gospel of our salvation a patent for licen- 
tiousness ; let me only ask. Does this agree 
with our l^ord's declaration, " One jot or 
tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till 
all be fulfilled ? Matth. v. 18. Is this suit- 
able to the perfections of the divine Legis- 
lator ? " with whom is no variableness, nor 
shadow of turning," James i. 1 7. Will this 
consist with the avowed resolution of the 
Almighty Jehovah, " He will magnify the 
law, and make it honourable?" Isa. xlii. 
2L 

Ther. However you may decry what I 
call the milder law, St. Paul asserts it to be 
the Christian scheme. This he strenuous- 
ly argues for as the only scheme by which 
any man can be justified in the sight of God. 

Asp. Does he, Theron ? in what epistle ? 
what chapter ? what verse ? He says, ad- 
dressing himself to the Galatian converts, 
" I do not frustrate the grace of God, for, 
if righteousness come by the law, Christ is 
dead in vain,'' Gal. ii. 2L From which 
passage, we learn two very momentous 
truths, that were we to derive a justifying 
righteousness from the law, this would not 
only be derogatory to the honour of grace, 
but subversive of its very being ; that by 
seeking justification through our own con- 
scientious behaviour, we make, as far as in 
us lies, the death of Christ a vain thing, for 
which there was no occasion, and of which 
there is no use. 

To the same piu-pose it is written in that 
invaluable epistle to the Romans, If they 
which are of the law be heirs," if they who 
trust to their own performance of the law 



DIALOGUE IX. 



245 



are thereby entitled to the heavenly inheri- 
.tance ; " faitli is naade void, and the promise 
made of none effect," Rom. iv. l4. — See 
now, my friend, the tendency of your opinion! 
It is not a mere speculative mistake, an ei- 
. ror of inconsiderable consequence, but such 
as strikes at the fundamentals of the gospel. 
. Instead of being the only Christian scheme, 
it totally overthrows Christianity itself.* 
For it would render the promise abortive, 
and supersede the necessity of faith ; it 
would destroy the very existence of grace, 
and make even the death of Christ a super- 
fluous transaction. 

Ther. This I see, Aspasio, that the me- 
thod of obtaining acceptance on account of 
our own sincerity, is a benign expedient, 
such as corresponds with the compassionate 
nature of the Deity, and is what the apostle 
styles, " being justified by faith, without the 
deeds of the law." 

Asp. How ! To be justified by faith, 
and justified by sincerity, the same thing ? 
Is it possible that these should be equiva- 
lent terms ? Let me illustrate my query by 
a similitude, which our present situation 
suggests. Sometimes an easy comparison 
is more convincing than a laboured argu- 
ment. 

From this pleasing eminence we com- 
mand an extensive view of the country. 
Our eye connects the artless grandeur of 
Jiature with the elegant embellishments of 
the summer-house. Nor is the public road 
the least entertaining part of the scene ; be- 
cause it presents us with a moving picture, 
with a perpetual succession of new objects. 
How many travellers have passed in review 
since we took our seat in this agreeable ele- 
vation ! Just at this instant a stage-coach 
bolts out of the lane, filled, I presume, with 
passengers that reside in the neighbourhood, 
or are to lodge in the next market- town. 
We will suppose them set down at their 
journey's end. An acquaintance visits them, 
congratulates them on their arrival; and asks 
that customary question, " how they came ?" 
" We came," say they, " without walking a 
step ourselves, yet by walking, as well, and 
as far as we are able.'' Is this answer 
intelligible ? Are these methods of travel- 
ling consistent? So intelligible is my 
friend's doctrine ; so consistent is justifica- 
tion vouchsafed without the deeds of the 
law; and justification obtained by perform- 
ing the deeds of the law as well as we are 
able. 



* St. Paul says of those preachers who taught jus- 
tification by the works of the law, " they would 
pervert," or (as the original word /J^ eras- r^s^ro-a; may 
Retranslated) subvert and overthrow "the gospel of 
Christ." To pervert, give a wrong turn, or a false 
colour, seems not to express fully the apostle's idea, 
nor to preserve the native energy of his argument, [ 
The Greek word is equivalent to the Hebrew 
which we generally render everferc, Gal. i. /• ~ | 



Ther. Without the law, signifies without 
the necessity of an exact and unerring con- 
formity to it. 

Asp. This is not without, but by the law, 
qualified in the rigour of its demands, and 
departing somewhat from the perfection of 
its precepts. Could you affirm with any 
propriety, that this part of the hemisphere 
is without the sun, because an intervening 
cloud has moderated its fervour and abated 
its glare ? 

What says the apostle ? His words in 
another place will determine his meaning in 
this. If a state of acceptance with God be 
of works, be referable to our own obedi- 
ence, whether sincere or perfect, " it is rio 
more of grace."* Works and grace, in 
point of justification, are irreconcilable op- 
posites. On this pinnacle they cannot 
stand together. One must supplant and 
overthrow the other. 

But why do I speak of grace ? If my 
friend's opinion prevail, grace is at an end. 
What we took to be the gospel, turns out 
a covenant of works. Salvation ceases to 
be a free gift, and becomes a necessary pay - 
ment. For " to him that worketh," that per- 
formeth what the law requires, " is the re- 
ward not reckoned of grace ;" but he may 
claim it as his due, it must be paid him as 
matter of debt ; Rom. iv. 4. 

Ther. You take no notice of what I ur- 
ged concerning the benignity of this scheme, 
and how much it magnifies the clemency 
of the great Legislator, 

Asp. But why should clemency erect its 
throne on the ruins of almost every other 
attribu1?e ? This method would dishonour 
the veracity of God, which has denounced 
a curse upon every deviation from his re- 
vealed will. It would depreciate the ad- 
ministration of his justice, which cannot but 
punish whatever violates his sacred precepts. 
It would greatly derogate from the dignity 
of his law, and make it a mere thing of wax 
to bend, and truckle, and take its form from 
the sin and weakness of human nature. 

Ther. Will the divine law then make no 
favourable allowances for human infirmities, 
for constitutional faults, and strength of 
passion ? 

Asp. Far be it from me to represent the 
law of the Most High, either more strict, or 
more yielding, than it really is. To avoid 
all possibility of such a mistake, let us heat 
the declaration of the law itself : " Cursed 
is every one that continueth not in all things 
that are written in the book of the law, 
to do them." Gal. iii. 10. 



* Rom. xi. 6. The passage produced by Aspasio, 
refers immediately to the doctrine of election, and 
but remotely to the privilege of justification. How- 
( ever, as the former includes the latter, if that be per- 
fectly free, this cannot be the consequence of works. 
The argument therefore. I apprehend, is conclusive, 
I though the proof is not 50 direct. 



246 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



" Every one ;" without any exception of 
persons, without any regard to pleas, either 
of human weakness or violent temptation. 
' — " That continueth not ;" it is not enough 
to observe these holy commandments in the 
general tenor of our conversation. Our 
course of obedience must be without any 
intermission, from the earliest dawn of rea- 
son to the latest period of life. " In all 
things ;" we must refrain from all the sins 
that are forbidden, and from every approach 
towards them. We must practise all the 
virtues that are enjoined, and in their full 
extent of perfection. 

In a word, the law insists upon obedience, 
perfect in its principle, perfect in all its 
parts, perfect in every degree, and in each 
of these respects perpetual.* The least de- 
ficiency in anyone particular renders us liable 
to vengeance ; and notwithstanding any re- 
pentance for transgressions, notwithstanding 
all pretensions to sincerity of heart, subjects 
us to the curse. 

Theron paused : — he seemed to be 
struck with surprise ; — but rallying his 
thoughts, replied, If this be the sense of the 
passage ; who of all flesh can be saved ? 

Asp. Say rather, If the extent of the di- 
vine law be so enlarged, if its demands be 
so high, and its sanction so awfully rigor- 
ous, then must " every mouth be stopped ; 
— then IS all the world become guilty before 
God ; and by the works of the law shall 
no man hving be justified." 

Ther. Will not such excessively severe 
doctrine drive people into despondency, or 
even drown them in despair? 

Asp. No, Theron ; unless it be such a 
despair as is the parent of heavenly hope, 
and productive of those amiable twins — 
peace and joy : A despair, I mean, of being 
reconciled to our offiended God, and of ob- 
taining eternal happiness by any satisfaction 
or any duties of our own, 

Ther. Surely, you forget the gracious 
manifesto published by the condescending 
King of heaven : " If there be first a wil- 
ling mind, it is accepted, according to what 
a man hath, not according to what he hath 
not," 2 Cor. viii. 12. Is it not plain from 
this text, that infinite goodness will admit 
our honest, though imperfect endeavours ; 
and, since we are not able to pay an unsin- 
ning, will mercifully accept our best obe- 
dience? 

Asp. I donotforget,but possibly myfriend 
may misapply, the gracious manifesto. To 
whom was the word of this consolation sent ? 
To true believers, who had "given their 
own selves to the Lord," 2 Cor. viii. 5 ; 



* That the law insists upon an obedience absolute- 
ly perfect, will be farther evident to the attentive 
reader, if he considers the tenor of St. Paul's argu- 
mentation, in his epistles to the Romans, and to the 
Galatians ; particularly Rom. iii, 23. iv= 15. Gal. iii. 
21. 



who " were established in Christ," 2 Cot, 
i. 21 ; "and abounded in faith," 2 Cor. viii. 
7. If you likewise, my dear Theron, ac- 
knowledge yourself a vile sinner in your 
worst, and an unprofitable servant in your 
best estate ; if, in consequence of this ac- 
knowledgment, you fly for refuge to the 
wounds of a crucified Saviour, and rely for sal- 
vation only on his obedience unto death j then 
you imitate those Corinthian converts ; then 
you may apply that indulgent declaration to 
yourself ; and then would I venture to ad- 
dress you, in the elegant and cheering lan- 
guage of the royal preacWbr, " Go thy way, 
eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine 
with a merry heart ; for God now accept- 
eth"* both thy person and thy perform- 
ances. 

But if you overlook the righteousness of 
the blessed Jesus : if you depend upon your- 
self and your own attainments • you are (how 
shall I speak it) not accepted, but accursed. 
In such a case you have already heard your 
doom denounced by the leader of the Jews, 
and may hear it ratified by the apostle of 
the Gentiles : " As many as are of the 
works of the law," who seek justification by 
their own observance of its commands, 
" are under the curse." Gal. iii. 10. 

Ther. Under the curse ! Because our at- 
tempts to obey, though faithfully exerted, 
are attended with defects ! Is not this un- 
reasonable and shocking ? Unreasonable, 
that the God of justice should establish a 
law of such consummate perfection, as no 
child of Adam can, even with his utmost 
assiduity and care, fulfil ? Shocking, that 
the God of mercy should thunder out so 
severe a denunciation on the least inadver- 
tent breach, on every unavoidable failure ? 
This exceeds the relentless rigour of Draco, 
or the tyrannical impositions of Egyp- 
tian task-masters. Draco is said to have 
written his laws in blood ; yet he never en- 
acted such institutions as were absolute- 
ly too strict and difficult to be observ- 
ed. And though the Egyptian task-mas- 
ters insisted upon the full tale of bricks, 
without allowing the necessary proportion 
of straw ; yet the punishment they inflicted 
was incomparably less than everlasting de^ 
struction. 

Asp. If God Almighty, in delivering his 
law to fallen mankind, intended to propose 
the means of their justification, your argu- 
ment would be valid, and your inference unde- 



* Eccl. ix. 7. Aspasio's remark discovers an ambi- 
gTiity in the word accepted. If people mean, that 
sincere obedience shall be accepted, as their justifying 
righteousness, as that which constitutes their title to 
everlasting felicity, the proposition is extremely false. 
If they mean, that the sincere obedience of believers, 
though very imperfect in itself, shall be graciously 
regarded in Christ, and find favour through his all- 
recommending merit, the sentiment is vmquestiona- 
bly true. 



DIALOGUE IX. 



niable. But the Supreme Legislator had a 
very different, a far more mysterious design. 
However, before I proceed to touch upon 
this point, let me desire to know your 
opinion — For what reasons, think you, was 
the law ordained ? 

Tker. For what reasons ? To deter men 
from the commission of vice, and excite 
them to the practice of virtue. To set before 
them a rule for their conduct which, if they 
diligently observe, they shall be rewarded 
with eternal happiness ; which, if they pre 
sumptuously transgress, they shall be pun- 
ished with eternal misery. 

Asp. If man had never fallen, this doc- 
trine had been sound divinity, and this me- 
thod a practicable scheme. But ever since 
the fall, such a way of salvation is some- 
what like the north-east passage. As moun- 
tains of ice, and the severest rigours of win- 
ter, block up this, — so extreme impo- 
tence in man, and the utmost perfection 
in the law, bar up that. " The law," 
saith the apostle, " is weak is incapable 
of furnishing us with a title to the heaven- 
ly felicity ;* not through any defect in its 
precepts, but " through the flesh," through 
the inability of our degenerate nature. 

Yet I must confess you are not alone in 
your opinion. Multitudes have unwarily 
entertained the same notion; not appre- 
hensive that they frustrate hereby the grace 
of God, and render it of none effect with re- 
gard to themselves. If you examine the 
scriptural account, you will find it quite 
of another strain. 

TTier. Pray let me hear the scriptural ac- 
count. For whenever those divine oracles 
speak, I am all attention : Wherever they 
interpose theirauthority, lam all submission. 

Asp. " By the law is the knowledge of 
sin," Rom. iii. 20, Far from being our 
justifier, it is our accuser. It arraigns, and 
proves us guilty. It demonstrates, beyond 
all possibility of contradiction, that the very 
best among us have failed and come short 
of our duty ; nay, that the very best among 
us have done amiss, and dealt wickedly. 

" I was alive without the law once," says 
the apostle, Rom. vii. 9. I thought my- 
self upright and holy ; and entitled, by 
virtue of these qualifications, to life eternal. 
*' But when the commandment came," 
shining in its purity, and operating with 
power, "sin revived:" a clear and lively sense 
of guilt shot, like a piercing ray, through all 
my soul. I saw myself chargeable with 
many past provocations. I felt myself 



* Rom. viii. 3. Therefore he says in another place, 
*• If there had been a law given, which could have 
given life." Gal. iii. 21. It is the same way of 
speaking, and intended to denote the very same im- 
possibility, which is implied in that speech of Jeho- 
vah to Abraham, " If a man can number the dust of 
the eartli." Gen. xiii. 16. 



subject to much remaining corruption. In 
consequence of which "I died:" my vain 
conceits were blasted ; my presumptuous 
hopes expired ; I could not but acknowledge 
myself justly liable to condemnation and 
death. 

77ier. It had this effect on Saul, when he 
was a malignant and barbarous persecutor. 
But when people are virtuous and benevo- 
lent, what purpose does it then serve ? 

Asp. A very important one ; yet such as 
may probably, at the first hearing, affect you 
with a little surprise. " The law enter- 
ed," says the apostle, " that the offence 

might " 

Ther. Be restrained, no doubt. 
Asp. That the offence might "abound," 
Rom. V. 20. is the assertion. 

7%er. Surprising indeed ! Is it possible 
that God's law should give countenance to 
sin ? nay, add spurs to the sinner ? 

Asp. Let us beware of mistaking our sa- 
cred casuist. The law entered, not that the 
commission of sin might be authorized, but 
that the abundance of our sins might be 
manifested ; that all mankind, even your 
virtuous persons, may perceive the great 
multitude of their iniquities, the greater im- 
purity of their hearts,* together with the 
utter imperfection of their highest attain- 
ments, and best services. 

This end could not be answered by a law 
relaxed in its demands, or warping to our 
weakness ; only by a system of precepts 
every way exact, and in all degrees perfect. 
Whoever would represent to his neighbours 
the spots that sully, or the scars that disfi- 
gure his countenance, must effect the de- 
sign, not by a stained, but by a pure mirror. 

Ther. The knowledge of sin, and a con- 
viction of our exceeding sinfulness :" these 
are intentions which I should not have sus- 
pected. 

Asp. These are not all. There is an- 
other intention of the law, equally neces- 
sary, and no less awful : " it reveals the 
wrath of God against all ungodliness and 
unrighteousness of men." Romans, i. 18. 
Having set before the sinner his innumera- 
ble offences and enormous guilt, it denounces 
the doom which he deserves ; it unsheathes 
the sword of justice, and threatens the of- 
fender with everlasting destruction from the 
presence of the Lord. 

T/ier. A modem writer supposes, that God 
may set aside the law, in favour of frail men. 
I might far more reasonably suppose, that 
he would mitigate the law, on the same con- 
sideration. But what you urge makes me 
afraid to lean on so precarious a prop. 

Asp. To look for comfort and salvation 
from this quartei', would be to lean, as the 



And therefore was law given them, to evinc 
Their natural pravity.— ;^/^7^ow, b. 12. 1. 2b7. 



248 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



Arabian proverb speaks, on a wave of the 
sea," which will not only fail to support, 
but will certainly swallow up the unadvised 
and rash depender. 

No, Theron ; rather than the divine law 
should lose its honours, Sodom and Gomor- 
rah were laid in ashes ; the ancient world 
was destroyed with a deluge ; the present 
frame of nature is destined to the flames, and 
all its unholy inhabitants will be condemned 
to hell. Nay, rather than the least tittle 
should pass unaccomplished, its curse has 
been executed on God's own Son, and all 
its injunctions have been fulfilled in the per- 
son of Jesus Christ. 

Ther. As I dare not confide in the mo- 
dern provisionary salvo, so neither can I ac- 
cede to your severe and terrifying notions. 
The laws of a wise and beneficent governor 
are calculated for the good of his subjects. 
What good, what advantage can accrue to 
us, from receiving such a sentence, and pos- 
sessing such convictions ? 

Asp. Though I might mention many ad- 
vantages, I shall content myself with select- 
ing one, which is not only valuable in itself, 
but the introduction to every spiritual bless- 
ing. When, by the instrumentality of the 
law, and the illumination of the Spirit, we 
are brought under such convictions, then we 
are taught to see our danger ; then we are 
made to feel our misery ; and then we shall 
no longer sleep in security, but solicitously 
look out for deliverance, and gladly accept 
the sovereign remedy. 

Ther. The law, according to your repre- 
sentation, is intended to accuse me — to con- 
vict me — to condemn me. So it becomes, 
instead of a salutary, a killing system. 

Asp. " The letter killeth, but the spii-it 
giveth life." 2 Cor. iii. 6. If we adhere to 
the literal sense, without attending to the 
spiritual design ; if we regard only the pre- 
cept and the sanction as they stand in them- 
selves, and neither consider nor improve 
them as acting in subserviency to the Medi- 
ator's righteousness ; they are doubtless a 
killing ordinance, and bind us Ao\xr\ under a 
sentence of death. But, rightly improved 
—Hold ! let me proceed no farther with the 
argument. 

You are a sportsman, Theron, and delight 
in the manly recreations of the field ; you 
must therefore have read that fine poem, 
which so elegantly describes your favourite 
diversion. 

Ther. The Chase, I suppose you mean. 

Asp The same. Do you remember the 
large description of the royal stag chase ? 

Ther. Perfectly well. It is not a week 
since I perused the whole passage, and with 
as much pleasure as if it had been entirely 
new. ,^ 

Asp. Then you can give me a summary 
pf '.he agreeable narrative. 



Ther. I Can. But will r>ot this chase, 
lead us away very far from our subject ? 

Asp. Perhaps not so far as you imagine. 
I have a reason for my request. 

Ther. What reason, I beseech you ? 

Asp. You shall soon know. Only favour 
me with the account. 

Ther. 1 protest, I cannot discern the least 
connexion between these rural sports and 
the grand topic of our conversation. Howev- 
er, since you command, I will implicitly obey. 

The stag, roused from his lair, shakes his 
dappled sides ; tosses his beamy head ; and, 
conscious of superior agility, seems to defy 
the gathering storm. You see, speaking of 
poetry, I have caught something of the po- 
etical strain. 

Asp. This enhvened manner excites my 
eagerness, and makes me more desirous to 
hear the sequel. 

Ther. First, he has recourse to stratagem, 
and evasive shifts. He plunges into the 
copse ; darts across the glade, and wheels 
about in doubling mazes, as though he would 
pursue even the foe he avoids. The full- 
mouthed pack unravel all his windings, and 
drive him from his wily arts. 

Now he betakes himself to flight, and 
confides in his speed. He bursts through 
the woods, bounds over the lawns, and leaves 
the lagging beagles far behind. The beagles, 
slow but sure, trace his steps through woods, 
through lawns, through half the extended 
forest : Unwearied, still vmwearied, they 
urge their ardent way, and gain upon the 
alarmed object of their pursuit. 

Again he flies, flies with redoubled swift- 
ness ; shoots down the steep j strains up the 
hill ; and takes shelter in the inmost recess 
of some sequestered grove. The sagacious 
hounds hang, with greedy nostrils, on the 
scent. They recover, by indefatigable as- 
siduity, the ground they had lost. Up they 
come a third time ; and, joining in a ge- 
neral peal of vengeance, hurry the affrighted 
animal from his short concealment. 

Perplexed, and in the utmost distress, he 
seeks the numerous herd. He would lose 
himself, and elude his pursuers, amidst the 
multitude of his fellows. But they, uncon- 
cerned for a brother's woe, shun the miser- 
able creature, or expel him from the selfish 
' circle. Abandoned by his associates, and 
haunted with apprehensions of approaching 
ruin, he trembles at every leaf that shakes. 
He starts ; he springs ; and wild, and svs'ift 
as the wind, flies he knows not where, yet 
pours all his soul in flight. Vain, vain arq 
his efforts ! The horrid cry, lately lessened, 
thickens upon the gale, and thunders in his 
ear. Now the poor breathless victim is full 
in view : his sprightliness forsakes him ; his 
agility is spent. See how he toils in yonder 
valley with faulteriiig limbs and a hobbling 
gait ! The sight of their game quickens the 



DIALOGUE IX. 



249 



pace, and whets the ardour, of the impetu- 
ous hounds. With tumultuous violence they 
rush in, and with clamorous joy demand 
their prey. 

What can he do, surrounded as he is with 
insulting tongues and ravenous jaws ? De- 
spair is capable of inspiriting even the ti- 
morous breast. Having nothing to hope, 
he forgets to fear. He faces about, and 
makes a resolute stand. The trunk of a 
sturdy tree covers his rear, and his own 
branching horns defend him in front. He 
rushes upon his adversaries, gores some, 
lays others grovelling on the tuaf, and makes 
the whole coM'a,rd pack gi\ e way. 

Encouraged by this unexpected success, 
his hopes revive. He rallies once again his 
di'ooping spirits; exerts the little remainderof 
his strength, and springs through the midst of 
the retiring rout. It is his last, last chance. 
He stretches every nerve ; once more loses 
sight of the rabble from the ketmel ; and, 
finding no security on the land, takes to the 
water ! He throws his burning sides into 
the river, sails down the cooling stream ;• 
and slinks away to the verge of some little 
shelving island. There finding a resting 
place for his feet, he skulks close to the sha- 
dy margin. All immersed in the wave, ex- 
cepting only his nostrils, he baflfles for a 
while the prying eye of man, and the keen- 
er smell of brute. 

Discovered at length, and forced to quit 
this unavailing refuge, he climbs the slippery 
bank. Unable to fly any longer, he stands 
at bay against an aged willow ; stands, all 
faint with toil, and sobbing with anguish. 
The crowds that gather round him with 
merciless and outrageous transport, triumph 
in his misery. A multitude of blood-thirsty 
throats, joined with the sonorous horn, ring 
his funeral knell. The tears, till this fatal 
instant unknown, gush from his languishing 
eyes, and roll down his reeking cheeks. He 
casts one more look on the woods, the lawns, 
the pleasing scenes of his former delights ; 
and, determined to die, prepares to sell his 
life as dear as possible. 

At this most critical juncture, the royal 
sportsman comes up. He sees the distress- 
ed creature ; and as soon as he sees, he 
pities ! The clemency which attends the 
throne, accompanies even the diversions of 
majesty. He issues the high command. 
The prohibitory signal is given. The pack, 
though raving for blood, are checked in a 
moment ; and not checked only, but called 
off from the prey. Disappointed and grum- 
bling they retire, and leave the intended vic- 
tim of their fury to enjoy his liberty, his 
safety, and his ease again. 

I have now followed the stag, till I have 
tired your patience. Why did you suffer 
me to run on at this extravagant rate ? You 



know I am, on these favourite topics, an 
everlasting talker- 

ylsp. Why this apology, Theron ? I am 
sure you did not see my mouth yawn, or my 
head nod, while you was pursuing your sub- 
ject. Besides^ I intend to make reprisals, 
and put your attention to the same trial. 

Thus the strictness of the law pursues the 
soul ; dislodges it from every refuge of lies ; 
and never remits its terrifying menaces, till 
the poor delinquent ceases from self-confi- 
dence, and fixes on Christ for his whole sal- 
vation. 

The man, perhaps, is awakened into a 
serious concern for his eternal state. In 
consequence of which, he relinquishes his 
profane and iniquitous practices ; breaks the 
Sabbath, and defrauds his neighbour no 
more. But the law quickly represents, and 
in a glaring light, that a negative obedience 
is by no means sufficient. 

Upon this he betakes himself to a course 
of positive holiness ; gets acquainted with 
religious people, and performs religious du- 
ties ; prays in secret, and attends public 
ordinances ; conscientiously observes the 
Lord's day, and regulates his behaviour by 
the rule of God's commandments. Now, 
he is ready to congratulate himself on his 
remarkable and hopeful reformation. 

Soon he perceives, that all his proficien- 
cy is but skin-deep, a mere outside varnish, 
which has not penetrated the inner man. 
He begins therefore, to watch over the mo- 
tions, and bewail the evils of his heart. He 
labours to subdue pride, and curb passion ; 
to purge out filthy lusts, and to banish spi- 
ritual wickedness. Notwithstanding all his 
vigilance, conscience flies in his face, either 
for the neglect of some virtue, or the com- 
mission of some sin. The law rings in his 
ear that dreadful denunciation, " Cursed 
is he that performeth not all things." 

Struck by this conviction, his wounds 
bleed afresh. He is obliged to seek some 
new balm for his sore. In order to appease 
an offended God, and atone for his sinful 
relapses, he makes many sorrowful confes- 
sions, possibly submits to voluntary suffer- 
ings. He denies himself, and bestows li- 
berally on the poor : He sighs deeply, and 
mourns bitterly — But can waters that are 
muddy cleanse the garment that is filthy ? 
Wilt thou satisfy, O vain man, wilt thou 
satisfy for one sin by committing another ? 
In these penitential exercises were thy 
thoughts steadily devout 'i In those acts of 
beneficence, Nvas thy heart warmly affection- 
ate ? If not, such fancied reparations of 
past faults, only aggravate the heavy score. 

What shall he do ? He cannot pay : 
to beg he is ashamed. Fain would he enter 
into life, yet not be too much indebted to 
grace. lie attempts, therefore, to com- 



230 



THERON AND ASPASIO- 



pound with heaven. He binds himself by 
solemn, perhaps by sacramental engage- 
ments, to use greater circumspection for the 
future ; then turns his eye to the divine 
Mediator not with a view of relying wholly 
on his righteousness, but only to obtain 
such a supply as may make up the deficien- 
cies of his own. Somewhat like this was 
the mistake of the Galatian converts, against 
which St. Paul, in his epistle to that peo- 
ple, so solidly disputes, and so sharply 
inveighs — For a while he holds fast his 
purposed integrity. At length, falling 
notoriously short in executing his part, 
a startling voice sounds in his ear that dread- 
ful alarm, " Cursed is he that continueth 
not-" His heart sinks with discouragement, 
and all his resolutions hang their enfeebled 
heads. He has tried every method that he 
can devise, and has found every method in- 
effectual. All his expedients are a spider's 
web, and his hope is as the giving up of 
the ghost. 

His soul, pursued by the law, and haunt- 
ed by terror, is brought to the gates of 
death, or the very brink of despair. And 
now the King of kings, now the Lord our 
righteousness, appears for his rescue. Now 
is accomplished that gracious declaration, 
" O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but 
in me is thy help." Hos. xiii. 9. Driven 
from every false refuge, and drawn by the 
blessed Spirit, he comes weary and heavy 
laden to Christ. Convinced of the sin of 
his nature, the sin of his life, and the sin of 
his best duties, he renounces himself in 
every view. This is all his salvation, and 
all his desire, that he may win Christ, and 
be found in him. Did that poor afflicted 
woman say, " If 1 may but touch his gar- 
ment, I shall be whole ?" With equal ar- 
dour does this enlightened sinner cry, " If 
I may but have fellowship with the glorious 
Immanuel, in his merits, and in his benefits, 
I am alive from the dead, I am happy for 
ever." 

Having seen a glimpse of the transcen- 
dent excellency of the Redeemer's person ; 
having received a taste from the inexhaust- 
ible fulness of his grace ; O how he longs 
for brighter manifestations ! how he thirsts 
after more plentiful draughts ! — None that 
come to Christ are cast out. He that 
awakens these ardent desires, in his due 
time gives the desired blessings. After va- 
rious conflicts a comfortable and establish- 
ed faith is wrought in the penitent's soul. 
He believes, that the Son of the Most 
High died in his stead, and was obedient 
for his justification ; believes, that all the 
unsearchable riches of the adored Media- 
tor's life and death are his portion.* 



* See this work of grace, and pi'ocedure of conver- 
sion, more copiously displayed, in a valuable little 



By this faith, his heart is purified ; his 
heart is quickened, he is fitted for every 
good work. Though temptations assault 
him, he derives strength from his Saviour ; 
" resists the devil and is faithful, unto death." 
Though corruptions defile him, he flies to 
the "fountain opened for uncleanness." 
Zech. xiii. 1 ; makes daily, hourly applica- 
tion of the blood of sprinkling, and goes on 
his way, rejoicing in God his Saviour. 

Ther. Your discourse puts me in mind 
of Absalom's procedure when Joab refused 
to make him a visit. The Prince ordered 
his servants to set on fire the General's corn. 
2 Sam. xiv. 30. This stratagem had its 
intended efl'ect. The apprehension of dan- 
ger drove him, when the respectful invita- 
tion would not lead him, to a personal in^ 
terview. You seem to suppose that the law 
was delivered with such a design — to lay us 
under a necessity of flying to the atonement 
of Christ. 

Asp' I do, Theron. And for this opinion 
I have a far better authority than my own 
supposition. We are assured by unerring 
wisdom, that " Christ is the end of the 
law." Rom. x. 4. It points invariably to 
him ; it terminates wholly in him ; and then 
obtains its first, its principal purpose, when 
sinners are brought to their divine Redeem- 
er for righteousness and strength ; for that 
righteousness which entitles to heaven, that 
strength which capacitates for obedience. 

" The law hath concluded all mankind 
under sin," Gal. iii. 10 ; yet not with an 
intention that any should be discouraged 
now or perish for ever ; but that every one 
may see his inexpressible need of a Saviour's 
death, and a Saviour's obedience ; that, be- 
ing thus prepared both to value and receive 
so precious a blessing, the promise of justi- 
fication " by faith in Jesus Christ, may be 
given to them that believe." 

Let us advert to this grand aim of the 
law. Then we shall see goodness, unques- 
tionable and sovereign goodness, in forming 
its constitution so sublimely perfect, and 
making its threatenings so inflexibly severe. 
Exclusive of this wholesome severity, we 
should supinely disesteem, perhaps wanton- 
ly reject, the grace of the gospel. The pro- 
digal son would never have returned to his 
father, in that humble, submissive, suppli- 
cating posture, if he had not found his cir- 
cumstances utterly ruined, and felt himself 



piece, entitled, " Human Nature in its Fourfold 
state," by Mr. Thomas Boston, page 227, which, in 
my opinion, is one of our best books for common 
readers. The sentences are short, and the compari- 
sons striking. The language is easy, and the doctrine 
evangelical. T^.e method proper, the plan compre- 
hensive ; the manner searching, yet consolatory. If 
another celebrated treatise is styled, " The whole duty 
of Man," I wovild call this the whole of Man ; as it com- 
prises — what he was originally — what he is by trans- 
gresson — v/liat he should be through grace — and then 
what he will be in glory. 



DIALOGUE X. 



261 



perishing with hunger. No more would 
the conceited sons of Adam, disclaiming all 
pretence to any merit of their own, and with 
nothing but the halter* of self-condemna- 
tion about their necks, fall down at the feet 
of a merciful Redeemer, if they were not 
instigated by the sharp goad, or rather dri- 
ven by the flaming sword of the law. 

Ther. Has the law, then, nothing to do 
with our temper and conversation ? Is it no 
longer to be considered as a system of du- 
ties? nolongerto be regarded as aruleoflife? 

Asp. When it has forced the lines of 
self-righteousness, and driven us to Jesus 
Christ, that only citadel of safety, for ac- 
ceptance and salvation, then it serves as a 
rule for our conduct ; then it shows us, 
like a friend and a guide, how to order our 
conversation, and adorn our profession ; 
how to glorify God, and express our grati- 
tude to Christ. But till it has accomplish- 
ed the fore-mention6d end, it thunders 
vengeance, it flashes terror j it is, as Moses 
speaks, a *' fiery law."f 

And is it, my dear Theron, a fiery law ? 
Then let it constrain us to take shelter in 
that meritorious obedience, which will be, 
to om- guilty souls, " as the cold of snow 
in the time of harvest." Prov. xxv. 13. 
Is it a law which " worketh wrath ?" Let 
it endear to our affections that inestimably 
precious gospel, which " preacheth peace 
by Jesus Christ." Acts x. 36. Is it " the 
ministration of condemnation ?" 2 Cor. iii. 
19. O let it quicken our flight to that all- 
gracious Surety, who was condemned at 
Pilate's bar, that we may be acquitted at 
God's tribunal ! 

To all this agrees our celebrated Milton, 
whose divinity is as faultless as his poetry 
is matchless. You will give me leave to 
quote a few of his beautiful lines, which re- 
capitulate, as it were, the whole preceding 
conversation ; and while they recapitulate 
the conversation, confirm the doctrine. 
This will make you some amends for my 
late tedious harangue, this will tip the lead 
with gold. 

So law appears imperfect ; and but giv'n 

With purpose to resign them, in full time. 

Up to a better cov'nant ; disciplin'd 

From shadowy types to truth ; from flesh to spirit; 

From imposition of strict laws, to free 

Acceptance of large grace ; from servile fear 

To filial ; works of law to works of faith." 

Book xii. 1. 300. 



* Alluding to those remarkable words of Benha- 
dad's servants ; Let us put sackcloth upon our 
loms and ropes upon our heads, and go out to meet 
the king of Israel ; peradventure he will save thy 
life. " 1 Kings xx. 31. 

■f Fiery law, Deut. xxxiii. 2. I dare not affirm 
that this is the exact import of the original, nor do 1 
presume to determine the precise signification of a 
phrase so remarkably difficult. But as this is our re- 
ceived version ; as it suggests a very useful truth, 
and a truth, which, in the present age, is peculiarly 
needful to be inculcated, I am inclined to acquiesce 
in the common rendering. 



DIALOGUE X. \ 

Asp. Again, Theron ! must we never 
lay aside the weapons of controversy i — 
You put me in mind of the resolute Athe- 
nian, who, having fought with distinguished 
bravery on the field of Marathon, pur- 
sued the vanquished Persians to their fleet. 
At that very instant, a galley full of the 
enemy's troops was putting off to sea. De- 
termined, if possible, to prevent their es- 
cape, he laid hold of the vessel with his 
right hand, which was no sooner fixed, than 
chopped off by the sailors. The warrior, 
not at all discouraged, seized it with his 
left. When that also was cut away, he fas- 
tened his teeth in its side ; and never 
quitted his gripe, till he resigned his 
breath.* 

Ther. I have been considering the case 
of imputed righteousness, and am by no 
means satisfied as to the propriety of the 
phrase, or the truth of the doctrine, especi- 
ally in the sense which you espouse. Ob- 
jections arise, more substantial and weighty 
than any that have hitherto been urged ; and 
which, if I mistake not, you will find it a 
more difficult task to answer. 

Asp. I must do my best. x\nd if my best 
attempts prove unsuccessful, I shall say, with 
the gallant Iphicrates, when overpowered 
by the eloquence of his antagonist, " My 
adversary is the better actor, but mine is the 
better play." 

I say better ; for to you, Theron, I will 
freely own, what to another person I should 
not be so wilhng to disclose, — That I re- 
ceive no comfort, but from the habitual 
belief, and daily application, of this precious 
doctrine. Whenever I read the most cor- 
rect and beautiful writings that proceed in 
the contrary strain, I feel my spirits heavy, 
I find my prospects gloomy, and not one 
ray of consolation gleams upon my mind. 
Whereas, much meaner compositions, which 
breathe the savour of this evangelical unction, 
seldom fail to quicken my hopes, to brighten 
my views, and put into my mouth that pious- 
ly-alert profession of the Psalmist, " I will 
run the way of thy commandments, now 
thou hast set my heart at liberty." Psalm 
cxix. 32. Though I am far from laying any 
considerable stress upon this observation, 
farther still from advancing it into the place 
of an argument, yet I may be permitted to 
mention it in the confidence and familiarity 
of friendship. 



* The Athenian's name was Cynasgyrus. The au- 
thor who relates this extraordinary story, is Justin. 
If the reader should think it a rhodomontade, I be- 
lieve he will not judge amiss. And I promise myself, 
the same good sense will enable him to distingu'sh 
between what is hinted by way of pleasantrv, and 
what is urged by way of argument. 



252 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



TJier. An opinion proposed with so much 
modesty, and so nearly connected with my 
Aspasio's comfort, has doubtless a claim to 
my serious attention. Otherwise, it might 
possibly provoke my raillery. For you must 
know I am no great admirer of inward feel- 
ings. I cannot think tiiem a very solid me- 
thod of demonstrating your point. It must 
be enforced by better reasons, if you would 
gain it access to my heart. 

We must place, you say, a dependence 
upon the Lord Jesus Christ, in all that he 
has done and suffered. What he has done 
and suffered, you add, is our only justifying 
righteousness ; and to place our dependence 
on it, is the only method to obtain pardon 
of our sins, and life eternal. 

Asp. I have said it, Theron, and I abide 
by it. This being the righteousness of God, 
is 

Ther. Give me leave, before you proceed 
farther, to propose a query. Does the righ- 
teousness of God signify the active and 
passive obedience of Christ? 

Asp. Righteousness is a conformity to the 
law, in heart and in life. As the Son of 
God voluntarily made himself subject to the 
law, perfectly fulfilled its precepts, and suf- 
fered to the utmost its penalty ; this, I 
should imagine, furnishes us with the truest 
and noblest signification of the phrase. 

Ther. What if I or others should imagine 
quite the reverse ? 

Asp. I thank my friend for his admoni- 
tion. It is indeed unreasonable that my bare 
imagination should pass for orthodoxy and 
truth. Let us then inquire after better proof. 

When the divine name, in the sacred 
phraseology, is added to a substantive, it 
expresses some very extraordinaiy property. 
" The trees of the Lord," Psal. civ. 16, 
denote those stately and magnificent forests, 
which the hand of the Most High planted. 

The mountains of God,* ' are those pro- 
digiously large elevations of the earth, which 
none but an almighty arm could establish. 
The righteousness of God likewise means a 
righteousness of the most supereminent dig- 
nity ; such as is worthy to be called by his 
name, and may justly challenge his accept- 
ance. And where shall we find this, but in 
the conduct and person of his blessed Son? 
This has a most unexceptionable claim to 
the exalted title ; being, as a masterly critic 
explains the phrase, " a righteousness de- 
vised by God the Father, from all eternity ; 
wrought out by God the Son, in the per- 
son of Jesus Christ ; applied by God the 
Holy Ghost to the sinner's soul." 

Ther. This doctrine of yours, if I rightly 
understand it, would make remission of sins 
but one half of our justification, and some- 

* This is the import of the original 

TirT» Psalm xxxvj, verse 7> Hebrew ; verse 6, E}ts- 
4sh, 



thing else necessary in order to obtain etei* 
nal life ; which is jast as rational as to sup- 
pose, that though one cause may expel dark- 
ness, another must supervene in order to 
introduce light. 

Asrp. The nature of justification, and Lhe 
nature of condemnation, are two opposites, 
which will mutually illustrate each other. 
What is implied in the condemnation of a 
sinner ? He forfeits eternal life, and is 
doomed to eternal death. What is includ- 
ed in the justification of a sinner ? It super- 
sedes his obligation to punishment, and in- 
vests him with a title to happiness. In or- 
der to the first, there must be a remission 
of sins ; in order to the second, an imputa- 
tion of righteousness. Both which are de- 
rived from Christ's mediation in our behalf ; 
and both take place when we are united to 
that divine head : So that we do not derive 
them from two different sources, but as- 
cribe them to one and the same great all- 
sufficient Cause. 

Your comparison, though intended to 
overthrow, I think fully establishes the sen- 
timent. When yonder bright orb makes 
his first appearance in the east, what effects 
are produced ? The shades of night are 
dispersed, and the light of day is diffused. 
To what are they owing — Each to a sepa- 
rate, or both to the same origin ? — Every 
one's experience will answer the question. 
Thus, when the " Sun of righteousness" 
ai-ises in the soul, he brings at once pardon 
and acceptance. Remission and salvation 
are under his wings. Both which consti- 
tute the " healing of the nations," Mai. iv. 
2.; and both owe their being to Christ's 
obedience, embraced as active, and not re- 
jected as passive. 

Ther. This, I know, is the fi/ie-spun 
theory of your systematic divines. But' 
where is their warrant from scripture ? Byi 
what authority do they introduce such sub- 
tle distinctions ? 

Asp. I cannot think the distinction so sub- 
tle, or the theory so finely spun. To be 
released from the damnatory sentence, is 
one thing; to be treated as a righteous 
person, is evidently another. Absalom was 
pardoned, when he received a permission 
to remove from Geshur and dwell at Jeru- 
salem ; but this was very diiferent from the 
recommencement of filial duty and parental 
endearment. 2 Sam. xiv. 24. A rebel may 
be exempted from the capital punishment 
which his traitorous practices deserve, with- 
out being restored to the dignity of his for- 
mer state, or the rights of a loyal subject. 
In Christianity likewise, to be freed from 
the charge of guilt, and to be regarded as a 
righteous person, are two several blessings, 
really distinct in themselves, and often dis- 
tinguished in scripture. 
^ Ther. Where are they distinguished ? in 



DIALOGUE X. 



what texts of scripture ? This is what I 
called for — your scriptural warrant. 

Asp. What think you of Job's reply to 
his censorious friends ? " God forbid that 
I should justify you." Job. xxvii. 5. That 
he forgave them, there is no doubt. Yet 
he could not justify them ; could not allow 
their reflections to be equitable, or their 
behaviour charitable. 

What think you of Solomon's supplica- 
tion ? " Then hear thou in heaven, and do^ 
and judge thy servants ; condemning the 
wicked, to bring his way upon his head ; 
and justifying the righteous, to give him ac- 
cording to his righteousness." 1 Kings viii. 
32. To condemn, in this passage, evident- 
ly signifies, to pronounce guilty, and ob- 
noxious to punishment. By parity of rea- 
son, to justify, must denote, to pronounce 
righteous, and entitle to happiness. 

What says Solomon's father ? " Enter 
not into judgment with thy servant, O 
Lord ! for, in thy sight, shall no man living 
be justified !" Psalm cxliii. 2. A man 
might be pardoned, if judged according to 
the tenor of his own obedience. But no 
man could be declared righteous, in conse- 
quence of such a trial : this were absolute- 
ly and universally impossible. 

From all which passages I conclude, that 
to be justified is different from, is superior 
to, the bare remission of sin. 

Ther. All these instances are derived 
from the Old Testament ; the New, if I 
mistake not, speaks another language. Con- 
sider the case of the penitent publican. 
What does he request ? " God be merciful 
to m.e a sinner!" What does he obtain? 
" He went down to his house justified." 
Lukexviii. 13,14. If, then, the petition and the 
grant may be deemed correspondent, pardon 
and justification must bereckoned equivalent. 

Asp. The Old and the New Testament 
are, in their style and contents, exactly cor- 
respondent. Echo, in yonder cloisters, 
does not more punctually reverberate the 
speaker's voice, than those divine books 
harmonize with each other- 

Yet it will not follow, from the publican's 
request and the publican's blessing, that par- 
don and justification are the same : Only 
that God's bounty frequently exceeds our 
prayers, and is larger than our expectations ; 
or that the blessing which was implored, 
and the blessing which was vouchsafed, are 
inseparably connected, and always accom- 
pany each other. 

St. Paul mentions "ajustificationof life ;" 
not barely an exemption from the sentence of 
death, but such a justification, as gives a title 
(R,om. i. 18,) to the reward of life. The 
words are very emphatical. We shall in- 
jure the dignity of their meaning, if we un- 
derstand them in a more contracted sense. 
Towards the close of the same chapter, we 



2oS 

have another passage rich with consolation 
and full to our purpose : " Grace reigneth 
through righteousness unto eternal life." 
Rom. v. 21. Here is pointed out the 
prime source of all our blessings — infinitely 
free and triumphant grace : the meritorious 
cause — not any works of man, not any qua- 
lifications of our own, but the perfect right- 
eousness of our Lord Jesus Christ : the 
effect or end of all — which is not barely an 
absolution from guilt, but an instatement in 
life ; a life of holy communion with God in 
this world, to be crowned with an eternal 
fruition of him in another.* 

Let me produce one text more, which 
just at this instant occurs to my memory. 
You will find it in the apostle's defence of 
himself before Festus and Agrippa. He 
opens, as it were, his apostolical commis- 
sion, and repeats the words of his royal 
Master : " I send thee" to ignorant and en- 
slaved, guilty and ruined creatures " to turn 
them from darkness to light, and from the 
power of Satan unto God ; that they may 
receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance 
among all them which are sanctified by faith 
that is in me." Acts. xxvi. 18. The great 
preacher of the Gentiles, or rather the su- 
preme Lord of all preachers, has distinguish- 
ed between remission of sins and the inhe- 
ritance of saints ; between the pardon that 
delivers from hell, and the justification that 
entitles to heaven. So that the former 
does by no means constitute the latter ; but 
is connected with it, as a link in the same 
sacred chain ; or included in it, as part 
the same glorious whole. 

The7\ Admitting your distinction to be 
proper, is not the satisfaction made by the 
death of Christ sufficient of itself to obtain 
both our full pardon; and our final happiness? 

Asp. Since my friend has started the 
question, I may venture, with all reverence 
to the divine counsels, to answer in the ne- 
gative ; it being necessary that the Re- 
deemer of men shoidd obey, as well as suf- 
fer in their stead. For this we have the 
testimony of our Lord himself. " This 
commandment," says he, " have I received 
of my Father, that I should lay down my 
life," (John x. 18.) " Thus it becometh 
us," adds he in another place, " to fulfil all 
righteousness." (Matth. iii. 15.) To which 
his apostle subjoins, that, if we reign in life, 
it nmst be not only through those sufferings 
which expiate, but also througli that right- 
eousness which merits. (Rom, v- 17.) 

Ther. Our Lord's testimony relates only 
to a positive institution, and is quite foreign 
to our purpose. I have often been dis- 
gusted at such strained applications of scrip- 
ture. The partizans of a system wrest the 

* Accordingly, eternal life is called the hope, not 
of forgiveness bvit of righteousness. Gal. v. 5. And 
it is bestowed, not barely because of absolution, but 
because of righteousness, Rom. viii. 10. 



254 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



sacred book. They deal with divine truth, 
as the tyrant Procustes served those un- 
happy creatures who fell into his merciless 
hands. Is a text too short to suit their 
design ? Our Procustean expositors can 
stretch it on the rack, and lengthen its 
sense. Is it too full to consist with their 
scheme ? They can lop off a limb, secrete 
a sentence, or contract the meaning. Is this 
to reverence the great God ? Is this to treat 
respectfully his holy word ? 

^sp. I have been gi-ieved, I assure you, and 
disgusted at this practice, as well as yourself; 
a practice not only very irreverent, but very 
injudicious also. It really prej udices the cause 
it would unfairly recommend. Such a sup- 
port is like " a broken tooth, or a foot out 
of joint," (Prov. xxv. 19.) not only unser- 
viceable, but hurtful ; an obstruction, rather 
than a furtherance. However, I am not con- 
scious of committing any violence on this 
passage, or of forcing it into my ser- 
vice. The circumstance you object, rather 
strengthens than invalidates the conclusion. 
If it was so requisite for our blessed Me- 
diator to observe a positive institution, how 
much more necessary to fulfil those moral 
precepts, whose obligation is unalterable and 
everlasting ? 

Besides, it should be considered whether 
Christ's sufferings were a complete satisfac- 
tion to the law. Complete they were with 
regard to the penalty, not with regard to the 
precept. A distinction obvious and im- 
portant. From whence arises the follow- 
ing argument, which, for once, you will 
allow me to propose in the logical form. 

By what alone the law was not satis- 
fied, by that alone sinners could not be jus- 
tified : 

By Christ's sufferings alone, the law was 
not satisfied. 

Therefore, by Christ's sufferings alone, 
sinners could not be justified. 

But when we join the active with the 
passive obedience of our Lord, the efficacy 
of the one, with the perfection of the other, 
how does our justification stand fii-m, in the 
fullest sense of the word. We have all 
that the law demands, both for our exemp- 
tion from the curse, and as a title to the 
blessing. 

Ther. Does not the scripture ascribe the 
whole of our salvation to the death of Christ ? 
delivering it as a never-to-be-forgotten max- 
im in Christianity, That "we have redemp- 
tion through his blood, (Eph. i. 7.) "are 
brought near through the blood of Christ," 
(Eph. ii. 13.) nay, that "we are justified," 
(the very point under debate) " through his 
blood," (Rom. v. 9.) Would the inspired 
writer have assigned these various blessings 
to this one cause, if it had been a price in- 
adequate to the purchase, or a means insuf- 
ficient to accomplish the end ? 



Asp. This part of our Lord's meritoriotis 
humiliation is, by a very usual figine, put 
for the whole. The death of Christ in- 
cludes, not only his sufferings, but his obe- 
dience. The shedding of his precious 
blood was at once the grand instance of his 
suffering, and the finishing act of his obe- 
dience. In this view it is considered, and 
thus it is interpreted, by his own ambassa- 
dor, who, speaking of his divine Master, 
says, " He was obedient unto death, even 
the death of the cross." (Phil. ii. 8.) 

By the same figure^ faith is sometimes 
said to be a lively, influential persuasion, 
" that Christ died for our sins," (1 Cor. xv. 
3.) At other times, it is represented as a 
firm practical belief, that " God hath raised 
him from the dead," (Rom. x. 9.) Neither 
of which can, without the utmost contrarie- 
ty to the analogy of Scripture, be taken in 
the exclusive sense. Each act must be un- 
derstood, not separately, but jointly ; each 
as implying both, or reciprocally inferring 
one another. 

In like manner, when the scriptiu-e as- 
ciibes our justification to the death of 
Christ, we are not to think that it would 
set aside, but imply his obedience. It is 
not because his active obedience has no 
concern in procuring the blessing, but be- 
cause his bitter passion was the most con- 
spicuous, and the completing stage of his 
ever-glorious undertaking. Then, and not till 
then, he could truly say, " Father, I have 
finished the work thou gavest me to do." 
(John xvii. 4.) 

Ther. According to your account, then, 
it should be possible for a man to have all 
his sins done away, yet not attain to com- 
plete justification. Which is as contrary to 
sound sense and true divinity, as to imagine 
that crookedness may be removed and the 
object not become straight. 

Asp. No, Theron. According to my ac- 
count, it is impossible that the active and 
passive obedience of our Redeemer should 
be disjoined. To whomsoever the one is 
imputed, from him the other is not withheld. 
They were undivided in Christ the illus- 
trious head, and they are undivided in their 
application to his mystical body. As Christ 
in suffering obeyed, and, in obeying, suffer- 
ed ; so, whoever receives Christ as an atone- 
ment, receives him also as a righteousness. 

This has been observed before ; and if 
this be real fact, what an inestimably pre- 
cious gift is the gift of Christ ! Never was 
the most Sovereign remedy so admirably 
suited to any malady, as this is adapted to 
all our wants. In him may we be found, 
living and dying ! How safe, how happy 
then ! — Let me not weary your patience, 
if I repeat a passage from our excellent Dr. 
Lightfoot, Avhich, though artless and re- 
markably simple, has veiy much affected 



DIALOGUE X. 



255 



my mind, and, I hope will leave some va- 
luable impression on my friend's. " Jus- 
tification," says that judicious divine, "is 
a man's being interested in all Christ's right- 
eousnes. And if any thing is to be longed 
for, sure that is to be interested in all 
Christ's righteousness." 

TJier. You do not weary my patience, 
neither do you satisfy my doubts. For you 
take no notice of the absurdity objected, and 
the comparison that enforces it. 

Asp. Your comparison, my dear friend, 
is not foimded on a parallel case. Neither 
sense nor philosophy find a medium be- 
tween the removal of crookedness, and the 
succession of straightness. But reason dis- 
cerns an apparent, and revelation maintains 
an important difference, between the par- 
don of guilt and a title to life. This has 
already been proved from scripture, and is, 
to me at least, evident from the very na- 
ture of things. For if a king, in favour of 
some condemned malefactor, revoke the 
sentence of death, this is one very consider- 
able act of clemency. But if he pleases to 
make the pardoned criminal a partaker of 
his kingdom, or an heir of his crown, this 
sm-ely is new, and a much higher instance 
of royal bounty. 

If you insist upon a similitude, the word 
of God, which always speaks with, consum- 
mate propriety, will fimiish us with one. 
Zechariah illustrates the doctrine of justifi- 
cation. He represents the sinner by a per- 
son arrayed in filthy garments. His par- 
don is described by taking away this sordid 
apparel. By which benefit, he ceases to 
be defiled, yet is he not hereby clothed, 
yet is he not hereby justified : This is an 
additional blessing, signified by putting on 
"change of raiment," (Zech. iii. 4, 5,) and 
wearing beautiful robes. Here the cir- 
cumstances tally. The two constituent 
parts of justification are severally displayed, 
and strongly marked. Here we have the 
removal of fiith, and the robe of righteous- 
ness ; that which frees ns from being ab- 
horred, and that which renders us accepted ; 
which, though distinguishable in themselves, 
and distinguished by the sacred writer, are 
always united in the dinne donation. 

Ther. This notion is founded on a chi- 
merical covenant, that Christ would take 
upon him the obedience due from man, 
of which there is not the least intimation 
in holy scripture. 

Asp. That Christ undertook every thing 
necessary to redeem lost sinners from guilt 
and condemnation, eveiy thing necessary to 
procure for attainted rebels a fresh title to 
life and glory ; this cannot be reckoned 
chimerical. This must be as real, as that lost 
sinners are redeemed, or attainted rebels 
restored; every proof of the one proves 
and establishes the other. This is what 



we call a covenant, and, from its benign 
nature, the covenant of grace. 

Without vmdertaking this, I see not how 
our Lord could sustain the character of a 
surety; nor without fidfilling it, how he 
could execute the office of a Redeemer. 
And I believe you yourself \\dll be at a loss 
to show, Avith what kind of justice the eter- 
nal Father could "lay om' iniquities," (Isa. 
liii. 6,) on the innocent Jesus, uidess he 
had consented to be answerable for our 
guilt. 

Ther. This is no answer to my objec- 
tion. I said, and it has been asserted by a 
veiy eminent and able pen, that there is no 
intimation of any such covenant in the 
whole scriptures. 

Asp. What then can be the meaning of 
those remarkable words in the prophecy of 
Zechariah ? " The coimsel of peace shall 
be between them both."* Here, I think, 
the covenant is mentioned, and the parties 
are specified. " The council of peace," if 
I mistake not, signifies the mysterious and 
unsearchable contrivance, formed for the 
recovery of ruined man — formed and carried 
into execution by the Lord Almighty, or 
God the Father, and that illustrious per- 
son who is to " build the temple and bear 
the glory." A character which none can 
claim, a task to which none is equal, but 
the blessed Jesus only. 

In the 40th psalm, the conditions of the 
covenant are circumstantially recorded, 
which were, the incarnation and obedience 
of the eternal Son : " A body hast thou 



* Zech. vi. 12, 13. These two verses contain a 
brief, but very fine description of the Redeemer : of 
his person, his office, and his glory ; together with 
the all-gracious cause, and ever-blessed fruit of our 
redemption. 

His person : He is the man ; or, as the Hebrew im- 
ports, the "real," but at the same time, the "illus- 
trious man ;" whose name is the branch, being the 
new origin of a new race : the father of a spiritual 
seed, who are children, not of the flesh, but of the 
promise. A branch that shall spring, not from a 
common root, not from any human planting, but 
"from under himself," being born of a pure virgin, 
and by the power of his own Spirit, he shall be both 
stock and stem to himself. 

His office : it is to build the temple, the church of 
the elect which is the house of the living God, in 
which he dwells, and by whom he is worshipped, 
laying the foundation of this spiritual edifice in his 
cross, and cementing it %vith his blood. Which he 
shall rule as a king after having redeemed it as a 
priest : uniting the sacerdotal censer with the regal 
diadem, and being a priest upon his throne. Hence 
proceeds his glory ; for he stands not, like other 
priests, offering daily the same oblations ; but hav- 
ing, by one sacrifice, obtained eternal redemption for 
us, is set down at the right hand of the Majesty on 
high. 

What is the cause of these great events ? What, 
but that most sacred and august convention, the 
counsel of peace ? which was settled between them 
both ; between the Lord Jehovah on one hand, and 
the man whose name is the Branch on the other. 
Called a council, from the entire consent which ac- 
tuated each party, and the transcendent wisdom 
displayed in the whole scheme, "The council of 
peace," because of its sovereign efficacy to make 
peace with an offended God, peace in the accusing 
conscience, peace among people of jarriug tempers 
and discordant principles. 



256 



TPIERON AND ASPASIO. 



prepared me. Lo ! I come to do thy will. " 
(Heb. X. 5, 7.) The accomplishment of 
these conditions is alleged and pleaded by 
our great Mediator, in the introduction to 
his last solemn prayer. (John xvii.) What 
he implores, in the process of his supplica- 
tions, may be looked upon as the recom- 
pense* decreed him by the Father, and 
stipidated in this magnificent treaty. Im- 
plores, did I say ? It is very observable, 
that our Lord makes a demand, rather than 
a request. The expression is not t^uTu 
but 6iKo),\ a word of authority, not of sup- 
plication. He claims what by the Father's 
engagement, and by his own obedience, 
was become his unquestionable right. 

Here are the parties of the covenant, the 
conditions of the covenant, the performance 
of the covenant, and the reward, which, by 
virtue of such performance, is merited, is 
claimable, is due. All this, I should ima- 
gine, amounts to an intimation, and some- 
what more than an intimation of the cove- 
nant. 

Ther. This you call the covenant of 
grace ; but if we are justified by Christ's 
fulfilling of the law, we are justified by 
works. So that, before you can strike out 
such a way of salvation, you must contra- 
dict yoiu-self ; and, what is more adventur- 
ous, you must abolish that fundamental 
principle of the gospel, " by the works of 
the law shall no flesh be justified." 

Asp. We are, I grant it, justified by 
works. But whose ? The works of 
Christ, not our own. This is veiy far from 
contradicting ourselves, equally far is it 
from abolishing what you call the gospel- 
principle, which, though an undeniable 
truth, is not an evangelical doctrine ; be- 
cause it only shows us our miserable state, 
and the utter impossibility of relieving our- 
selves. Whereas, nothing is genuine gos- 
pel, but what speaks comfort, and adminis- 
ters recovery. 

Between the covenant of works, and the 
covenant of grace, this, I apprehend, is the 
difference : — By the former, man was in- 
dispensably bound to obey, in his owm per- 
son : By the latter, the obedience of his 
surety is accepted, instead of his own. The 
righteousness required by both, is not sin- 
cere, but complete ; not proportioned to 
the abilities of fallen man, but to the pmi- 
ty of the law, and the majesty of the Law- 
giver. By this means, the glory of God, 
as an awful sovereign, and the glory of his 
law, as an inviolable system, are entii'ely 
preserved and illustriously displayed. The 
.salvation of sinners neither clashes with 



* Thi.s recompense is specified and promised in an- 
other authentic»copy 'of the same grand treaty, re- 
corded. Isaiih xlix. 1 — 6. 

t Not J beg, but 1 iviil. John xvii, 24. Sic volo, 
sifjubeo. 



the truth, nor interferes with the justice of 
the Supreme Legislator. On the contrary, 
it becomes a faithful and just procedure 
of the most high God, to justify " him that 
believeth on Jesus." (1 John i. 9.) 

Ther. When you make this difference be- 
tween the two covenants, where is your 
authority from scripture ? Which of the 
sacred wiiters have taught u.s, that though 
one demanded personal, the other is content 
with vicarious obedience ? 

Asp. Which? The first three. The 
most eminent historian, the most enraptur- 
ed poet, and the most zealous preacher. I 
need not inform you, that I mean Moses, 
David, and Paul. 

The testimony of David has been already 
recited. Moses gives us a concise, but very 
instructive account of the second covenant. 
With wliom, according to his representa- 
tion, was it made ? Not with Adam, or 
any of his posterity, but with the Lord 
Jesus Christ, in the room and stead of both. 
None of the articles are proposed to a poor, 
impotent, ruined creature ; but the whole is 
consigned over to the interposing Saviour, 
significantly described by " the seed of the 
woman." It is not said, " Thy best en- 
deavours, O Adam ! thy true repentance 
and sincere obedience, shall retrieve this 
fatal miscarrijge ; but, " the seed of the 
woman shall bruise the serpent's head," 
Gen. iii. 15; the Son of the Most High, 
by taking thy nature, submitting to thy obli- 
gations, and suffering death for thy suis, 
shall fully repair thy loss. 

Christ, we see, vmdertook to execute the 
conditions. Christ was our representative 
in this great transaction. For which reason 
he is styled by St. Paul, " the second man," 
I Cor. XV. 48 ; and " the surety of a better 
covenant," Heb. vii. 22. Our help being 
hiid upon one that is so mighty, upon one 
that is so faithful, the covenant is said to be 
" in all things well ordered and sure," 2 
Sam. xxiii. 5; admirably well ordered in- 
deed, for the comfort of the Christian, and 
the security of his salvation. " It is true," 
may he argue, " I cannot fulfil the condi- 
tions, and it is equally true, that this is not 
required at my hands. The Lord Jesus 
Christ, of his adorably rich goodness, has 
performed all that was conditionary ; and 
has established for me and for his people a 
valid title to the promises, the privileges, 
and" 

Ther. " Has thereby released me from 
all obligation to duty." Farewell then to 
our owm obedience : No more occasion for 
any holiness of life. Nay, the sluice is open- 
ed for an inundation of ungodliness. Fine 
divinity truly ! Should I not rather say, 
downi'ight Antinomianism ! 

Asp. No, my friend, " Christ came not 
to destroy the law, but to fulfil;" Matth. v. 



DIALOGUE X. 



25'/ 



IT. He has fulfilled it to the veiy utter- 
most in his own person. He has also mer- 
ited forus those supplies of the Spirit, which 
alone can enable weak corrupt creatures to 
yield faithful and acceptable obedience- 
Though cm- Lord Jesus died, and was obe- 
dient " for the ungodly though he finds 
us ungodly when he justifies us ; yet he 
never leaves his people in this abominable 
state. " On the contrary, he " teaches 
them to deny all ungodliness and worldly 
lusts," Tit. ii. 12. 

Pray, let us consider the tenor of this 
covenant, since you are so very apprehensive 
of its consequences- " I will put my laws 
into their minds, and on their hearts will I 
write them," Heb. viii. 10. " They shall 
discern such a beauty and glory in my pre- 
cepts, as will engage their desires, and win 
their affections ; so that it shall be no long- 
er their burden, but their delight, even their 
meat and drink, to do the will of their Fa- 
ther in heaven." — This, this is one of the 
privileges purchased by our great Mediator. 
And it seems wondrous strange, that the 
purchase of an estate for you or me, should 
be reckoned the sure means to deprive us 
of the possession, or debar us from the en- 
joyment. 

How often is this weak surmise urged as 
an argument ? all whose plausibility is ow.- 
ing to a palpable mistake, or an egregious 
fallacy ; to a supposed separation of things 
which are absolutely inseparable — I mean 
our justification and our sanctification.* 
You are a philosopher, Theron. Try, if 
you can separate gravity from the stone, or 
heat from the fire. If these bodies and their 
essential properties are indissolubly connect- 
ed, so are a genuine faith and a conscienti- 
ous obedience. To suppose them disunited, 
is as contrary to sound divinity, as it would 
be contrary to true philosophy if you should 
talk of a burning substance that has no 
warmth, or of a solid substance that has no 
weight. Never therefore, my dear friend, 
repeat this stale objection ; never propagate 
this ungrounded f clamour ; nor adopt a 



* See Isa. xlv. 24 ; 1 Cor. i. 30 ; 1 Cor. vi. 11 ; where 
these blessings walk hand in hand, and never were, 
never will, never can be parted. 

t This puts me in mind of what Theodorus replied 
to Philocles ; who was often insinuating, that he 
preached licentious doctrine, because he enlarged 
with pecuhar assiduity upon faith in Jesus Christ ; 
and frequently chose such texts as, " Believe in the 
Lord Jesus, and thou shalt be saved." 

" I preach salvation by Jesus Christ ; and give me 
leave to ask, whether you know what salvation by 

Christ means ?" Philocles paused. He began to 

blush ; would have eluded the question, and declined 
an answer. "No, said Theodorus, " you must per- 
mit me to insist upon a reply. Because, if it be a 
right one, it will justify me and my conduct ; if it be 
a wrong one, it will prove that you blame you know 
not what; and have more reason to inform yourself, 
than to censure others." 

This disconcerted him still more, upon which The- 
odorus proceeded ; Salvation by Christ means, not 
only a deliverance from the guilt, but also from the 



cavil which is altogether as unphiiosophical 
as it is anti-evangelical. ' 

Ther. We digress from the point. My 
principal objection is not satisfied. I was 
observing, that, according to your manner of 
stating the affair, salvation is no longer free, 
but founded upon works. They are the 
works of the law, though Christ performs 
them. To maintain that we are justified 
by these works, is to confound the difference 
between the law and the gospel. 

Asp. Though we should admit your pre- 
mises, we cannot acquiesce in yoiu- conclu- 
sion. The same righteousness by which we 
are justified, is both legal and evangelical : 
Legal, in respect to Christ, who was made 
under the law, that he might obey all its 
commands : Evangelical, in respect to us, 
who work not ourselves, but believe in the 
great Fulfiller of all righteousness. This is 
much of the same nature with that other 
momentous distinction in divinity — salva- 
tion is freely given, yet dearly bought : 
Freely given with regard to us ; dearly 
bought with regard to Christ. So we are 
justified by works, if you look forward to 
our Surety ; we are justified without works, 
if you cast a retrospective view on our- 
selves. 

Theron was silent. — Aspasio, after a 
short interval, renewed the discourse. I 
know not whether my friend is yielding to 
my argmnents, or searching after objections ; 
deliberating upon a capitulation, or muster- 
ing his forces for a fresh sally. However, 
let me take this opportunity of di'opping a 
hint, and suggesting a caution. 

The grand reason which inclines some 
people to reject this comfortable doctrine 
lies concealed, if not in an absolute disbe- 
lief of our Lord's eternal glory and God- 
head, yet in unsettled apprehensions of it, 
or an habitual inattention to it. If our 
Saviour was not really God, as some writ- 
ers, unhappily mistaking themselves, endea- 
vour to persuade the world, it would be a 
reasonable practice, and entirely consistent 
with their scheme, to disavow the imputa- 
tion of his righteousness : Because, upon 
such a supposition, his obedience was no 
more than bounden duty ; in which there 
coidd not be the least pretence to merit, 
and which covld be profitable to none but 
himself. Whereas, if we verily believe him 
to be the incarnate God, his submission to 
the law becomes an act of voluntary humi- 



power of sin. " He gave himself for us that he might 
redeem us from all iniquity ; redeem us from our 
vain conversation," as well as deliver us from the 
wrath to come. Go now, Philocles, and tell the 
world, that by teaching these doctrines, I promote 
the cause of licentiousness. And you will be just as 
rational, just as candid, just as true, as if you should 
affirm, that the firemen, by playing the engine, and 
pouring in water, burnt your house to the ground 
and laid your furniture in ashes. 



258 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



liation. Which circumstance, together 
with the transcendent dignity of his per- 
son, render his obedience, not meritorious 
only, but inexpressibly and infinitely meri- 
torious. 

As the blood of Christ is called God's 
"own blood," (Acts XX. 28.) so the obe- 
dience of Christ was performed in the per- 
son of that adorable Mediator, " who is 
God over all," (Rom. ix. 5.) He acted 
through the whole course of his life, and 
suffered death at the last, not merely as a 
man, but as God-man ; as Jehovah Jesus ; 
Emmanuel. Let me entreat you to re- 
member, nay let me entreat you never to 
forget this all-important article of our faith. 
And may the Spirit of wisdom give us an 
understanding to know the weighty, the 
extensive influence, of so glorious a truth ! 

Ther. Far be it from me to derogate from 
the dignity of our Saviour's person, or to 
depreciate the merits of his mediatorial 
office. Place them as high as words can reach, 
exalt them as far as thought can soar, I 
stedfastly believe you will still fall short, 
immeasurably short, of their real worth. 
But this consideration seems to increase the 
absurdity of your notion : For if Christ's 
righteousness, his very righteousness be im- 
puted, then the true believers are altogether 
as righteous as Christ himself ; whei'eas, if 
you maintain that his righteousness is im- 
puted only as to its effects, you will keep 
clear of this rock. 

Asp. This, I apprehend, will be like 
keeping clear of Scylla only to fall foul 
upon Charybdis. What are the effects of 
the Mediator's righteousness? Pardon of 
sin, justification of our persons, and the 
sanctification of our nature. Shall we say, 
these effects, these benefits are imputed? 
To talk of their imputation, I think, is an 
affront to sound sense ; as, I am sure, to be 
put oflf with their imputation, would be a 
fatal disappointment of our hopes. All 
these benefits are, not imputed but impart- 
ed ; they are not reckoned to us, but are 
really enjoyed by us : ours they are, not 
barely in the divine estimation, but by pro- 
per and personal possession. 

Yet it does by no means follow, that be- 
lievers are altogether as righteous as Christ 
himself, unless you can prove, that to be 
the receiver is, in all respects, the same as 
to be the author and finisher. (Heb. xii. 2.) 
The righteousness of Christ arises wholly 
from himself, the source of ours subsists in 
another. Christ's righteousness is origin- 
ally and absolutely his ovm ; whereas it is 
made ours in a way of favour and gracious 
imputation. Circumstances these, which 
create a material difference, which yield 
room for a vast pre-eminence. 

Ther. But if Christ's perfect obedience 
be accounted ours, methinks we should 



have no more need of pardoning mercy than 
Christ himself. 

Asp. Yes ; because, before this impu- 
tation, we were sunk in guilt, and dead in 
sins ; because, after it, we are defective in 
our duty, and in many things offend. 

Ther. Does not this doctrine render the 
intercession of our Saviour superfluous ? 
What occasion have they for an advocate 
with the Father, whose righteousness has 
neither blemish nor imperfection ? 

Asp. They stand in need of an advocate, 
first, that they may be brought home to 
"the Repairer of their breaches," (Isaiah 
Iviii. 12,) and made partakers of his right- 
eousness by a li\nng faith : next, that their 
faith may be preserved, notwithstanding all 
opposition, stedfast and immoveable ; or 
rather, may be caiTied on victorious and 
triumphant, even to the end. 

Ther. You say, " Christ performed all 
that was conditionaiy j" then he repented 
for us, and believed for us. This must be 
admitted in pursuance of your principles : 
But this is so wild a notion, so contrary to 
reason and scripture, that to mention it is 
to refute it. 

Asp. Christ performed whatever was re- 
quired by the covenant of works, both be- 
fore it was violated, and after it had been 
transgressed. But neither repentance nor 
faith were comprehended in this institution. 
It knew nothing of the one, and it would 
not admit of the other. It was not there- 
fore necessary, neither indeed was it possi- 
,ble, for our spotless and divine Lord to re- 
pent of sin or believe in a Saviour. But 
he did unspeakably more, " He put away 
sin by the sacrifice of himself." (Heb. ix. 
26.) He is himself the Saviour of all the 
ends of the earth : and he has power to 
bestow that blessed Spirit, which worketh 
faith, and produceth repentance. 

Ther, However, from what you have 
advanced, this wiU unavoidably follow — 
That a man is to be justified under the 
character of a notorious transgressor of the 
law, and justified under the character of a 
sinless observer of the law- And what is 
this but a glaring inconsistency ? 

Asp, Not at all inconsistent, but abso- 
lutely needful, if we consider those dis- 
tinct branches of the divine law, the per- 
ceptive and the penal ; both which, in case 
of guilt already contracted, must necessarily 
be satisfied. Not at all inconsistent, but 
perfectly harmonious, if we take in the two 
constituent parts of justification— the ac- 
quittance from guilt and a title to life. 
The former supposes us to be transgressors 
of the law ; and such the highest saints in 
the world are. The latter requires us to 
be observers of the law ; and such must the 
inheritors of heaven be. Much less is this 
inconsistent, if we consider believers in 



DIALOGUE X. 



259 



their personal and relative capticlty ; as they 
are in tiiemselves, and as they are in their 
Surety. Notorious transgressors in them- 
selves, they have a sinless obedience in 
Christ. The consciousness of that will be 
an everlasting motive to humility ; the be- 
lief of this, an inexhaustible source of joy. 

All this is no more inconsistent than the 
union of a gloomy contexture and a light- 
some splendour, in those detached clouds 
which float amidst tlie firmament. In 
themselves, they are a louring and dark col- 
lection of vapours ; by the impression of 
the sun-beams, they are fair and bright as 
the polished silver. 

Ther. After all, the imputation taught in 
scripture is not the imputation of Christ's 
righteousness, but of our own faith. 
Agreeably to the apostle s express declara- 
tion, " Abraham believed God, and it was 
imputed to him for righteousness." (Rom. 
iv. ;i) 

Asp. This objection admits the thing in 
dispute, though it controverts the v/ay and 
manner of obtaining it ; admits the necessi- 
ty of some active, positive righteousness, in 
order to our justification. In this particu- 
lar, I am glad to agree with my Theron ; and 
in this particular, I believe the generality of 
serious people agree with us both. "When- 
ever their consciences are awakened, and 
seek to establish the hope of eternal life, 
they constantly turn their eyes to some 
righteousness, which they apprehend may, 
either in whole or in part, answer the de- 
mands of the law. Some look to their own 
sincere obedience ; others caU in to their 
succour works of supererogation. My 
friend would assign this office to his faith. 

Ther. Is this a proper answer to my ob- 
jection, Aspasio ? The text is point-blank 
against your tenet. You do wisely there- 
fore not to confront, but to elude the evi- 
dence. 

Asp. I did not intend it for an answer ; 
only as an occasional observation, which 
nevertheless has a pretty close connexion 
with the subject. Neither would I use so 
mean a subterfuge, as to elude an argument 
which I could not confute. If my friend 
had allowed me leisure to explain myself, 
this should have been my reply. 

That a man is not justified by works, is 
a position most clearly demonstrated, and a 
doctrine most zealously inculcated by St. 
Paul. That faith is a work * exerted by 
the human mind, is equally certain. Un- 
less, therefore, we would render the apostle 
inconsistent with himself, we must understand 
the passage in a qualified sense. Why 



* So it is called by Him, who knew what was in 
man, and what were the differences of things ; This 
is the work of God, tliat \e believe on him whom he 
hath sent," John vi. -19. 



should we not suffer him to be his own in. 
terpreter ? why should \\q not take the nar- 
rative of his experience for a comment on 
his doctrine ? He declares, that the ground 
of his own comfort, the cause of his own 
justification, was not the grace of faith, but 
the " righteousness which is of God by 
faith ;" Phil. iii. 9 ; not the act of believ- 
ing, btit that grand and glorious object of a 
sinner's belief, " the Lord our righteous- 
ness." 

Besides, what was that faith of Abraham 
to which the apostle refers, and which he 
proposes as the invariable model of our jus- 
tification ? It was faith in the promised 
seed — in Jesus Christ the righteous.* It 
was a firm persuasion, that this illustrious 
person should spring from his loins, and be 
the author of forgiveness, acceptance, and 
salvation to himself, and to a multitude of 
believers numberless as the stars of heaven. 
Let us tread in these steps of the holy pa- 
triarch, and we shall ascribe little, ascribe 
nothing to our faith, but all to the infinitely 
excellent obedience of om- Redeemer, 

Tlier. Sure, Aspasio, you will not pre- 
sume to correct inspiration ! The inspired 
writer makes no mention of a Redeemer's 
obedience. He says expressly and positive- 
ly, " It," that is, Abraham's faith, and not 
any thing else, " was counted unto him for 
righteousness." 

Asp. True, Theron ; as those windows 
are reckoned, are counted the lights of your 
house. Why? Because they illuminate ? 
No ; but because they afford a passage to 
the illuminating rays. Through them, the 
first and best of elements is diffused into all 
your habitation. So "we are saved by 
grace through faith," by grace imputing, 
through faith accepting, the righteousness 
of Jesus Christ. Grace is the magnificent 
source of this nobler light, faith is the means 
of transmitting it into all the faculties of the 
soul. 

When our Lord declares to the diseased 
woman, *' Thy faith hath made thee whole," 
Matth. ix. 22, how are we to understand 
his words ? That the patient's belief, and 
not the agency of Christ, wrought the cure ? 
To suppose this, would be extremely dero- 
gatory to the power of our great Physician. 
And if we ascribe justification to the act of 
believing, this will be equally derogatory to 
the obedience of our great Mediator. In 
the former case, Christ and his omnipotent 
operation were all in all. In the latter case, 
Christ and his infinite merit are all in all. 
In both cases, faith is the only eye to dis- 
cern, or the hand to receive, the soveieigu 
good. 

I would farther observe, that faith is very 
particularly distingiushed from the righte- 



* Compare Gen, xv, 5, 6, with Gal. iii. IG. 



260 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



ousnese which justifies. We read of the 
righteousness which is by faith, which is of 
faith. Rom. ix. 30. Phil. iii. 9. This form 
of expression puts an apparent difference 
])etween the evangelical faith and the evan- 
gelical righteousness ; since whatever is by 
another, and of another, cannot, without the 
greatest violence to reason and language, be 
reckoned that other. — If faith was the cause 
of our acceptance with God, then we should 
be justified by a righteousness which is con- 
fessedly imperfect : For who has ever at- 
tained to the highest degree of this virtue 
or whose faith is not mixed with an alloy 
of unbelief? If faith itself -was the matter 
of our justification, I see not how boasting 
could be excluded ; how the law could be 
magnified ; or what reason the apostle could 
have to account all things, but the righte- 
ousness of Christ, meaner than dross. Phil, 
iii. 8. 

Say not, that we presume to correct in- 
spiration : we only interpret the inspired 
word in an harmonious consistency with it- 
self. This sense is agreeable to the pre- 
vailing doctrine, and to the current language 
of scripture. To the prevailing doctrine ; " 
which is " a believing in hirn w^ho justifieth 
the ungodly." Sift and examine this ex- 
pression, " mm who justifieth." You will 
find that the work is Christ's ; Christ's and 
no other's. The Holy Ghost assigns not 
the least share, not so much as a co-efficien- 
cy, to any other cause. Faith, therefore, 
if it presumes to arrogate this exalted pre- 
rogative, or if it pretends to the least part 
in this important business, is a sacrilegious 
usurper. To the current language ; as when 
God is called our fear; Gen. xxxi. 42, 53 ; 
our hope ; Psalra Ixxi. 5. Jer. xiv. 8 ; our 
joy. Psalm xliii. 4. In these places, the 
act is undoubtedly put for the object : So, 
in the passage before us, the act must de- 
note the object of faith. It is to be under- 
stood, not absolutely, but as some divines 
speak, objectively, instrumentally, relatively. 

Ther. In the name of wonder, what can 
you mean by this heap of harsh and obscure 
expressions ? Let me entreat you, Aspasio, 
to speak in your own style^ not in the dialect 
of Aquinas. I have an irreconcilable aver- 
sion to these scholastic terms : They are 
the barbarisms of divinity I know but one 
use they are fitted to serve ; that is, to per- 
plex and puzzle a cause you cannot main- 
tain : Somewhat like the liquor which a 
certain fish, when closely pursued, is said to 
emit, by which the water is darkened, and 
the foe eluded. 

Asp. This, Theron, is the meaning of our 
uncouth phrases : It is not faith itself which 
justifies ; but that righteousness which faith 
continually views, which faith delightfully 
apprehends, and on which it finally termi- 
nates. 



To be plainer still ; we sffe justified by 
faith, in the same manner as we are fed by 
the hand, or as we are said to drink of a 
cup. Neither the hand nor the cup are 
the cause of our sustenance, but the instru- 
ments; one of conveying it, the other of 
receiving it.* If an apostle affirms, "We 
are justified by faith ;" faith itself declares, 
" in the Lord I have righteousness." Put 
these passages together, and you will have 
the true sense of our doctrine, and the true 
doctrine of the gospel. 

When Themistocles fled from the malice 
of his own countrymen, what recommended 
him to the protection of king Admetus ? — 
Not his name ; that was obnoxious. — Not 
his actions ; they had been hostile. — But 
the person of the young prince, vfhom the 
distressed refugee caught up in his arms ; 
and charged with these credentials, present- 
ed himself to the royal parent.f So faith 
recommends to God, and justifies the soul, 
not for itself or its own worth ; but on ac- 
count of what it presents, and what it 
pleads. 

Ther. Is not this a fanciful distinction, 
and an excessive refinement ? Has it any 
foundation in scripture? 

Asp. It is implied in almost all the re- 
presentations of Cluist, and all the descrip- 
tions of faith, wliich occur in the sacred 
writings. 

Christ is likened to clothing; and be- 
lievers are said to " have put on Christ," 
Gal. iii. 27. Now it cannot be the act of 
putting on, that covers our bodies, or keeps 
them warm ; but the commodious garment 
which is wore — He is compared to bread : 
" I am the bread of life." John vi. 35. 
Shall we say, it is the act of eating which 
strengthens the constitution, and recruits 
our spirits ? No surely ; but the food eaten 
and digested. Christ was typified by the 
" cities of refuge," Num. xxxv. 13, and sin- 
ners, by the obnoxious manslayer ; who, 
if he fled to one of those privileged abodes, 



* Though 1 am entirely of Theioii's mhid, and can 
by no means admire our scholastic divines, or their 
logical terms, yet, a remark from Parseus, couched 
in this style, is so pertinent to the purpose, and so 
full an explication of the point, that it would be an 
injury to the cause, not to make it a part of my notes. 
And some readers, I apprehend, not much acquaint- 
ed with this old-fashioned dialect, may be well 
enough pleased to view a specimen ; may like it, as 
they do the rust of a medal, merely for its uncouth- 
ness and antiquity. 

" Faith justifies," says my author, "not effective- 
ly, as working an habitual righteousness in us, not 
materially, as though it were itself the constituent 
cause of our justification ; but it justifieth objective- 
ly, as it apprehendeth Christ; and instrumentally, as 
it applieth his righteousness." 

t This, saith Plutarch, was a custom peculiar to 
that country; was reckoned the most solemn method 
of supplicating favour: and seldom met with a 
repulse. To which J may add, it is a custom that 
Christians should imitate, in all their addresses to 
the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. When 
thus used, thus improved, it will never fail of suc- 
cess. 



DIALOGUE X. 



261 



aiid there remained, was safe. No prose- 
cution against him could be valid. He had 
nothing to fear from the avenger of blood. 
In this case, was it the bare act of flying 
that screened the criminal ? By no means. 
This conveyed him to a place of security. 
But the place itself was his sanctuary, his 
asylum, his safeguard. 

Faith is styled a receiving of Christ : 
" As many as received him, to them gave 
he power," or granted the privilege, "to be- 
come thesonsof God."( Johni. 12.) Theof- 
fice of faith is, according to this definition, not 
to contribute its quota, much less to deposit 
the whole sum, but to take and use the inesti- 
mable gift. — Faith is called " a looking unto 
Jesus, Heb. xii. 2. in allusion, I suppose, 
to the famous expedient provided for the 
wounded Israelites. Num. xxi. 8- Our 
crucified Lord was prefigured by the bra- 
zen serpent ; our guilt by the stings of the 
fiery serpents ; and our faith by looking to 
the miraculous remedy. Did the healing 
power, I would ask, reside in the mere 
act of viewing ? No ; but in the emblem 
of a dying Saviour, elevated on the pole, 
and ordained for the recovery of the people. 
Here all the efficacy was lodged. From 
hence it was all derived. The action of 
the eye, like the office of faitli, \vas only to 
fetch home, and apply the sanative virtue. 

Once more : faith is represented, as 
" laying hold" on God our Saviour ; Isa. 
xxvii. 5 ; " leaning" upon our Beloved, 
Cant. viii. 5 ; " cleaving" to the Lord, Acts 
xi. 23. Please to take notice of yonder 
vine. Its shoots are weak, and its branches 
are flimsy. Being absolutely unable to sup- 
port themselves, they are fuiiiished with a 
very remarkable set of claspers ; which, 
like so many fingers, lay hold on the pegs 
of the wall, or fasten themselves to the poles 
within their reach. Without such a pro- 
vision, the boughs must lie prostrate on the 
ground, and be exposed to the insults of 
every foot ; whereas, by this kind contri- 
vance of nature, so creeping a plant will 
climb into the air and enjoy the breeze ; so 
feeble a plant will stand out the winter, 
and defy the storms. — An instructive ad- 
monition to sinners ; and no contemptible 
illustration of faith, especially in its princi- 
pal and most distinguishing employ. Thus 
let us apprehend the blessed Jesus, hold us 
fast by our adored Redeemer, cleave to his 
ineff'al3le worthiness, as those twining ten- 
drils, by repeated circumvolutions, adhere 
to their substantial supporters ; then shall 
we rise, by " merits not our own," from 
the most abject and miserable condition, 
to a state of everlasting honour and joy. 

Ther. Some people, I believe, would 
hardly forbear smiling at the peculiarity of 
your diction, and uiight be inclined to call 
your discourse canting, rather than reason- 



ing. For my own part, I nmst acknow- 
ledge, that as all your peculiar phrases are 
derived from the scriptures, I hear them 
with, reverence, rather than any disposition 
to sneer. Was my friend delivering a La- 
tin oration, it would be a sufficient warrant 
for any of his expressions to prove that 
they came from the Ciceronian mint : And 
will it not be, at least, an equally sufficient 
authority for any modes of speech used in 
a theological essay, to allege that they bear 
the stamp of the Bible ? 

Though I make no objection to your 
language, I have yet another scniple with 
regard to your doctrine — Do the ancient 
fathers adopt or inculcate this imputed right- 
eousness ? If it was so important an arti- 
cle of our faith, surely it could not be 
unknown in those early ages which were so 
near the apostolical fountain. It would 
not have been omitted by those zealous 
preachers, who chose to endure all the ri- 
gours of persecution rather than renounce 
their holy profession. 

Asp. I think it were sufficient to answer 
this question by askhig another. Do the 
apostles, does the holy Spirit of God speak- 
ing in scripture, inculcate this doctrine, or 
display this privilege ? If so, we need not 
be veiy solicitous for any farther authority. 
" To the law and to the testimony," (Isa. 
viii. 20.) is our gi'and, our final appeal. 
Amidst all the darkness and uncertainty, 
Vt'hich evidently run through the writings 
of the best of men, this is our unspeakable 
happiness, that " we have a more sure word 
of prophecy, to which we do well to take 
heed." (2 Pet. i. 19.) 

However, to be a little more particular : 
It cannot be expected that Ave should find 
many passages in those pious authors, very 
strong and very explicit upon the point ; 
because in their days it was not so professedly 
opposed, and therefore could not be so ex- 
actly discussed as in the latter ages. Never- 
theless, they have left enough behind them 
to avouch the substance of what we assert, 
" That a man is not 'justified by any works, 
duties, or righteousness of his own, but 
only by faith in Jesus Christ." I cannot 
say that I have charged my memory with 
their very words, and for that reason must 
not attempt at present to make any citation. 
But, when a proper opportunity offers, and 
then' works are before me, I may possibly 
produce a few of their testimonies. 

In the mean time, I can mention a set of 
writers, whose attestation will, I imagine, 
cany as much weight with my friend, as 
the united voice of the Greek and Latin 
fathers. 

Ther. Who are they ? 

Asp. Om venerable reformers. The ho- 
milies composed by those excellent divines, 
cire as express to my purpose as they are 



262 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



iinexceptiomible in thetr evidence. This 
is their language : " The true understand- 
ing of this doctrine, We be justified freely 
by faith without works, is not, that this our 
act to believe, or this our faith in Christ, 
doth justify us, for that were to count our- 
selves to be justified by some act or virtue 
that is within ourselves. But the true 
meaning thereof is, that although we hear 
God's word, and believe it ; although we 
have hope and faith, charity and repentance, 
and do never so many good works ; yet we 
must renounce the merit of all our virtues 
and good deeds, as things that be far too 
weak and insufficient to deserve remission 
of sin, and our justification. We must trust 
only in God's mercy, and that sacrifice which 
cur High Priest and Saviour Jesus Christ, 
the Son of God, ofiered for us upon the 
cross." 

The homily subjoins a very opposite il- 
lustration, which may conclude our discourse 
with perfect propriety, and I hope with 
equal efficacy. " So that as St. John Bap- 
tist, although he were never so virtuous and 
godly a man, yet in the matter of forgiving 
sin, he did put the people from him, and 
appoint them unto Christ, saying thus unto 
them, " Behold !" yonder is the " Lamb of 
God, which taketh away the sins of the 
world," even so, as great and as godly a 
virtue as the lively faith is, yet it putteth 
us from itself, and remitteth us unto Chiist, 
for to have only by him remission of sins, 
or justification. So that our faith in Christ, 
as it were, saith unto us thus. It is not that 
I take away your sins, but it is Christ only? 
and to him only I send you for that purpose, 
forsaking therein all your good words, 
thoughts, and works. And only putting 
your trust in Christ."'* 

Ther. If there be any tolerable sense of 
the notion under debate, I think it must be 
understood as follows : — Christ's perform- 
ance of the law of his mediation, or, in other 
wwds, his unsinning obedience to the mo- 
ral law, and the spotless sacrifice of him- 
self to the vindictive jtistice of God ; these 
are the only valuable considerations on ac- 
count of which the gracious God restores 
guilty creatures to a state of acceptance with 
his divine majesty. 

Asp. I am far from denying your proposi- 
tion : I rejoice in the propriety of my The- 
ron's sentiments. May his faith, which is 
thus far advanced, be carried on by grace, 
till it is completed in glory ! That unsin- 
ning obedience, and that spotless sacrifice, 
are indeed the only valuable, they are also 
the truly, or rather the infinitely valuable 
consideration, which has fully merited for 
us the remission of sins, and the enjoyment 
of life ; ,and this not only from the gracious, 

* J:'ee the second part of the Homily oa Salvation. 



but even from the just, the f^thful, the 
righteous God. 

But then, they must be imputed, in or- 
der to furnish us with a claim, and invest 
us with a right to the purchased privileges. 
Suppose them not imputed, and what be- 
comes of our interest in them ? They are 
like a medicine prepared but not applied. 
Suppose them imputed, and they lay a firm, 
an apparent, a rational foundation, for every 
pleasing hope, and for every heavenly blessing. 

Ther. I fear I have acknowledged too 
much. — My thoughts fluctuate. My mind 
is unsettled. I would not withstand the 
truth, I would not disbelieve any doctrine 
of the gospel. Yet, what shall I say? 
While I listen to your reasoning, I am half 
a convert. When I recollect the objections, 
I revert to my first opinion. 

Of this, however, I am convinced, that 
human righteousness is insufficient for our 
justification. Here your arguments have 
carried their point. I shall henceforth place 
my hopes of everlasting happiness, not upon 
any works of my own, but upon the free- 
goodness and unbounded beneficence of 
the Supreme Being, pursuant to that max- 
im of Scripture, " The gift of God is eter- 
nal life." 

Asp. You do right, Theron, to expect 
eternal life, as the gift of God, not as the 
wages of your own obediential service. 
But be pleased to remember, that all the 
gifts of grace, though perfectly free to sin- 
ners, are founded upon a grand and ines- 
timable price paid by tlieir Saviour. Are 
they entirely absolved from guilt ? It is be- 
cause Christ gave his life for their ransom ? 
Are they heard with acceptance when they 
piay ? It is because their exalted High 
Priest intercedes in their behalf. — Are they 
completely justified, and instated in endless 
bliss ? It is because their Redeemer's con- 
summate obedience is the glorious equiva- 
lent for this and every other blessing 

Therefore, when you mention eternal life 
as the gift of God, you should not forget 
to add with the holy apostle, " through 
Jesus Christ our Lord." (Rom. vi. 20.) 
Well, my Theron, what say you farther ? 
Is your quiver emptied ? Are your scruples 
satisfied ? May I interpret tliis silence as 
an act of assent ? 

TJier. Observe how the ranunculuses on 
yonder gay parterre have contracted their 
spreading tufts, and the tulips have closed 
their expanded cups, while all the neigh- 
bouring flowers have shut their ivory doors, 
or drawn their velvet curtains. Such is the 
state of my thoughts. They are all bent 
ii) wards, collected in themselves, and pon- 
dering upon your discourse, which has in- 
clined me, before I tvas aware, to contem- 
plate rather than talk. You will excuse 
my thoughtfulness, Aspasio; or, if it wants 



DIALOGUE XI. 



263 



an apology, you must blame youreell', for, 
had your reasons been less cogent, ray at- 
tention had been more disengaged. 

Asp. My dear Theron, I shall ordy wish, 
in allusion to your own simile, and in the 
language of the best of books, that these 
truths may " distil as the dew," upon yoiu- 
mind, (Deut. xxxii. 2,) and lie all night 
upon your brxonches. " ( Job -xxix. 1 9. ) This, 
I am persuaded, is the only way to have all 
your comforts "green before the sun," and 
all your virtues "flourish as an herb:" 
whereas, under the influence of any other 
faith, I am afraid they VAdll be as the garden 
that is visited with a drought, or as the 
leaves that are smitten vnth. a blast. 

T/ier. 1 shall attentively consider, both 
your doctrine, and your arguments ; which, 
that I may execute with more ease, aiid to 
better purpose, be pleased to sum up, in a 
few words, the substance of what has pass- 
ed. This done, it will be time to with- 
draw. The flowers, you see, are our moni- 
tors. They have folded up their robes, and 
veiled theii- beauties : A custom which 
they seldom use till the rising damps ren- 
der it unsafe for their master to be among 
thera, and the surrounding gloom renders it 
difficult for his eye to distinguish them. 

Asp. You could not oblige me more, 
than by giving me such a command. We 
tnist for salvation, 

Not on our own external duties. This 
were to build our house upon the sand ; 
which, when the rains descend, when the 
torrents pour, when the winds blow with 
tempestuous violence, will certainly fall, and 
bury the builder, with all his vain hopes, in 
irretrievable ruin. 

Not on tlie sincerity of our hearts. This, 
if opposed to Christ, and made the rival of 
his merits, will be a " despised broken 
idol." Despised by the infinitely sublime 
and majestic Ruler of the world. Broken, 
with regard to the stress we lay, or the con- 
fidence we repose, on so deceitful a prop. 
No more able to stand in the judgment of 
the great day, than Dagon was able to 
maintain his station before the ark of the 
Lord God of Hosts. (1 Sam. v. 3, 4.) 

Not upon om- faith. This is often weak^ 
as the rickety child : sometimes quite faint, 
like a person in a deep swoon ; always im- 
perfect, like every other performance of 
ours. Alas ! to what afflicting fears, to 
what grievous despondency should I, for 
my part, be perpetually liable, if my own 
faith was the ground of my justification ? 
Blessed be the Father of mercies ! we have 
a surer support. Not upon faith, not upon 
faith, but upon its gracious Author, and 
glorious object, is the hope of Israel found- 
ed. Yet, 

jSTot upon our Lord's righteousness, con- 
sidered only as passive ; but upon his ac- 



tive and passive obedience united : all that 
he did in eonfoimity to the commands of 
the law, and all that he suflfered, in submis- 
sion to its penalty. Both which, immense- 
ly dignified by his divine natiu-e, are a 
basis for our faith which nothing can shake, 
are a foundation for our affiance, which can 
never be removed. Nothing else, in any 
creature, or in all worlds, could expiate the 
least sin. This not only expiates all sin, 
but gives a title to every blessing — to the 
blessings of grace and of glory, of evange- 
lical holiness and everlasting happiness. 



DIALOGUE XL 

Asp. I HAVE often purposed, and as often 
forgot, to ask my Theron what picture he 
was so attentively surveying, when I stole 
unperceived upon him in this favourite ai- 
bour.* 

The?'. I was indulging a pensive pleasure, 
in viewing the ruins and contemplating the 
fate of Babylon — that renoAATied and opu- 
lent city ! once the residence of the Assy- 
rian monarchs, and capital of one of the 
greatest empii-es in the world. The draught 
I held in my hand represented some of its 
remains. And indeed this was the very 
last subject which employed my thoughts. 
In the morning my son brought me his ob- 
servations upon the scene, which I have just 
now been re\dsing. 

For I frequently set him to exercise 
his judgment or display his fancy on re- 
markable passages which occur in histoiy 
He was lately commissioned to determine a 
controversy between the illustrious Leoni- 
das and the less celebrated Psedaretus. 
This was the point in debate. — Which of 
them discovered the truest generosity of 
spirit, and the most heroic love of theii- coun- 
try ? The former, who willingly sacrificed 
his life in its defence ? or the latter, who, 
when he was candidate for a seat among 
the three hundred, and lost his election, 
instead of being chagi'ined or dissatisfied, 
went home, unfeignedly rejoicing, " that 
there were found in Sparta, three hundred 
men, more worthy than himself ?" The task 
of this day was, to give a descriptive pic- 
tiu*e of those wonderful ruins. 

A^p. Pray let me have the pleasure of 
hearing the young gentleman's performance. 

Ther. It will be too long, and too puer- 
ile ; tire your patience, and offend your 
taste. 

Asp. I do not use to make either of 
these complaints, when I am entertained 
with Theron's compositions ; and, as the 
son has so much of his father's genius, I 



* See Dialogue V. 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



264 

am not at all apprehensive of any such dis- 
appointment. We have a most agreeable 
situation, and more than an hour's leisure : 
I must therefore repeat my request 

Thcr. It is true, I have retouched the 
sketch, w^hich may render it somewhat more 
tolerable. And since you persist in your 
demand, I will read the paper. Only de- 
siring some allowance for a little luxuriancy 
of imagination, which, in young writers it 
may be advisable to indulge rather than 
repress, as age and judgment will probably 
come with the pruning knife, and make the 
proper retrenchments. I must farther ob- 
serve, that contrary to the custom which 
prevails in our schools, I generally choose 
to have him express his sentiments in En- 
glish ; because it is in this language he 
must communicate his own, and become 
acquainted with the ideas of others; be- 
cause, to acquire some good degree of pro- 
priety and fluency in this his native tongue, 
will be incomparably more serviceable, than 
to speak Latin with the Tarentine elegance, 
or to write it with the Ciceronian copious- 
ness. 

Is this Babylon ? the glory of kingdoms ! 
the beauty of the Chaldean excellency ! 

Where once the gorgeous east, with richest hand, 
Shower'd on her kings barbaric pearl and gold. 

How is she fallen ! fallen from the height 
of magnificence into the abyss of confusion ! 
What was once the object of universal ad- 
miration, is now a spectacle of astonish- 
ment and horror. 

The palace, where majesty sat enthron- 
ed, like some terrestrial deity, is a heap of 
rubbish ; no longer distinguished by an air 
of superior elegance, but by stronger and 
more melancholy marks of departed dignity.* 
Where the nobles of that sumptuous court 
trailed along the marble pavement their 
robes of purple and embroidery, there the 
crested snake hisses, or the fierce envenom- 
ed adder glides. 

How changed is the hospitable hall, and 
how disgraced the room of state ! The first 
aflforded a constant and cordial reception to 
the welcome guests ; in the last the great 
king gave audience to his cringing, his ador- 
ing vassals. Now thorns overrun the 
circumference, and " desolation sits in the 
threshold of them both !" Where are the 
roofs of ivory, painted with vermillion and 
adorned with sculpture ? the radiant roofs, 
whose lamps of burnished silver, pendent 



* Benjamin, a Jew of Tudela, in his Itinerary, 
written about the year of our Lord II70, tells us, 
" That he was upon the place v/here this city former- 
ly stood, and found it wholly desolated and destroy- 
ed. Only some ruins of Nebuchadnezzar's palace were 
still remaining, but men were afraid to go near them, 
by reason of the many serpents and scorpions that 
were then in the place." 



in many a blazing row, yielded light as from 
another sky? Swept from their founda- 
tions, they lie clotted with defiling dirt, or 
clasped with tangling briers. Music no 
longer pours her harmony through the spa- 
cious and extended apartment ; but the 
night-owl, nestling in some cleft of the 
ruins, screams her harsh and portentous dis- 
sonance. Joy no longer leads up the 
sprightly dance amidst the lustre of that ar- 
tificial day J but the solitary bat flits in si- 
lent circles, or flaps her sooty wings. All 
those gay delights, let the sons of sensuality 
hear the tale, and take warning from the 
catastrophe ! — all those gay delights are ex- 
tinguished, like one of their feeblest tapers, 
which, having illuminated for a while the 
festive assembly, shone itself to the edges 
of the exhausted socket, and, in a moment 
flashed into stench and darkness. 

The walls, though cemented with bitu- 
men,* and consolidated into the firmness 
of a flint, are become like the broken bub- 
ble. There was a time when the inhabi- 
tants, confiding in the strength of their bul- 
warks and the multitude of their towers, 
looked down with fearless disdain on the 
army of besiegers. But now the prophet's 
threatening is most terribly fulfilled : " The 
fortress of the high fort of thy walls hath 
he brought doAvn, laid low, and brought to 
the ground, even to the dust," Isa. xxv. 12. 
— Where are the gates, the grand and glit- 
tering gates, t which admitted the triumph- 
ant hosts, or poured forth their numerous 
legions against the day of battle ? Not one 
trace remains to tell the inquisitive stran- 
ger, " Here the spacious avenues opened j 
here the massy portals rose. Commodious 
walks, in which the clustering merchants 
raised thebusy hum,and planned the schemes 
of commerce ; ample streets, in which in- 
dustry drove the toiling car, or smote the 
sounding anvil, are shrouded with matted 
grass, or buried beneath the rankest weeds. 
Silence, in both places, a sullen silence 
reigns ; and inactivity, a death-like inacti- 
vity slumbers. 

What is become of those hanging gar- 
dens, which, for curious contrivance and 
stupendous workmanship were never equal- 
led in any nation under heaven ? Terraces 
that overlooked the tallest houses ! Parterres 
exalted to the clouds, and opening their 
flowery beauties in that strange region ! 
Groves, whose very roots Avere higher than 



* The walls were built of brick, and cemented with 
a glutinous kind of slime, which binds more firmly 
than any mortar, and soon grows harder than the 
bricks or stones themselves. 

t There were no less than an hundred gates, all of 
solid brass. Hence it is, that when Jehovah pro- 
mises to make Cyrus master of Babylon, he speaks 
in this very remarkable and particularizing manner, 
" I will break in pieces before thee the gates of brass," 
Isa, xlv. 2. 



DIALO 

the tops of the loftiest trees ! — they are 
now smitten by a dreadful blast. Their 
beauty is decayed, like a withered leaf. 
Their very being is gone, " like the chaff 
of the summer threshing floors, which the 
wind carrieth away, and its place is nowhere 
found." Dan. ii. 35. What was once the 
favourite retreat of a queen, and the admi- 
ration of the whole world, is now a nest for 
poisonous reptiles, and a kennel for raven- 
ous beasts. — The traveller, instead of ex- 
patiating with delight where this pensile 
paradise flourished, is struck with horror, 
keeps at a trembling distance, and, surveying 
the rueful spot, cries out, " Righteous art 
thou, O Lord, and true are thy judgments !" 

Here stands an obelisk, maimed by the 
stroke of revolving years, like a mountain- 
oak shattered by the flaming bolt. An- 
other, all unhinged and quite disjointed, 
seems to tremble before every blast that 
blows. There the pyramid,* firm as the 
solid rock, and stable, one would have 
thought, as the everlasting hills, wrenched 
from its mighty base, is tumbled headlong 
in enormous ruin, and has crushed many a 
structure by its fall. — See yonder the tri- 
umphal arch, which exhibited through its 
extensive and beautiful bend an advanta- 
geous view of the firmament. It was once 
the graceful memorial of some celebrated 
victory ; it is now converted into a trophy 
of a very diflferent kind. Just retaining 
two uneven, battered, ragged stumps, it 
serves to recognise the destructive ravages 
of time. Spires that pierced the clouds, 
and shot into the skies, are levelled with 
the trodden soil. On pinnacles, to which 
the strong-winged bird could hardly soar, 
the grovelling worm crawls, and the sordid 
snail leaves her slimy tract. Baths that 
contained the translucent wave, and were 
so often perfumed with odoriferous un- 
guents, are choaked with tilth : the grand 
colonnade that surrounded them is shiver- 
ed to pieces, and the elevated dome that 
covered them is dashed to the ground. 
The public aqueducts, which conveyed 
cleanliness and health along their crystal 
currents, are degenerated into a stagnating 
lake, while croaking vermin swarm among 
the weeds, and noisome exhalations steam 
from the mire. 

August and stately temples that seemed 
to affect the neighbourhood of heaven,i- 
are sunk to the very dust. — Who can point 



* Strabo calls the temple of Belus a pvraraid, 
lib. 15. 

t A tower in the temple of Belus, and dedicated to 
his worship, was very high. It consisted of eight 
piles of building erected one above another. It arose 
to the elevation of six liundred feet perpendicular, 
and is thought, by the learned Bochart, to have been 
part of that superb work which was begun when tlie 
vvh:>le earth was of one language ; but miscarried, or 
rather was providentially defeated, by the confusion 
o;' tongues. In this structure, there were doubtless 



GUE XL 265 

the spot where the consecrated victim 
bled, or the sacred tire glowed ? where the 
sceptered image lifted its majestic head, 
or the venerating crowds bowed the sup- 
pliant knee ?* Degrading are those splen- 
did vanities, and cast (according to the de- 
nunciation of the sacred oracles) "to the bats 
and to the moles." Isa. ii. 20. All is low ; 
low as the spurious dignity of the idols they 
complimented ; low " as the straw that is 
trodden down for the dunghill," Isa. xxv. 10. 

Sepulchres, the once venerable reposito- 
ries of the dead, awful mansions destined 
to everlasting concealment, are cleft and 
rent asunder. They disclose the horrid se- 
crets of the pit, and frightfully yawn upon 
the blasted day. Possibly some ravenous 
creature lurks within, that has already rifled 
the tomb of its hero, given the putrid bones 
a new grave, and waits only for the ap- 
proach of night to repeat his funeral dirge 
in yells. Inscriptions, designed to perpe- 
tuate some illustrious character, or eter- 
nize some heroic deed, are blended in the 
promisctious mass. In vain would the pry- 
ing antiquary search for a legible or consis- 
tent sentence ; in vain attempt to find the 
memorable names of a Nebuchadnezzar or 
a Nimrod. These, though engraven on 
plates of brass, or cut in blocks of marble, 
are lost amidst the stupendous lumber, as 
prints on the unsteady sand are effaced when 
returning tides smooth the ftu-rowed beach. 

Here and there a straggling cypress rises, 
as it were, with funereal solemnity amidst 
the waste, t Somewhat like the black 
plumes nodding over the mournful hearse, 
they augment the sadness of the scene, andl 
throw a deeper horror on all below- No 
human voice is heard, nor human face seen, 
amidst these desolated heaps ; too dreary 
even for the roam of hoary hermit, or the 
cell of gloomy monk. Abandoned they ai'e, 
totally abandoned, to the dominion of soli- 
tude, or else to the immolested resort of 
shaggy monsters, and feathered hags, which 
stun the midnight hours ; these with their 
importunate shrieks ; those with their exe- 
crable howls. 

See to what a despicable, what an ab- 
horred state, the proudest monuments of 
earthly grandeur, and the most costly appa- 
ratus for earthly felicity, may be reduced ! 



very strong traces of that arrogant boast, Let us 
build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach to 
heaven." Gen. xi. 4. 

* Alluding to that prodigious instance of profuse- 
ness, ostentation and idolatrous madness, " The gol- 
den image set up in the plam of Dura, whose height 
(that is the height of the statue and pedestal taken 
together) was threescore cubits," Dan. iii. 1. 

t Rauwolf, a German traveller, who passed that 
way in the year of our Lord 1574, says, " This coun- 
try is so dry and barren, that it cannot be tilled, and 
so bare, that J should have doubted whether the po- 
tent Babylon did stand there, if I had not known it 
by several ancient and delicate antiquities that aie 
still standing hereabout in great desolation." 



£66 



TIIERON AND ASPASIO. 



A pregnant and alarming proof, that, for 

lasting honour, or real happiness, 

" They build too low, who build beneath the skies." 

Asp. I veiy much approve the choice of 
yoiu' subject. The ruins of Persepolis 
would have given us a view of magnificence 
in abasement : The niins of Palmyra might 
have showed us elegance in the dust : But 
the ruins of Babylon display, at once, mag- 
nificence and elegance under an eclipse. 
Scripture and revelation in their glory. — 
The utter destruction of this city, which 
was absolutely unequalled in every instance 
of dignity, and seemingly invincible by any 
enemy, must certainly have been looked up- 
on as the most improbable of events. Never- 
theless, its utter destruction was decreed by 
Jehovah, and denounced by his prophet, 
several ages before the execution took place. 
The awful sentence was not only denounced, 
but recorded, and is still remaining, in the 
public archives of our religion. 

Ther. Where is this sentence recorded, 
and remaining ? 

Asp. In the prophecy of Isaiah ; and not 
only recorded, but in the most circumstan- 
tial manner, and with a minute detail of the 
horrible desolations. These are the words 
of the inspired writer : " Babylon, the 
glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chal- 
dees' excellency, shall be as when God 
overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah. It shall 
never be inhabited ; neither shall it be 
dwelt in from generation to generation ; 
neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there ; 
neither shall the shepherds make their fold 
there. But wild beasts of the desert shall 
lie there, and their houses shall be full of 
doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell 
there, and satyrs shall dance there, and the 
wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their 
desolate houses, and dragons in their pleas- 
ant palaces." Isa. xiii. 19 — 22. 

In the. two first sentences is comprised 
the most finished picture of prosperity and 
grandeur. " The glory of kingdoms ;" be- 
yond every other royal seat, spacious, orna- 
mented, and wealthy ; revered by many 
conquered and tributary dominions as their 
mistress and their sovereign. The beauty 
of the Chaldees' excellency:" the Chaldeans, 
who excelled aU the nations of the earth in 
riches, in splendour, and in power, even 
they gloried in this wonderful city. This 
was the highest honour of the most illustri- 
ous, and chief strength of the most victori- 
ous people : fairest, where all was conspi- 
cuously fair ; noblest, where all was super- 
eminently noble. Yet this distingiiished, 
this crowning city, shall, at the blasting of 
the breath of Jehovah, be totally, totally 
destroyed, even " as when God overthrew 
Sodom and Gomorrah." 

In describing the overthrow, the prophet 



is equally admirable, and rises, by a most 
judicious gradation, into all the pomp of 
horror : q. <J. " Now, indeed, it is thronged 
with citizens ; but the hour is coming, when 
it shall be entirely depopulated, and not so 
much as a single inhabitant left. Lest you 
should think that, in process of time, it 
may be re-edified, and again abound with 
joyful multitudes, it shall never be inhabit- 
ed more ; no, never be dwelt in any more, 
from generation to generation, "but shall 
continue a dismal waste through all suc- 
ceeding ages : A waste so dismal, that none 
of the neighbouring shepherds shall make 
their fold, or find so much as an occasional 
shelter for their flocks, where kings, gran- 
dees, and crowds of affluent citizens, repos- 
ed themselves in profound tranquillity. 
Even the rude and roving Arabian shall 
not venture to pitch his tent, nor be able 
to procure for himself the poor accommo- 
dation of a night's lodging, where millions 
of polite people basked in the sunshine of 
profuse prosperity. In short, it shall neither 
be habitable nor accessible but " a dwelling 
place for dragons, an astonishment and a 
hissing." (Jer. li. 37.) What was once 
the golden city, (Isaiah xiv. 4,) and the 
metropolis of the world, shall be an ever- 
lasting scene of desolation and horror ; a 
fearful monument of divine vengeance, and 
an awful admonition to human pride." 

All this is foretold in Scripture; and 
though to human appearance impossible, 
though to human apprehension incredible, 
was, in the appointed time, most minutely 
accomplished. The memorials and evi- 
dences of the accomplishment remain to 
this very day. They are so authentic, that 
the most inquisitive curiosity cannot doubt ; 
and so incontestible, that the most bigoted 
incredulity will not deny. And shoidd not 
this teach us to reverence the authority, to 
admire the wisdom, and confide in the pro- 
mises, of that heavenly volume ? 

I know you are not fond of compliments, 
Theron. Therefore, instead of speaking 
my opinion of your son's performance, I 
wiU endeavour to retmn your favour. You 
have entertained me with an account of the 
most memorable ruins extant in the mate- 
rial world. Let me present my friend with 
a picture of ruins no less remarkable, far 
more deplorable, and unspeakably interest- 
ing to us all. I shall give it in the colour- 
ing of a great master, whose works this very 
day I happened to be perusing. 

The passage displays a doctrine of the 
utmost importance in the Christian scheme, 
and by one of the finest pieces of imagery 
to be met with in elegant writing. I think 
it maybe looked upon as a practical improve- 
ment of Eugenio's declamation. It pleased 
me so much that I transcribed it ; and I 
make no apology for reading it, because I 



DIALOGUE XI. 



•267 



shall expect your thanks. Only let me 
hint, that it considers the human soul as 
originally a habitation of God through the 
Spirit, and then, speaking of its fallen con- 
dition, proceeds: 

" That he hath withdrawn himself, and 
left this his temple desolate, we have many 
sad and plain proofs before us. The state- 
ly ruins are visible to every eye, that bear 
in their front (yet extant) that doleful in- 
scription — Here God once dwelt. Enough 
appears of the admirable frame and struc- 
ture of the soul of man, to show the divine 
presence did sometime reside in it ; more 
than enough of vicious deformity to pro- 
claim he is now retired and gone. The 
lamps are extinct, the altar overturned ; the 
light and love are now vanished, which made 
the one shine with so heavenly brightness, 
the other burn with so pious fervour. The 
golden candlestick' is displaced, and thrown 
away as a useless thing, to make room for 
the throne of the prince of darkness. The 
sacred incense, which sent, rolling up in 
clouds, its rich perfumes, is exchanged for 
a poisonous, hellish vapour ; and here is, 
' instead of a sweet savour, a stench.' The 
comely order of this house is turned all into 
confusion ; the ' beauties of holiness' into 
' noisome impurities the * house of prayer 
to a den of thieves,' and that of the worst 
and most • horrid kind ; for every lust is a 
thief, and every theft is sacrilege. Con- 
tinual rapine and robbery is committed upon 
holy things. The noble powers which were 
designed and dedicated to divine contem- 
plation and delight, are alienated to the ser- 
vice of the most despicable idols, and em- 
ployed into the vilest intuitions and em- 
braces, to behold and admire lying vani- 
ties ; to indulge and cherish lust and viick- 
edness. 

" There is not now a system, an entire 
table of coherent truths to be found, or a 
frame of holiness, but some shivered par- 
cels. How many attempts have been made 
since that fearful fall and ruin of this fab- 
ric, to compose again the truths of so many 
several kinds into their distinct orders, and 
make up frames of science or useful know- 
ledge ! and, after so many ages, nothing is 
finished in any kind. Sometimes truths are 
misplaced, and what belongs to one kind is 
transferred to another, where it will not fit- 
ly match ; sometimes falsehood inserted, 
which shatters or disturbs the whole frame. 
And what with much fruitless pains is done by 
one hand, is dashed in pieces by another; and 
it is the work of a following age to sweep 
away the fine-spun cobwebs of a former. And 
those truths which are of greatest use, are 
least regarded ; their tendency and design 
are overlooked, or, they are loosened and torn 
off, that they cannot be wrought in, so as 
to take hold of the soul ; but hover, a« faint 



ineffectual notions, that signify nothing. 
Its very fundamental powers are shaken and 
disjointed, and their order towards one an- 
other confounded and broken : So that what 
is judged considerable, is not considered ; 
what is recommended as eligible and lovely, 
is not loved and chosen. Yea, the truth 
which is after godliness, is not so much dis- 
believed, as hated, held in unrighteousness ; 
and shines as too feeble a * light,' in that ma- 
lignant darkness, which * comprehends it not. ' 
You come amidst all this confusion, as into 
the ruined palace of some gi'eat prince, in 
which you see here the fragments of a no- 
ble pillar, there the shattered pieces of 
some curious imagery; and all lying ne- 
glected and useless amongst heaps of dirt. — 
He that invites you to take a view of the 
soul of man, gives you but such another 
prospect, and doth but say to you, ' Behold 
the desolation,' all things rude and waste. 
So that, should there be any pretence to 
the divine presence, it might be said, ' If 
God be here, why is it thus ? The faded 
gloiy, the darkness, the disorder, the impu- 
rity, the decayed state in all respects of this 
temple, too plainly show, ' The great inha- 
bitant is gone.' "* 

Ther. Your painter, I must own, is a 
master in his profession ; and seems to have 
a peculiar talent for a night-piece — But 
why, I beseech you, so much of his shades 
and solemnity ? Has he no colours but the 
dark ? no lineaments but the sour ? Could 
he not allow us one bright tint, one smiling 
feature, when he was copying the noblest 
being in this sublunary world ? — Is it for 
the honour of the great Creator to give such 
a deformed draught of his most finished 
workmanship ? 

Asp. It reflects no kind of dishonour 
upon the architect of Babylon, that its 
palaces are fallen, its edifices demolish- 
ed, and its walls levelled with the ground. 
They might have been built with the 
exactest symmetry, and once embellished 
with every graceful ornament, notwith- 
standing the stroke of violence, or the 
sap of years, have now reduced them to 
heaps of rubbish. The human soul, when 
recent from the inspiration of the Almighty, 
was bright with knowledge, amiable with 
virtue, and, in every respect excellent. But 
how — to speak in the language of the 
momning prophet, a language never more 
pertinent than on the present occasion — 
" how is the gold become dim ! how is the 
most fine gold changed !" 

Tlier. Man's soul is rational and eternal ; 
is the offspring of the Deity, and capable of 
resembling its Maker. 

Asp. What Milton allows to the fallen 



* See Mr. Howe's treatise entitled The living temple. 



268 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



archange}, I can readily allow to fallen 
man : 

He had not lost 

All his original brightness. 

The grand and distinguishing faculties of the 
soul remain. Just as when a fountain is 
poisoned, the waters continue to tiow ; but 
flow no longer with health, flow rather with 
death in the stream. These very faculties, 
unless renewed and regulated by the influ- 
ence of religion, must be our present misery, 
and will prove our everlasting curse. " The 
soul," you say, " is rational, is eternal." And 
do not even the devils possess the powers of 
reason ? Is not their existence also of an 
endless duration ? Yet are they, of all crea- 
tures, the most execrable and the most miser- 
able. 

You call the human soul the offspring of 
the Deity ; and you call it properly. Must 
we not then adopt the prophet's exclama- 
tion, " How art thou fallen, O Lucifer, son 
of the morning !" (Tsa. xiv. 12.) How art 
thou degenerated, O man, son of the Most 
High ! Thy glorious original serves only to 
set forth, with more glaring evidence, thy 
deplorable apostacy." 

Capable, you add, of resembling its 
Maker. This, I acknowledge is a valuable 
prerogative : In this the infernal spirits 
have no share. But this capacity will al- 
ways lie dormant, will never awaken into 
act, never be established in habit, unless 
Almighty grace intervene. 

Tlier. The most celebrated philosophers 
of antiquity frequently exhort their readers 
to follow nature as a certain guide to true 
excellence. Many eloquent writers of our 
own country enlarge upon the dignity of 
human nature, and from this topic derive 
very forcible arguments for a correspondent 
dignity both of sentiment and behaviour. 
Upon what can those principles of the an- 
cient sages, and of our later moralists, be 
founded ? 

Asp, Indeed, Theron, I am at a loss to 
tell. If they have any foundation, it is 
merely imaginary; not laid on truth, nor 
confirmed by experience. According to 
my apprehension, they invert the order of 
things ; they take that for a postulatum 
which ought to be ranked among the desi- 
derata, and make an axiom of a mere fig- 
ment. 

Had man continued as he was created, 
to act according to nature and according to 
the law of God, would have been one and 
the same thin.g. For which reason we find 
no precepts of religion, no delineation of 
morality, given to Adam in paradise ; be- 
cause religion and morality were engraven 
on his heart; or rather, they resulted f]-om 
the very bent and tendency of his perfect 
frame. But since the fall it is quite other- 
wise. 



Ther. Have not many of the ancient 
worthies been living confutations of your 
opinion ? wise philosophers, judicious law- 
givers, and steady ministers of justice ? 
their desires refined, iheir affections bene- 
volent, their whole conduct upright. 

Asp. I cannot forbear wondering, that 
you should instance in lawgivers and min- 
isters of justice ; since the very institution 
of their ofiice presupposes the depravity of 
mankind. Was human nature agitated by 
no irregular or vicious inclinations, the bar- 
rier of laws would be as needless in civil 
societies, as the vast banks of Holland are 
needless in our upland counties. 

But this, you will say, is a digressive 
observation ; — your question requires a po- 
sitive answer. And it is easy to answer — 
that the painting is beyond the life. If my 
author has been too free with the dark, my 
friend has been too lavish of the glittering 
colours. Those famous men might aim, 
perhaps, at the excellency you describe. 
Not one of them came up to the mark ; 
or, suppose they did, this would not invali- 
date my tenet. 

Tlier. This Vould not invalidate your 
tenet ! Then demonstration carries no con- 
viction. 

Asp. Pray, \A\o is your greatest favour- 
ite among all the renowned persons of an- 
tiquity ? 

Ther. Socrates. — He stands at the head 
of the class ; and was, indisputably, the 
wisest and the best of the heathen world. 

Asp. I think so too. Be pleased, how- 
ever, to recollect the story of the physiog- 
nomist, who pretended to discover the dis- 
position of the mind by the cast of the 
countenance. The professor of this occult 
science undertook, you know, to exercise 
his skill upon Socrates ; and pronounced 
him, after an examination of his features, 
lascivious, passionate and morose. This 
judgment, so extravagantly wide of the 
truth, was bringing a storm of ridicule and 
resentment upon the poor fortune-teller ; 
when the ingeinious philosopher interposed, 
and owned the description to be exactly 
true ; that such was his natural temper ; 
and if his conversation had been of a dif- 
ferent turn, it was owing to the aids of 
philosophy. So that, even in your most 
finished character, there was no innate dig- 
nity. All was adventitious. 

Ther. If corruption was derived unto all 
men, from their forefather Adam, methinks 
all should be equally corrupt. But this is 
contrary to known fact. Some we see na- 
turally loving and lovely, gentle in their 
manners, and subject to no inordinate a])- 
petites. 

Asp. Some persons may be of more com- 
posed, or, if you please, of less dissolute 
manners, than the generality of other peo- 



DIALOGUE XL 



2G9 



pie. Thanks to a better temperature of 
their constitution, or a more watchful care 
in their education. But show me the ui!- 
regenerate man, who is subject to no inor- 
dinate appetites. One vile affection may 
check another, or a sense of decency may 
hold the cm-b upon all. But it is one thing 
to have the wild beast in the heart chained ; 
another, to have him expelled, or the lion 
transformed into a lamb. 

Ther. Have we not often observed he- 
roic courage, and a generosity of spirit, 
where the education has been none of the 
strictest? To what can we ascribe these 
laudable qualities, but to tlie innate virtue 
aiid nobleness of the temper, working with- 
out any auxiliary succours ? 

Asp. Virtue, Theron, is a complete as- 
semblage, not some disjointed shreds, of 
laudable qualities. Those you mention, if 
not accompanied with the whole circle of 
amiable accomplishments, are no more to 
be called virtue, than two or three scattered 
fragments of an edifice are to be honoured 
with the appellation of a house. How often 
are those very persons, with all their forti- 
tude, slaves to ignoble pleasures, or in 
bondage to the basest lusts ? A most in- 
fallible indication that they have no uniform 
generosity nor any real courage. Desire of 
fame may prompt to many such acts as 
dazzle the superficial eye, which yet are far, 
very far from genuine virtue. 

Tker. Do you then attribute the Grecian 
politeness, and the high Roman spirit, all 
the gallant actions of then- heroes and ge- 
nerals, to a desire of fame ? 

Asp. There is reason to suspect, that 
they derived their origin from some impro- 
per motive : And no motive was more art- 
fully instilled, or more assiduously cherish- 
ed, tlian the spirit of ambition. View their 
crowns, their statues, their triumphal so- 
lemnities ; read their orators, their histori- 
ans, their poets. The former were the 
school, the latter were the masters, to in- 
cidcate this grand lesson. 

Let us consider the Romans a little more 
attentively; and not amidst the dregs of 
their community, but in their very best 
ages, when their republic subsisted, and 
their Scipios tiourished. Many great and 
shining deeds were undoubtedly performed ; 
but did they spring from a reverential re- 
gard to the Supreme Being, from obedience 
to his will or zeal for his honour ? 

If this principle should be thought too 
refined, did they proceed from a love to 
their fellow-creatures? In case neither of 
these motives* actuated their conduct, it 



* A zeal for the honour of God, and a concern for 
the good of our fellow-creatures, are the true sources 
of virtue. 1 Cor. x. 24, 3!. When our actions flow 
not from these principles, reason will put a query up- 
on them, and revelation will expunge thein from the 



can never be placed to the account of vir- 
tue Had benevolence been their leading 

principle, v/hy such inhumanity to Car- 
thage? why must that opulent city be laid 
in ashes, and her numerous citizens be put 
to the sword ? Were they enemies to man- 
kind, or a nuisance in the world ? You well 
know, that they Avere only too industrious, 
and too powerful ; by which means, they 
would be in a condition to eclipse the mag- 
nificence of the Roman name, and dispute 
the prize of sovereignty v ith the Roman 
state. For this crime — a crime in Ambi- 
tion's eye absolutely inexcusable — even Ca- 
to's upright sold shall doom them to utter 
destruction, and Scipio's gentle hand shall 
execute the honid decree. 

Is this virtue ? Does virtue ravage coun- 
tries, from the mere wantonness of pride or 
lust of pre-eminence? Does virtue destroy 
millions of lives, only to aggrandize a par- 
ticular people, or extend the dominon of 
some favourite empire ? If this were ^drtue, 
Brutus thought too honourably of her char- 
acter when he termed her an empty name. 
I am sure my Theron has juster notions 
of things. He need not be informed that 
true \-irtue, far from personating the rapa- 
cious harpy, acts as a father to others, as a 
father to all ; and like him Avho is both 
its pattern and its author, " goes about 
doing good." 

Ther. The most elegant cane, if plung- 
ed into yonder basin while the waters are 
curled by the breeze, will appear both 
crooked and coarse. I cannot but think 
the accusers of human nature examine her 
state with a prejudiced understanding, whicli 
has the same perverse effect upon their 
judgment as those ruffled waves have upon 
the sight. Or else they contemplate her 
condition with a melancholy mind ; which, 
like a jaundiced eye, gives every object a 
distempered aspect, darkens the cheerful, 
discolours the beautiful, and hangs even the 
sun in m.ourning. 

Asp. Rather let this be the comparison 
to illustrate our point, view the meanest 
piece of earth through the prismatic glass, 
and it will appear, not beautiful only, but 
perfectly splendid. Remove the delusory' 
medium, and all the sophisticated finery 
vanishes. The indigo, the orange, the vio- 
let are gone, and leave nothing to be seen, 
but a rude unornamented lump of clay. 
So, if we consider human nature according 
to the partial representations of self-love, 
or contemplate it in the flattering mirror 
of some popular writings, it may seem re- 



list of virtues. They may be specious in themselves; 
they may be costly to the performer ; thev may even 
be serviceable to others ; but can no more deserve 
the title of virtue, than the activity of our fire- 
men, in extinguishing the flames on some insured 
house., can merit the name of charity. 



?70 



giilar, holy, excellent : But, if we behold 
it under the light, the unerring light of re- 
velation, its fancied charms disappear ; it 
stands clothed with deformity, and is a 
spectacle of commiseration, if not of hor- 
ror. 

Ther. What reason have you to father 
such a notion upon the sacred writings ? 
The sacred writings inform us, that man 
was made " after the image of God." 
This, sure, could not be so dishonourable 
and depraved a pattern as yoiu* discourse 
would insinuate. 

Asp. Far, very far from a dishonourable 
pattern ! The image of God is the consum- 
mate standard of all perfection. In con- 
formity to this admirable exemplar, our 
first parents were created ; and in this ad- 
mirable condition they continued, till, by 
transgression, they fell — fell from the 
most holy and happy state, into guilt, con- 
demnation, and ruin. Therefore when this 
fatal catastrophe had taken place, the sacred 
historian varies his syle, and with a re- 
markable peculiarity, as well as propriety 
of speech, says " Adam begat a son in his 
own* (not in the di\ane) likeness." That 
every reader may advert to this melan(;holy, 
but important truth, it is marked more 
strongly still, it is enforced by a very em- 
phatical repetition : " After his own image," 
Moses adds (Gen. v. 3.); as contradistin- 
guished to the image of God, mentioned in 
a preceding verse. Which expressions are 
evidently intended to denote the difference 
between the state in which Adam was cre- 
ated and Seth was begotten. 

Ther. Pray let me have a succinct, but 
full account of this tragical story, since all 
your orthodox divines lay such a mighty 
stress upon the doctrine of the fall. 

Asp. God, having formed the human 
body out of the ground, animated the struc- 
tiu-e with a living soul ; and transcribed 
upon this soul the image of his blessed 
Self. All was light in the understanding, 
all was rectitude in the will, and nothing 
but harmony in the affections. — Man, thus 
endowed, was placed in the delightful gar- 
den of Eden, and furnished with every ac- 
commodation which was necessary to sup- 
port his being, or desirable to gratify his 
senses. He was constituted lord of this 
lower creation ; and, amidst numberless in- 
dulgences, received only one — easy — ^nega- 
tive command, " not to eat of the tree of the 
knowledge of good and evil." From this 
he was to abstain, as a pledge of his sub- 
jection, and as an exercise of his obedience. 
Bliss and immortality were to be the re- 
ward of duty ; misery and death the pun- 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 

' ishment of disobedience : " In the day 
thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die," 
( Gen. ii. 17,) was the sanction of the divine 
law. 

How equitable ! how gracious the terms ! 
Yet neither the goodness of God could in- 
duce him to keep them, nor the authority 
of God deter him from breaking them. 
Unreasonably discontented, even with such 
advantageous circumstances, and presump- 
tuously aspiring to be like the Most High, 
he hearkened to the suggestions of the evil 
spirit. In a word, he violated the precept, 
and incurred the penalty. God was just, 
and man was undone. He lost his up- 
rightness,* became subject to mortality, 
and, as the nervous original expresses it, 
" died the death." 

Ther. True, he became subject to many 
bodily infirmities, and to the necessity of 
final dissolution. But wjjat has this sen- 
tence, or what have these sufferings to do 
with your notion of universal depravity in 
the mind ? The death which the Almighty 
Legislator threatened, can be opposed 
only to the life which the Almighty Crea- 
tor gave. 

Asp. Be it so — The Creator gave, and 
man possessed, a life incomparably more 
excellent than that which the pulse imparts, 
or the beasts enjoy. He possessed a divine 
life, which, according to the definition of 
the apostle, consisted " in knowledge, in 
righteousness, and tnie holiness." (Eph. iv. 
24; Col. iii. 10.) This, which was the 
distinguishing glory, and the supreme feli- 
city of his nature — this, alas ! was extinct. 

His understanding, originally enlightened 
with wisdom, was clouded and overwhelmed 

with ignorance His heart, once filled 

with religious veneration, and warmed with 
heavenly love, became alienated from God 
his Maker. His passions and appetites, 
instead of moving on in orderly array, ac- 
cording to the beauteous measiues of truth 
and duty, grew mutinous, shook off the go- 
vernment of reason, and ran wild into the 
most lawless extravagancies. — In a word, 
the whole moral frame was unhinged, dis- 
jointed, broken. 

Ther. W^hat cause have you to suppose, 
that aU this misery was either included in 
the threatening, or introduced by the fall ? 

Asp. The ignorance of fallen Adam was 
palpable : witness that absurd attempt to 
hide himself from the eye of Om.niscience 
among the trees of the garden — His aver- 
sion to the all-gracious God was equally 
plain ; otherwise he would never have fled 
from his Maker, but rather have hasted, 



* This is affirmed, not of Cain, but of Seth. the 
most excellent of Adam's children, and father of the 
holy seed. 



-innocence, that as a veil 



Had shadow'd them from knowing ill was done. 
Just confidence, and native righteousness. 

Miltop, b, 9. 1. IWM. 



DIALOGUE XI. 



271 



and on tlie wSngs of desu^e, into the place 
of the divine uianifestation. 

A strange variety of disorderly passions* 
were evidently predominant in his breast. 
— Pride, for he refuses to acknowledge his 
guilt, though he cannot but own the fact. 
— Ingratitude, for he obliqtiely upbraids 
the Creator with his gift, as though it had 
been a snare rather than a blessing : " The 
woman whom thou gayest me." — Want of 
natural affection ; for he endeavours to cast 
all the blame upon the weaker vessel, and 
to acquit his obnoxious self, by impeaching 
the wife of his bosom. — The female crimi- 
nal acts the same unhumbled part ; neither 
takes shame to herself, nor gives glory to 
Gf)d, nor puts up a single petition for par- 
don. 

As all these disasters ensued upon the 
breach of the commandment, they furnish 
us, I think, with the best key to open the 
meaning of the prohibitory sanction. They 
prove, beyond any argument, that spiritual 
death, and all its consequences, were cjOui- 
prehended in the extent of the threaten- 
ing. 

TJier. How could one act of disobe- 
dience produce such destnictive effects ? 
erase the fair image of the Godhead, and 
stamp the monster, stamp the very devil in 
its stead ? — and so small an act of disobe- 
dience too ! 

Asp. The prohibition, if you please, was 
small, not so the transgression. It was 
committed against the clearest knowledge 
of duty, and the strongest obligations to 
obedience. It argued ingratitude for the 
richest favours, and unbelief of the most 
solemn declarations. It was an act of the 
most horrid presumption in the creature, 
and of the most impious rebellion against 
the Creator. 

As to the smallness, or rather the gentle 
and benign import of the command, this 
aggravates beyond measure the crime of 
disobedience. Alluding to the woi'ds once 
addressed to the Syrian general, we may 
justly expostulate, " O thou Adam, if thy 
Lord had bid thee do some great thing, (2 
Kings V. 13,) in submission to his high au- 
thority, and out of gratitude for his un- 
speakable goodness, oughtest thou not to 
have done it ? How much more, when he 
says to thee — Freely eat of all except this 



* Milton, speaking of the unhappy pair, and des- 
cribing the consequences of their tall, says, 

Nor only tears 

Rain'd at their eyes ; but high winds within 
Began to rise; high passions, anger, hate. 
Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shook sore 
Their inward state of mind ; calm region once. 
And full of peace; now tossed and turbulent! 
For, understanding rul'd not, and the will 
Heard not her lore ! but in subjection now 
To sensual appetite, who from beneath 
Usurping over sovereign reason ciaira'd 
Superior sway — Book 9, 1. 1121, 



single tree. Thousands, thousands of ho- 
nours, privileges, and gifts be thine, only 
one acknowledgment of thy subjection mine ; 
and that the easiest which thy heart can 
wisn, or even thy fancy conceive." 

You ask, how could one act of disobe- 
dience produce such destructive effects ? — 
I^answer, the reality of the fact, in number- 
less instances of material natm'e, is plain 
to a demonstration, while the manner of 
operation remains an impenetrable secret, 
j Every child perceives the former, Newton 
himself is at a loss fur the latter. For 
wliich reason, I have always thought it bet- 
ter to believe what God has taught, than 
attempt to explain what God has concealed. 
Let us forego this curious, perhaps fruitless 
inquiry, and substitute a remark, which na- 
turally arises from the subject, and may con- 
siderably edify oiu- minds. 

TTier. Edify ! Is it possible to render this 
dishonourable and afflictive notion edifying ? 
Can ajiy generous fruit spring from such a 
penurious soil ? 

Asp. Sampson, I believe, had no expec- 
tation of finding any thing A^aluable in the 
relics of his slain lion ; but, to his agreeable 
disappointment, "there was honey in the 
carcase. " ( Judg. xiv. 8. ) If our doctrine ap- 
pear ghastly as the one, it may yield a be- 
nefit sweet as the other. 

From hence we maj leani, (what, when 
rightly learned, is more serviceable than all 
the sciences) the extreme malignity of sin. 
When volcanos open their tremendous jaws, 
and disgorge a fiery inundation, they confine 
their fury to a single territory. When fa~ 
mine lifts her mildewed hand, and destroys 
the supports of animal life, she is content 
with mining a kingdom or a nation. When 
war drenches his sword in blood, or the 
pestilence impregnates the air with poison, 
they also, even they observe some limits, 
and never make the whole compass of na- 
ture the scene of their ravages. But sin 
levelled its blow at the whole human race. 
Sin poiu-ed contagion, and spread destruc- 
tion through all countries and aU ages. One 
single act of sin brought confusion and a 
curse upon the material, and miseries, in- 
finite miUions of miseries on tlie rational 
world. Plow then should we fear this most 
pernicious of all evils ! with what careful- 
ness guai-d against its insidious allurements ! 
with what resolution fly from its killing 
caresses ! 

Ther. I m.ust observe, that you take for 
gi-anted what remains to be proved. For, 
supposing your account true \^ith regard to 
Adam, yet how does this affect his chii 
dren? Why must all his posterity be con- 
taminated because their forefather has ])lf!y- 
ed the prodigal ? Such a heavy charge 
against the whole body of mankind will not 
be admitted v/ithout veiy cogent ])vook. 



272 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



Asp. The proofs are cogent ; perhaps ir- 
refragable. — Reason offers to turn evidence 
in the case. Reason, in concurrence with 
revelation, demands, " Who can bring a 
clean thing out of an unclean?" (Job. xiv. 
4.) If the fountain be polluted, how can the 
streams be pure? and if the root is coiTupt, 
it is impossible to conceive how the 
branches should be sound, or the fruit 
good. * 

The scriptural testimonies are almost 
innumerable. They pour their evidence 
from every quarter, and constitute not two 
or three only, but a whole cloud of witnesses. 
" God made man upright," says the royal 
preacher ; the human nature, in its primi- 
tive state, was without any wrong bias ; 
but at and ever since the first transgxes- 
sion, they have found out and followed 
many perverse inventions, (Eccl. vii. '29.) 

Titer. I do not deny but multitudes of 
people, seduced by bad example, or betrayed 
by their own inadvertency, have departed 
from the rule of duty ; have, as the wise 
man affirms, tried many foolish experiments 
to acquire happiness, and devised as many 
idle excuses for their folly. But this is no 
such irrefragable proof that they were ori- 
ginally bad : It only implies, that, not tak- 
ing proper head to their ways, they warped 
from their native uprightness. As yonder 
tulips, though perfectly beautiful at present, 
if not attended with the necessary cultiva- 
tion, will degenerate into homely flowers, 
and at length be no better than tawdry 
weeds. 

Asp. No, my friend. Iniquity is not an 
adventitious thing, caught from example, or 
contracted by carelessness. These may in- 
crease, but these do not occasion the moral 
malady. A sinful disposition is as early 
as our being, the very mould in which all 
our faculties are cast. David bears very 
express testimony to this humbling truth : 
"Behold!" (He sets his N. B- upon the 
passage. It is a sad but certain fact; such 
as should never depart from my memory, 
nor ever be omitted in my confessions : and 
is much to be regarded by every reader : ) 
" I was shapen in wickedness, and in sin 
did ray mother conceive me," (Psal. li. 5.) 
As though he had said, " Alas, Lord, this 
crime, though extremely horrid, is but a 
little part of my guilt. I have not only sin- 
ned in practice, but I am totally and univer- 
sally corrupt in my very nature." 



* Milton has anticipated Theron's objection; and 
in Adam's soliloquy, very judiciously solved it. 

Ah ! why should all mankind. 

For one man's fault thus guiltless be conderan'd, 
If guiltless but from me what can proceed 
But all corrupt, both body and mind deprav'd : 
Not to do only, but to will the same 
With me ? How can thev acquitted stand 
In sight of God 'i—Book 10. 1. 821. 



This he acknowledges, not to extenuate 
his offence, but to lay open his excessive 
vileness. And indeed it is not possible to 
form a right judgment of ourselves, or to 
be didy humbled before God, tmless we add 
the depravation of our nature to the trans- 
gressions of our life. Just as it is impos- 
sible to discern w\\?it monstrous and vora- 
cious animals lie hid in the ocean, if wq 
only glance an eye upon the surface of the 
waters, 

TTier. This, you knov/, was written by the 
royal penitent under the pangs of severe re- 
morse. Does not a sense of his enormous 
iniquity, together with the apprehension of 
divine wrath, make his hand shake, and lead 
him to aggravate features ? Or, suppose it 
were true of the adulterous king, is it 
equally applicable to others, who have es- 
caped such gross pollutions 

Asp. It is no exaggerating di'aught, but a 
faithful delineation, and exactly represents 
every child of Adam. It was written with 
the utmost deliberation ; and therefore is 
inti'oduced with that call for peculiar atten- 
tion, " Behold !" And thougli David was 
scandalously .criminal in his iiitvigue with 
the wife of Uriah, yet, the general tenor of 
his life Avas not only irreproachable, but 
exemplary. Wbo so zealous for the house 
of his God, or so deA'oted an admirer of the 
divine word ? His heart was an altar, ever 
flaming with heavenly love ; and his tongue 
a trumpet, to sound the praises of Jehovah 
through all generations. And if he had 
reason to make his abasing confession, who 
is the person that can think himself ag- 
grieved by sharing in the imputation ? 

One of our most eminent martyr's,* when 
he heard of any malefactor condemned to 
suffer an ignominious death, used to lay 
his hand upon his breast and say, "the seeds 
of all those villanies which brought that un- 
happy wretch to the gibbet were sow here. 
And, if they have not sprung up into the 
same detestable deeds, unto divine grace, 
unto divine grace alone be all the glory !" 

J'her. Your martyrs had honest hearts, 
but not always the clearest heads- I admire 
their zeal, and reverence their niemories ; 
but I can no more receive their opinion as 
an oracle, than I can be persuaded to wor- 
ship their relics. 

Asp. I have no intention to palm Popery 
on my friend, nor any desire to calumniate 
the human species- If it be disingenuous 
and sinful to asperse a particular character, 
how much more unjustifiable to traduce oiu' 
nature in general. 

My accoimt, dark and disgustful as it is, 
stands confirmed by a higher authority thaii 
any private opinion. It is confirmed from 



* Mr. Bradford. 



DIALOGUE XI. 



273 



an universal survey of mankind, taken by 
the eye of the Creator hiaiself, and left upon 
record in the books of revelation. " The 
Lord looked down from heaven, upon the 
children of men, to see if there were any 
that did understand, and seek after God." 
What is the result of this grand inquiry ? 
It must, without all peradventui-e, be infal- 
libly true ; because God's inspection is too 
keen to be eluded, and his judgment too 
impartial to be biassed. This is the report, 
made by the infinitely wise Observer — " They 
are all gone aside, they are all together be- 
come filthy* there is none that doeth good, 
no not one." (Psal. xiv. 2, 3.) 

Ther. This, 1 apprehend, is the charac- 
ter of those besotted creatures, those most 
egregious of all fools, who say, " There is 
no God." To them the psalm relates, and 
to them the abandoned character is appro- 
priated. They have it, if I may so speak, 
cum priuilegio. 

Asp. It is meant, rather of practical than 
of speculative Atheists, who say, not expli- 
citly with their mouths, but implicitly in 
their hearts, " There is no God," who live 
as if there was no all- seeing Eye to take cog- 
nizance of their present conduct, no Su- 
preme Judge to call them to a future reckon- 
ing. And I dare appeal to yourself, though 
perhaps the fondest of fathers, whether this 
instance of " foolishness is not bound up in 
the hearts of our children ?""f nay, whether 
it be not natural to us all, both in youth and 
manhood, to forget our Creator ? 

In this case, Theron, there is no mono- 
poly. Your right and mine are too strongly 
established by experience, and too clearly 
expressed in the preceding scripture, to ad- 
mit of any controversy. If there were any 
that understood — they are all gone out of 
the way — There is none that doeth good — 
no not one. Could any conveyancer in 
Europe have contrived a form of words 
more fully to ascertain om- unhappy title ? 

Ther. There may be some texts in scrip- 
ture which seem to countenance your asser- 
tion, but these refer to the worst of men, 
in the worst of times. And can you, with 
any justice, ascribe the properties of a few 
reprobates to the whole species ? 



* The two origixral words are metaphorical expres- 
sions taken from wines that are become sour, and 
iiieats that are in a state of putrefaction. I believe 
It IS impossible to find images more strongly expressive 
of a total depravity, and of the utmost degeneracy. 

t Prov. xxii. 15. Let none think, that by foolish- 
ness the sacred writer means only those silly tricks, 
which discover a weakness of understanding in chil- 
dren Solomon's fool is not the idiot, but the sinner ; 
ancr ihe folly stig*matized throughout the Proverbs, 
denotes, not a failure in the intellectual, but in the 
religious and moral character. 

The v.'ords in this passage are peculiarly forcible, 
" Foolisliness is in the heart," implanted in the very 
nature;— sunk deep into the iiimost faculties : and not 
only s'onk deep, but adheres almost inseparably — is 
wrapt, tied, and bound, twines like the ivy, and is 
rooted like the oak. 



Asp. This very passage, and others of a 
like import, are adopted by St. Paul, and ap - 
plied both to Jews and Gentiles, with this 
professed design, " that every mouth may 
be stopped, and all the vrorld may be found 
gin'lty before God." Rom. iii. 19. W hich 
evinces, I should think, beyond all doubt, 
the universality of its extent. 

If, to the universality, we add the antiqui- 
ty of this fact, it will bear the two grand 
characteristics of truth. Far from beiftg a 
novel opinion, it was received as a maxim, 
in the early age of Job : "What is man, that 
he should pretend to be clean ? and he that i.s 
born of a woman, that he should presume to 
be righteous ? Fiighteous before the infinitely 
just and holy One! "Behold! he putteth 
no trust in his saints," though the mest ex- 
alted of all intelligent beings. " Yea, 
the heavens,'" those brightest parts of tho 
material creation, '-'are not clean in his 
sight. How much more abominable and 
filthy is man ?"* who drinketh iniquity. Job 
XV. 1-i — 16. though loathsome to God, and 
worse than poison to his own soul ; yet 
drinketh it like water, without any hesita- 
tion or the least fear, with an eager and 
profuse delight. 

This, you will observe, was alleged in a 
dispute, carried on with no small vehemency, 
yet is admitted on all hands as unexception- 
ably true. Be pleased also to take notice, 
that the charge is not confined to some very 
notorious sinners, but is laid against the 
whole body of mankind. Whatever figure 
they make, each in his own conceit ; they 
are all described in the words of God, as 
beings insatiably athirst after evil, from ob- 
jects that we cannot endure to behold, or 
cannot behold without abhorrence.f Such 
is man by nature ! People must have eyes 
very different from mine, to discern any 
dignity in this draught. 

Ther. As to innate dignity, we will let 
it pass. But this I must insist upon — and 
several writers of the first repute are on my 
side — That we enter the stage of life in a 
state of indifference either to good or evil ; 
That the afl'ections are Hke a balance nicely 
poised, and preponderating neither one way 
nor the other -. The whole soul, like a sheet 
of fair paper, is equally susceptibleof straight 
or crooked lines, and will as readily receive 
the amiable features of an angel, as the hi- 
deous deformity of a devil. 

Asp. With regard to your first illustra- 

* The immaculate purity of the blessed God, and 
the utter depravity of fallen man, are points of so 
great importance iii the scriptural system of divinity, 
that they are inculcated no less than three times 
within the compass of this single bock, and b v much 
the same noble contrast of striking images; chai). iv. 
17, 18 ; XV. 14—16; xxv. 4—6. 

t The original words have two si:fr:ifications : one 
is used to signify that abominable i ravii.e w;;i,h the 
Egyptians could not bear to see, Ex.-^'i vii. \^^ ]-). 
Bib. ver. 26. Eng. Bib. The othe. dci^.otes an obiuc*- 
too sc^ualid to be viewed withoui loaLhiiig. 

T 



274. 



THERON AND ASf^ASIO. 



tion, the simile I think, confutes the 
sentiment. For to be in suspense whether 
we shall love the Lord our God, the 
giver of all good and the source of all 
perfection, this surely must be condemn- 
ed as an irreligious temper — This is a 
criminal halting between God and Baal ; 
a neutrality, which is no better than hosti- 
lity. 

I fear the writers you mention pay but 
little deference to the inspired volume. Our 
escutcheon is very differently blazoned 
in that office of spiritual heraldry. "A 
transgressor from the womb,"* is one of our 
hereditary titles. Transgressors we are by 
strong internal propensity, even before we 
transgress in outward act. 

Observe the young hawthorn plants, 
which have unfolded their green leaves, in 
yonder nursery, but have scarce learned to 
spread the gay blossom. Is there in those 
an equal aptitude to produce the luscious 
juicy grape, or their own coarse and husky 
berry ? By no means. They will (unless 
grafted with some generous cyon) certain- 
ly, universally, constantly bear the same 
harsh fruit with their parent tree : So cer- 
tainly will the human mind, if not renewed 
by the spirit of Christ, branch out into un- 
godly tempers, and bring forth wicked prac- 
tices. 

TheT. The nobleman mentioned by Xe- 
nophon,f when overcome by an alluring 
temptation, devised, for his excuse, the no- 
tion of two souls, one that inclined him to 
vice, another that prompted him to virtue. 
This was a moderate caricature,! compared 
with my friend's. He will allow nothing 
regular or graceful in the human heart. 
You have metamorphosed the master -piece 
of the creation into such a deformed object, 
as may justly render him a terror to him- 
self. Can there be a grosser libel upon the 
Creator, or a greater discouragement to our 
fellow-creatures ? 

Asp. If this be a distorted piece, what 
will you call the following description ? 
" God saw that the wickedness of man was 
great upon the earth ; and that every ima- 
gination of the thoughts of his heart was on- 
ly evil continually.'' Gen. vi. 5. This, per- 
haps, may be reckoned a more monstrous 
drawing still : Yet it came from that hand 
which painted the canopy of the skies, and 
touched all the pictures of natm'e into such 
inimitable perfection. 

Pray let us examine the most distinguish- 



* Isa. xlviii. 8. A truth so apparent and undenia- 
ble, that Seneca could not but discern it, though he 
was an unenlightened heathen ; could not but ac- 
knowledge it, though he was one of the proud Stoic 
sect. " Hac conditione nati sumus, animalia obnoxia 
non paucioribus animi quam corporis morbis." De Ira, 
lib. 2. c. 9. 

t Cyropaed. lib. 6. 

X A term used by the Italian painters, to signify a 
resemblance horrid or ridiculous. 



ing features in this draught. Not barely the 
works of his hand, or the words of his 
tongue, but the " imaginations of his heart," 
are evil. The contagion has spread itself 
through the inner man. It has tainted the 
seat of his principles, and the source of his 
actions.* Is there not, you will say, some 
mixture of good ? No, they are only evil : 
There is no hopeful tendency : Not so much 
as a little leaven of piety, that may have a 
chance to diffuse itself, and meliorate the 
whole lump. But are there no lucid inter- 
vals ? No happy moments, when virtue 
gains the ascendency ? None ; he is only 
evil continually. The usurpation of sin is 
total, and its tyranny perpetual. 

What I have advanced, therefore, is no 
libel upon the Creator's benignity ; because 
it is the very echo of his own determination. 
Neither is it so properly discouraging, as 
humbling and alarming to our fellow- crea- 
tures : Humbling, to make us sensible of 
our ruin ; alarming, to make us desirous of 
a recovery. 

Ther. Is not the description which you 
have produced peculiar to the men of that 
wicked generation, whose guilt was as un- 
paralleled as their punishment ? 

Asp. It is applicable both to them and 
their successors. The wisdom of God re- 
peats the charge, and fixes it upon the race 
which survived the flood.f The depravity 
of human nature continued, nor could the 
waters of an universal deluge purge it away. 
So deep, alas ! is the stain, and so incorri- 
gible the virulency of original corruption, 
that it will yield to nothing ; to nothing will 
it yield, but to the *' washing of regenera- 
tion, and renewing of the Holy Ghost." 
Tit. iii. 5. Till this takes place, every heart 
of man must wear the prophet's stigmatizing 
motto, " Deceitful above all things, and 
desperately wicked." 

Ther. This passage, I am informed, is 
not rightly translated, especially in the last 
expression. The Hebrew original does not 
bear so hard upon the human character as 
the English version. 

Asp. You allow then that the heart is 
deceitful. And of this we have a glaring 



* The original is very nice in its structure, and no 
less emphatical in its meaning. The heart, or grand 
principle — the thoughts of the heart, or the various 
actings of that principle — the imagination of the 
thoughts, or the produce and result of those actings ; 
namely, desires and affections, counsels and purposes. 
Not one, a few only, or the greatest part, but all 
these are evil. 

t Gen. viii. 21. Where, I think, the particle is used 
in the adversative, not the casual signification ; and 
should be rendered though, rather than for — Where 
it seems likewise, that the forbearance of the righte- 
ous God is ascribed to the great atonement; typified 
by Noah's burnt-offerings, and expressed by St. Paul 
in his epistle to the Ephesians ; who probably alludes 
to this passage, " The Lord smelled a sweet savour, 
and the Lord said in his heart, I will not again curse 
the earth any more for man's sake, though the ima- 
gination of man's heart be evil from his youth, Eph. 
V. 2. 



DIALOGUE XL 



275 



proof in the conduct of Hazael. He thought 
it impossible that he should ever perpetrate 
such horrid barbarities as the prophet fore- 
saw. " Is thy servant a dog, that he should 
do this great thing ?'' 2 Kings viii. 13. Yes, 
Hazael ; however thou mayest imagine thy- 
self gentle as a lamb, thou art fierce as a 
dog, and savage as a tiger: Which was 
most terribly demonstrated by the event. 

Suppose we translate the other word 
somewhat more accurately, the little altera- 
tion will be of less service to your cause. 
Listead of " desperately wicked," you may, 
if you please, read, " deplorably disordered," 
Jer. xvii. 3. This is the exact import of 
the phrase. Ic is a metaphor derived from 
a very distempered body, in which the whole 
head is sick, and the whole heart faint : 
" From the crown of whose head to the 
sole of whose feet," there is nothing but 
consuming disease and enfeebling languors.* 
The rules of civility may set a specious var- 
nish on ihe conversation, but until grace, 
sanctifying grace, administers the remedy, 
the most civilized heart will be like the pale 
emaciated cheek, that is poorly enlivened 
with paint. 

Ther. What say the writers of the New 
Testament ? Is not their way of thinking 
more liberal and benign ? If human nature 
wore so hideous an aspect under the legal 
dispensation, since the coming of our Lord, 
and the publishing of his gospel, one may 
expect an improved and more pleasing face 
of things. 

Asp, Human nature, in every period of 
time, and under every dispensation of reli- 
gion, is still the same. It was the Spirit of 
Christ who indited the Old Testament ; 
and he cannot vary from himself in the de- 
clarations of the New. 

I am very much inclined to believe that 
all the bodily diseases which our divine 
Physician healed, during his abode on earth, 
were so many emblematical representations 
of spiritual disorders, which, like certain 
family distempers, may be said to run in the 
blood of all mankind. Will you give me 
leave, Theron, to explain myself? I do 
not like to engross the discourse. Yet I 
would willingly enlarge upon this subject. 

llier. By all means. The laws of argu- 
ment, separate from the indulgences of 
friendship, give you a warrant to urge what- 
ever may support your cause. Besides, I 
will be glad to hear your sentiments upon a 
point so curious. 

Asp. The poor leper, covered with 
noisome sores, is the very picture of a pol- 
luted sinner. Was the one, for his conta- 
gious impurities, separated from the society 



♦ Isa. i. 6. Agreeable to this doctrine, and conson- 
ant to this metaphor, is the confession of oyr Liturgy, 
There is no health in us." 



of his fellow-citizens ? So shall the other, 
for his abominable uncleanness, be banished 
from the beatific presence, unless he be 
cleansed by the blood, and justified by the 
righteousness of Jesus. 

You pity the condition of that unhappy 
creature who was born blind. His eyes, 
rolled, but rolled in vain, to find the dawn- 
ing ray. Such is the benighted state of the 
human mind, till Almighty goodness com- 
mand the scales of ignorance to full off, atid 
pour heavenly day through all the intellec- 
tual faculties. Then, and not till then, we 
begin to know the holiness, the justice, the 
adorable excellencies of God. We see the 
sublime purity of his law, and the extreme 
depravity of our own hearts. We are 
brought acquainted with the transcendent 
glories of our Redeemer's person, and ap- 
prehend that most comfortable mystery of 
his substitution in our stead. We discern 
the ineffable perfection of his merits, and 
the divinely rich freeness of his grace." 
Truths incomparably more delightful to the 
soul, than all the delectable scenes of crea- 
tion are to the sight. 

The paralytic's enervated limbs too truly 
represent the impotence of our nature. 
Was he unable to grind at a mill, to run in 
a race, or to turn himself on his bed ? So 
unable are we to " fight the good fight of 
faith," to exercise the graces of Christian- 
ity, or even to turn ourselves unto God. 
Do not you, my friend, experience some- 
thing of this inability ? For my part, I must 
lay my hand on my breast, and daily, hour- 
ly confess, " The palsy is here. Though 
not altogether dead in sin, (blessed be 
Christ Jesus, and his quickening Spirit !) 
yet how languid is my zeal, how enfeebled 
my industry, in the great affair of everlast- 
ing salvation ! — I would fain believe, and 
with a full assurance of faith, the promises 
of the unchangeable Jehovah. But how 
often do I stagger through unbelief! — I 
Would fain love, and with the warmest grati- 
tude, my ever-merciful and most beneficent 
God. But, oh ! what coldness benuuibs my 
affections ! I wish to be humble in every 
thought, heavenly in all my desires, and 
wholly resigned to the divine will. But, 
alas ! my sufficiency for these things is like 
the flaccid sinew, or the withered arm." 

It would be endless to particularize all 
the maladies, which were emlilems of our 
misery, and the triumphs of our Lord's 
power. Let me only remark, that their 
bodies were afflicted with a single disorder, 
our souls laboiu" under a complication of 



* This, and the preceding particulars, are lessons 
of the last importance in the Christian school. The 
knowledge of them deserves to be most solicitously 
sought, both by attentive contemplation, and by car- 
nest prayer. For to l:now them is to be truly wise ; 
to be inlluenced by them, is to be substantially hap- 



276 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



evils. They felt their affliction, and were 
desirous, importunately desirous of relief. 
We ai'e, till awakened from above, insensi- 
ble of our calamitous case. We add, to 
all our other indispositions, a stupifying le- 
thargy, or an extravagant delirium. 

Ther. Such allegorical expositions of 
Scripture are pretty enough ; but, I pre- 
sume, you yourself cannot reckon them de- 
monstrative. For my own part, I must ap- 
peal from the surmises of fancy to the ver- 
dict of reason. 

Asp. I cannot think that the allegorical 
sense, when soberly introduced, is unworthy 
of our regard, or without its weight. How- 
ever, I have no design to preclude your ap- 
peai. Will the avowed, will the reiterated 
decision of an apostle, satisfy my friend, and 
be admitted as the verdict of reason ? St, 
Paul has declared of himself, " Li me,, that 
is, in my flesh," or unrenewed nature, 
" dwelleth no good," (Rom. vii. 18,) no 
good temper, not so much as any good de- 
sire. Elsewhere he affirms, that the " carnal 
u:ind," or unregenerate soul, " is not sub- 
ject to the law of God," nay, is an enemy, 
or rather enmity itself. (Rom. viii. 7.) Against 
what ? — Against sin ? That were a noble an- 
tipathy. — Against the world ? That were a 
laudable disaffection. — No ! but against God 
and his law. Amazing perverseness ! to be 
enmity against God, who is boundless be- 
nignity and consummate goodness ; enmity 
against his law, which is the transcript of 
his amiable perfections, and the faultless 
model of all virtue. 

Ther. This, I suppose, is the character 
of Saul the Pharisee, not of Paul the 
apostle ; descriptive of his condition when 
he was " a blasphemer, a persecutor, and 
injurious." 

Asp. It relates not to himself alone, but 
is applicable to all who continue in a state 
of nature. The blessed author of our be- 
ing, speaking of mankind in general, says, 
that " he is even fiesh," mere flesh, altoge- 
ther flesh ;* his very soul and all its powers 
are wholly enslaved to fleshly appetites. 
The beneficent Restorer of our happiness 
pronounces the same sentence in the very 
same words : " That which is born of the 
flesh, is flesh." (John iii. 6.) The facul- 
ties which men receive by their natural 
birth have a carnal bias, incline to nothing 



but sordid pleasures and ignoble pufsuits^ 
Our Saviour reinculcates the admonition, 
and illustrates it by a very remarkable allu- 
sion. You cannot forget his answer to a 
procrastinating disciple, " Let the dead buiy 
their dead," (Matt. viii. 22,) intimating, 
that as many as are unsanctified by the Holy 
Ghost, though possessed of an animal, are 
destitute of the divine life ; are no more fit^' 
for the kingdom of heaven, for its converse" 
or its joys, than a pale corpse in the coffin, 
or dry bones in the chai-nel-house, are qua^. ■ 
lifted to transact any secular business. 

St. Paul sets the seal of heaven to thjs 
momentous truth, in various passages of his. , 
epistles. From a multitude let me select ■ 
one, and recommend it to your serious con- 
sideration : " You that were sometime alie- 
nated, and enemies." The Colossians, and 
all mankind, were alienated from the living 
God ; had no true knowledge of him ; and,^ 
what is worse, had no sincere desire after- 
him. Nay, they were not only strangersi-| 
but enemies ; in a state of hostility to his:-| 
holy nature and heavenly will. What can-' 
express a greater degeneracy ? Nothing, un- 
less it be the following clause ; " By a 
mind intent upon wicked works ;* a mind, 
not only averse to all good, but passionately^ ■ 
prone to all evil. 

Ther. A few picked passages, of a figur- 
ative import, and artfully clogged by some 
dexterous interpretation, may seem to sup- 
port your cause. 

Asp. Ah ! Theron, there is no need to 
use slight of hand. He that runs may 
read this doctrine in the sacred authors. 
It is interwoven with the whole series of 
their historical, and makes a professed part 
of their practical writings. 

What is more common with the inspired 
penmen, than to express a profligate course 
of life by " following our own imaginations, 
and walking in our own vvays ?" When 
immorality and licentiousness were pre- 
dominant in Israel, knew no restraints, and 
kept no bounds, how does the unerring 
historian describe this horrible state of 
things ? *' Every one did that which \^as 
right in his own eyes."t Nothing can 
more strongly imply the extreme depravity 
of mankind than such a phraseology, which 
makes it one and the same thing to pursue 
our natural inclinations, and to act the aban- 
doned sinner. 



* Gen. vi. 3. The word flesh, by which the all 
wise Creator characterises man, signifies, in the sa- 
cred writings, whatever is dishonourable in itself, 
provoking to God, or introductory to the ruin of 
man. The works of the flesh are a compendium of 
all iniquity. Gal. v. 19—21. To walk after the 
flesh, is the very reverse of walking in the Spirit, 
diametrically opposite to the divine law and true ho- 
liness. Rom. viii. 4. To be carnally minded, or 
to have the influence, the savour, the relish of the 
flesh {<p^ov>t/n» trci^xo;) predominant in our minds, 
is the spiritual death of the soul, and a presage of 
eternal death, both in body and soul. Roui. viii. (>. 



* Col. i. 21. T>? }iuvoioe, »y tois t^yois rotg 
■T'Viifloi; <' mente, malis operibus intenta." An emi- 
nent critic would thus point, and thus translate the 
words ; and assigns, for his alteration, the following 
reason; "Mens enim dicituresse in earequam semper 
cogitat, ad quam cupidhie fertur et inclinator." Da- 
VBNANT in loc. Let the words be ponited and trans- 
lated, either in this or the received manner, they 
speak the language, and confirm the sentunents of 
this whole Dialogue. ■ ^ , 

t Judg. xviii. 6.— See also Psalm Ixxxi. 12. Eccl. xi 
1). Acts xiv. IG. 



DIALOGUE XL 



277 



St, Jiiile cannot write a few lines but he 
must touch upon this subject, must teach 
this humbling lesson : " Sensual," he says, 
"not having the spirit," (Jude 19.) Ac- 
cording to his estimate, not to be actuated 
by the power of especial grace, is to remain 
under the dominion of sensuality- If we 
may credit this servant of Christ, every 
man, while unrenewed by the divine Spirit, 
is governed by flesh and sense. Can any 
man then pretend to be originally free from 
the influence of corruption ? 

St. Paul exempts not himself, no, nor 
any of the highest saints, from the oppro- 
brious charge : *' We all walked according 
to the desires of the flesh, and of the 
mind." — Which desires in us, as well as in 
the idolatrous heathens, were base, sordid, 
and contaminating. Insomuch that we 
who are Jews by birth, who are sons of 
God by our new birth, even we were by 
nature the children of wrath." (Eph- ii. 
3.) And if liable to wrath, then doubt- 
less subject to depravity, and chargeable 
with sin. 

Ther. What says St. James ? You have 
suppressed, and I had almost forgot his tes- 
timony, though it is so very pertinent to 
my purpose, and so very explicit in my fa- 
vour : " Men, who are made after the si- 
militude of God." The similitude of God 
signifies, in the sacred books, those moral 
endowments which distinguish the possessor 
both from the brute and the devil. And 
if men are made after this image, if they 
are created with these endowments, where 
b your doctrine of original sin ? 

Asp. I began to flatter myself that your 
objections were exhausted. But since I 
am mistaken in this particular, surely it 
must be as great a mistake to imagine 
that our apostle would maintain an opinion 
so repugnant to the afore -mentioned texts, 
and so contrary to universal observation. 
Do not you perceive the very reverse true 
with regard to your own children ? Why 
do you address them with such tender en- 
treaties, such warm exhortations, such re- 
peated arguments ? Why do you allure 
them to duty by promises, and deter them 
from transgression by threatenings ? Is all 
this regimen, all this discipline, necessary 
for creatures that bear the holy image of 
God? 

They " made after the similitude of 
God ?" Then they have no need of the re- 
newing influences of the Holy Ghost, in 
case they live ; and no need of the atone- 
ment of Christ's blood, in case they die. 
Would James, the Lords brother, assert 
such an egregious error, as not only oppos- 
es a single article, but undermines the 
whole constitution of Christianity? sets aside 
the sanctification of the divine Spirit, and 
the propitiation of the Redeemer's death ? 



Impossible for him to assert ! Impossible, I 
should think, for us to suppose ! 

St. James speaks of a fact that is past ; 
speaks of men collectively as they were all 
included in their first parent. The passage, 
I apprehend, should be translated, not men 
that " are," but men that " were"** created, 
&c. The scripture considers Adam as 
the common parent of us all ; nay more, 
considers us all as existing in our great 
progenitor ; which is so far from overthrow- 
ing, that it establishes the point in debate. 
For if we were all created after the simi- 
litude of God, in and with Adam ; it must 
follow, that we all fell from our conformity 
to God in and with Adam. And if so — 
let me for once retort my friend's interroga- 
tory, — Where is not original sin ? 

I am very sure it runs through our Li- 
turgy ; is an essential part of our Articles ; 
and most strongly delineated in our Homi- 
lies. Shall I produce some of those tes- 
timonies, which are as clear as they are co- 
pious ? 

Ther. No more of your testimonies, 
good Aspasio. Inform me rather what ad- 
vantages can accrue from your inculcating, 
or my adopting, such a doctrine. Suppose 
it were undeniably true, disagreeable tmths, 
like disagreeable objects, should be con- 
signed over to obscurity, not obtruded upon 
our view. On such an occasion, the re- 
ply of Themistocles should be mine. One 
of the literati of Greece offered to com- 
municate an elaborate and curious inven- 
tion, by means of which his memory 
should be so wonderfully strengthened, as 
to retain whatever he read or heard. " My 
friend," replied the hero, '* you quite mis- 
take the way to serve me. I want to 
learn the art not of remembering, but of 
forgetting." 

Asp. If to forget oiu- disease, were a 
likely method to restore our health, I should 
readily concur in your hero's way of think- 
ing. As this will hardly be allowed, I 
cannot but judge it more advisable to re- 
member our disease, that we may inquire 
after a remedy. 

Ther. Where is this remedy to be had ? 

Asp. Not on earth, but from heaven. 
The schools of science cannot discover it. 
The courts of kings are unable to procure 
it. The college of physicians know not how 
to prescribe it. But the gospel of our sal- 
vation prescribes, prepares and dispenses 
it. The language of Christ in his holy 
word is, " I will bring her health and cm'e," 



* Jam. iii. 9. That this is the precise signification 
of the participle yiya-'orasf, may be gathered from 1 
Tim. V. 9. where^-y^vy/a is translated havingbeen ; 
and must necessarily refer, not to the present, but to 
Vhe past (Kindiliou of the widcw. 



278 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



(Jer. xxxiii. 6.) And the beginning of 
our cure is, to be sensible of our disorder. 

Hence we are taught to be humble. To 
review the catalogue of our actual trans- 
gressions, is a mortifying employ. But that 
which lays the soul in the lowest abase- 
ment, is the conviction of inbred iniquity. 
This strikes at the root of human vanity, 
and cuts asimder the very sinews of self- 
conceit. Blindness in the understanding, 
impotency in the will, disorder in the affec- 
tions, — these are not visitants, but inhabi- 
tants ; * congenial with our frame, and in- 
grained in our constitution. How then, 

! how can we be vain of our moral beauty, 
who have an hereditary defilement cleaving 
to all our faculties ? Surely this must ban- 
ish the Pharisee from our breast, and inspire 
us with the sentiments of that sincere pen- 
itent, " Behold, I am vile ! (Job. xl. 4.) ; 
must teach us the language of the abashed 
leper, " Unclean ! unclean !" (Lev. xiii. 45.) 

Ther. I should think it would make us 
melancholy rather than humble ; serve no 
other purpose than to introduce an afflictive 
sense of extreme wretchedness. 

Asp. Did we intend to rest here, your 
apprehensions would be just ; but we urge 
the doctrine of original corruption as a pre- 
parative for the Redemption of Christ. 

It is observable, that very few applied to 
the blessed Jesus in the days of his flesh 
but the sons and daughters of affliction. 
The levee of that Prince of Peace was 
crowded by the lame, the blind, the diseas- 
ed. These being sensible of distress, and 
longing for relief, fell as humble supplicants 
at his feet, while others, who were firm in 
their health, and gay in their spirits, reject- 
ed him with contemptuous scorn. When 
we perceive " the plague of our heart," and 
feel those worse than ulcerous sores which 
overspread our nature, we also shall ardent- 
ly seek to " the Lord our healer." When we 
find ourselves subject to the curse of the 
law, in bondage to the tyranny of Satan, 
and liable to everlasting damnation, then 
the divine Physician, and the divine Re- 
deemer will be precious indeed : whereas, 
if we remain insensible of our misery, 
the gospel, which is saving health to the 
contrite soul, will be an unafiecting story 
to our ears : We may hear it, we may read 
it, as an amusing narrative ; but shall not re- 
ceive it as a sovereign remedy. 

Ther. Not receive the gospel, Aspasio ! 

1 hardly understand what yoa mean. I of- 
ten study the gospel ; [ believe it to be a 
divine revelation, and endeavour to follow 
its directions. I look "upon it as containing 
the most refined system of morality ; as en. 
forcing every virtue, by the strongest mo_ 



* Called therefore « oix,V'fci iv if/,oi xMcc^rtoc, " gin 
that dwelleth in me," Roin. vii. 17 



tives, and recommending all by the most 
perfect example. 

Asp. To which you should add—as re- 
vealing that great Mediator, who has fulfill- 
ed all righteousness, to effect our justifica- 
tion ; who has also the fulness of the Spi- 
rit, to accomplish om- regeneration. Oth- 
erwise, what you mention is infinitely short 
of the gospel. It brings no glad tidings to 
fallen creatures. It administers no succour 
to ruined sinners. It is like writing a copy 
for the blind, or setting a task to the disa- 
bled ; which would rather be an insult on 
their impotence, than a relief of their distress. 

The first particular I wave at present. 
Only let me ask your opinion of the last ; 
which is a grand doctrine, and a very dis- 
tinguishing privilege of the gospel : I 
mean the doctrine and the privilege of spi- 
ritual regeneration ; exclusive of which, all 
your endeavours to possess virtue, and 
practise morality, will be no better than 
endeavours to fly without wings, or to run 
without feet. 

While unimpressed with a sense of our 
original depravity, we shall probably sit 
down contented with some superficial re - 
formation, and not aspire after a renewal 
of the heart. Civility will pass for sanctity, 
and a temperate disposition for a gracious 
habit. Why is the new birth, why are all 
the saving operations of the blessed Spirit, 
disregarded by some, derided by others ? 
Because these persons are insensible of 
their utter inability to all good and of their 
abject slavery to all evil. Therefore they 
see no reason for this divine agency, or for 
that universal change. 

You also, my dear friend, while unac- 
quainted with your natural coiruption, can- 
not apprehend either the reasonableness or 
the necessity of being " renewed in the 
spirit of your mind," (Eph- iv. 23 ) But 
when experience has taught you the form- 
er, you will want no arguments to convince 
you of the latter. Can creatures who are 
blind in their understandings, discern the 
things which belong to their eternal peace ? 
Can creatures who are dead in sin, exercise 
the graces or discharge the duties of a 
Christian life ? Can creatures whose hearts 
are enmity against God, either delight to do 
his will here, or be meet for his beatific pre- 
sence hereafter ? 

Under the influence of such convictions, 
that new hirfh which the gospel of 
Christ promises, which the Spirit of God 
produces, will appear as necessary for your 
state, and be as welcome to your soul, as 
these gentle dews are necessary for the 
languishing herbs, and welcome to the thirsty 
soil. 

Ther. The dews, though refreshing to 
the flowers, may be too chilly for our con- 
stitutions. And see J the star of evening, 



DIALOGUE XII. 



279 



Dy proclaiming the approach of night, has 
given us a warning to quit our arbour. Some 
other time we must resume this inquiry ; 
for I am by no means satisfied that your 
theory agrees with experience. 

Asp. I fear I have already kept you out 
too long. Let me just observe as we go in, 
that the doctrine, however disagreeable in 
itself, is conducted to an advantageous issue. 
It is productive of a much more substantial 
consolation, than history assigns to the great 
but exiled Marius. When he fled with his 
ruined circumstances, to linger out the poor 
remains of life among the ruins of Carthage, 
what was his chief support ? " Contemplat- 
ing," says the historian, " that famous city 
in the dust, he was the less afflicted with 
his own downfall." 

We have not been put off with such cold 
comforts, such negative benefits. The be- 
lief of original sin has a tendency to make 
us humble, to show us our need of Christ, 
to create in us a hunger and thirst after the 
renewing influences of his Spirit, and the 
justifying merit of his righteousness. So 
that it must be owing to our own perverse- 
ness, or our own negligence, if we do not 
levy a tax upon our loss, and rise even by 
our fall. 



DIALOGUE XIL 

The sun was fiercely bright, and the sky 
without a cloud. Not a breath fanned the 
woods, nor a gale curled the stream. The 
fields, exposed to all the fiery beams, were 
like a glowing hearth. The little birds, 
overcome by the potent influence, lost, for a 
while, their tuneful notes. Nothing was 
heard in the garden but the drowsy hum of 
bees, and the moan-like buz of winged in- 
sects. All nature seemed to languish : The 
flourishing meads looked sickly : the gayest 
blossoms began to fade; the sprightliest ani- 
mals, if not reposed under some cooling 
shelter, panted for breath, and hung their 
drooping heads, amidst the all-surrounding 
blaze and the unsufferable heat. Aspasio 
disappeared ever since dinner, and none could 
tell whither he was gone. Theron, as soon 
as the tea equipage was removed, took his 
way to the wood. Desirous of the thickest 
shade, he hastened to the centre. A ser- 
pentine walk composed the avenue ; which, 
after several windings, delivered him into a 
large circular area, not covered with a Gre- 
cian or Roman temple, unmeaning imita- 
tion of pagan idolatry, but surrounded with 
aged and princely oaks; the coalition of 
whose branches threw over the grassy plat 
a m?ijestic, rural dome, and their unpierced 
foliage " imbrowned the noontide hours," 



In the midst, and elevated on a square 
base, was a statue representing the venerable 
Elijah on his bended knees, with hands 
stretched out, and eyes lifted up to heaven. 
His attitude, his air, his every feature, were 
a most lively comment on those strong ener- 
getic expressions of scripture, " take hold on 
God,'' (Isa. kiv. 7.) *' Wrestle with the 
Almighty;* Pour out your hearts before 
him.'* (Psalm bcii. 8.) On one side of the 
pedestal were engraven the priests of Baal, 
in frantic emotions calling upon their sense- 
less deity, and gashing themselves with un- 
availing wounds. On the other was exhi- 
bited, in basso-relievo, the adoring Tish- 
bite's altar ; his victim burning with fire 
from the Lord, even while the water ran 
from every limb, and overflowed the trench 
below. 

A remote cascade tumbled from a craggy 
rock. The stream, after having wasted its 
silver foam in a winding progress, straggled 
into this grand arbour. Here it just ap- 
peared gliding down a gentle slope, with a 
flaunting air, and a prattling noise. Im- 
pressed, as it were, with the unexpected so- 
lemnity of the scene, it seemed to check 
its wanton waves, and turned aside into 
a more sequestered path. As some heed- 
less trifler, who bolts unawares into the roy- 
al presence, stands struck with reverence 
and awe, or retires with precipitance and 
confusion. 

The deep gloom, shedding a kind of night 
even while the sun glared in the sky ; not 
a whisper stirring among so many millions of 
leaves ; and all their warbling natives hushed 
in silence, — the sonorous toll of the distant 
cascade, and the tinkling chime of the nearer 
rill, — the profound adoration, and fervent 
devotion, which lived in the lineaments of 
the impassioned stone : all these circum • 
stances rendered the place prodigiously 
august and striking. Not much unlike the 
ancient oratories, where holy people retired 
from the giddy ring, and the bustling crowd, 
to ennoble their minds,with sublime contem- 
plation, where they bid a temporary adieu to 
the tumultuous world, its gay impertinence 
and solemn dulness, in order to maintain a 
more uninterrupted communion with that 
mighty Being, who " sitteth upon the circle 
of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are 
as grasshoppers before him.f 

* Col. iv. 12. A^/iSi/v/^a^svaf iv rettg T^ootui^^at: . 

t Isa. xl. 22. What a noble image is here, and what 
an exquisitely fine contrast ! God, the great God, 
sitteth on those lofty and immense heavens, which, at 
an inconceivable distance, surround this pensile globe. 
From that most sublime and magnificent throne, he 
looks down upon the inhabitants of the earth, who, 
in all their pomp and splendour, amidst all their 
admired works and boasted acquisitions, are m.ean 
and impotent in his sight, — mean and impotent as 
the poor insects which wander over the parched 
heath for sustenance,— which spend all the day in idle 
insignificant chirpings ; and at night take up their 
contemptible habitation on a blade of grass. 



280 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



Welcome to Theron was the shady bower; 
welcome the cool aspect and the musical 
flow of the water ; but more welcome than 
all was the sight of his friend, who lay re- 
clined at the foot of an oak, with a book 
half open in his hand, and his eye fixed up- 
on the statue. 

The7\ I know not, Aspasio, whether I 
must make an apology for breaking in upon 
your retirement ; or call you to an account, 
for depriving the ladies of your company at 
the tea-table. 

Asp. Indeed, Theron, I have been so 
/ifuch delighted with the place, with the com- 
panion in my hand, and the noble ob- 
ject before me, that I scarce observed how 
the time stole away. And I flatter myself, 
if you will take a seat by my side, and share my 
entertainment, you will be more inclined to 
excuse than to aggravate my fault. 

Ther. Is Tully then (for I observe his 
name on the volume) your companion ? 
And can such a devoted admirer of the Bi- 
ble be so highly charmed with a Heathen 
classic ? St. Augustine somewhere declares, 
that though passionately fond, before his con- 
version, of Tully's writings, yet after that 
memorable change he could no longer relish 
those admired compositions ; because they 
were not sweetened, as he expresses himself, 
with the melifluous name of Jesus. 

Asp, I am far from pretending to such an 
exalted pitch of devotion as that seraphic 
father attained. [ can spend a vacant mimite 
on the delicate odes of Horace, and taste a 
refined entertainment in Virgil's beautiful 
poem. But when I hear a sermon, or peruse 
a religious treatise, which borrows neither 
dignity nor charms from that amiable and 
glorious name, I own myself extremely dis- 
appointed. Without the offices, the merits 
or the grace of Christ, the sermon and the 
treatise appear as defective, as a body that is 
neither adorned with the head nor enlivened 
with the heart. 

Ther. I suppose then you cultivate an ac- 
quaintance with the Grecian and Roman 
authors, in order to improve your taste, and 
polish your style. 

Asp. These, and, I am apt to think, more 
considerable advantages than these, may be 
derived from an occasional application to their 
works. They may serve as so many shades, 
to set off" with heightened lustre the beauty 
and glory of the sacred oracles. 

While I peruse Plato's ornamented page, 
or listen to Cicero's flowing periods, I am 
somewhat like the person who amuses him- 
self in a gallery of painted flowers. He is 
pleased with the curious creation of the pen- 
cil ; but finds none of that delicious fragrance, 
none of those breathing sweets, which meet 
him in the garden, and regale his sense, from 
the blooming parterre. So here are bril- 
liant sentiments and a florid diction ; delicate 



touches of wit. and bold strokes of descrip- 
tion : But no discovery of Christ Jesus, no 
displays of his inefiiible love, no overtures 
of reconciliation with the blessed God ; no- 
thing to yield us solid comfort in our pre- 
sent state, or any joyful expectations with 
regard to the approactiing eternity. 

Besides, when I converse with those cele- 
brated geniuses of antiquity, who were at 
once the most erroneous and the most judi- 
cious—the most judicious in their taste of 
polite literature the most erroneous in their 
apprehensions of invisible things — they show 
me, what they never intended, the inexpres- 
sible need of revelation. They teach me to 
set a higher value on that inestimable gift. 
I bless the distinguishing goodness of provi- 
dence, which has cast my lot,* not at Athens, 
but in Emmanuel's land. I say, with won- 
der and gratitude, " Why did not my exist- 
ence commence in those eras of religious 
dotage ? Why was not my portion confined 
to those regions of barbarism and delusion ? 
Why am not I burning incense to idols, pay- 
ing senseless adoration to sculptured stone, 
or worshipping, with detestable ceremonies, 
a set of lascivious, debauched, and scanda- 
lousf deities ?" — Surely, Theron, from every 
perusal of those volumes, attended with such 
a reflection, we shall see the utmost reason 
to magnify " the tender mercies of our God ; 
whereby the day-spring from on high hath 
visited us (Luke i. 78.) and brought us 
out of darkness into the marvellous light of 
the gospel. 

Permit me to mention another benefit which 
may result from a correspondence with those 
masterly writers. The streams may lead us 
to the inexhaustible fountain ; lead us to ad- 
mire the only wise God our Saviour, who 
has given such a shining vein of ingenuity to 
his rational creatures. As I read their works, 
and am charmed with their beauties, I would 
frequently reflect — " If the essays of a finite 
mind, and the compositions of a mortal pen, 
yield such high satisfaction, what rapturous,; 
what unknown delight must arise from au 
uninterrupted communion with Infinite Wis- 
dom ! To stand, not at the feet of Homer, 
and attend the flights of his elevated imagi- 
nation ; not in the presence of Socrates, and 



* Alluding to the story of the philosopher, who ^ 
used to bless the gods for three privileges; — That he 
was made not a brute, but a rational creature — That 
he was born not in barbarous climes, but in Greece — 
That he lived not in the more uncultivated ages, but 
in the time, and under the tuition of Socrates. 

j This, I think, gives us the most deplorabfe and 
horrid idea of the blindness of our fallen nature. 
The Heathens, even amidst all the politeness of their 
taste, and notwithstanding their sviperior advance- 
ment in the sciences, where haters of the true God, 
and robbed him of his honour ; nay, what is un- 
speakably worse, they paid it to monsters — monsters 
of lewdness and treachery, vice and immorality. 
Egregious, sottish, ahnost" incredible stupidity ! to 
worship those beings, which deserved univers.-!] alv 
horrence ! to defy tliose characters, which coiild ne- 
ver 1)6 sufficiently detested, 



DIALOGUE XII. 



hear the dictates of his sagacious soul ; but 
to staud in the courts of the Lord, and 
before the tlirone of the Lamb, there to 
contemplate, without any interposing veil, 
the counsels of his unerring providence ; to 
have the mysteries of his redeeming love 
laid fully open to our view ; and receive the 
brightest manifestations of all his amiable, 
his adorable, his unspeakable attributes ?" 

7%er.^ These are advantages truly desira- 
ble, and equally obvious. Methinks, it sur- 
prises me that I should never so much as 
propose them, and grieves me, that I should 
so long be deprived of them. A view to 
such very superior improvements will, I 
hope, render my future intercourse with 
those ffivourite authors still more agreeable, 
and abundantly more beneficial. — But let 
me ask, what passage was engaging your at- 
tention this afternoon ? 

Asp' The great orator's treatise concern- 
ing the *' Nature of the divine Being ;"* 
that part especially which proves his exist- 
ence and perfections fi'om the formation of 
the human body. 

Ther. And do you not perceive, that he 
is almost as deficient in the knowledge of 
his subject, as he is mistaken in his ideas of 
the Supreme Cause ? The exquisite con- 
trivance and inimitable workmanship of the 
human frame were, in those early ages, but 
dimly discerned. It was the infancy of an- 
atdmy, when the very professors had scarcely 
the qualifications of a modern pupil. Many 
of the received notions were childish, almost 
all of them superficial. 

Asp. Will my Theron then entertain me 
with a more accurate description of this 
wonderful structure ? 

T/ier. How could you take occasion, As- 
pasio, from the hint 1 dropped, to conceive 
any such expectation ? It is one thing to 
discover, another to correct, what is amiss. 
Many spectators can point out an accidental 
defect in some celebrated statue, or a small 
indelicacy in some valuable piece of paint- 
ing, who are absolutely incapable of retouch- 
ing the one or supplying the other. 

Asp. Since we are fallen upon this point, 
you must give me leave to renew and urge 
my request. 1 shall be extremely glad to 
hear your remarks upon the subject, especi- 
ally as you have made this branch of science 
a part of your amusement, and not without 
the advantage of anatomical dissections ; 
whereas I have very seldom applied my 
thoughts to the former, and never had an 
opportunity of being present at the latter. 

Let me also observe, that our very situa- 
tion favours, or rather suggests, such a topic 
of conversation. All the fine prospects of 
the country are excluded. We have scarce 
any thing left but ourselves to contemplate. 



And shall this be the only theme we ne- 
glect ? 

Ther. It is somewhat preposterous, I 
must confess, to pry into the archives of 
colleges, to ransack the cabinets of the 
virtuosi, to carry our search through the 
whole compass of external nature, and at 
the same time overlook the far more sur- 
prising curiosities which abound in the com- 
position of our own bodies — Since you in- 
sist upon it, my observations, crude and ex- 
temporaneous as they are, shall submit 
themselves to your judgment, provided you 
will be content to receive only a few of tlie 
outlinesT, and nothing like a finished drauglit. 

Asp. Let me just hint, that the more 
circumstantial your account is, so much the 
more welcome will it be to your friend, and 
so much the more honourable to our com- 
mon Creator. For I really think, that Ga- 
len's declaration upon this head is perfectly 
just; which I have read in my favourite 
commentator Beza, and which speaks to the 
follow^ing effect :* — '* Such treatises as dis- 
play the excellencies of the great Creator^,'/ 
compose one of the noblest and most ac.^ 
ceptable hymns. To acquaint ourselves 
with his sublime perfections, and point out 
to others his infinite power, his unerring-^, 
wisdom, and his boundless benignity; this" 
is a more sub'fitantial act of devotion than to 
slay hecatombs of victims at his altar, or 
kindle mountains of spices into incense."— 
Theron, after pausing a few minutes, thus, 
resumed the discourse. 

Ther. When some master builder under- 
takes to erect a magnificent edifice, he begins 
with the less decorated, but more solid pai'ts J 
— those which are to support, or thosej' 
which are to contain the rest. This order^ 
if you please, we will follow in considering 
'* the earthly house of our tabernacle." 2 
Cor. V. i. 

First, you have a system of bones, cast 
into a variety of moulds, enlarged or con-,^^. 
tracted into a variety of sizes. All strong, ] 
that they may commodiously bear up the:] 
fleshy machine ; yet light, that they may} 
not depress the anim.al with an encumbering 
load. Bored with an internal cavity, to 
contain the moistening marrow, and perfo- 
rated with exceedingly fine ducts, to admit 
the nourishing vessels. Insensible them- ' 
selves, they are covered with a membranef 
of exquisite sensibility, which warns them 
of the approach, and secures them from the 
annoyance, of any injurious friction ;,and at 
the same time preserves the muscular parts 
from being fretted in their action by the 
hard and rough substance of the bones.. 
Their figures are always most precisely fitted 
totheir uses. They are generally larger at the 
extremities than in the middle, that they 



* De Natura Dcorum. 



* Vide Bez. Aniiot aU Rom. i. 20, 
t The periosteum. 



282 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



may be joined more firmly, and not so easily 
dislocated. The manner of their articula- 
tion is truly admirable, and remarkably va- 
rious ; yet never varied without demonstrat- 
ing some wise design, and answering some 
valuable end. Frequently, when two are 
united, the one is nicely rounded and caped 
with a smooth substance ; the other is 
scooped into a hollow of the same dimen- 
sions, to receive the polished knob ; and 
both are lubricated with an unctuous fluid, 
to yield the readiest rotation in the socket. 

The feet compose the firmest and neatest 
pedestal, infinitely beyond all that statuary 
or architecture can accomplish ; capable of 
altering its form, and extending its size, as 
different circumstances require. Besides 
performing the office of a pedestal, they 
contain a set of the nicest springs, which 
help to place the body in a variety of grace- 
ful attitudes, and qualify it for a multiplicity 
of advantageous motions. The undermost 
part of the heel, and the extremity of the 
sole, are shod with a tough, insensible, si- 
newy substance. This we may call a kind 
of natural sandal : It never wears out, never 
wants repair, and always prevents that un- 
due compression of the vessels which the 
weight of the body, in walking or standing, 
might otherwise occasion. The legs and 
thighs are like substantial and stately co- 
lumns ;* articulated in such a manner, that 
they administer most commodiously to the 
act of walking, yet obstruct not the easy 
posture of sitting. The legs swell out to- 
wards the top, with a gentle projection ; and 
are wrought off towards the bottom with 
neat diminutions; which variation lessens 
their bulk,, at the same time that it increases 
their beauty. 

The ribs, turned into a regular arch, are 
gently moveable, for the act of respiration. 
They form a secure lodgment for the lungs 
and the heart, which being some of the 
most distinguished and important organs of 
life, have their residence fortified by this 
strong semicircular rampart.f The back- 
bone is intended, not only to strengthen the 
body, and sustain its most capacious store- 
rooms, but also to bring down that commu- 
nication of the brain, which is usually term- 
ed the spinal marrow. As an open channel, 
it conveys — as a well-closed case, it guards 
— this vital silver ;\ and, by several com- 
modious outlets, transmits the animating 
treasure into all the inferior parts. Had it 
only been large, straight and hollow, it might 



* Styled therefore by the sacred philosopher, " the 
strong men," Eccl. xii. 3, and compared by the same 
beautiful writer to pillars of marble. Cant. v. 15. 

t " Thou hast fenced me," secured my inward and 
vital parts, "with bones and sinews." Job x. 11. 

Crates pectoris," is Virgil's expression. 

t This is supposed to be the part which Solomon 
describes by the silver cord, and is indeed like a 
cord, on account of its shape ; like silver, on account 
of its colour. Eccl. xii. 6, 



have served these several purposes, but 
then the loins must have been inflexible, and 
every man impaled (not by the executioner, 
but by nature) on a stake coeval with his 
existence. To avoid which, it consists of 
very short bones, closely knit together by 
intervening cartilages. This peculiarity of 
structure prevents dislocation, and gives the 
main pillar of our frame the pliancy of an 
osier, even while it retains the firmness of 
an oak. By this means, it is a kind of con- 
tinued joint, capable of various inflections, 
without bruising the soft medullary sub- 
stance which fills its cavity, without inter- 
cepting the nervous fluid which is to be de- 
tached from this grand reservoir, or dimin- 
ishing that strength which is necessary to 
support all the upper stories. A formation 
so very peculiar in any other of the solids, 
must have been attended with great incon- 
veniences : here it is unspeakably service- 
able — is, both for workmanship and situa- 
tion, a master-piece of creating skill never 
enough to be admired. 

The arms, pendent on either side, are 
exactly proportioned to each other, that the 
equilibrium of the structure may not be dis- 
concerted. These being the guards which 
defend,* and the ministers which serve the 
whole body, are fitted for the most diversi- 
fied and extensive operations ; firm with 
bone, yet not weighty with flesh, and capa- 
ble of performing, with singular expedition 
and ease, all manner of useful motions. 
They bend inwards, and turn outwards ; 
they rise upwards, and stoop downwards ; 
they wheel about, and throw themselves 
into whatever direction we please. To 
these are annexed the hands, and ail termi- 
nated by the fingers ; which are not, hke 
the arms, of the same length, and of an equal 
bigness, but in both respects different, which 
gives them a more graceful appearance, and 
a much greater degree of usefulness. Were 
they all flesh, they would be comparatively 
impotent ; were they one entire bone, they 
would be utterly inflexible ; but consisting 
of various little bones, and a multitude of 
muscles, what shape can they not assume ? 
what service can they not perform ? Being 
placed at the end of the arm, the sphere of 
their action is exceedingly enlarged. This 
advantageous situation realizes the fable of 
Briareus, and renders a pair of hands as 
serviceable as an hundred. The extremities 
of the fingers are an assemblage of fine ten- 
dinous fibres, most acutely sensible,t which, 



* Called in Solomon's figurative but elegant sketch 
of anatomy, "the keepers of the house." Eccl. 
xii. 3. 

+ So very acute is the sensibility of these parts, 
that I am informed it furnishes the tribunal of the 
Inquisition with one of the most refined expedients 
in the art of torture. A strong quill, sharpened by 
the penknife, and dipped in some inflammable li- 
quor, is thrust deep between the nail and the finger 



DIALOGUE XIL 



283 



notwithstanding the delicacy of their tex- 
ture, are destined to almost incessant em- 
ploy, and frequently exercised among rug- 
ged objects. For this reason, they are over- 
laid with the nails, a sort of horny expan- 
sion, which, like a ferule, hinders the flesh 
from being ungracefully flattened ; and like 
a sheath preserves the tender parts from in- 
jurious impressions. 

In the ministry of the hands and activity 
of the fingers, we possess a case of the finest 
instruments, or a <jollection of the noblest 
utensils qualifying us for the execution of 
every work which the projecting genius can 
devise, or the lavish fancy crave. To these 
we are obliged for the beautiful statues, 
which have often entertained our eyes in 
yonder solitary walks ; and even for that 
melodious trumpet, which now addresses 
our ears from the summer-house on the fish- 
pond. These raise the lofty column, and 
turn the spacious arch. These swell the 
majestic dome, and adjust the commodious 
apartment. Architecture, with, all her 
striking beauties, and all her rich benefits, 
is the creation of the human hand. Yield- 
ing to the strength of the hand, the tallest 
firs fall to the ground, and the largest oaks 
descend from the mountains. Fashioned 
by the dexterity of the hand, they accom- 
modate the sailor with a floating warehouse ; 
and circulate, from Britain to Japan, the 
productions of nature and the improvements 
of art. Obedient to the human hand, metals 
ascend from their subterranean beds, and 
compose the most substantial parts of that 
curious machine,* which transmits far and 
near, to the monarch's palace, and to the 
peasant's hut, such treasures of wisdom and 
knowledge, " as the gold and crystal cannot 
equal." Job xxviii- 17. 
/ Among the Egyptians, the hand was the 
1/ symbol of strength ; among the Romans it 
was an emblem of fidelity ; and I think it 
may, among all nations, be looked upon as the 
ensign of authority. It is the original and 
the universal sceptre ; that which not only 
represents, but ascertains, our dominion 
over all the elements, and over every crea-. 
ture. Though providence has not given us 
the strength of the horse, the swiftness of 
the grey-hound, or the sagacious scent of 
the spaniel, yet, directed by the understand- 
ing, and enabled by the hand, we can sub- 
ject them to our will, turn them to our ad- 
vantage, and, in this sense, make them all 
our own. These hands, (surprising to re- 
late !) these short hands, have found out a 



When the quill has cut its way through the shivering 
nerves, and stands planted like a dagger, amidst the 
gushing blood, some barbarous hand sets fire to the 
extremity. The keen point, the slow flame, and both 
in the seat of the most lively sensation, put the mi- 
serable sufferer to the most excruciating pain. 
« The printing-press. 



way, whereby they can dive to the bottom 
of the ocean, can penetrate the bowels of the 
earth, and reach from shore to shore. These 
feeble hands can manage the wings of the 
wind, can arm themselves with the rage of 
the fire, and press into their sernce the for- 
cible impetuosity of the waters. How emi- 
nent is the dignity, how extensive the agen- 
cy of the hand ! It would require more 
eloquence than your orator possessed to dis- 
play the former, and more pages than your 
book contains, to describe the latter. How 
greatly then are we indebted to our indul- 
gent Creator for accommodating us with 
this noble, this distinguishing, this invalua- 
ble member ! 

Above all is the head, a majestic dome, ^ 
designed for the residence of the brain. It 
is framed in exact conformity to this impor- 
tant purpose ; ample, to receive it, strong 
to uphold it, and firm to defend it. As the 
head resembles the general's tent in an ar- 
my, or the monarch's palace in a city, it has 
a communication established with all, even 
the most inferior and remote parts of the 
system ; has outlets and avenues, for the 
ready dispatch of couriers to all quarters, 
and for the reception of speedy intelligence 
on every interesting occasion. It is furnish- 
ed with lodgments, wherein to post centi- 
nels of various characters, and appointed for 
various offices. To expedite their opera- 
tions, whether they are employed in recon- 
noitring what passes without, or examining 
what claims admittance within, the whole 
turns upon a curious pivot, most nicely con- 
trived to afibrd the largest and freest cir- 
cumvolutions. 

This stately capital is screened from heat, 
defended from cold, and, at the same time, 
very much beautified, by a copious growth 
of hair, which flows down from the parted 
forelock in decent curls, and hangs mantling 
on the cheeks, clustering on the shoulder^. 
A decoration incomparably more delicate 
than any or all the orders of architecture 
can supply, and so perfectly light, that it 
no way encumbers or incommodes the 
wearer. 

While many animals creep on the ground, 
while all of them are prone in their posture 
or their aspect, the attitude of man is erect, 
which is by far the most graceful, has an air 
of dignity, and bespeaks superiority. It is 
by far the most commodious fits us for 
the prosecution of every grand scheme, and 
facilitates the success of all our extensive 
designs. It is likewise attended with the 
greatest safety, being, if not less than any 
other position exposed to dangers, yet more 
happily contrived to repel or avoid them. 

Asp. May it not likewise be intended to 
remind us of our exalted original, and our 
sublime end : Our original, which was the 
breath of the Almighty, and the spirit of 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



i>84 

the Most High ; our end, which is not the 
soil we tread on, or any of its low produc- 
tions, but the heaven of heavens, and the 
" things that are above-" 

But not to divert from our subject, which, 
in my friend's manner of handling it, is as 
entertaining as it is instructive : — The bones 
(to carry on your own allusion) are only the 
rafters, the beams, the shell of the living 
edifice. You have raised the wails, and 
laid the floors ; you have made the proper 
divisions, and left the necessary apeitures. 
But in every finished house the roof is co- 
vered, and the rooms are wainscotted. The 
sashes are hung, and the doors turn upon 
their hinges. The grates are fixed and the 
stairs ascend. Within, the lodgings are 
furnished ; without, the front is ornament- 
ed. All is rendered commodious for do- 
mestic use, and graceful to the external 
view. 

Ther. This likewise is executed by the 
great, the divine Artificer. Here are liga- 
ments ; a tough and strong arrangement of' 
fibres, to unite the several limbs, and render 
what would otherwise be a disjointed un- 
wieldy jumble, a well-compacted and self- 
manageable system. Membranes, or thin 
and flexible tunicles appointed to inwrap 
the fleshy parts, to form a connexion be- 
tween some, and make a separation between 
others.* 

Arteries, the rivers of our little world,f 
or the aqueducts of the organized metropo- 
lis, some of which ascend to the head, others 
spread themselves over the shoulders ; some 
extend to the arms, some descend to the 
feet, and striking out, as they go, into num- 
berless smaller canals, visit the streets, the 
alleys, and every individual apartment of the 
vital city : These being wide at their origin, 
and lessening as they branch themselves, 
check the rapid impetus of the blood. To 
sustain this shock, they are endued with 
luicommou strength ; by performing this 
service, they oblige the crimson current to 
pass into the narrowest defiles, and distri- 
bute itself into all quarters. The blood 
thrown from the heart dilates the arteries, 
and their own elastic force contracts them. 
By which means, they vibrate in proper 
places, very perceivably against the finger ; 
bring advices of the utmost importance to 
the physician ; and very much assist him, 
both in discovering the nature of diseases, 
and prescribing for their respective cures. 
The larger arteries, wherever the body is 
formed for incurvation, are situate on the 
bending side ; lest being stretched to an 



* Tlie intestines are fastened to each other by the 
mesentery. The breast is divided into two ca- 
vities by the " mediastinum." Both which are reck- 
oned among tlie membranes. 

t A human body was called by the anc'ents the 
" microcosm," that is, a little world, or the world in 
miniature. 



improper length by the inflection, their di- 
mensions should be lessened, and the cir- 
culating fluid retarded. They are not, like 
several of the considerable veins, laid so near 
the surface, as to be protrusive of the skin, 
but are deposited to a proper depth in the 
flesh. This situation renders them more 
secure from external injuries. It conceals 
likewise those starts and resilitions of the 
pulse, which, if apparent, would discompose 
the most sedate, and disfigure the most' 
comely countenance. Could we cast our 
eye upon the river which runs through the 
neighbouring meadow, we might observe 
several mills intersecting the stream. The 
waters, at those places, if not entirely stop- 
ped, drain away very slowly. In conse- 
quence of this obstruction, the lower chan- 
nels would be sunk dry, and the upper ones 
swelled into a flood. To obviate both these 
inconveniences, low- shots are provided, 
which carrying off" the surcharge, prevent a 
glut above, and supply the banks below. In 
those parts of the body, which are most 
liable to pressure, much the same expedient 
takes place. The arteries inosculate, or, 
breaking into a new track, they fetch a little 
circuit, in order to return and communicate 
again with the main road. So that, if any 
obstacle blocks up or straitens the direct 
passage, the current, by diverting to this 
new channel, eludes the impediment, main- 
tains an uninterrupted flow, and soon re- 
gains its wonted course. 

Veins are appointed to receive the blood 
from the arteries, and re-cohvey it to the 
heart. Small at their rise, and enlarging 
as they advance, they are void of any pulsa- 
tion. In these, the pressure of the circu- 
lating fluid is not near so forcible as in the 
arterial tubes ; for which reason, their tex- 
ture is considerably slighter. Such an ex. 
act economist is nature, even amidst all her 
liberality!* In many of these canals, the 
current, though winding continually and 
acquiring a proportionable increase of gra- 
vity, is obliged to push its way against the 
perpendicular. By which circumstance it 
is exposed to the hazard of falling back, and 
overloading the vessels, if not of supressing 
the animal motion. For a security against 
this danger, valves are interposed at proper 
distances, which are no hinderance to the 
regular passage, but prevent the reflux, sus- 
tain the augmented weight, and facilitate a 
progress to the grand receptacle. This 
auxiliary contrivance comes in, where the 
blood is constrained to climb ; but is dis- 
missed v.here the steep ascent ceases, and 
siich a precaution woidd be needless. 



* A p.irallel instance of frugality is observable m 
the arteries, whose coats are spun thinner, as the 
di:uneter of the vessels becomes smaller, aad the 
pressure of the blood weaker 



DIALOGUE XIL 



28o 



Here are glands, whose oflfrce it is to fil- 
trate the passing fluid. Each of these glands 
is an assemblage of vessels, complicated and 
intervolved Avith seeming confusion, but 
with perfect regularity. As some kind of 
sieves transmit the dust, and retain the 
com ; others bolt out the meal, and hold 
back the bran ; so some of these glandidous 
strainers draw off the finest, others the gross- 
est parts of the blood. Some, like the dis- 
tiller's alembic, sublimate ;* others, like the 
common sewers, defecate, f Each forms 
a secretion far more curious than the most 
admired operations of chemistry; yet all 
necessary for the support of life, or condu- 
cive to the comfort of the animal. Muscles 
wove in nature's nicest loom ; composed of 
the slenderest fibres, yet endued with in- 
credible strength ; fashioned after a variety 
of patterns, but all in the highest taste for 
elegance,conveniency, and usefulness. These, 
with their tendons annexed, constitute the 
instruments of motion. The former, con- 



ed of the most delicate net-work, whose 
meshes* are minute, and whose threadst 
are multiplied even to a prodigy. The 
meshes so mmute, that nothing passes them, 
which is discernible by the eye ; though 
they discharge every moment myriads and 
myriads of superfluous incumbrances from 
the body. The steam, arising from the wann 
business transacted within, is carried oflf by 
these real, though imperceptible funnels,!: 
which constitutes what we usually call in- 
sensible perspiration. The threads so mul- 
tiplied, that neither the point of the small- 
est needle, nor the incomparably nicer spear 
of a gnat, nor even the invisible la:icet of a 
flea, can pierce any single part, without 
causing an uneasy sensation, and a sufl^usion 
of blood ; consequently, without wounding, 
even by so small a puncture, both a nerve 
and a vein.§ 

The veins, either pervading or Ipng pa- 
rallel with this fine transparent coat, beauti- 
fy the human structure ; those parts espe- 



tracting their substance, operate somev/hat ; ciiJly, which are most conspicuous, and m- 
like the pulley in mechanics. The latter, [ tended for i)ublic view. The pliant wiist, 
resembling the cord, are fastened to a bone, ' and the taper arm, they variegate with an 
or some paitition of flesh ; and, following I inlay of living sapphire. — They spread ver- 
the muscidar contraction, actuate the partj milion over the lips,|| and plant roses in the 
into which they are inserted. This, and all i cheeks, while the eye, tinged with glossy 
their functions, they execute, not like a slug- i jet, or sparkling with the blue of heaven, 



gish beast of burden, but quick as the light 
iiing. Nerves, sui-prisingly minute tubes — 
derived from the brain, and permeated by 
an exquisitely subtile fluid, which, gliding 
into the muscles, sets them on Avork — dif- 
fuses the power of sensation through the 
body; or, returning upon any impression 
from without, gives all needful intelligence 
to the soul. Vesicles, distended with an 
luictuous matter, in some places, compose a 
soft cushion^ for natiu-e, in other places, 
they fill up her vacuities, and smooth the 
inequabties of the flesh. Inwardly, they 
supple the several movements of the active 
machine ; outwardly, they render its ap- 
pearance plump, weU proportioned, and 
graceful. 

The skin, like a curious surtout,§ e:^actly 
fitted, is superinduced over the whole, form- 



is fijxed in an orb of polished crystal. In- 
somuch that the eartlily tabernacle exhibits 
the nicest proportions and richest graces ; 



* The glandulous substance of the brain, which 
secretes the animal spirits. 

t- The liver and kidneys. The former of which se- 
parates the gall, the latter drains olf a fluid, which, 
being sufficiently known, need not be named. I could 
wish, it had not been so exphcitlyand coarsely men- 
tioned m our translation of the best of books, but that 
we had rendered the original, in 1 Kings xiv. 10, 
" Every male;" in Isaiah, xxxvi. 12. " Eat and drink 
their own excrements." 

tThe calf of the leg for instance, whose lart^e collec- 
tion of muscles, intermingled with fat, is of singular 
service to those important bones. It flanks and forti- 
fies them like a strong bastion. It supports and che- 
rishes them like a soft pillow. And what is no less 
pleasing to observe, itaccommodates and defends the.m 
on that very side, where they most frequently rtit 
their weight, and where they are least capable of "bea'g 
guarded by the eye. 

§ " Thou hast clothed me with skin and fiesh," 
Jobx. 11. 



* The pores of the cuticula. 

t Theneivous fibres, and other vessels of the cutis. 
Nature is somewhat like Solomon's virtuous woman, 
" who is not afraid of the snow for her household,, 
because her household are clothed in scarlet ;" or, as 
I it may be rendered, are clothed " with pairs," have 
two coats a-piece, Prov, xxxi. 21. (See Gen. vi. 19. 
20, where the word occurs in this signification). The 
body also is accommodated with a double covering. 
The outermost is that soft whitish tegument, which 
rises in the pustule of a blister. The innermost is that 
reddish and exquisitely tender part, which appears 
when the blister is broke, and the dead skin taken off. 
The first is void of se.-ise, and intended to screen the 
second, not only from the stroke of injuries, but even 
from the impressions of the air, which, mild as it may 
feel to the sheathed, would be too rough and sharp 
for the naked nerves. 

There seems to be an allusion to this particular in 
that remarkable expression, " Skin for skin," Job. ii. 
4. " skmeven unto skin," the very inmost skin, which 
cannot be taken jiway without the greatest loss, and se- 
verest pam. Yet even this loss a man would suffer, 
this painhe would endure in order to preser^-e precious 
hfe. 

t These are somewhere prettily styled cutaneous 
chimneys, and no wonder thev are imperceptible, if, 
as Mr. Lewenhoeck afiirms, a single grain of sand will 
cover no less than 125,000. 

§ A blood-vessel at least. Compared with these ves- 
sels, the fine filmy threads, which, on some bright au- 
tunmal morning, float in the air, or hang on the stub- 
ble, must be large as a bell-rope, or bulky as a 
cable. Such tubes, one would think, would burst 
at every breath we draw, or even break with their 
o%vn fineness. Yet they are the conduit-pipes, which 
convey the vital fluid from and to the grand reservoir. 
And so exquisite, so admirable is their texture, that 
they will outlast the strength of lead, or the heart 
of oak,— these wearing away, those growing stronger 
by use. ° 

II " ']"hy lips are like a thread of scariet," Cant, iv- 
3. Like a thread, for their delicate shape; lilie'^' 
thread ox scarlet for then- colour. 



286 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



such nice proportions as afford tlie most 
correct model for statuary : such rich graces, 
as the canvass never bore, as painting imi- 
tates in vain. 

Asp. How just in itself, and how perti- 
nent to our purpose, is that well-known ac- 
knowledgment of the sacred and royal ana- 
tomist; " I am curiously wrought!"* " There 
is a variety, a regularity, and an elegance, 
in the texture of my body ; in the formation 
and arrangement of these bones and muscles, 
these veins and arteries ; — resembling, shall 
I say ? — rather infinitely suipassing the 
most costly and admired pieces of embroid- 
ery." 

It is one of the finest similitudes which 
the whole circle of polite arts could afford. 
Yet every comparison, fetched from the per- 
formances of mankind, must necessarily de- 
base the noble subject. All the enrichments 
which the needle can give, or the most splen- 
did silks receive, are rude, are coarse, are 
mere sackcloth, when set in opposition to 
the exquisite delicacy of the fleshly web. 
As, indeed, all the celebrated palaces, am- 
phitheatres, temples, which ever adoi'ned the 
most magnificent cities in the world, are but 
a heap of confusion, if compared with the 
symmetry and beauty of the bodily fabric. 
And, what is beyond measure marvellous, 
all these wondei's of mechanism and deco- 
ration arose, not from the purer elements, 
not from the more refined paits of the crea- 
tion, but from the dust of the ground, f How 
easily, Theron, can that stupendous Artificer 
renew our hearts, and transform oiu* souls 
into his omi image, who could raise such 
delicate and stately edifices from particles — 
despicable particles of the trodden soil ! 

I coidd not forbear interposing this re- 
mark ; because it tends to manifest our Cre- 
ator's glory, to encourage our hopes, and 
strengthen our faith ; otherviase I shoifid be 
angiy with myself for interrupting your dis- 
course. Pray go on with your description 
of the animal economy : only let me ob- 
sei-ve, that such a course of incessant action 
must exhaust the fluids, must waste the so- 
lids ; and, unless both are supplied with 
proper recruits, must gradually weaken, and 
at length totally destroy the machine. 

T/ier. For this reason, it is furnished 
with the organs, and endued with the pow- 
ers of nutrition. — Teeth, the foremost thin 
and sharp, fitted to bite asunder the food, 
or cutt off such a portion as the mouth can 



* The original sigiiifies *• finely wrought," or " ele- 
gantly flourished with a needle." The translation 
adopted by our liturgy is, in this place, flat and inex- 
pressive. The English word fashioned has just the 
same inferiority to the beautiful Hebrew phrase, as 
the badge tacked upon some poor pensioner's coat has 
to the star embroidered on a nobleman s breast. Psal. 
cxxxix. 14. 

t " The Lord God formed man of the dust of the 
ground." Gen. ii. 7. 
i Called therefore, " incisive." 



conveniently manage ; the hindermost broad 
and strong, indented like the surface of a 
millstone,* with small cavities, and jagged 
with little asperities, which qualify them to 
grind in pieces whatever is transmitted to 
their operation. Were the teeth, like our 
other bones, ' covered v^dth the usual mem- 
brane, the act of chewing would always oc- 
casion great uneasiness ; and, when any hard 
substance is eaten, might even lacerate the 
tender tegument. Were they left without 
any sort of covering, they would suffer from 
the inclemencies of the air, and be liable to 
the penetration of liquors : In which case, 
they must soon become soft and unfit for 
service, or be corrupted, and entirely perish. 
To guard against these disadvantages, they 
are curiously glazed, or overlaid with a neat 
enamel, as white as ivory, and harder than 
the bone itself ; which renders them an or- 
nament to the mouth,-)- secures them from 
various injuries, and exempts them from 
pain in the office of mastication. 

As the rims and cushions of a billiard- 
table keep the ball from flying off, and send 
it back into the green area for repeated es- 
says of skill ; so the lips prevent the food 
from slipping out of the mouth, and, assist- 
ed by the tongue, return it to the renewed 
attrition of the grinders. While the lips, 
in concert with the cheeks, are employed in 
this work, their motion compresses the cir- 
cumjacent glands ; and, from innumerable 
little orifices, a thin pellucid liquor exudes, 
which moistens the attenuated food, and* 
prepares it for more easy digestion. When 
the mouth remains inactive, these fountains 
of spittle are, in a manner, closed. But 
when it is exercised, either in speaking or 
eating, their moisture then being pecidiarly 
necessary, they never fail to give out a suf- 
ficient quantity. 

When the soldier charges his carbine, the 
cartridge could not make its way to the bot- 
tom without the protrusion of the rammer. | 



* Styled accordingly, " molares." — We find nei- 
ther of* these kinds in the new-born babe. As milk is, 
for a considerable time, its appointed food, teeth 
would be of no service to the infant itself. As it is to 
press the tender nipple for this milky sustenance, 
teeth would be painful and prejudicial to the nurse. 
Therefore, nature has postponed the formation of 
these fine implements, till they become both necessa- 
ry and beneficial. 

t This ornamental furniture of the mouth is, in 
the grand oriental manner, described by Solomon : 
" Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep, that are even 
shorn, which come up from the washing." Cant. iv. 2. 
Growing, not single like the nose; not in pairs like 
the eyes; but in rows considerably numerous, like a 
flock. None rising higher than the other ; none 
standing unduly prominent beyond another ; but all 
set as true as if they were ranged by the compass ; and 
making as regular an appearance as the flocks that are 
even shorn. They are clean also as the fleeces which 
have no spot, and white as the colour of the purest 
wool, like the flocks just come up from the washing. 

t This and the other similitudes, are undoubtedly 
too mean for the noble occasion. Neither do they, in 
every circumstance, quadrate with the functions de- 
scribed. The motion of the muscles, which minister 
to the act of deglutition, is different from the per- ' 



DIALOGUE XII. 



287 



Neither would the food, which we receive 
at the mouth, descend by the force of its 
own weight, through a narrow and clammy 
channel, into the stomach. To effectuate 
therefore, and expedite its passage, muscles 
both strait and circular are provided. The 
former enlarge the cavity of the throat, and 
afford a more easy admittance ; the latter, 
closing behind the descending aliment, press 
it downwards, and finish the deglutition. 
Before the food enters the gullet, it must of 
necessity pass over the orifice of the wind- 
pipe ; consequently, must be in very immi- 
nent danger of falling upon the lungs ; which 
would, if not entirely obstruct the breath, 
yet occasion violent coughing,* and great 
inconveniences. To obviate this evil, the 
aU-foreseeing Contriver has placed a move- 
able lid, or hung a cartilaginous draw-bridge,t 
which, when any the smallest particle of 
food advances to enter the stomach, is pull- 
ed dotvn and shut close ; but the very mo- 
ment the morsel is swallowed, it is set loose 
and stands open. By this twofold artifice, 
the important passage is always barred and 
made sure against any noxious approaches, 
yet is always left free for the necessary ac- 
cession of air, and commodious for the pm- 
poses of respiration. 

When the maltster prepares his grain for 
the transmutations of the brew-house, he 
suffers it to lie several hours steeping in the 
cistern, before it is fit to be spread upon 
the floor, or dried on the kiln. The meat 
and drink likewise must remain a consider- 
able time in the stomach before they are of 
a proper consistence and temperature, either 
for the tender coats, or the delicate opera- 
tion of the bowels. For which purpose, 
that great receiver is made strong to bear, 
capacious to hold, and so ciu-iously contrived 
as to lay a temporary embargo J upon its con- 
tents. Here they are lodged in the very 
centre of warmth, and concocted by the 
most kindly combination of heat and humi- 



pendicular protrusion of the rammer ; and it is men- 
tioned only to demonstrate the necessity of some pro- 
pelling force, in order to convey the aliment into the 
proper receptacle. 

When we descant upon a subject of such extensive 
contrivance, and such finished perfection, as the hu- 
man structure, it is scarce possible to find similitudes 
that will correspond in all particulars, or that can 
rise to the dignity of the original. Yet if they tend, 
in any tolerable degree, to explain its formation, to 
display its uses, and render its wonderful economy 
somewhat more intelligible, perhaps they may be al- 
lowed to take place. 

I hope it will be remembered, that Theron speaks 
not as an adept in the science, but as one whose high- 
est pretensions are, to admire the work, and adore the 
Artificer. Which acknowledgment may entitle him 
to some candid indulgence, in case he should offend 
against the precise anatomical exactness either of sen- 
timent or expression. 

* This is what we experience when, in eating or 
drinking, any thing goes (as it is commonly, and not 
improperly said) the wrong way. 

t Called the "epiglottis." 

± Which is quite contrary to the economy of the 
gullet, though they are not only contiguous to each 
other, but a continuation of the same tube. 



dity. Here they are saturated with other 
fermenting or diluting juices, and are knead- 
ed, as it were, by the motion of the stomach, 
and compression of the neighbouring parts. 
So that every, the minutest fragment is se- 
parated ; the whole is reduced to a tenuity, 
abundantly finer than the exactest grinding 
could effect ; and aU is worked up into the 
smoothest most nicely-mixed pulp imagin- 
able. From hence it is dislodged by a gent- 
ly-acting force, and passes by a gradual tran- 
sition into the cavity of the intestines. 

Near the entrance, punctual as a porter 
in his lodge, waits the gall-bladder,* ready 
to transfuse its acrimonious but salutary 
juices, on the advancing aliment ; which 
dissolve its remaining viscidities ; scour the 
passage of the intestines, and keep all its fine 
apertures clear. This bag, as the stomach 
fills, is elevated by the distension ; as the 
stomach empties, is proportionably depressed. 
The former posture brings on a discharge, the 
latter occasions a suppression of the bile. 
It is furnished also with a valve of a very 
peculiar, but most convenient form,-|- through 
which the detersive liquid cannot hastily 
pour, but must gently ooze. Admirable 
construction, which, without any cai'e or 
consciousness of ours, prohibits an immoder- 
ate effusion, yet ascertains the needful supply. 

Sufficiently charged with this adventitious 
fluid, the nutritive mass pin-sues its way 
through the intestines, whose wonderful 
meanders are incomparably more curious than 
the mazes of the Dsedalean labyrinth. They 
are actuated with a worm-like or undiflatory 
motion,:}; which protrudes the received ali- 
ment, and forces its fine milky particles in- 
to the lacteal vessels. These are a series 
of the most delicate strainers, ranged in 
countless multitudes all along the sides of 
the winding passage, each so nicely fram- 
ed as to admit the neutrimental balmy juices, 
and reject the gross excrementitious dregs. 
Had the intestines been straight and short, 
the food might have gone thi-ough them, 
without resigning a sufiicient quantity of its 
nourishing particles. Therefore, this grand- 
est of all the vital ducts is artfully convolv- 
ed, and greatly extended, to afford nature 
an opportunity of sifting more thoroughly 
whatever passes, and of detaining whatever 
may serve her purposes. Lest such lengths 
of entrails should be entangled among them- 
selves, or be cumbrous to the wearer, they 
are packed into the neatest folds, and lie 
within a narrow compass. They are at 
least six times longer§ than the body which 

* The gall-bladder is situate upon the lower margin 
of the liver; and to secrete the bilious juice, is sup- 
posed to be the principal use of that largest of 
glands. 

t A spiral form. 

i Styled vermicular or peristaltic. 

§ According to this calculation, they must measure, 
in a pretty tall man, more than thirty-six feet. The 
substance of the bowels, though thin to a delicacy, is 



288 



THERON AND ASPASIO- 



contains thenti ; yet are they lodged, not 
crowded, in a part, not in the v\'hole region 
t)f the lower belly ; and, amidst this small 
space, have sufficient room to execute the 
liicestand mostimportantfunctions. Though 
the iilimentary substance can never mistake 
its way, yet it may, through some accidental 
impediment, attempt to return backward. 
In this case a valve intervenes, and renders 
what would be extremely pernicious, almost 
always impracticable. As the whole proceeds 
in this serpentine course, it is perpetually 
sending off detachments of nutritious juices. 
In consequence of which, it would lose its 
soft temperature ; might become rugged, and 
pain the tender parts ; perhaps be hindered 
from sliding on to its final exit. To prevent 
such an obstruction, glands are posted in 
proper places,* and discharge a lubricating 
fluid, which aids the progress of the mass, 
and renews the secretion of the chyle, till 
all that remains of the one is clean drawn 
off, and the other — But here you must ex- 
cuse me, and, for my neglect of farther par- 
ticularity, your author shall make an apo- 
logy : " Quemadmodum autem reliqiuse cibi 
depellantur. turn astringentibus se intestinis, 
tum relaxantibus, hand sane difficile dictu 
est ; sed tamen praetereundem est, ne quid 
habeat injucunditatis oratio."f 

The chyle, drawn off by all the secretory 
orifices, is carried along millions of the finest 
ducts,| and lodged in several commodious 
cells. § As a traveller, by baiting upon the 
road, and taking proper refreshment, is bet- 
ter qualified to pm'sue his journey ; so the 
chyle, diverting to those little inns, is mix- 
ed with a thin, diluting, watery substance, 
which renders it more apt to flow, and more 
fit for use. From hence it is conveyed to 
one com.mon receptacle, || and mounts 
through a perpendicular tube. When pro- 
vision or ammunition is transmitted to an 
army, it generally passes under an escort of 
able troops. As this is the immediate sup- 
port, and principal nourishment of the whole 



strong to a wonder. The skin of an ox- gut, I am told, 
will endure the blows of the gold-beater's hammer for 
many months, nay, for several years. 

* In the bowels which lie nearest the stomach, these 
glands are smaller or fewer ^ because, in those parts, 
the aliment is copiously furnished with moisture; 
whereas, in the bowels which are more remote from 
the stomach, and receive the food drained of a con- 
siderable quantity of its chyle, the lubricating glands 
are either multiplied or enlarged. A most admirable 
provision! apparently diversified according to the 
several changes of the ailment, yet exactly adapted to 
the exigencies of the animal. 

i Cicero de Nat. Deor, 

X Fine indeed ! since their orifices, through which 
they admit the chyle, are not discoverable even by 
the very best microscopes. To this prodigiously-nice 
constructure it is owing, that nothing enters the sub- 
stance of the blood, but what is smaller than the 
smallest arteries in the system ; and thereby fitted to 
pass through the finest capillary vessels, without 
causing any obstruction- 

§ The glands of the mesentery. 

II The " receptaculum chyli a reservatory placed 
near the left kidney 



system, its conveyiincc is guarded and ascei'- 
taincd with peculiar caution. The perpen- 
dicular tube, not having sufficient force of 
its o^\^^, is laid contiguous to the great ar- 
teiy ; whose strong pulsation drives on the 
creeping fluid, enables it to overcome the 
steep ascent, and unload its precious trea- 
sure at the very door of the heart Here 

it enters the trunk of a large vein, most con- 
veniently opened for its reception : It enters 
in a slanting or oblique direction. By this 
method of approach, it avoids thwarting, and 
coincides with the purple stream ; which, 
instead of obstructing its admission, expe- 
dites its passage, and instead of being a bar 
to exclude it, becomes a vehicle to waft it. 
— Its entrance is farther secured by a valve, 
admirably constructed, and most happily si- 
tuate ; which shuts the aperture against the 
refluent blood, in case it should offer to ob- 
trude itself, but opens a free, safe, and easy 
avenue, to introduce this milk ; this manna 
of nature. 

The blood, through every stage of its am- 
ple circuit, having sustained great expenses ; 
being laid under contribution by eveiy 
gland in the whole system, and having sup- 
plied myriads of the capillary vessels with 
matter for insensible perspiration, must be 
very much impoverished ; but is most oppor- 
tunely recruited by this accession of chyle 

Yet tiiough recruited, it is not refined. In its 
present crude state, it is absolutely imqua- 
lified to perform the \ital tour, or carry on 
the animal functions : Therefore, by a grand 
apparatus of muscular fibres it is wafted in- 
to the lungs, and pours a thousand thousand 
rUls into either lobe. — In the cells the 
spongy cells of this amazing laboratory, it 
imbibes the influences of the external air ; 
its heterogeneous parts are thoroughly in- 
corporated, and its whole substance is made 
cool, smooth, and florid. — Thus improved, 
thus exalted, it is transmitted to the left 
ventricle of the heart ; a strong, active, in- 
defatigable* muscle, placed in the very cen- 
tre of the system. Impelled by this beat- 
ing engine, part shoots upward, and sweeps 
wdth a bounding impetus into the head. 
There it impregnates the prolific fields of 
the brain, and forms those subtile spirituous 
dews,f which impart strength to every nerve, 



* Indefatigable. — This is a very distinguishing, and 
no less amazing property of the heart. The large 
muscles of the arm, or the much larger of the thigh, 
are soon wearied. A day's labour, or a day's journey, 
will exhaust their strength. But the muscle which con- 
stitutes the heart works through whole weeks, whole 
months, whole years, and never becomes weary ; is 
equally a stranger to intermission and fatigue. 

t These are what we call the animal spirits; and it 
is generally supposed, that sensation is caused by the 
undulator^ motion of this nervous fluid ; though 
some imagine it is performed by the vibratory motion 
of the nerves themselves. — Others think, that neither 
of these opinions will comport with the texture of 
those fine tubes, or with the nature of the fluid th-^y 
contain.— It is, I believe, one of three mysteris s in tlie 
material world, which may reconcile thinking and un- 



and conimunicate motion to every limb. — 
Part flows downward, rolls the reeking cur- 
rent through all the lower quarters, and 
dispenses the nutrimental stores even to the 
meanest member and the minutest vessel. 
' Observe how the stately Thames and the 
rapid Rhine refresh the forests and the 
groves, water the towns, which crowd their 
banks, and make the meadows they inter- 
sect laugh and sing. So, only with an in- 
comparably richer fluid, and with infinitely 
more numerous streams, this human river j 
laves the several regions of the body, trans- 
fusing vigour and propagating health through 
the whole. 

But how shall a stream, divided into my- 
riads of channels, and pervading innumera- 
ble tracts, how shall this be brought back 
again to its soiurce ? Shoidd any portion, 
like your lake- waters after a land-flood, de- 
viate from their course, or be unable to re- 
turn — putrefaction would take place, a nui- 
sance would arise, death might ensue- 
Therefore the all-wase Creator has connec- 
ted the extremity of the arteries with the 
beginning of the veins : So that the same 
force which darts the crimson wave through 
the former, drives it through the latter. 
Thus it is reconducted, without the least 
extravasation, to the great salient cistern.* 
There, played off afresh, it renews and per- 
petuates the vital functions. 

Where two opposite currents would be 
in danger of clashing, a fibrous excrescence 
interposes, i* which, like a projecting pier, 
breaks the stroke of each, and throws both 
into their proper receptacle. When the 
wafture is to be speedy, the channels either 
forbear to wind in their course,± or to les- 
sen in their dim.ensions. § When the pro- 
gress is to be retarded, the tubes are twined 
into various convolutions, || or their diame- 
ter is contracted into a narrower size — 
Modelled by these judicious rules, guarded 
by these wise precautions, the living flood 
never discontinues its interchangeable tide ; 
but, night and day, whether we sleep or 



prejudiced minds to the mysteries of the Christian 
revelation. Why should any one wonder to find some 
doctrines in the Bible that surpass the reach of hu- 
man understanding, when there are so many opera- 
tions in the body confessedly and absolutely inexplica- 
ble by the most acute anatomist ? 

t Solomon makes use of this similitude. — " Or 
ever the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the 
wheel broken at the cistern." Eccl. xii.6. The two 
ventricles of the heart, replenished with blood, are 
fitly represented by a cistern; and the contractile 
force of their fibres acts like the water-wheel in hy- 
draulics. The pitcher, which receives the water at 
the spring-head, and conveys it away for the owner's 
service, may probably signify the aorta, and the pul- 
monary artery ; whose functions correspond with the 
uses of such a vessel. 

t In the point where the streams form the vena 
cava and vetia ascendens meet. 

± In the great artery, that descends to the feet. 

§ In every interval, between all the ramifications. 

11 In the vessels which carry the blood to the brain ; 
which form the viscous secretions; and indeed which 
consctitute all the glands. 



DIALOGUE XII. 289 

wake, still perseveres to sally briskly through 
the arteries, and return softly through the 
veins. 

Such astonishing expedients are used to 
elaborate the chyle, to blend it with the 
blood, and to distribute both through the 
body ; by means of which the animal . con- 
stitution is maintained. In youth its bulk 
is increased ; in age its decays are repaired ; 
and it is kept in tenantable condition for the 
sold during the space of seventy or eighty 
years. 

These are a few, and but a very few, in- 
stances of that contrivance, regularity, and 
beauty, which are observable in the human 
frame. Attentive inquirers discover deep- 
er footsteps of design, and more refined 
strokes of skill ; discover them not only in 
the grand and most distinguished parts, but 
in every limb and in every organ ; I may 
venture to add, in every fibre that is extend- 
ed, and in every globule* that flows. 

Asp. What a various, but uniform sys- 
tem, is the body ! I see the greatest multi- 
plicity of parts, yet the most perfect har- 
mony subsists between them all. No one 
hinders, but each assists, the operation of 
another ; and all conspire to the benefit and 
preservation of the whole. Most judicious- 
ly has the great apostle touched tliis sub- 
ject, and most happily applied it, to illus- 
trate the reasonableness and enforce the 
practice, both of personal and social duties, 
of private content and public concord. See 
1 Cor. xii. 12, &c. 

" The body," he observes, " is not one 
member, but many to each of which some 
peculiar and needful office is assigned : So 
that the foot, though placed in the lowest 
order, and destined to serve on the very 
ground, has no reason to reckon itself a 
worthless outcast ; or to say, " because I 
am not the head, I am not of the body." 
Neither has the head, in its exalted station, 
and amidst its honourable functions, any 
cause to despise the inferior limbs; or to 
say, with contempt and self-sufficiency, " I 
have no need of you." If there were no 
feet what woidd become of the locomotive 
faculty ? or how could the body convey it- 
self from one place to another ? If there 
were no hands, what should we do for the 
instruments of action ? or how could the 
animal frame be defended and accommodat- 
ed ? — Nay,' the parts, " which seem to be 
less honourable" are necessary. Even those 
which form the sediments, or throw off the 
dregs, are of the last importance to life and 
its comforts. Should those be obstructed 
in their action, the most raging torment en- 



* The extreme minuteness of the globules, which 
form the red part of our blood, is one exemplifica- 
tion of this remark ; if, as Mr Lewenhoeck computes 
every globule be 125,000 times smaller than the small- 
! est grain of sand. 

U 



290 



THERON i\ND ASPASIO. 



sues ; ^ould the obstruction continue, 
death is the inevitable consequence. — By 
this wie-e adjustment " there is no schism in 
the body ;" no separate or interfering ends 
are pursued by the members ; but the safe- 
ty and support of each are the one undivided 
care of all. 

Thus should it be among men, and 
among Christians, in the civil community, 
and in the Catholic church. There is in 
both a subordination of persons, but a con- 
catenation of interests. For which reason, 
a general agreement should take place, and 
a mutual subserviency to each other's wel- 
fare. The meanest have no cause to be 
dissatisfied with their condition ; but to ac- 
quiesce in the unerring disposal of Provi- 
dence, and cheerfully contribute their share 
to the common good. The highest should 
condescend to men of low estate, and main- 
tain a regard to the well-being of the poorest, 
as that which is intimately connected with 
their own. In a word, each should feel a 
tender concern for all; rejoicing in their 
happiness, and studying to establish it; 
sympathizing with their miseries, and en- 
deavouring to heal them. 

I am sure my Theron will be pleased with 
this fine comparison used by the apostle, and 
adapted to purposes at once so noble and 
so benevolent ; especially as it receives ad- 
ditional propriety and force from his own 
observations. But I have one more inquiry 
to make. 

Your system, though organized, though 
endued with a principal of motion, and fur- 
nished with the powers of nutrition, is still 
oestitute of sense. The creation abounds 
with objects fitted to yield the most refined 
entertainment : The sun impurplesthe robes 
of morning, and stars bespangle the cm'tains 
of night : Flowers of silver whiteness, and 
of golden lustre, enamel the ground : Fruits 
of all radiant hues, and of every delicious 
taste, hang amiably dangling on the boughs. 

" Airs also, vernal airs. 

Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune 
The trembling leaves." 

But we hear of no capacities formed for 
the enjoyment of these various delights; 
without which, the breath of fields must 
xose its reviving fragrance, the whispering 
grove must degenerate into sullen silence, 
and nature's book of knowledge, all fair and 
instructive, be no better than a vast un 
meaning blank. 

Ther. Therefore the great Creator, pro- 
fusely gracious to mankind, has made us 
present, an inestimable present, of the 
senses, to be the inlet of irmumerable plea- 
sures, and the means of administering the 
most valuable advantages. 

High in the head, bright and conspicuous 
as a star in the brow of evening, is placed 



the eye. In this elevated situation, like a 
centinel posted in his watch-tower, it com- 
mands the most enlarged prospect. — Con- 
sisting only of simple fluids, enclosed in thin 
funicles, it conveys to our apprehension all 
the graces of blooming nature, and all the 
glories of the visible heavens. How pro- 
digiously wonderful that an image of the 
hirgest mountains, and a transcript of the 
most diversified landscapes, shall enter the 
smallest circlet of the pupil ? How surpris- 
ingly artful, that the rays of light, like an 
inimitable pencil, should paint on the optic 
nerves, paint, in an instant of time, paint 
in their truest colours and exactest linea- 
ments, every species of external objects ? 

The eye is so tender, that a slight acci- 
dent, scarce perceivable by some other parts 
of the body, would be veiy injurious to its 
delicate frame. It is guarded therefore 
with remarkable circumspection, and the 
most solicitous care — with a care evidently 
proportioned to its nice texture and exten- 
sive usefulness. It is intrenched deep in 
the head, and barricadoed on every side 
with a strong fortification of bones. As 
the incursion of the smallest fly would in- 
commode the polished surface, it is farther 
defended by two substantial curtains, hung 
on a most slender cartilaginous rod, which 
secure it not barely from blows, and from 
any hurtful attrition, but also from every 
troublesome annoyance. In sleep, when 
there is no occasion to exercise the sense, 
but an absolute necessity to protect the or- 
gan, these curtains spontaneously close, and 
never fail to lie shut. At any time they 
will fly together with a motion quick as the 
alarm of fear ; I had almost said, quicker 
than thought itself. At all times they are 
lined with an extremely fine sponge,* wet 
%vith its own native dews, which lubricate 
the eyeball, oil, as it were, its wheels, and 
fit it for a course of unwearied activity. At 
the end of this skinny mantlet, (if I may 
use the military style,) is planted a range 
of bristly palisadoes,f which keep out the 
least mote, ward off even the straggling atom^ 
and moderate the otherwise too potent im- 
pressions of the sunbeams. I 



t Theglandulalachrymalis and its ducts, opening, 
on the inner part of the eyelid, and secreting the 
fluid, which Theron calls its oil, because it irrigates 
the eyeball, and facilitates its motion. 

t The hairs, which arise upon the extremities of 
the eyelash, grow only to a certain convenient length, 
and never stand in need of cutting. They are not 
flaccid and pendulous, like those of the head ; but 
stifl" and prominent, like bristles. The first sort 
would be troublesome, the last is beneficial. Add to 
this, that their points stand out of the way, those of 
the upper eyelid being bent upwards, and those of 
the lower downwards. So nice is nature, even in such 
small matters. 

t The incessant, the more than fatherly care, which 
the Lord God Almighty takes of his people, is repre- 
sented in scripture by this extraordinary provision 
made for the security of the eye : which is one of the 
finest images that fancy can form, and one of the most 



DIALOGUE XII. 



291 



The brows are a kind of natural pent- 
Louse, thatched and arched mth curious 
wreaths of hair. The thatch is intended to 
divert the sweat from trickling into the 
eyes, and offending them with its brine. 
The arches are so finely coloured, and so 
elegantly turned, that they set off the white- 
ness of the forehead, and bestow additional 
grace on the whole countenance. Because, 
in om- waking hours, there is almost an in- 
cessant call for those little orbs, they run 
upon a set of the finest casters, rolling up- 
wards or downwards, to the right hand or 
to the left, with the utmost speed and with 
equal ease ; which circumstance, added to 
the flexibility of the neck, renders our two 
eyes as useful, as if the whole body, like 
the living creatures in St. John's vision, 
was " full of eyes before and behind." 
(Rev. iv. 6.) 

The ear consists of an outward porch 
and inner rooms, wdth tools of the most ad- 
mirable contrivance and finished workman- 
ship. The contrivance and the workman- 
ship incomparably nicer than the designs of 
Palladio, or the architecture of Solomon's 
temple, though the former were drawn from 
the magnificent monuments of Rome, 
though the latter was built in the taste of 
heaven. Yea, so consummately nice is the 
structure of this organ, that God, the only 
wise God, is not ashamed to be called its 
artificer, " He that planted the ear," (Psal. 
xciv. 9,) is to be found among the titles of 
the exalted Jehovah. In one veiy remark- 
able peculiarity, this minute fabric resem- 
bles that sacred edifice, the porch being 
loftier* than any other part of the building. 

The porch I call that semicircular lodge 
which stands somewhat prominent from the 
head, and is — not soft and sinking as flesh, 
lest it should absorb the sound rather than 
promote the repercussion ; not hard and 
stubborn as bone, lest it should occasion 
painful inconveniences, when we repose 
ourselves on either side ; but of a cartila- 
ginous substance, covered with a tight ex- 
pansion of skin, and wrought into irregular 
bends and hollows, which, like circling hills, 
or surrounding rocky shores, collect the 
wandering undulations of the air, and trans- 
mit them, with a vigorous impidse, to the 
finely stretched membrane of the tympa- 
num. -f- The avenue, or narrow entry, is 



consolatory truths that faith can believe. " He kept 
him as the apple of his eye." Deut. xxxii. 10. "He 
that toucheth you, toucheth the apple of his eye." 
Zech. ii. fi. The reader will easily see that the com- 
parison, every way beautiful, is carried to the highest 
pitch of energy and beauty by the sacred writers. 
Not barely tlie eye, but the apple or pupil of the eye; 
the tenderest part even of the most tender member. 

^ Compare 1 Kings vi. 2, with 2 Chron. iii. 4. 

t So called, because it resembles a drum, both in 
figure and use ; being a fine skin, expanded upon a 
circle of tones, and over a polished reverberating ca- 
vity. It is aftected by the vibrations of the external 



secured from the insinuating attempts of 
little insects, by a morass (shall I say ?) of 
bitter and viscous matter; disgustful to 
their taste, and embarrassing to their feet. 
The hammer and the anvil, the stirrup and 
the drum, the winding labyrinths,* and the 
sounding galleries ; these and other pieces 
of mechanism, all instrumental to the power 
of hearing, are beyond all description cu- 
rious. 

Amazingly nice must be the forma- 
tion, and inconceivably exact the tension of 
the auditory nerves ; since they correspond 
with the smallest tremors of the atmosphere, 
and easily distinguish their most subtile vari- 
ations. With the gentle gales that fan us, 
or even with the ruder blasts that assault 
us, these delicate strings are but little afifect- 
ed ; whereas they are perfect unisons with 
those fine, those significant agitations of the 
air, which the acutest touch is unable to 
discern. These living chords, tuned by an 
almighty hand, and diffused through the 
echoing isles, and sonorous cells — these re- 
ceive the impressions of soimd, and propa- 
gate them to the brain : Thesef give exist- 
tence to the charms of music, and recipro- 
cate the rational entertainments of discourse. 
These treat my Aspasio with the melody of 
the woodland choirs, and afford me the su- 
perior pleasiue of my friend's conversation. 

The eye perceives only the objects that 
are before it, whereas the ear warns us of 
transactions that pass above us, behind us, 
all around us. The eye is useless amidst 
the gloom of night, and cannot carry its ob- 
servation through the bolted door, or the 
closed wndow-shutter ; but the ear admits 
her intelligence through the darkest me- 
dium, and the minutest cranny. The eye 
is upon duty only in our waking hoiu:s; 
but the ear is always expanded, and always 
accessible ; a courier which never tires, a 
centry ever in his box. To secure a re- 
source, in case any misfortune should dis- 



air, as the covering of the war-drum is by the impres- 
sions of the stick. It is also furnished with braces, 
which strain or relax it at pleasure, and accommodate 
its tension either to loud or languid sounds. 

* Of this kind is the auditory tube, intended to 
soften and qualify the rushing sound ; lest, if the in- 
cursion were direct, it might be too impetuous, and 
injure the delicate expanse of the tympanum. While 
this is designed to moderate, the concavities of the 
inner structure are prepared to heighten and invigo- 
rate the sound, by calling in the auxiliary force of an 
echo. Such intentions, so varying, nay, so opposite, 
concur to form this admirable organ. 

t Elegantly styled "the daughters of music." For 
this phrase may refer as well to the organs which dis- 
tinguish, as to those wliich form, the harmonious 
accents, Eccl. xii. 4. Methinks, I am always desir- 
ous to add any apposite expression, or parallel pas- 
sage, from the Bible; as I find, writers of taste and 
politeness are studious to embellish their work with 
quotations from the Classics. And I persuade myself, 
the reader will allow me to gratify this favourite in- 
clination : because every portion of that inestim- 
able book, however minute, is like the filing.-; of 
gold, or the sparks of a diamond ; is sure, when pro- 
perly apphed, to add worth, and impart beauty, 



292 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



able one of the hearing or seeing organs, 
our all-gracious Maker has given us dupli- 
cates of each. 

As there are tremulous concussions im- 
pressed upon the air, discernible only by 
the instruments of hearing ; there are also 
odoriferous particles, wafted by the same 
aereal vehicle, which are perceivable only 
by the smell. The nostrils are wide at the 
bottom, that a large quantity of effluvia 
may enter ; narrow at the top, that, when 
entered they may close their ranks, and act 
with greater vigour. Fine beyond all ima- 
gination are the steams which exhale from 
the fetid or fragrant bodies. The very 
best microscopes, which discover thousands 
and thousands of animalculae in a drop of 
putrefied water, cannot bring one individual 
among all these evanescent legions to our 
sight. They sail in numberless squadrons, 
close to our eyes, close by our ears ; yet 
are so amazingly attenuated, that they elude 
the search of both. Nevertheless, so judi- 
ciously are the olfactory nets laid,* and so 
artfully their meshes sized, that they catch 
these vanishing fugitives. They catch the 
roaming perfumes which fly off from the 
opening honey-suckle ; and take in the 
stationed sweets which hover round the ex- 
l)anded rose. They imbibe all the balmy 
fragrance of spring, all the aromatic exhala- 
tions of autumn, and enable us to banquet 
even on the invisible dainties of nature. 

Furnished with these several organs, 

Not a breeze 

Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes 
The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain 
From all the tenants of the warbling shade 
Ascends, but thence our senses can partake 
Fresh pleasures.! 

Another capacity for frequent pleasure 
our bountiful Creator has bestowed, in 
granting us the powers of taste. By means 



. * The keenness and sagacity of this sense furnish- 
ed the evangelical prophet with a beautiful metaphor, 
to display the accuracy of the Messiah's judgment in 
spiritual things, Isa. xi. 3. 

The original implies his faculty or sense of smell- 
ing : which expression is accommodated to our lan- 
guage, and properly enough translated, "shall make 
him of quick understanding," q. d. " He shall judge, 
not according to external appearance, but according 
to the state of the inner man. Unfeigned self-abase- 
ment, aifiance in a Redeemer's righteousness, and 
faith purifying the heart; these endowments, though 
not observed, or if observed not valOed by the world ; 
these shall be the test of his approbation, and the ob- 
jects of his esteem. These constitute what is called 
in the next words, the fear of the Lord. 

" In determining the reality of these qualities, he 
shall be unerringly exact, and infallibly true. Let 
hypocrisy put on every mask, and practise all her 
wiles, they shall avail nothing before the Root 
and Offspring of David, (ver. L) As those extremely 
subtle effluvia, v/hich escape the inquisition of every 
other sense, are easily and perfectly distinguished by 
the smell ; so those recesses of the breast, and those 
secrets of the heart which lie too deep for all human 
discernment; even they are naked and open, are 
obvious and palpable, to his divinely sagacious un- 
derstanding. ' 

t Sec that very elegant poem, " The Pleasures of 
Imagination " book 3. 



of which, the food that supports our body, 
feasts our palate ; first treats us with a pleas- 
ing regale, then distributes its beneficial re- 
cruits. The razor, whetted with oil, be- 
comes more exquisitely keen. The saliva, 
flowing upon the tongue, and moistening 
its nerves, quickens them into the liveliest 
acts of sensation. This sense is circum- 
stanced in a manner peculiarly benign and 
wise, so as to be a standing, though silent 
plea for temperance. Without recurring to 
the vengeance of God, or the terrors of eter- 
nal judgment, it is a powerful dissuasive 
from irregular and excessive indulgences ; 
because the exercise of sobriety sets the fin- 
est edge on its faculties, and adds the most 
poignant relish to its enjoyments : Where- 
as, riot and voluptuousness pall the appe- 
tite, blunt its sensibility, and render the gra- 
tifications extremely languid, if not perfectly 
insipid. The sight, the smell, the taste, are 
not only so many separate sources of de- 
light, but a joint security to our health. 
They are the vigilant and accurate inspect- 
ors, which examine our food, and inquire 
into its properties, whether it be pleasant 
or disagreeable, wholesome or noxious. For 
the discharge of this office they are excel- 
lently qualified, and most commodiously 
situated ; so that nothing can gain admis- 
sion through the mouth, till it has under- 
gone the scrutiny, and obtained the passport 
of them all. 

To all these, as a most necessary and 
advantageous supplement, is added the sense 
of feeling, which renders the whole assem- 
blage complete. While other senses have a 
particidar place of residence, this is diffused 
throughout the whole body. In the palms 
of the hands, on the tips of the fingers, and 
indeed through all the extreme parts of the 
flesh, it is most quick and lively ; as the ad- 
vanced guards, or scouts upon the frontiers, 
are, or ought to be, peculiarly attentive and 
wakeful. Scouts did I say ? The whole ar- 
my of Xerxes, drawn out in battle array, 
with his millions of supernumerary attend- 
ants,* were but like a few gleaners strag- 
gling in the field, if compared, either in 
number or order, with those nervous detach- 
ments, which pervade the texture of the 
skin, and minister to the act of feeling. 
How happily is this sense tempered be- 
tween the two extremes ! Neither so acute 
as the membranes of the eye, nor so obtuse 
as the callus of the heel. The former 
would expose us to continual pain, render 
our clothes galling, and the very down op- 
pressive : The latter would quite benumb 
the body, and almost annihilate the touch. 
Nor this alone, but all the senses are most 

* The soldiers and attendants of Xerxes amount- 
ed to five millions two hundred and eighty thousand. 
Another army, so large and niuncToiiR, orciirs not in 
all tVie rpcords of history.— Fufc^ IIkilod lib. vi;. 



DIALOGUE XJI. 



293 



exactly adapted to their respective offices, 
and to the exigencies of our present state. 
Were they strained to a much higher 
tone, they would be avenues of anguish : 
Were they relaxed into greater insensibili- 
ty, they would be so many useless incum- 
brances. 

Asp. How admirable and gracious is this 
provision, which the blessed God has made, 
to accommodate us with delightful sensa- 
tions, and instructive ideas ! The taste, the 
touch and the smell, are somewhat straitened 
in the extent of their operations. The ear 
carries on a correspondence with a larger 
circle of objects ; but the sight most amply 
supplies whatever is wanting in all the other 
senses. The sight spreads itself to an in- 
finite multitude of bodies, and brings with- 
in our notice some of the remotest parts of 
the universe. The taste the touch, the 
smell perceive nothing but what is brought 
to their very doors ; whereas the eye extends 
its observation as far as the orbit of Sa- 
turn ; nay glances, and in an instant of time, 
to the inconceivable distance of the stars. 
The compass of the earth, and the im- 
mensity of the skies, are its unlimited range. 

From this remarkable variety, with re- 
gard to the sphere and activity of the senses, 
St. Paul forms one of the finest, boldest, 
and most important comparisons in the 
world. By this he illustrates the difference 
between the wisdom which is derived from 
the word of divine revelation, and the wis- 
.dom which is acquired by dint of human ap- 
plication. In his oration to the Athenians, 
speaking of their most celebrated sages, he 
says, " If so be they might feel after, and 
find him." Acts xvii. 27. In his epistle to 
the Hebi"ews, speaking of the man Moses, 
our author observes, that he endured, as 
seeing him who is invisible." Heb. xi. 27. 
Writing to his Corii\thian converts, he adds, 
as a farther heightening of the contrast, " We 
all beholding with open face the glory of the 
Lord." 2 Cor. iii. 18. The knowledge of 
the philosopher is like that obscure and 
scanty information, which is to be obtained 
by groping with the hand in a dark night : 
The knowledge of the Christian is~iike that 
copious influx of clear and enlarged ideas, 
which we receive by the mediation of the 
eye amidst the shining of a bright day. 

Tully, we find, has in the book before us 
hit upon some of the most general and ob- 
vious uses, to which the several parts of the 
human body are adapted. Yet how super- 
ficial and deficient appears his penetration, 
when we take in the much deeper disco- 
veries and the much higher improvements 
of our modern anatomy ! Thus, and abun- 
dantly more defective, is his knowledge of 
moral duties and divine doctrines, when 
compai-ed with wliat is taught us in the 
plain sermon on tlie Mount, and the' 



unstudied epistles of the Jewish tent- 
maker. 

Therefore, though I would bless the be- 
neficent God, for the ministration of all thc' 
senses, and particularly for the noble organs 
of vision ; I would be more especially thank- 
ful for that light of the world, Christ Jesus, 
and his glorious gospel, as well as for that 
"spiritual eye," by which the one is under- 
stood, and the other seen, — a " lively faith." 
I would also long for that place of beatific 
enjoyment, where our views of the adorable 
Godhead, and our acquaintance with the 
sublimest truths, will as much transcend all 
our present apprehensions, as the most 
enlightened sahit exceeds the benighted 
Gentile. 

TTier. The crowning gift — that which 
improves the satisfaction, and augments the 
beneficial effects, accruing from all the 
senses, is speech. Speech makes me a 
gainer from the eyes and ears of other peo- 
ple ; from the ideas they conceive, and the 
observations they make. And what an 
admirable instrument for articulating the 
voice, and modifying it into speech, is the 
tongue ! The tongue has neither bone nor 
joint ; yet fashions itself, with the utmost 
volubility, into every shape and every pos- 
ture, which can express sentiment, or con- 
stitute harmony. This little collection of 
muscular fibres, under the conducting skill 
of the Creator, is the artificer of our words.* 
By this we communicate the secrets of the 
breast, and make our very thoughts audible. 
By this we instruct the ignorant, and com- 
fort the distressed ; we glorify God, and 
edify each other -.f the academic explains 
the abstrusest sciences, and the ecclesiastic 
preaches the everlasting gospel. This is 
likewise the efficient of music. It is soft 
as the lute, or shrill as the trumpet ; it can 
warble as the lyre, or resound like the or- 
gan. Connecting the sacred anthem with 
its tunefid strains, we soothe the cares, and 
beguile the toils of life ; we imitate the an- 
gelic choirs, and anticipate in some degree 
their celestial joys. As the tongue requires 
full scope and an easy play, it is lodged i)i 
an ample cavity, and suxTounded with re- 
servoirs of spittle, always ready to distil the 
lubricating dews. It moves under a con- 



* I am sensible that the glottis has a considerable 
share in modulating the sound, and forming the 
voice. But as the nature and office of this most cu- 
rious aperture are very little known by the generality 
of people ; we choose to follow the popular opinion so 
neatly described by the poet ; 

" Dasdala lingua, 

" Lingua figuratrix verborum, opisexque loquelse." 

Ant. Lucret. 

t The articulating tongue is called " our glory." 
Psal. Ivii. 8. And such indeed it is when devoted to 
these purposes. It is then a distinction, not only of 
man from the brutal herd, but of the righteous from 
the congregation of the ungodly. It is then like 
choice silver, or a tree of life. 

" Who would not bless for this the gift of speech ^ 
And in the tongue's beneficence be rich ?" 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



294 

cave roof, which serves as a sounding-board 
to the voice ; giving it much the same ad- 
ditional vigour and gi'ace as the shell of a 
violin adds to the language of the strings. 

Wise, wonderfully wise and eminently 
gracious, is the regulation both of spontane- 
ous and involuntary motion. Was this re- 
gulation reversed, what deplorable inconve- 
niencies would take place ; nay, what una- 
voidable ruin must ensue ! Deplorable in- 
conveniencies ; if the discharges of the 
bowels, or evacuations of the bladder, were 
quite independent on our leave. Unavoid- 
able ruin ; if the action of the heart requir- 
ed the co-operation of our thoughts, or the 
business of respiration waited for the con- 
currence of our will. 

The will, in some cases, has not so much 
as a single vote ; in others, she determines 
and commands like an absolute sovereign : 
Nor is there a monarch upon earth so punc- 
tually obeyed, as this queen of the human 
system. If she but intimate her pleasure, 
the spirits run, they fly to execute her or- 
ders ; to stretch the arm, or close the hand ; 
to furrow the brow with frowns, or dimple 
the cheek with smiles. How easily, as well 
as punctually, are these orders carried into 
execution ! To turn the screw, or work 
the lever, is laborious and wearisome : But 
we move the vertebrae, with all their append- 
ent chambers ; we advance the leg, with the 
whole incumbent body ; we rise from our 
seat ; we spring from the ground ; and 
though much force is exerted, though a very 
considerable weight is raised, we meet with 
no difficulty, we complain of no fatigue. 

That all this should be effected, without 
any toil, and by a bare act of the will, is 
very surprising : But that these motions 
should be made, renewed, continued, even 
whUe we remain entirely ignorant of the 
manner in which they are performed, is be- 
yond measure astonishing. Who can play 
so much as a single tune upon the spinnet, 
without learning the difference of the keys, 
or studying the rudiments of music ? Im- 
possible ! Yet the mind of man touches 
every spring of the human machine with the 
most masterly skill, though she knows no- 
thing at all concerning the nature of her 
implements, or the process of her operations. 
We walk, we cjn, we leap : we throw our- 
selves into a variety of postm*es, and perform 
a multitude of motions ; yet are utterly un- 
able to say, which nerve should be active, 
which muscle should sv/ell, or vrhich tendon 
approximate. 

Put a German flute into the hand even 
of a sensible person, without a master to 
instruct him, he is at a loss to make the 
instrument speak ; much less is he able to 
sink and soften the sound, to exalt and ex- 
tend it, just as he pleases ; Yet we are self- 
taught in the method of forming, regulating, 



and varying the voice. Naturally, and with 
unpremeditated fluency, we give it the lan- 
guishing cadence of sorrow, or the sprightly 
airs of joy ; the low faultering accents of 
fear, or the elevated tone and rapid sallies 
of anger. 

The eye of a rustic, who has no notion 
of optics, or any of its laws, shall lengthen 
and shorten its axis, dilate and contract its 
pupil, without the least hesitation, and with 
the utmost propriety ; adapting itself, even 
with mathematical exactness, to the parti- 
cular distance of objects, and the different 
degrees of light : By which means, it per- 
forms some of the most cmious experiments 
in the improved Newtonian philosophy, 
without the least knowledge of the science, 
or so much as any consciousness of its own 
dexterity. 

I can never sufficiently admire this mul- 
tiplicity of animated organs ; their finished 
form, and their faifltless order. Yet I must 
confess myself struck with greater admira- 
tion at the power, the truly mysterious pow- 
er and sway, which the soul exercises over 
them. Ten thousand reins are put into 
her hand : she is not acquainted with their 
office, their use or their name ; she has not 
learned so much as to distinguish one from 
another ; nevertheless she manages aU, con- 
ducts all, without the least perplexity, or 
the least irregularity ; rather with a promp- 
titude, a consistency, and a speed, which 
nothing else can equal ! 

Upon the whole — great reason had Eu- 
ripides to call the human body, 

I believe, the preceding observations will 
justify us, if we give a fuller meaning to the 
poet, and translate his words — " the infinite- 
ly varied, and inimitably fine workmanship 
of a great, supreme, unerring Artist." Or, 
as Virgil speaks, wdth a pertinency and a 
spirit which epitomises all I have said, and 
expresses all I would say, this bodily struc- 
ture is indeed — " non enarrabile textum."* 
Asp. "Wonderfully," I perceive, "and 
fearfully are we made," (Psalm cxxxix. 14.) 
Made of such complicated parts ; each so 
correctly fashioned, and all so exactly ar- 
ranged ;f every one executing such curious 
functions, and many of them operating in 
so mysterious a manner, as may justly ren- 
der us a wonder to ourselves. Since health 



* That is, a structure, not barely correct, or highly 
finished, but (as Theron has elsewhere expressed it) 
" beyond description curious." 

•f St. Paul's language on tlae subject, is exceedingly 
beautiful and expressive, 'Euva^f^o^.oya/^ivov xat 
!rv(/.(hi(iix.lof/,ivov. Eph. iv. 16. The several parts 
most nicely adapted to each other, and most perfectly 
harmonizing with the whole. All associated with 
that propriety, and connected with that firmness, 
v/hich are the very foundation of symmetry, vigour, 
and agility. 



DIALOGUE XII. 



295 



"depends upon such a numerous assenniblage 
of moving organs ; since a single secretion 
stopped may destroy the sahitary tempera- 
ture of the fluids ; or a single wheel clogged 
may put an end to the vital motion of the 
solids ; with w^hat " holy fear should \ve 
pass the time of our sojourning here below," 
<Pet. i. 17.) trusting, for continual preser- 
vation, not merely on oiu: own care, but on 
that omnipotent hand which formed the ad- 
mirable machine ; that the same hand which 
formed it, may superintend its agency, and 
support its being. 

When we consider the extensive contriv- 
ance and delicate mechanism — what plans 
of geometry have been laid ; what opera- 
tions of chemistry are performed ; in a word, 
what miracles of art and elegance are exe- 
cuted, in order to furnish us ^\ith the neces- 
sary recruits, and the several delights of 
life ; — is there not abundant reason to 
cry out,;vith the same inspired writer, " How 
dear are thy counsels unto me, O God !" 
" Thy counsels of creating msdom ! . thou 
hast not been sparing, but even laWsh of 
thy indiUgent designs. Thou hast omitted 
no expedient which might establish my ease, 
enlarge my comforts, and promote, yea, com- 
plete my bodily happiness !" And is not 
this a most endearing obligation " to glori- 
fy the blessed God, with oiu: bodies, as well 
, as with our spirits ?" (I Cor. vi. 20.) 

TTiei'. " Our spirits !" Ay; "VVTiat is this 
mansion of flesh, though so exquisitely 
wrought, compared with the noble and 
immortal inhabitant which resides with- 
in ? 

Thac intellectual Being ; 
Those thoughts, which wander through eternity ! 

Milton. 

This consideration inclines me to think, 
that if the casket be so highly polished, the 
jew^el cannot be so excessively coarse as my 
Aspasio's doctrine of original corruption sup- 
poses. 

Asp. I perceive yoiu: aim, Theron ; but 
must beg leave at present to decline all 
overtures for a dispute. If my arguments 
have failed, your description has answered 
its end. I cannot suflfer my thoughts to be 
diverted from a subject which is so very en- 
gaging, yet so rarely discussed. I have such 
a strong desire to recollect and retain what 
has been observed, that even your conversa- 
tion will at this juncture lose its relish. 
Here, therefore, I put a period to our dis- 
coiu-se, and nuist break away fi-om your 
company, in order to ruminate and digest 
my notions in some sequestered lonely walk. 
Unless you w^ill permit me, before I retire, 
to make one remark. And let it not startle 
my friend if I venture to say, that, amidst 
aU his ciu-ious observations, he has forgot 
the principal circumstance of honour and 
excellence which dignifies the human body. 



They. I have omitted many fine and ad- 
mirable properties I confess. But sure I 
have not forgot the principal and most dis- 
tinguishing. 

Asp. You need not be displeased with 
yoiu-self. It argues no defect in your disser- 
tation. The circumstances I have in my 
view could never be discovered by following 
the dissecting knife. It is learned, not from 
Cheselden's draughts, or the tables of Al- 
binus, but from the word of revelation. — 
What I mean is this : the human body was 
exalted to a most intimate and personal 
union \vith the eternal Son of God. He 
who decorated the heaven with stars, and 
crowmed the stars Avith lustre, " he vouch- 
safed to be made flesh," (John. i. 14.) " and 
was found in fashion as a man," (Phil. ii. 8.) 
Nay, this is even now the apparel of that 
divine and adorable Person. He is clot'-ed 
with our nature ; he wears our veiy limbs, 
and appears in the dress of humanity, even 
at the right hand of God, and at the head 
of all the heavenly hosts. 

What think you of another privilege, 
mentioned by the apostle ? " Your bodies 
are the temple of the Holy Ghost," (1 Cor. 
vi. 19.) Not your souls only, but your very 
bodies are the shrine in wliich " the high 
and holy One that inhabiteth eternity," 
condescends to dwell. He who sitteth be- 
tween the cherubim, and walketh in the 
circuit of the skies, is pleased to sanctify 
these earthly tenements for his own habita- 
tion. And is not this a much grander em- 
beUishment than all their matchless con- 
trivance and masterly workmanship ? Just 
as the rod which budded, and the manna 
which was miraculously preserved ; the sa- 
cred oracle of Urim and Thummim, mth 
the cloud of glory covering the mercy-seat ; 
were a much higher distinction to Solomon's 
temple, than the most heightened beauties 
of architecture. 

Nor must I omit the dignity, the trans- 
cendent and amazing dignity, which is re- 
ser\^ed for these systems of flesh at the re- 
surrection of the just. They will then be 
refined and improved into the most perfect 
state, and the mostbeauteous form ; surpassing 
whatever is resplendent and amiable in the 
most ornamental appearances of material 
natiu-e. They will be purer than the un- 
spotted firmament ; brighter than the lustre 
of the stars ; and, which exceeds all paral- 
lel, which comprehends all perfection, they 
will " be made like unto Christ's glorious 
body," (Phil. iii. 21.) like that incompar- 
ably-glorious body which the blessed Jesus 
wears in his celestial kingdom, and on his 
triumj)hant throne. 

When we add all these magnificent pre- 
rogatives which are revealed in scripture, 
to all those inimitable niceties which are 
displayed by anatomists, what thankfulness, 



296 



THERON AND ASPASIO 



what admii-ation, can equal sueh a profu- 
sion of favours ? 

When all thy mercies, O my God, 

My rising soiil surveys. 
Transported with the view, I'm lost 

In wonder, love, and praise ! 



DIALOGUE XIII. 

The morning had been wet. At noon, 
the rain ceased ; but the heavens still con- 
tinued gloomy. Towards evening a gen- 
tle eastern gale sprung up, which dissipated 
the dead calm, and cleared the face of the 
sky. The sun, which had been muffled in 
clouds, dropped the veil. Disengaged from 
the dusky shroud, he shone forth with pe- 
culiar splendour. His beams, endeared by 
their late suspension, were doubly welcome, 
and produced unusual gaiety. 

At this juncture Theron and Aspasio 
walked abroad. They walked alternately 
on the terraces ; one of which was opposite 
to the country, the other contiguous to the 
parterre ; where the gales, impregnated with 
the freshest exhalations of nature, breathed 
the smell of meads, and heaths, and groves ; 
or else, shaking the clusters of roses, and 
sweeping the beds of fragrance, they flung 
balm and odours through the air. 

At a distance were heard the bleatings 
of the flock, mingled with the lowings of 
the milky mothers ; while more melodious 
music warbled from the neighbouring 
boughs, and spoke aloud the joy of their 
feathered inhabitants ; — and not only spoke 
their joy, but spread an additional charm 
over aJ the landscape. For, amidst such 
strains of native harmony, the breathing 
perfumes smell more sweet, the streaming 
rills shine more clear, and the universal 
prospect looks more gay. 

Then was experienced, what Milton so 
delicately describes : 

If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet 
Extend his evening beam, the fields revive. 
The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds 
Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings. 

With wonder and delight our friends ob- 
served both the exquisite beauty and the 
immense magnificence of things. — They 
were struck with the most profound vene- 
ration of that almighty Majesty, who hung 
the sun in vaults of azure, and clothed his 
orb with robes of lustre; "whose right 
hand spanneth the heavens," (Isaiah xlviii. 
13,) " and stretcheth them out as a tent," 
for innumerable creatures, worlds, systems 
''to dwell in." (Isaiah xl. 22.)— Charmed 
they were at the consideration of the Crea- 
tor's boundless beneficence ; who lifts up 
the light of his countenance, and joy is shed ; 
who opens his munificent hand, and plenty 
is poin'ed throughout all the regions of the. 



universe. Insomuch, that even inanimate 
beings seem to smile under a sense of the 
blessings ; and though they find not a tongue 
to praise, yet speak their acclamations by 
their gladdened looks. 

Ther. How very different, Aspasio, is 
this delightful appearance of things, from 
your ill-favoured doctrine of original guilt 
and original depravity ! Your doctrine is a 
contradiction to the language of nature. 
Nature says, through all her works, " that 
God is good, and men are made to be hap- 
py." Whereas, your opinion would turn 
the whole world into a vast hospital, and 
make every individual person a leper or a 
Lazarus 

Asp. I join with my Theron, and with 
universal nature, in bearing witness to t\\e 
goodness of our God. And nothing, I am 
persuaded, displays it more, nothing mai)!- 
fests it so much, as the doctrine of our fall 
in Adam, connected with our recovery in 
Christ. — Only in one particular lam obliged 
to dissent. It is not my opinion that would 
make, but the sin of our forefather which 
has made, the whole world an infirmary, 
and every individual person a leper. 

Ther. At this rate, you would crowd into 
that single act of disobedience, evils more 
numerous, and more fatal, than the plagues 
which were lodged in Pandora's box, or the 
troops which were stowed in the Trojan 
horse. 

Asp. Far more numerous, and infinitely 
more pernicious. The fable of Pandora's 
box seems to have been a shred of the doc- 
trine, picked up by the heathen wits, and 
fashioned according to their sportive fancy : 
This would, if there was any occasion for 
such weak assistance, bring in the Pagan 
theology, as a subsidiary evidence to our 
cause. The Trojan horse poured ruin upon 
a single city ; but the primitive transgres- 
sion entailed misery upon all generations. 

Ther- You have advanced this heavy 
charge pretty strenuously, I must confess ; 
but without descending to facts, or appealing 
to experience. All the invectives are ge- 
neral and declamatory, none pointing and 
particular. 

Asp- It is easy, my dear friend, too easy 
to draw up a particular bill of indictment ; 
and not ordy to specify the facts, but to de- 
monstrate the charge. Experience, sad ex- 
perience will furnish us with a cloud of 
witnesses, and prove my remonstrances to 
be more than invectives. 

Were we to dissect human nature, as in 
our last conference you treated the animal 
system, we should find the leprosy of cor- 
ruption spreading itself through our whole 
frame. For which reasoji, it is styled, by 
an inspired writer, "the old man." (Rom. 
vi. 6.) " Old," because in its commence- 
ment it was early as the fall, and in its cor^i- 



DIALOGUE XIII. 



297 



munication to individuals is coeval with 
their being. " Man," because it has tainted 
the body, infected the soul, and disordered 
the whole person. 

St. Paul, describing a profligate conver- 
sation, speaks in this remarkable manner : 
*' fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of 
the mind." Eph. ii. 3. By the desires of 
the flesh, he means those irregular inclina- 
tions which correspond with the animal part 
of our constitution : By the desires of the 
mind, he denotes those evil propensities 
which are more immediately seated in the 
intellectual faculties. And by both, he 
.very strongly expresses the total depravation 
of our nature. 

Ther. What you call ovil propensities, I 
am apt to think are not really sinful, but 
ai)pomted for the trial of our virtue. Nay, 
since they are confessedly natural, they can- 
not be in themselves evil ; because, upon 
this supposition, God, who is the author of 
our nature, would be the author also of our 
sin. 

A^p. Then you imagine, that pi-opensities 
to evil are void of guilt. Tliis is the Pop- 
ish notion, but neither the Mosaic nor the 
Apostolic doctrine — In the law of Moses 
it is written, " Thou shalt not covet. " 
Exod. XX. 17. The divine Legislator 
prohibits, not only the iniquitous practice, 
but the evil desire. The apostle gives it 
la charge to the Colossians, " Mortify your 
members, which are upon the earth : forni- 
cation, uncleanness, inordinate affection, 
and" which is the source of all, " evil con- 
cupisL-ence."' Col. iii. 5. Now, can that be 
free from guilt which we are commanded to 
mortify? which, if not mortified, denomi- 
nates us " children of disobedience," and 
subjects us to " the wrath of God ?" Col. 
iii. 6. 

Though these propensities are confessed- I tongue, 
ly natural, they may be evil notwithstanding. ' 
The sacred writers oppose what is natural 
to what is spiritual. Instead of commend- 
ing it as innocent, they condemn it as " fool- 
ish," 1 Cor. ii. 14, "base," 2 Pet. ii. 12, 
and " criminal," Eph. ii. 3 — Neither does 
this make the author of our nature, the au- 
thor of our sin. But it proves, that our 
nature has sustained a deplorable loss ; that 
it is quite diff'erent from its original state ; 
that what is spoken of the Israelitish peo- 
ple, is applicable to the human race : "I 
planted thee a noble vine, wholly a right 
seed : how then art thou turned into the 
degenerate plant of a strange vine ?" Jer. ii. 
21. 

However, let us observe your proposal ; 
dwell no longer on general hints, but de- 
scend to a particular examination. As our 
examination will chiefly respect the soul, 
let me inquire what are her principal fa- 



Ther. The understanding, the will, and 
the affections. These are the most distin- 
guishing powers which that queen of the 
human economy retains in her service. 
These, like the several distributions of 
some ample river, run through the whole 
man, to quicken, fertilize, and enrich all his 
conversation. But you represent them bit- 
ter, as the waters of Marah ; unwholesome, 
as the streams of Jericho ; noxious, as the 
pottage prepared for the sons of the pro- 
phets. 

Asp. Nor is this a misrepresentation : 
For such they really are, till divine grace, 
like Moses' wood, Exod. xv. 25, like 
Elisha's salt, 2 Kings ii. 21, 22, or the 
meal, 2 Kings iv. 41, cast in by that holy 
man of God, sweeten them, heal them, and 
render their operations salutary. 

The imderstanding claims our first re- 
gard. This, however qualified to serve tlie 
purposes of civil life, is unable to discover 
the truths in which wisdom consists, or to 
form the tempers from which happiness 
flows. 

Let us take our specimen, not from the 
uncidtivated savages of Africa, but from the 
politest nation in Euroj)e. The Grecians 
piqued themselves on their intellectual ac- 
complishments : They termed all the rest 
of mankind barbariai;s. Yet even these 
sons of science, " professing themselves 
wise, were," in fact, egregious "fools." 
Rom. i. 22. Not to enumerate the shock- 
ing immoralities which the poets ascribed 
to their deities ; not to insist upon the gi'oss 
idolatries which the common people prac- 
tised in their worship ; even their philoso- 
phers, the most improved and penetrating 
getiiuses, were unacquainted with the very 
first principle* of true religion. Even they 
could not pronounce with an unfaultering 
That God is one." 
Tlier. With regard to the philosophers, 
the prejudices of a wrong education might 
pervert their judgment ; or, in compliance 
with the prevailing mode, they might adopt 
customs, and assent to notions, which they 
did not thoroughly approve. 

Asp. A poor compliment this to their 
integrity ! Had I been their advocate, rae- 
thinks, I would have given up the sagacity 
of my clients, rather than their fidelity to 
the cause of God and truth. 

With reference to the supreme Good, 
they were equally at a loss. There is not 
one among all the inferior creatures, not 
even the crawling worm or the buzzing fly, 
but perceives what is beneficial, and pur- 



cutties ? 



* " The first of all the commandments is, Hear O 
Israel, The Lord our God is one Lord ; and thou 
shalt love the Lord, &c. Mark xii. 20. From which 
it appears, that the unity of the Godhead is the foun- 
dation of all the divine commandnienls, and of all 
human worship. 



298 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



«ues it ; discerns what is pernicious, and 
avoids it. Yonder caterpillar, whose nour- 
ishment is from one particular species of 
vegetables, never makes a wrong applica- 
tion to another ; never is allured by the 
fragrance of the auricula, or dazzled by the 
splendour of the tulip ; but constantly dis- 
tinguishes, and as constantly adheres to the 
leaf which affords her the proper food. So 
sagacious are the meanest animals vnth re- 
lation to their respective happiness ! While 
the most celebrated of the heathen sages 
were, on a subject of the very same import, 
mere dotards. Varro reckons up no less 
than two hundred and eighty-eight different 
opinions concerning the true good ; and not 
one of them derives it from the true source : 
I mean a conformity to the ever-blessed 
God, and an enjoyment of his infinite per- 
fections. 

If on these leading points they were so 
erroneous, no wonder that they were be- 
wildered in their other researches. 

Ther. We are not inquiring into the cir- 
cumstances of this or that particular nation, 
but into the state of mankind in general. 

Asp. Cast your eye, Theron, upon those 
swallows. They shoot themselves with 
surprising rapidity, through the air. I 
should take them for so many living ar- 
rows, were it not for their shifting, winding, 
wanton motions. Are not these what you 
call birds of passage ? 

Ther. These, and some other of the 
feathered race, are our constant visitants 
in summer, but leave us at the approach 
of winter. As soon as the weather be- 
comes cold, they assemble themselves in 
a body, and concert measures for their de- 
parture. Who convenes the assembly — 
what debates arise — or how they communi- 
cate the resolution taken — I do not presume- 
to say. This is certain, that not one of 
them dislodges till the affair is settled, and 
the proclamation has been published. Not 
a single loiterer is to be seen, when the 
tro(j])s are preparing for their decampment, 
liot a single straggler to be found, when 
they have once begun their march. — Hav- 
ing finished their journey through the land, 
their wings become a sort of sails, ?ind they 
launch, not into, but over the ocean. With- 
out any compass to regidate their course, 
or any chart to make observations in their 
voyage, they arrive safely at the desired 
shore ; and what is still more extraordinary, 
they always find the readiest way, and the 
shortest cut. 

Asp. " The stork in the heavens know- 
eth her appointed times ; and the turtle, 
and the crane, and the swallow, observe the 
time of their coming : but my people know 
not the judgment of their God," ( Jer. viii. 
7. ) The young ones of those birds per- 
ceive how absolutely necessary it is to for- 



sake the land of their nativity, and travel 
in quest of milder climes ; but our off- 
spring, even when their minds begin to 
open, " are brutish in their knowledge," 
(Jer. X. 14.) Born they are, and too 
long continue, " like the wM ass's colt,*" 
(Job. xi. 12.); not only quite destitute of 
heavenly wisdom, but stupid to apprehend 
it, and averse to receive it. " As soon as 
they are born, they go astray," and 

Ther. " Go astray" — To what is this 
owing, but to the bad examples they behold ? 
They catch the wayward habit from the ir- 
regular conversation of others. 

Asp. Is not this a confirmation of my 
point ? Why are they yielding clay to each 
bad impression ? case-hardened steel to 
every edifying application ? — From imitat- 
ing unworthy examples, you can hardly 
withhold them by the tightest rein. But 
if you would affect them with a sense ot 
divine things, or bring them acquainted 
with God their Maker ; " line must be 
upon line, line upon line ; precept must 
be upon precept, precept upon precept ; 
here a little and there a little, f What far- 
ther corroborates my sentiment, is, that all 
these tender toils of erudition are generally 
unwelcome, are too often unsuccessful, nay, 
will always be ineffectual, without the con- 
currence of Almighty grace. 

Besides, Theron, if this propensity to 
evil be observable in all children, it seems 
more than probable that the unhappy bias is 
derived *from their parents, rather than 
catched from their neighbours ; and owing 
not to the influence of external examples, 
but to a principle of internal corruption. | 
— Neglect the education of children, and 
you are sure to have their manners evil, 
their lives unprofitable. Nay, only remit 
your endeavours, and they lose what has 
been gained, they st^rt aside like a broken 



* How keenly is this comparison pointed ! — Like 
the ass's, an animal remarkable for its stupidity, 
even to a pro\'erb : — Like the ass's colt, which must 
be still more egregiously stupid than the dam. — Like 
the wild ass's colt, which is not only blockish, but 
stubborn and refractory : neither possesses valuable 
qualities by nature, nor will easily receive them by 
discipline. — The image, in the original, is yet more 
strongly touched. The comparative particle liJce, is 
not in the Hebrew — born a wild ass's colt : or, as we 
should say in English, a mere wild, &c. 

t A great critic has laid down the following rule, to 
be observed in fine writing : 

'Tis not enough no harshness gives olFence, 
The sound must be an echo to the sense. 

Pops's Essay on Criticism. 
Never was this delicate maxim more nicely exempli- 
fied, than in the above cited passage of Isaiah, chap, 
xxviii. 13. Another instance of the same kind occurs 
in the seventh verse ; where the language seems to 
mimic the reeling, straggling, giddy motions of a 
drunkard ; while it iterates and reiterates the idea ; 
expresses the same thing in a different and still differ- 
ent manner; with an apparent, and in this case, a 
significant circumrotation of words. 

i;. St. Paul confesses, that he and his fellow-saints 
were, in their unconverted state, depraved : and 
this, not ihv., " by custom or habit/' but 

ipuffit, K by nature." Eph. ii. 3. 



DIALOGUE XIII. 



299 



bow. And wherefore thi« ? Why do they 
not, without the rules of discipline or les- 
sons of instruction, spontaneously addict 
themselves to the exercise of every virtue ? 
just as the cygnets in yonder canal, spon- 
taneously take to the element of water, and 
the act of swimming? 

That bed in the garden before us will 
suggest the reason. It has been digged and 
dressed this very day. It now lies smooth 
and clean. Not a single weed appears on 
its surface. Yet how certainly wiU it, in 
a very little time, produce a plenteous growth 
of those vegetable nuisances ? Whence can 
this proceed ? No hand will sow them ; no 
wish will invite them. But the seeds, 
though unperceived by any eye, are already 
there. Disseminated by the winds, they 
have mixed themselves with the mould, and 
are sunk into the soil. So, just so it is 
wdth our children. The seeds of iniquity 
are within them ; and unless proper diligence 
be exerted by us, unless gi-acious assistance 
be vouchsafed from above, they will assur- 
edly spring up, overrun their souls, and 
dishonour their lives. 

Ther. Let us leave the children, and 
make men the subject of our inquiry. 

Asp. In this respect, Theron, 

Men are but children of a larger growth. 

We may leave the vest or hanging-sleeve 
coat, but we shall still find the follies of 
the child. In youth, what low ambition 
and fondness for despicable pleasures ! In 
manhood, what a keen pursuit of transitory 
wealth, yet what a cold inattention to God 
and holiness ! Men, and men too of the 
greatest abilities, whose penetration on other 
subjects is piercing as the eagle's sight, are 
on the most important points blind as the 
incaverned mole. 

Ther. What ! is the understanding like 
the most dim-sighted animal, when lodged 
in her darkest retirement ? that sublime fa- 
culty of the soul, which lends her eye to all 
the rest, sits at the helm, and directs their 
motions ! 

Asp. You remember, I presume, that 
beautiful passage in Milton,* which IVIr. 
Addison so highly admires, and so judici- 
ously illustrates : The passage, I mean, 
where the archangel Michael comes down 
to advertise Adam of future events, and to 
execute the sentence of di\dne justice. 

7'her. I remember it perfectly well. — In 
the east, the great light of day lies under 
an eclipse. In the west, a bright cloud de- 
scends, filled with an host of angels, and 
more luminous than the sun itself. The 
whole theatre of nature is darkened, that 
this glorious machine may appear in all its 



* Book xi. I. 203, &c. 



magnificence and beauty. From this radiant 
chariot the Potentate of heaven alights, and 
advances with a majestic stateliness to meet 
Adam. 

Asp. Should you see such an august per- 
sonage alighting from such a splendid cha- 
riot, and walking amidst the thronged streets 
of a city ; should you behold every on« in- 
tent upon his business or diversions, struck 
with no awe, paying no reverential regard 
to this celestial visitant — what would you 
think ? 

Ther. I should certainly suspect that 
some superior power had drawn a veil over 
their sight, and hid this wonderful spectacle 
from their view. 

Asp. Such is really the case with all 
mankind by nature, and with the generality 
of people during their whole life. God, the 
infinitely great God, is in every place. Yet 
how few advert to his presence ? — AU na- 
ture exhibits him to their senses, yet perhaps 
he is not in any of their thoughts. 

The sun, clothed in transcendent bright- 
ness, most illustriously displays his Maker's 
glory. The moon, though dressed in fainter 
beams, has lustre enough to show us the 
adorable Deity, and his marvellous perfec- 
tions. The stars, fixed as they are at an 
immeasurable distance, and lessened almost 
to a point, come in wdth their evidence, and 
magnify their Creator to a gazing but unaf- 
fected world. 

The air whispers his clemency in the 
gentle, the refreshing gales of spring. If 
we take no notice of this soft persuasive ad- 
dress, the tone is elevated, the majesty of 
Jehovah sounds aloud in roaring winds and 
rending storms. Yet both expedients fail. 
Man is like the deaf adder, that stoppeth 
her ears. He refuseth to hear the voice of 
the charmers, charm they never so sweetly, 
never so forcibly. 

Each flower, arrayed in beauty, and 
breathing perfume, courts our affections for 
its infinitely amiable Author. — Not a bird 
that warbles, not a brook that murmurs, but 
invites our praise, or chides our ingratitude. 
All the classes of fruits deposit their attes- 
tation on our palates, yet seldom reach our 
hearts. They give us a proof of the divine 
benignity; a proof as undeniable as it is 
pleasing, and too often as ineffectual also. 

In short, the whole creation is a kind of 
magnificent embassy from its almighty Lord, 
deputed to proclaim his excellencies, and 
demand our homage. Yet who has not dis- 
regarded the former, and withheld the lat- 
ter? — How few walk as seeing him that is 
invisible, or have fellowship with the Fa- 
ther of spirits ? though to walk before him 
is our highest dignity ; and to have fellow- 
ship \vith him is our only felicity ? 

Ther. This is owing to inattention, rather 
than to any blindness or defect in man's un- 



31)0 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



derstancjijig The many works of genius, 
which have been produced in various ages, 
are an abundant proof of his intellectual 
' capacity.— Have not the seas been travers- 
ed and the skies measured ? Has not the 
earth been disembowelled of its choicest 
treasures, while its surface is beautified with 
towns, cities, palaces innumerable ? What 
fine arts are invented and exercised, and to 
what a pilch of perfection are they carried ? 
Arts that seem, if not to exceed, at least 
to rival nature. It was the understanding 
which formed all these great designs. It 
was the understanding which contrived the 
means, and conducted the execution. And 
are not these unquestionable evidences of 
her very superior abilities ? 

Asp. Then she is like some great em- 
press, who conquers half the world, but is 
unable to rule herself ; who extends her re- 
gulations into foreign climes, while her do- 
mestic affairs are involved in confusion. — 
Do you doubt the reality of this remark ? 
Set yourself to meditate upon the most in- 
teresting truths. How desultory, how in- 
coherent are your thoughts ? — Charge them 
to be collected ; they disobey your orders. 
Rally the undisciplined vagrants ; again they 
desert the task. Exert all your power, and 
keep them close to their business ; still 
they elude your endeavours. 
' The other day I could not forbear smiling 
at a little adventure of your youngest son's. 
Some quicksilver, which happened to be 
spilt upon the floor, parted in several glo- 
bules. The shining balls looked so prettily, 
be longed to make them his own. But 
when he offered to take them up, they slipt 
from his hand ; as soon as he renewed the 
attempt, so often he met with a disappoint- 
ment ; the closer he strove to grasp them, 
the more speedily they escaped from his 
fingers : he seemed at first to be amazed, 
then became quite angry that the little fugi- 
tives should so constantly baffle his repeated 
efforts. Thus unmanageable I very often 
find my own thoughts. If yours are under 
no better regimen, this may convince us both, 
that all is not according to the original crea- 
tion. 

We apply ourselves to converse with the 
everlasting God in prayer. Here one would 
expect to have the thoughts all clearness, 
and all composure. But here we are not 
sufficient of ourselves to think any thing as 
of ourselves. (2 Cor. iii. 5.) All those 
holy ideas which create reverence, or 
strengthen faith, or quicken love, come from 
the Pather of lights. Should he withdraw 
his influence, all will be dull, and dark, and 
dead. It may be we are somewhat enliven- 
ed in this sacred exercise ; before we are 
aware, perhaps in the very midst of the so- 
lemn office, our attention is dissipated, and 
not dissipated only, but scattered to the ends 



of the earth. The God of all glory is for- 
saken, and the devotion paid to some sense- 
less foppeiy. A malefactor begging his life 
at the knees of his sovereign, and discon- 
tinuing his suit in order to caress a lapdog, or 
pursue a butterfly, is but a faint image of the 
vanity which attends our devotional services. 
Reason, which ought to correct these irre- 
gularities, is treated like the incredulous 
lord, who, instead of controlling the unruly 
multitude, was overborne by their impetu- 
osity, " and trodden under foot." (2 Kings 
vii. 17.) 

Since then the reins are struck out of 
our hands, and we have lost the rule over 
our own faculties, surely we are in a state 
different, very different from our primitive 
constitution. 

Ther. However insensible to refined spe- 
culation, the understanding, M'hen interest 
is in the case, is apprehensive enough. 

Asp. In temporal,* not in spiritual af- 
fairs — Your younger brother, Theron, is a 
merchant. We will suppose him at the 
sea-side, within a small distance of the vessel 
in which a considerable part of his substance 
is embarked. We will suppose the vessel 
in the utmost distress, ready to founder with 
her leaks, or to strike upon the rocks. If 
he discovers no sign of concern, calls in no 
assistance from the country, makes no effort 
to save the crew, and secure the cargo, 
would you not think him bereaved of his 
understandii]g, or deprived of his sight ? 
Could you conceive a more favourable opi- 
}iion of his eyes or his intellect, if, instead of 
trying every method to prevent a shipwreck, 
he should amuse himself with picking shells 
from the ocean, or drawing figures on the 
sand ? 

W e, and every one of our fellow creatures, 
have an interest in jeopardy, unspeakably 
more precious than all the rich lading of a 
thousand fleets. Our souls, our immortal 
souls, are exposed, every day, every hour, to 
the peril of everlasting destruction. Every 
temptation is threatening to their endless wel- 
fare, as a ridge of craggy rocks to a ship that 
drives before the strongest gale. Yet how 
unconcerned are mankind ? where is their 
holy fear ? where their godly jealousy? where 
their wakeful circumspection ? Rather what 
a gay insensibility is observable in their be- 
haviour ? or else, what a lifeless formality 
prevails in their supplications — their suppli- 
cations to that Almighty Being, who alone 
is able to save and to destroy. Was not 
the human understanding both darkened and 
benumbed, we should see our neighbours, 
we should feel ourselves awakened into 
much the same earnest solicitude, as the 
disciples expressed, M^hen, perceiving the' 



* Called therefore by theapostle, "flesWy wisdom," 
and opposed to the grace of God. 2 Gor, i. 12. 



DIALOGUE XIIL 



^01 



waves boisterous, and their bark sinking, 
they cried, " Lord, save us ! we perish !" j 
But, alas ! in tilings of an unseen nature, ' 
though of eternal consequence, interest, that * 
habitual darling of every heart, loses its en- 
gaging influence. Nay, when eternity, all- ! 
important eternity is at stake, even self- [ 
preservation is scarce any longer a governing 
principle. "What can be more deplorable ? ; 
and, if we admit not the doctrine of original 
corruption, what so unaccoimtable ? ! 

Ther. This, I must confess, is true with I 
regard to the unthinking rabble. To them 
may be accommodated the remark of Au- 
gustus, who, when he saw some foreign fe- 
males carrying apes in their arms instead of 
infants, said to one of his courtiers, " have 
the women of those countries no children, 
that they are so fond of such despicable 
animals ?" — The vulgar are so immersed in 
secular cares, that one might indeed be 
tempted to ask, " have those people no 
souls, that buying and selling, eating and 
drinking, engross their whole concern ?" But 
persons of rank and education think in a 
more exalted manner. 

Asp. Do you then imagine, that an ele- 
vation of circumstances sets the affections 
on things above ? or that it is the peculiar 
infelicity of the vulgar to grovel in their de- 
sires ? Gold, I believe is more likely to in- 
crease than to dissipate the fog on the mind. 
Abundance of possessions, instead of disen- 
gaging the heart, fasten it more inseparably 
to the earth. Even superior attainments 
in learning, if not sanctified by grace, serve 
only to render the owner somewhat more 
refined in his follies. But comparisons 
between the various classes of mankind, are 
as useless as they are invidious. None, 
in either condition, attend to the things 
which make for their peace, till they are 
awakened from their lethargy, by the quick- 
ening Spii it of Christ ; and even then we 
cannot but observe evident indications of 
much remaining blindness. 

How apt are such persons to mistake the 
way of salvation, to place their own works 
for a foundation of hope, instead of Christ 
the Rock of Ages, thinking by their own 
performances to win, not seeking from un- 
merited grace to receive, the inheritance of 
eteinal glory ; which is more absurdly vain 
than to offer toysas an equivalent for thrones, 
or to dream of pui-chasing diadems with a 
mite. — They are slso prone to misappre- 
hend the nature of holiness, are zealous to 
regulate the external conduct, without attend- 
ing to the renovation of the heart ; in out- 
ward forms elaborate ; with respect to in- 
ward sanctity, less if at all exact : a labour 
just as preposterous, as to skin over the sur- 
face of a wound while it festers at the bot- 
tom, and consumes the bone. 

Give me leave to ask, Theron, when our 



Lord declares, " Unless a man be born 
again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of 
heaven;" .John iii. 3 ; when he speaks of 
" eating his flesh, and drinking his blood ;" 
John vi. 34. ; when you hear or read of 
union with the blessed Jesus, or communion 
with the most high God; is there not a 
cloud, if not total darkness, on your mind?* 
How erroneous was the Psalmist himself 
in his judgmen^t concerning the di\dne dis- 
posals ; " So foolish was I and ignorant, 
even as it were a beast," or as the veriest 
beast, " before thee."t Psalra Ixxiii. 22. 
The voice of experience therefore ^\^ll at- 
test, what the word of revelation has aver- 
red, — that the natural man, be his intellec- 
tual abilities ever so pregnant, or ever so im- 
jjroved, " cannot know the things of the 
Spirit of God ;" 1 Cor. ii. 14; he has 
no sight to discern their beauty, no taste 
to relish their sweetness. Nay, though 
they are the purest light, and the most 
perfect wisdom, [-to him they appear not 
only dark and ob=cii''e, but even foolishness 
itself. " 

Would this be the case if the understand- 
ing was not gieatly depraved ? Shoidd it 
be difficult for your ear to distinguish the 
diversity of soimds, or for your eye to dis- 
cern the variety of colours, would you 
not conclude, that the organs were very 
much impaired ? 

Titer. I think you have treated the un- 
derstanding as Zopyrus served his own bo- 
dy,! Avhen he went over to the enemy. Do 
you intend to mangle the other faculties at 
the same unmerciful rate>? 

Asp. That nobleman made the wounds 
which disfigured his flesh ; I have only 
probed the sores which Avere found in the 
understanding. If I hare touched the quick, 
and put the patient to pain, it is only to fa- 
cilitate the operation of medicine, and make 
way for a cure — But permit me to ask. 
Wherein does the excellency of the human 
will consist? 

Ther. In following the guidance of rea- 



* With regard to tne mystfries of Christ, the 
greatest proficients are but abtiise acuti, dull even 
in their acuteness. — What says the wise Augur? an 
invaluable fragment of whose works is preserved in 
the book of Proverbs. " Surely I am more brutish 
than any man, and have not the understanding of 
a man ;" even though the following verses bespeak 
the very singular eleVation and extent of his know- 
ledge, Prov. XXX. 2. Conformably to the experience 
of this excellent man, I have always observed, that 
the more enlightened people are, the more they la- 
ment their ignorance; the more they pant after a con-^ 
tinual progress in heavenlj knov.iedge ; and pray for 
clearer, still clearer manirestations of the incompre- ' 
hensible God. I 
t I question whether Aspasio's translation comes u 
fully up to the em.phasis of the original. The com- 
I parative particle is omitted in the Hebrew, as it 3S 
I softens and palliates the matter. Therefore the ,3 
Psalmist, to express the deepest sense of his ignoirancej , 
I says, " I was a beast, yea, the veriest beast." JiG- r..tII9i 
I + See Rollin's Jncie/tf Hisf. vol. iii. p. 4G. pgib jO« 



302 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



son, and submitting to the influence of pro- 
per authority. 

Asp. The will, I fear, rejects the govern- 
ment of reason ; and it is undeniably cer- 
tain, that it rebels against the authority of 
God. 

Cast your eye upon that team of horses, 
with which yonder countryman is ploughing 
his fallow-ground. No less than five of 
those robust animals are linked together, 
and yield their submissive necks to the 
draught. They have more strength than 
twenty men, yet are managed by a single lad. 
They not only stand in awe of the lash, biit 
listen to the voice of their driver. They 
turn to the right hand or to the left ; they 
quicken their pace, or stop short in the fur- 
row, at the bare intimation of his pleasure. 
Are we equally obedient to the calls, to the 
exhortations, the express injunctions of our 
heavenly Lord? The blessed Jesus spoke 
at the beginning, and the world was made. 
He speaks by his providence, and the uni- 
verse is upheld. "When he shall speak at 
the last day, the heavens will pass away, and 
the earth be dissolved. Yet he speaks to 
us in his divine word, and we turn a deaf 
ear to his address. He speaks in tender 
expostulations, and no melting of heart en- 
sues. He speaks in precious promises, and 
no ardent desires are enkindled. The will, 
which in these cases ought to be turued 
as wax to the seal, is unimpressed and in- 
flexible as an iron sinew ? 

Ther. The human will is constantly in- 
clined to preserve, accommodate, and make 
its possessor happy. Is not this the right 
position, in which it should always stand ? 
Or the most desirable direction that can 
be given to its motions? 

Asp. I should be glad, if fact bore wit- 
ness to yoiu- assertion. But fact, I appre- 
hend, is on the contrary side. I took no- 
tice, as we came along, of some ants, busily 
employed on a little hillock. Have you 
made any observation, Theron, on this rep- 
tile community ? 

Ther. It is a little republic. * They in- 
habit a kind of oblong city, divided into 
various streets. They are governed by laws, 
and regulated by politics, of their own. 
Their magazines are commodiously formed, 
and judiciously guarded against the injiuies 
of the weather. Some are defended by an 
arch made of earth, and cemented with a 
peculiar sort of glue : Some are covered 
■with rafters of slender wood, and thatched 
with rushes or grass. The roof is always 
raised with a double slope, to turn away the 
current of the waters, and shoot the rain 
from their storehouses. They all bestir 
themselves, with an incessant assiduity. 



* See Nat. Displ. vo3. i. 



while the air is serene, while the roads are 
good, and abundance of loose grain lies scat- 
tered over the fields. By these precau- 
tions, they live secure, when storms embroil 
the sky, they want no manner of convenien- 
cy, even when winter lays waste the plains. 

Asp. Do we improve, so diligently, our 
present opportunities? This life is the seed- 
time of eternity. Do we husband the pre- 
cious moments like persons sensible of their 
unspeakable importance ? sensible, that if we 
trifle and are indolent, they will be irrecover- 
ably gone, and we irretrievably nuned ? / 

Sickness, we know not how soon, may 
invade us, pain may torment us, and both 
may issue in our final dissolution. Are we 
duly aware of these awful changes, and pro- 
perly solicitous to put all in order for their 
approach? We walk (alarming thought!) 
upon the very brink of death, resurrection, 
and judgment. Do we walk like wise vir- 
gins, with our loins girt, with our lamps 
trimmed, in a state of continual readiness 
for the heavenly Bridegroom's advent ? 

Those ants " have no guide, overseer, or 
ruler ; yet they prepare their meat in the 
summer, and gather their food in the har- 
vest." (Prov. vi. 7.) We have all these, 
yet neglect the time of our visitation. We 
have God's unerring word to guide us ; 
God's ever-Avatchful eye to oversee us ; 
God's sovereign command to rule and quick- 
en us. Notwithstanding all these motives, 
is not the si)eech of the sluggard the very 
language of our conduct? " A little more 
sleep, a little more slumber, a little more 
folding of the hands to sleep." The most 
supine indifl^erence, where all possible dili- 
gence is but just sufficient ! This, you must 
allow, is the true character of mankind in 
general. And does this demonstrate the 
rectitude of their will ? 

TTier. The understanding may be said to 
carry the torch, the will to hold the balance. 
Now the perfection of a balance consists in 
being so nicely poised, as to incline at the 
least touch, and preponderate with the 
slightest weight. This property belongs^ 
without all dispute, to the human will. 

Asp. What if one of your scales should 
descend to the ground, though charged with 
trifles that are light as air? if the other 
should kick the beam, though its contents 
be weightier than talents of gold? Is not 
this an exact representation of our will, 
when the fleeting pleasures of sense, or the 
puny interests of time, excite om: wishes ; 
even while the solid delights of religion, and 
the immensely rich treasures of immortality, 
can hardly obtain our attention ? However, 
let us quit the metaphor, and examine fact. 
Suppose I make it appear, that, instead of 
choosing the most eligible objects, the will 
is so deplorably vitiated as to loathe what 
is salutary, and to be fond of what is baneful. 



DIALOGUE XIII. 



303 



Tlier. If you prove this to be utiiversally 
the case, you will prove your fa vouiite point 
with a ^^'itness. 

Asp. When Providence is pleased to 
thwart our measures, or defeat our endea- 
vours ; to bring us under the cloud of dis- 
grace, or lay upon us the rod of affliction ; 
what is our behaviour? Do we bow oin- 
heads in humble resignation ? Do we open 
our mouths in thankful acknow ledgments ? 
— Observe the waters in that elegant octan- 
gular basin. They assim.ilate themselves, 
with the utmost readiness, and with equal 
exactness, to the vessel that contains them. ! 
So would the human will, if it were not 
extremely froward and foolish, conform it- 
self to the divine ; which is unerringly wise, 
and, of all possible contingencies, incom- 
parably the best.* Yet how apt are we to 
fret with disquietude, and struggle under 
afflictive dispensations, " as a wild bull in a 
net ?" 

Ther. This is a very imperfect proof, As 
pasio, and corresponds only with part of 
your accusation. We may dislike what is 
wholesome, especially if it be unpalatable, 
yet not be fond of our bane. 

Asp. Shoidd you see a person who thirsts 
after the putrid lake, but disrelishes the run- 
ning fountain ; who longs for the empoison- 
ed berries of the nightshade, but abhors the 
delicious fruit of the orchard ; would you 
applaud the regularity of his appetite ? I do 
not wait for your answer. But I more than 
suspect this is a true picture of all unrege- 
nerate people. How do they affect dress 
and external ornament ; but are unwilling, 
rather than desirous, to be " clothed with 
humility," 1 Peter v. 5, and "to put on 
Christ," Rom. xiii. 14. Amusement will 
engage, play animate, and diversion fire 
them ; but as to the worship of the living 
God, O " what a weariness is it." Mai. i. 
13. This is attended, if attended at all, 
with languor and a listless insensibility. 
Frothy novels and flatulent wit regale their 
taste, while the marrow and fatness of the 
divine word are as " their sorrowful meat." 
Job vi. 7. What is all this but to loathe 
the salutary, and long| for the baneful ? 



* This seems to be the meaning of the prophet. 
Isaiah xxvi. 7. Not — " the way of the just is upright- 
ness." This sense, in the present connexion, is hardly 
consistent with humility ; is by no means proper to 
introduce a devotional address to the great Jehovah. 
Rather—" God's way to the just is uprightness ;" or, 
still more emphatically, "uprightness ;" is in all res- 
pects irreprovable, excellent, admirable; suited, per- 
fectly suitei.'»;o every sacred attribute of wisdom, good- 
ness, and truth. 

"t The reader may see this unhappy contrast drawn 
in the strongest colours, by the royal preacher, and 
by the mourning prophet. "Because I have called, 
and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and 
no man regarded ! but ye have set at nought all my 
counsel, and would none of my reproof." What a 
crowd of words ! emphatically declaring the most in- 
corrigible perverseness : which is proof against every 
method of reformation, against all the arts even of 



Let me, from the same comparison, pro- 
pose one question more, which may be ap- 
plicable both to the will and to the under- 
standing. Should you hear of another per- 
son, the state of whose stomach was so 
disposed that it tumed the most nourishing 
food into phlegm, and derived matter of 
disease from the most sovereign supports of 
health, what would you think of this con- 
stitution. 

Ther. I should certainly think it very 
much distempered. 

Asp. Without the grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, our souls turn every occur- 
rence into an increase of their sinful depra- 
vity. Our very table is a snare, and instead 
of exciting us to gratitude, is a provocative 
to gluttony. How difficult is it, when we 
tiow in plenty, not to be elated ; when we 
are oppressed with poverty, not to repine ? 
Have we business in the world ? it cumbers 
i our thoughts, or tem.pts us to avarice : Have 
we no business to manage ? we sink into 
sloth, and settle on the lees of voluptuous- 
ness. If our schemes are prosperous, it is 
odds but they attach us to the interests of 
time : If they prove unsuccessful, we too 
often are chagrined with the disappointment, 
and sin against meekness. Even the holy 
commandment, instead of restraining sin, or 
producing obedience, irritates the inbred de- 
pravity, and renders it more restless, more 
impetuous, more ungovernable, Rom. vii. 8. 
Those very things which should have been 
for our welfare, (so malignant and raging is 
our corruption !) are converted into an oc- 
casion of falling. 

Ther. The will is under no necessity of 
misemploying her powers. She is free to 
act in this manner or in that ; and if a spend- 
thrift, is not a slave. 

Asp, In actions which relate to the ani- 
mal economy the will is unquestionably free. 
She can contract the forehead into a frown, 
or expand it with a smile. In the ordinary 



divine persuasion. Prov. i. 24, 25. — " The host o( 
heaven, whom they have loved, and whom they have 
served, and after whom they have walked, and whom 
they have sought, and whom they have worshipped." 
What a heap of expressions : significantly describing 
that impetuous ardour, which no prohibitions can re- 
strain ; and that insatiable avidity, which nev er knows 
when to say, it is enough. Jer. viii. 2. 

If I beg leave to add another example of this kind, 
it is chiefly for the sake of clearing up an obscure 
passage in the Psalms; which seems to have been 
mistaken by the authors of both our versions. — Da- 
vid, to set forth the barbarous assiduity of his perse- 
cutors, says, They wander up and down." They 
pry into every comer; they search the city, and exa- 
mine the covmtry : not for meat ; which in this con- 
nexion is a sense quite foreign to the subject, and 
very jejune indeed ; but to devour, to devour me the 
destined victim of their rage. And if they are not 
satisfied, if they cannot compass their design by day, 
will they grudge? No; but they wU continue all 
night, in the prosecution of their purpose. Neither 
cold nor darkness can retard them ; neither hardships 
nor dangers can divert them ; but their attempts are 
as indefatigable as their malice is implacable. Psalm 
lix. 15. 



304 THEHON AND ASPASIO. 

affairs of life, she is under no control. We 



can undertake or decline a joumey, carry on 
or discontinue an employ, just as we please. 
In the outward acts of religion also, the will 
is her own mistress. We can read the word 
of God, or go to the place of divine wor- 
ship, without any extraordinary aid from 

above But, in matters which are more in- 

.timately connected with our salvation, the 
case is different. Here, as our liturgy ex- 
presses it, " w^e are tied and bound with the 
chain of our sins." 

Would you have a person delight himself 
in the Lord, take pleasure in devotion, set 
his affections on things above ? — All this is 
both his duty and his happiness. But alas ! 
he is alienated from the life of God ; his 
inclinations gravitate quite the contrary way 
his will is in the condition of that distressed 
woman, who was "bowed down with a spi 
rit of infirmity, and could in no wise lift up 
herself." Luke xii. 11. Corruption, like 
strong bias, influences, or rather like a heavy 
mountain oppresses his mind. Neither can 
he shake off the propensity, or struggle 
away from the load, imtil grace, almighty 
grace, interposes for his release, — " Where 
the spirit of the Lord is, there," and there 
alone, is liberty," 2 Cor. iii. 17, that sa 
cred and glorious liberty, which is not the 
.common privilege of all men, but the high 
prerogative of the children of God. 

Would you have a person apply to the 
great Redeemer — apply with a real ardour 
of desire, as Bartimseus of old, or the Syro 
.Phoenician mother ? — His will is like the 
withered arm, cannot stretch forth itself to 
the all-gracious Saviour; cannot hunger and 
thirst after his everlasting righteousness and 
infinite merit, till the Saviour himself speaks 
power into the enfeebled, the perverted fa- 
culty. — If you think otherwise, try the ex- 
periment. Persuade men to this necessary 
practice. Urge the most weighty arguments -, 
devise the most pathetic expostulations ; let 
zeal summon all her force, and rhetoric em- 
ploy all her art. Without being a prophet, 
I dare venture to foretell the issue. Dis- 
appointments, repeated disappointments, will 
convince you that our divine Master knew 
what he said when he solemnly declared, 
" No man can come to me, except the Fa- 
ther, which hath sent me, draw him.* John 
vi. 44. Our church, in conformity to this 
and other scriptures, has taught us to pray, 
" Turn thou us, O good Lord," for nothing 
but thy omnipotent agency is capable of do- 
ing it, " and so we shall be turned." 



7"her. Are we slaves then ? Will Chris- 
tianity send us to seek our brethren in the 
mines or in the galleys ? 

Asp. Christianity does not send but find 
us there : There, or in a worse slavery. * — 
It is doubtless a most abject state, to wear 
the yoke, and truckle in chains. Yet such, 
I apprehend, is the state of our minds by 
nature. To prove this, we need not go 
down to the lowest ranks of life. " These," 
you might say with the prophet, " are poor ; 
these are foolish ; they have not known the 
M'ay of the Lord, nor the judgment of their 
God" — I will get me therefore to the great 
men," Jer. v. 4, 5, and examine their dis- 
position. 

Have you not known persons of the 
greatest intrepidity, and firmest resolution, 
hurried away by their lusts, as " a rolling 
thing before the whirlwind?" Isa. xvii. 13. 
Perhaps they were bold enough to face dan- 
ger, and defy the swoixl in the field of bat- 
tle ; yet were no more able to withstand the 
wanton allurements of beauty, or the soft 
solicitations of pleasure, than the moth can 
forbear fluttering about the flame, even 
though it singes her wings, and is scorching 
her to death. Others, possessed of a re- 
fined imagination, disdain the gross indiilg- 
encies of sensuality ; yet are slaves to their 
own domineering passions. They are blown 
into the most intemperate rage, and pushed 
on to the most extravagant actions, by every 
little ruffling accident. They see the mean- 
ness which such an ungovernable spirit ar- 
gues ; they feel the misery which such in- 
ternal tempests create : nay, they resolve to 
suppress the impetuosity of their temper • 
yet are borne away by the torrent, and upon 
the very first provocation, are as furiously 
resentful as ever. Will you call these per- 
sons free, because their task-masters and 
their tyrants are lodged within ?t because 
the fetters are forged, not for the meaner 
but for the immortal part of their nature ? 

Ther. Let us pass to the affections. 
These are to the soul what wings are to the 
eagle, or sails to the ship. Tliese always 
stand ready to receive the gales of interest, 
and to spring at the signal of reason. 



* It is not said the Father drives, but draws : not by 
violent, irrational, compulsive means ; but by clear 
conviction, sweet persuasion, and inducements suit 
ed to a reasonable being. Those are the cords of a 
beast ; these of a man. So that we are not acted upon 
as clock-work, or influenced as mere machines, but 
*• made willing in the Jay of his power." Psal. ex. 3. 



* St. Paul says of Christians, and reckons himselt 
in the number, that naturally they served (not 
xovyvris but ^ovXsi.ovTi;, were absolute slaves to) 
" diverse lusts and pleasures." Tit. iii. 3. The whole 
verse is very remarkable, and nothing can be more 
apposite to Aspasio's purpose. It shows us, what they 
were by nature, who through grace became livirg 
images of the blessed God. 

This mortifying doctrine is often acknowledged by 
our church : Thus be/jins one of her public supplica- 
tions, " Almighty God, who alone canst order the 
unruly wills and affections of sinful man." It seems 
we cannot determine our own wills, nor regulate our 
own affections. What is this but bondage ? 

t Inordinate desires 

And upstart passions catch the government 
From reason, and to servitude reduce 
Man till tlien free. 



DIALOGUE AIll. 



305 



proportioned to the ballast, what advantage 
will accrue, either to the animal or to the 
vessel ? The one, will probably be over- 
set in the voyage, the other will lie grovel- 
ling on the ground. 

Ther. Desire seems to be first, which 
" opens the mouth, or moves the wing, or 
peeps." Isa. x. 14. Desire is active as a 
flame, and ever in pursuit of happiness. 

Asp. What if your flame, instead of 
shooting upwards, should point its inverted 
spires to the earth ? Would not this be 
strange, and a sign of great disorder ? — God 
is the centre of perfection, and the source of 
felicity. All that is amiable in itself, is 
comprehended in God. All that is benefi- 
cial to us, proceeds from God. Do our 
desires uniformly tend to this superexcel- 
lent Being? Do our wishes terminate in 
the enjoyment of his ever-glorious Majesty ? 
Alas ! we are naturally estranged from him. 
We covet no communion with him. We 
are wedded to trifles, and dote upon vanity t 
but to God we say — it is evidently the lan- 
guage of our conduct — " Depart from us ? 
we desire not the knowledge of thy ways." 
Jobxxi. 14. - 

If desire is the first-born among the afl'ec- 
tions, observe it in children. There it ap- 
pears in its dawn, and has most of pure na- 
ture. See how those flies, exulting in the 
sunny gleam, vibrate with all the rapidity of 
motion their little wings-.* So prompt and 
expedite are the desires of children to any 
corrupting diversion. See how sluggishly 
that snail, crawling forth amidst the refresh- 
ing moisture, drags her slow length along : 
So dull, if not reluctant, are the dispositions 
of our children to any improving exercise. 
Rewards will hardly win them to the latter ; 
the rod can hardly deter them from the for- 
mer : And none, none but God, " by his 
special grace preventing them, can put into 
their minds good desires."! 

Is our love under better regulation ? 
How easily are we captivated with a fair 
complexion and graceful form, especially 
when set off with the decorations of dress ; 
but how little affected with the beauty of 
internal chai-acter, with the ornaments of 
virtue, and the graces of Christianity ! Can 
it be supposed, that the pulse of the soul 
beats regularly, when there is such a pas- 
sionate fondness for fading embellishments, 
and such a cold indifference for the most 
substantial endowments ? How ready are 
we to be enamoured with well proportioned 
clay, often to our apparent prejudice, some- 
times to our utter ruin ? yet how backward 



* The wings of a fly are supposed to have the 
quickest motion of any material substance Which 
lives. And if they make, as naturalists imagine, 
some hundreds of vibrations in a second of time, I 
think there can be no competition in the case. 

t Collect for Easter-day. 



to love that infinitely loving and lovely Re- 
deemer, who would die himself rather than 
we should become a prey to death ! Tin- 
der we are, perfect tinder to the sparks of 
irrational and dissolute afi"ection ; harder 
than adament, colder than ice, to this hea- 
venly flame. 

Ther. If our love is blind, our fear has not 
lost her eyes. Fear is quick of apprehen- 
sion ; and instead of being stupidly insen- 
sible, is ready to " rise up at the voice of a 
bird." Eccl. xii. 4. 

Asp. The passion of fear is sufficiently 
active, but deplorably misapplied. We fear 
the reproach of men. But are we alarmed 
at the view of that everlasting shame which 
the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall pour 
upon the ungodly? We shudder at the 
drawn dagger, and stand appalled at the 
headlong precipice : But how often have 
we defied the sword of almighty vengeance, 
and sported upon the brink of irretrievable 
perdition ? 

Sin is the most pernicious of all evils. 
Sin violates the divine command, and pro- 
vokes the divine Majesty. Sin offers de- 
spite to the blessed Spirit, and tramples up- 
on the blood of Jesus. For sin, the trans- 
gressor is banished from the blissful presence 
of God, and doomed to dwell with inex- 
tinguishable burnings. Do we dread this 
grand destroyer of our happiness ? dread it 
more than any calamities, more than all 
plagues ? — Take one of those fine may- 
dukes, which glow with so beautiful a scar- 
let on yonder espalier -. Offer it to the black- 
bird that serenades us from the neighbour- 
ing elm. The creature, though fond of the 
dainty, will fly from our hand, as hastily as 
from a levelled fowling-piece. He suspects 
a design upon his liberty ; and therefore will 
endure any extremity, will even starve to 
death, rather than taste the most tempting 
delicacy in such hazardous circumstances. 
Are we equally fearful of an infinitely great- 
er danger ? Do we fly, with equal solici- 
tude, from the delusive but destructive wiles 
of sin ? Alas ! do we not too often swallow 
the bait, even when we plainly discover the 
fatal hook ? Do we not snatch the forbid- 
den fruit, though conscience remonstrates, 
though God prohibits, though death eternal 
threatens. 

Ther. Conscience, then, according to 
your owTi account, has escaped the general 
shipwreck. Conscience is Gods vicegerent 
in the soul, and executes her office faithful- 
ly. Even the Gentiles "show the work 
of the lav/ written in their hearts, their con- 
science also bearing witness, and their 
thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else 
excusing one another."* Rom. ii. 1.5. 

Asp. If there be any remains of the di- 
vine image, perhaps they are to be found in 
the conscience. |3ut even this is not ex- 



306 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



empt from the common ruin. — Consider its 
light. It is like a dim taper, feebly glim- 
mering, and serving only to make the dark^ 
ness visible. Or, if it discovers any thing, 
It is an obscme something, we know not 
what, which instead of informing tantalizes 
us ; and instead of guiding bewilders us, as 
false and delusory lights on the shore put a 
cheat upon the mariner, and lead him on to 
ruin.* — Consider its operations. It is either 
dumb or dead, or both. Dumb; or else 
how vehemently would it upbraid us for our 
shocking ingratitude to the supreme omni- 
potent Benefactor ? how loudly would it in- 
veigh against our stupid neglect of spiritual 
interests, and eternal ages ? Dead ; other- 
wise how keenly would it smart when gash- 
ed with wounds — numerous as our repeated 
violations of the divine law, deep as the hor- 
rid aggravations of our various iniquities? 

Ther. Do you call this an answer to my 
objection, Aspasio ? If it be an answer, it 
resembles, in point of satisfactory evidence* 
the light which you ascribe unto the con- 
science. 

Asp. The Gentiles, you allege, show the 
woik, but not the love of the law, written 
on their hearts. Some leading notices of 
right and wrong they have, some specula 
tive strictures of good and evil ; but without 
a real abhorrence of the one, or a cordial 
delight in the other : which, far from enno 
bling their nature, far from vindicating their 
practice, argues the exceeding depravity of 
the former, and renders the latter absolutely 
without excuse. - 

No ; you say, conscience excuses the 
heathens. Rather, their conscience bears 
witness to the equity of the law, while their 
thoughts make some weak apology for the 
tenor of their conduct. This is far from 
acquitting, far from justifying them. Be- 
sides, these weak attempts to excuse are 
always founded on ignorance. Did they 
know themselves, their duty, or their God, 
conscience would, without the least hesita 
tion, bring in her verdict Guilty. The apos 
tie assures us that till faith, which is a divine 
principle, takes place in our breasts, " both 
the mind and conscience are defiled : Tit. i 
15 : here and elsewhere very plainly inti 
mating, that the conscience is evil, and ever 
will be evil, till it is "sprinkled with the 
blood of Christ." Heb. x. 22. 

It accuses some, I acknowledge, and it 
ought to accuse, yea, to condemn all. But 



even here it evidences itself to be corrupt, 
for its accusations are sometimes erroneous, 
and no better than false witnesses, sometimes 
partial,* and suborned by appetite; and 
very, very often ineffectual. Nay, when they 
do take eft'ect, they produce no fruit that is 
truly good. They work not a genuine hu- 
miliation, or an unfeigned repentance ; but 
either a slavish dread of God as a severe 
judge, or hatred of him as an inexorable 
enemy. 

Ther. Hatred of God ! Astonishing im- 
piety ! Is it possible for the human heart 
to admit such enormous, almost incredible 
wickedness ? 

Asp. You may well be astonished, The- 
ron ; and God may justly demand ; " What 
iniquity have my people found in me, that 
they are gone far from me, and have walked 
after vanity?" Jer. ii. 5. "I created you 
out of nothing, and endowed you with an 
immortal soul. As a father, I have provided 
for you : As a nurse. I have cherished you. 
I have consigned over to your possession the 
earth, and the fulness thereof. All my crea- 
tures do you service, and even my angels 
minister unto your good. Do you desire 
greater demonstrations of my love ? I have 
given what was dearer to me than all angels, 
than all worlds : I have given my son from 
my bosom, to die in your stead. Would 
you have farther evidences of my tender, my 
distinguished regard ? Behold ! I touch the 
mountains, and they smoke : I look upon 
the earth, and it trembles : I cast even the 
princes of heaven, when they break my law, 
into chains of darkness. But to you, O 
men, I condescend to act as a supplicant ! 
Though highly injured, and horribly affront- 
ed, I beseech you, again and again I beseech 
you, to be reconciled." 

To hatef such a God, is indeed the most 
detestable impiety. Yet man, foolish man, 
practises this impiety, whenever, for the sake 
of a vile lust, an ignoble pleasure^ or an un- 
ruly passion, he transgresses the command 
of his Creator. 

Shall I exemplify the doctrine in another 
of the affections? 

Ther. In truth, Aspasio, I begin to be 
sick of the subject. If human nature is so 
ulcerated, the less you touch it the better. 
However, let us not quite omit the irascible 
appetite. 



, * This seems to have been the case with the bulk 
of the Heathen world. Conscience arraigned, and 
found them guilty. This put them upon practising 
their abominable, sometimes their inhuman idolatries. 
Nay, this induced them to give the most scandalous 
and impious misrepresentations of the Deity, That 
they might sheath the sting of conscience, and find 
some salvo for their own iniquities, they made even 
the objects of their worship the patrons and the pre- 
cedents of their favourite vices. 



* Partial — otherwise, how could the most celebrat- 
ed among the ancient heroes applaud and practise that 
execrable unnatural crime, self-murder ? How could 
their first-rate historians extol and almost consecrate 
that diabolical principle of action, pride ? And how 
could their ablest teachers of morality, not only tole- 
rate, but establish the error, by neglecting to find so 
much as a name for that amiable Virtue, humility. 

t Hatred of God is so shocking an expression, that 
one would almost wish never to hear or read it. But 
it occurs in our unerring book ; is too often exem- 
plified in common life ; and is engraven, by corrupt 
nature, on every human heart. See Rom. i, 30; 
Exod. XX. 5; John xv. 26; Rom. viii. 7- 



DIALOG 

Asp. Of this we have already taken a side 
view : if you choose to see it in full propor- 
tion, make your observation on Fervidus. 
Fervidus comes home in a rage. His 
cheeks are pale and his lips quiver with ex- 
cess of passion. Though he can hardly 
speak, he vows revenge, and utters impre- 
cations. What is the cause of all this 
wondrous ferment ? A neighbour, it seems, 
has dropt some reflecting hint, or a servant 
has blundered in some trifling message. 
Such usage, Fervidus says, is intolerable, 
and such negligence unpardonable. This 
same Fervidus has offered innumerable af- 
fronts to his Maker, he has most scanda- 
lously neglected the will of his almighty 
Lord, yet feels no indignation against him- 
self. He is all fury when his own credit is 
touched, but when the interest of Christ is 
wounded, he can sit unconcerned, or pass 
it off with a laugh. Anger, I acknowledge, 
is sometimes becoming and useful. But 
is this its right temperature ? this its pro- 
per application ? 

Ther. This is the practice only of some 
few turbulent spirits. To saddle their qua- 
lities upon every person, is a procedure just 
as equitable, as the madman's* calculation 
was reasonable, who took an 'account of 
every ship w^hich entered the harbour, and 
set it down for his own. 

Asp. The latter part of my charge, I fear, 
is applicable to more than a few. How- 
ever, let us consider the most calm and se- 
date minds. How are they affected under 
injuries ? Do they never aggravate failings 
into crimes ? Do they find it easy to ab- 
stain from every emotion of ill-will ? easy to 
love their enemies, and do good to those 
who hate them ? These god-like tempers, 
if our nature was not degenerated, would be 
the spontaneous produce of the soul. But 
now, alas ! they are not raised without much 
difficulty : seldom come to any considerable 
degree of eminence ; never arrive at a state 
of true perfection. An undoubted proof, 
that they are exotics, not natives of the 
soil. 

Now we are speaking of plants, cast your 
eye upon the kitchen-garden. Many of 
those herbs will perfume the hard hand 
which crushes them, and embalm the rude 
foot which tramples on them. Such was 
the benign conduct of our Lord : He al- 
ways overcame evil with good. When his 
disciples disregarded him in his bitter agony, 
he made the kindest excuse for their un- 
grateful stupidity. Matth. xxvi. 4L When 
his enemies, witWunparalleled barbarity, spilt 
his very blood, he pleaded their ignorance 
as an extenuation of their guilt. Luke xxiii. 34. 
Is the same spirit in us which was also in our 



* Thrasylus, an Athenian. 



UE XIIL 307 

divine Master? Then are our passions right- 
ly poised, and duly tempered. But if re- 
sentment kindles, and animosity rankles in 
our hearts; this is an infallible sign, that 
we swerve from our Saviour's pattern, con- 
sequently, are fallen from our primitive rec- 
titude. 

Ther. What say you of the fancy ? This, 
sure, if no other, retains the primitive rec- 
titude. What pictures does she form, and 
what excursions does she make? She can 
dive to the, bottom of the ocean, can soar 
to the height of the stars, and walk upon 
the boundaries of creation. 

Asp. That the fancy is lively and excur- 
sive, 1 readily grant. It can out-travel the 
post, or out-fly the eagle. But if it travel 
only to pick up shells, or fly abroad to 
bring home mischief ; then, 1 apprehend, 
though you should admire the faculty, you 
will hardly be in raptures with its agency. 
This is the real truth. Our fancy, till di- 
vine grace regulate and exalt its operations, 
is generally employed in picking painted 
shells, or culling venomous herbs ; " weav- 
ing (as the prophet very elegantly, and no 
less exactly describes the case) the spider's 
web, or hatching cockatrice-eggs ;" Isa. lix. 
5 ; busied in the most absurd impertinences, 
or acting in speculation the vilest iniquities. 
That which should be " a garden enclosed, 
a fountain sealed," Cant. iv. 12, for the 
Prince of Peace, is the thoroughfare of va- 
nity. And even when we are renewed 
from above, O ! how necessary is it to keep 
an incessant watch, and exercise a strict 
discipline, over this volatile, variable, treach- 
erous vagrant ! 

The memory, as well as the fancy, is im- 
paired, or if not impaired, is debauched. Why 
else does it so firmlyretain the impressions of 
an injury, but so easily let slip the remem- 
brance of a benefit? Any idle fopperies which 
sooth our vanity, and increase our corrup- 
tion, cleave to the thoughts, as the vexatious 
burr to our clothes; while the noble truths of 
the gospel, and the rich mercies of a gra- 
cious God, slide away from the mind, and 
leave no lasting trace behind them. This 
double perverseness is very emphatically and 
too truly represented by Jeremiah : " Can 
a maid forget her ornaments, or a bride her 
attire ? Yet my people have forgotten m_e, 
days without number. Jer, ii. 32. If we 
hear a loose hint, or read an immodest ex- 
pression, they are almost sure to fasten 
themselves on our memory. If shaken off, 
they follow us with a troublesome impor- 
tunity. If excluded, as unwelcome visit- 
ants, they force themselves again and again 
upon our imagination. They dog us to the 
closet ; they haunt our most retired hours ; 
and too often disturb our very devotions. 
Tell me now, can that faculty be upright 
and uncorrupted; which is a perforated siev#- 



308 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



to transmit the beneficial, but a thirsty 
sponge to imbibe the pernicious ?* 

Ther. Well, my friend, whatever guilt I 
or others have contracted, flattery I dare be 
positive, is none of yours. Human nature 
has received no heightening or adulatory 
touches from your pencil. You have por- 
trayed her foolish and beastly, and every 
thing bad and devilish. 

Asp. And this, even this abomination I 
must not secrete, I dare not except. Envy 
is a devilish disposition. It subsists no- 
where but in damned spirits and fallen 
souls : Yet, infernal as it is, it has been 
found in persons of the most exalted charac- 
ter. The magnanimous Joshua felt its can- 
kerous tooth. Numb. xi. 29. The disciples 
of the blessed Jesus were soured with its 
malignant leaven. Matt. xx. 24. An apos- 
tle declares, that " the spirit which dwelleth 
in us, lusteth to envy," James iv. 5, is im- 
petuously prone to that detestable temper. 

Lying is confessedly a diabolical practice ; 
yet how unaccountably forward are our 
children to utter falsehood? As soon as 
they are born, they go astray ; and as 
soon as they speak, they speak lies — I 
said unaccountably ; but I recall the expres- 
sion : The cause is evident — they have lost 
the image of the God of truth, and are be- 
come like that apostate spirit, who " is a liar 
and the father of it," John viii 44. 
/ What think you of malice, of hate, and 
^' revenge? Are they not each a species of 
murder, and the seed of the old serpent ? 
Unless, therefore, we are entirely free from 
all these hellish emotions, we must, we 
must acknowledge, " that the prince of this 
world," John xiv. 30, has his party within 
us. May the almighty hand of our God ex- 
tirpate and subdue it day by day ! 

You tell me I am no flatterer. Should 
a person who professes himself the friend of 
his fellow-creatures, soothe them into a 
false peace ? should he bolster them up in 
a groundless conceit of their excellency, 
when they really are no better than " an un- 
clean thing ?" shall the surgeon assure his 
patient, " all is well," even when the morti- 
fication has taken place, and the gangrene 
is spreading ? This were to refine the first 
out of all benevolence, and to flatter the 
last into his grave. 

A disputant of less complaisance than my 
Theron would probably ask with a con- 
temptuous sneer, " Have you then been 
drawing your own picture ?" — To whom I 
would reply, with confusion and sorrow, 



* This I think suggests an unanswerable confuta- 
tion of that specious argument, frequently used in be- 
half of some fashionable but dissolute diversions. 
" They are interspersed," say their admirers, "with 
sentiments of virtue, and maxims of morality.^' 
Should we admit thetr.th of this plea, yet the de- 
praved disposition of mankind is pretty sure to drop 
the morality, and carry away the ribaldry. 



" I -have ;" alleging this omy to moderate 
my confusion, thai I am daily seeking, by 
prayer and watchfulness, more and more 
" to put off this old man, which is corrupt 
according to the deceitful lusts." Eph. iv. 
22. And, to alleviate my sorrow, I am en- 
deavouring continually to remember, that 
however unworthy I am, however vile I may 
have been, my adored Redeemer's right- 
eousness is perfect; and in this righteous- 
ness every believer is to make his boast. 

Tlier. So then man is blind in his under- 
standing ; perverse in his will ; disorderly 
in his affections ; influenced by dispositions 
which are partly brutal and partly diaboli- 
cal. — I have often heard you extol, in terms 
of high admiration, the virtue of humility : 
You have lavished all the riches of elo- 
quence when haranguing on poverty of 
spirit. If such be the condition of man- 
kind, they have infinite cause to be poor in 
spirit. They must therefore have one ex- 
cellency left, and, according to your own 
account, a very distinguishing one. 

Asp. Scarce any thing displays in a more 
glaring light the extreme depravity of man 
than his strong propensity to pride, notwith • 
standing so much viieness, and so many de- 
formities. — Should the noisome leper ad- 
mire the beauty of his complexion, or the 
impotent paralytic glory in the strength of 
his sinews, would they not be mistaken, 
even to a degree of sottishness and frenzy ? 
Yet for man, fallen man, who has lost his 
original righteousness, which was the true 
ornament of his nature; who is become 
subject to base and sordid lusts, or as the 
apostle speaks, " is earthly and 'sensual," — 
for him to be proud, is still more absurdly 
wicked. And since this is the case, I can- 
not acquit him from the last and heaviest 
article of the sacred writer's charge ; I have 
a fresh and more convincing proof that we 
do him no wrong, when we call his nature, 
his disposition, his wisdom — "devilish." 
Jam. iii. 15. 

Ther. Why do you reckon pride an uni- 
versally prevailing corruption ? I see no 
ground for such a dishonourable suspicion. 
1 hope I myself am an instance to the con- 
trary. To unguarded sallies of passion, to 
several other faults, I confess myself sub- 
ject ; but cannot think that I am proud. 

Asp. Ah ! Theron, if you was not proud, 
you would not be passionate. Unreason- 
able anger always proceeds from an over- 
weening opinion of our own worth. One 
who, besides his acquired knowledge of hu- 
man nature, had the supernatural gift of dis- 
cerning spirits, is observed to join "humi- 
lity" and " meekness," Eph. iv. 2, intimat- 
ing, that they are amiable twins, and where 
one exists [^^the other cannot be absent. 
Always consistent with himself, he links 
together the opposite vices, " heady and 



DIALOGUE XIII. 



hjgh-mindecl, 2 Tim. iii. 4, not obscurely 
hinting, that those who are easily provoked 
are certainly proud. Shall I add, wilhoiiL 
offence, if we fancy our minds to be clear 
from the weeds of vanity, and our thouglits 
free from the workings of self-admiration, 
it is a most pregnant symptom, that we are 
overrun with the former, abandoned to the 
latter, and blinded by both. 

Pride was the first sin that found entrance 
into our nature, and it is perhaps the last 
that will be expelled. What are all our 
afflictions, but a remedy provided for this 
inveterate disease ; intended to " hide pride 
from man." Job xxxiii. 17. What is the 
institution of the gospel, but a battery erect- 
ed against this stronghold of Satan ; or- 
dained to " cast down every high imagina- 
tion." 2 Cor. X. 4, 5. Though that remedy 
is often applied, though this battery is con- 
tinually playing, yet the peccant humour is 
not entirely purged ofi", nor the elatement 
of spirit totally subdued, till mortality is 
swallowed up of life. 

Pride is the sin which most easily besets 
us. " Who can say, I have made my heart 
clean," Prov. xx. 9, from this iniquity? It 
defiles our duties, and intermingles itself 
with our very virtues. It starts up, I know 
not how, in our most solemn hours and our 
most sacred employs. The good Hezekiah, 
whose prayers were more powerful than all 
the forces of Sennacherib, was not proof 
against the wiles of this subtile sorceress. 2 
Chron. xxxii. 25. Even the great apostle, 
who had been caught up into the third hea- 
vens, was in danger of being puffed up with 
pride ; in such great danger, that it was 
necessary to put a lancet into the gathering 
tumour ; or, as he himself expresses it, to 
fix a " thorn into his flesh, and permit the 
messenger of Satan to buffet him." 2 Cor. 
xii. 7. 

How pathetically is this corruption la- 
mented, and how truly described by "a 
sweet singer of our Israel !" 

But pride, that busy sin, -.-v . ^ 

Spoils all that I perform; 
Cursed pride ! that creeps securely in. 

And swells a haughty worm. 

Thy glories I abate. 

Or praise thee with design; 
Part of thy favours I forget. 

Or think the merit mine. 

The very songs I frame 

Are faithless to thy cause; 
And steal the honours of thy name. 
To build their own applause. 

Watt's Hor. Lt/r. 
Ther. Now, I presume you have given the 
.ast touches to your distorted portrait. 

Asp. There are other disagreeable and 
shocking features ; but these I shall cast 
into shades, or hide under a veil. One par- 
ticular you must allow me to add, which, 
like a sullen air in the countenance, throws 
aggravated horror over the whole : I mean, 
an incHnatiori to be fond of our slavery. 



In other instances, the "captive exile 
hasteth to be loosed." Isa. li- 14. But hei'e 
we prefer bondage to freedom, and are loath 
to leave our prison. Of this, our back- 
wardness to self-examination is both a con- 
sequence and a proof. Self-examination, 
imder the agency of the Spirit, would open 
a window in our dungeon ; would show us 
our wretched condition, and teach us to sigh 
for deliverance. Why have we such a dis- 
like of reproof ? Because we hug our chains, 
and choose darkness rather than light. 
Reproof is more grating than the harshest 
discord, though it tends to dissolve tlie en- 
chantment, and rescue us from the tyranny 
of sin ; while flattery, which abets the de- 
lusion, and strengthens the spell, is music to 
our ears. Is not our reason, which should 
arraign and condemn every irregularity, for- 
ward to invent excuses, and to spare the fa- 
vourite folly ? Reason, which should un- 
sheath the dagger, super-induces the mask ; 
and, instead of striking at the heart of our 
vices, screens them under the cover of some 
plausible names. A wicked habit is called 
a human infirmity, ensnaring diversions pass 
for innocent amusements, a revengeful dispo- 
sition is termed spirit, gallantry, and honour. 
Thus our reason (if, when so egregiously 
perverted, it deserves the name) is inge- 
nious to obstruct our recovery, and rivets on 
the shackles which our passions have form- 
ed.* 

This the eternal Wisdom foresaw, and 
therefore uttered that tender expostulation, 
" How long, ye simple ones, will ye love 
simplicity, andscorners delight in their scorn- 
ing, and fools hate knowledge ?" Even the 
inestimably precious knowledge of an all- 
atoning and completely justifying Saviour ; 
who preaches, who has purchased, and who 
works deliverance — preaches in his word, 
has purchased by his blood, and works by 
his Spirit, deliverance for the captives, the 
wretched captives of ignorance, sin, and 
death. This 1 take to be the most flagrant 
and deplorable effect of human depravity — 
our aversion to the doctrine, the privileges, 
the grace of the gospel. Beware, dear The- 
ron, lest you prove my point by — shall I 
speak it ? would you suspect it ? — your own 
practice. Zealous as I am for my tenets, 
I should be sorry, extremely sorry, to hava 
such a demonstration of their truth. 

Ther. You are highly obliging, Aspasio, 
to single me out for your evidence. Yet 
why should the honour be appropriated to 
myself? It belongs, upon the foot of the pre- 
ceding calculation, not to your friend only, 

* Perhaps this is what our Lord means, when de- 
veloping the human heart, and discovering its latent 
enormities, he closes the dark account with a,p^orvv>jy 
foolishness: im_plying that stupidity which has no 
sense of its misery: that perverscness vviiich has ho 
inclination for a recovery ; both which render all the 
other evils far more inveterate, Mark vii. 22. 



8]0 



THERON AND ASPASIO: 



but to the whole species. If you was aim- 
ing at none but the licentious and aban- 
doned, you would have none to oppose 
you but persons of that character. Your 
arrows of satire would then be rightly level- 
led, and might be serviceable to mankind ; 
whereas, to put all in the black list, to mark 
all with the villain's brand — this can never 
be Christian charity, this is insufferable 
censoriousness. 

Asp. Let me beseech you, Theron, not 
to misapprehend my design. I speak not 
as a malevolent satirist, but would imitate 
the faithful physician. I am opening the 
sore, that it may admit the healing balm : 
and should I perform the operation with an 
envenomed instrument ? My soul abhors 
the thought — I must entreat you likewise 
to remember the distinction between a state 
of nature and a state of grace. We are all 
naturally evil. Such we should for ever con- 
tinue, did not a supernatural power inter- 
vene ; making some to differ, both from their 
original selves, and from the generality of 
their neighbours. Are they refined in their 
temper, and reformed in their life ? I grant 
it. But then it is the influence of the 
sanctifying Spirit, which purges away their 
dross, yet not without leaving some alloy. 

T7ier. Here, Aspasio you certainly strain 
the bow, till it breaks ; since scripture it- 
self celebrates some persons as absolutely 
perfect. What says Moses, the inspired 
historian ? " Noah was perfect in his ge- 
neration." Gen. vi. 9. What says the God 
of Moses, who can neither deceive nor be 
deceived ? " Job was a perfect man and 
un upright." Job. i. 1. consequently their 
nature must be entirely cleansed from this 
hereditary defilement; and their charac- 
ter confutes your derogatory representa- 
tions of mankind. 

Asp. Those eminent saints were perfect ; 
that is, they were sanctified throughout, 
sanctified in all their faculties; no one grace 
of religion was lacking. As in the new- 
born infant there is a human creature com- 
plete ; no constituent part of the vital frame 
is wanting ; though each is tender, all are 
very feeble, and none arrived at the full 
size. 

They were upright. This word seems 
to be explanatory of the preceding; and 
signifies an unfeigned desire, joined with a 
hearty endeavour, to obey the whole will of 
God ; excluding not all defect, but all 
reigning hypocrisy, and willful remissness. 
— The interpretation, thus limited, is of a 
piece with their conduct. If stretched to a 
higher pitch, it is evidently inconsistent 
with the narrative of their lives. 

Pray, what was your motive for decorat- 
ing the sylvan retirement (which sheltered j 
us yesterday) with the statue of Elijah ? 

Ther. Because I thought his solitary life ' 



and gloomy temper suited that sequestered- 
bower ; because the memorable adventure 
there represented, is with me a favourice por- 
tion of sacred history. 

Are we pleased with spirited and delicate 
railery ? Nothing exceeds his pungent sar- 
casm on the stupid and despicable dupes of 
idolatry. Every sentence is keen as a razor, 
and pointed as a dagger, yet wears the ap- 
pearance of the most courtly complaisance. 
We may truly say, in the beautiful language 
of the Psalmist, " His words are smoother 
than oil, and yet be they very swords !"* 

Are we delighted with instances of mag- 
nanimity? A single prophet, unsupported 
by any human aid, maintains the cause of 
truth against the king, his grandees, and 
hundreds of the apostate priests. He ven- 
tures to stake all his credit, to risk his very 
life, and (what was dearer to him than per- 
sonal credit, or bodily life) the honour of 
the true God, and interests of his holy reli- 
gion ; to risk all on the immediate inter- 
position of a most surprising miracle. ' 

Do we admire the triumphs of faith ? His 
faith was in a manner omnipotent. He 
prays, and torrents of fire descend from the 
sky, to devour his adversaries, 2 Kings i. 
10. He prays again, and the sluices of hea- 
ven are shut ; there is neither dew nor rain 
for several years, 1 Kings xvii. 1. A third 
time he prays, and the windows from on 
high are opened ; abundance of showers 
water the earth, (Jam. v. 17, 18.) On an- 
other occasion he presents his supplications, 
and God makes his feet like harts' feet, in- 
somuch that an aged prophet outruns the 
royal chariot, (] Kings xviii. 46-) 

Asp. I commend your taste, Theron ; and 
am particularly pleased with the reasons of 
your choice. But do not you remember, 
that even the wonder-working Tishbite failed 
in his resignation, and failed in his faith ? 
Eminent as he was for mortification, he gave 
way to unreasonable discontent ; and, though 
a champion for the living God, he yielded 
to unbelieving fear.f The man Moses 
was very meek, above all the men which 
were upon the face of the earth, Num. xii„ 
3 ; yet he, even he was provoked in his spirit, 
and spake unadvisedly with his lips," Psal. 



* 1 Kings xviii. 27. " And it came to pass at noon, 
that Elijah mocked them, and said, Cry aloud, for he 
is a God. Either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he 
is in a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth, and must 
be awaked." 

t Elias, or rather Elijah, " was a man subject to 
like passions as we are," James v. 1 7. Upon which 
passage an eminent commentator makes the following 
remark; " This probably is said with respect to his 
fear and discontent, manifested, 1 Kings xix. 3, 4. 
O/j.oio7:'a0n? must, I think, imply a state liable to the 
irregular workings of passion ; not free from the sin- 
ful infirmities of nature. Otherwise, it is an instance 
foreign to the purpose, does by no means answer the 
end designed ; which is to encourage the heart, and 
strengthen the faith, even of frail, corrupt, otfeiuling 
creatures. 8ee verse 



DIALOGUE XIII. 



311 



cvi. 33. Was not Peter the hero among 
our Lord's followers ? Yet he trembles, 
more than trembles, at the shaking of a leaf, 
he denies his divine Master, scared by the 
voice of a woman. 

Look wherever we will, we find proofs of 
human depravity, reigning uncontrolled in 
some, making frequent insurrection in all. 
It is written in our own hearts, by the pen 
of experience ; the finger of observation points 
it out in the practice of others — even in the 
practice of those who have been saints of the 
first rank, and of the highest endowments. 
Yet they were defective ; — defective too, in 
that very quality which was their [distin- 
guishing gift, in which they particularly ex- 
celled. 

Ther. While we are talking, the day has 
insensibly stole itself away, and left us sur- 
rounded with twilight : which is a sort of 
lustre intermingled with darkness ; no part 
wholly lucid, no part wholly obscure. An 
emblem, according to your representation, 
of the renewed soul and its imperfect holi- 
ness. 

Asp. A very just one. Even where the 
gospel shines still there is an incurrent 
gloom of corruption. Ignorance mixes itself 
with our knowledge ; unbelief cleaves to our 
faith : Nor is our purity free from all con- 
tamination. The prophet Zechariah, fortell- 
ing the establishment of the gospel kingdom, 
and describing the state of its spiritual sub- 
jects, says, " It shall come to pass in that 
day, that the light shall not be clear nor 
dark."* This, as to its literal sense, we now 
see exemplified in the circumambient atmos- 
phere. With regard to its spiritual meaning, 
every true believer feels it accomplished in 
his own breast. 

Ther. While you are so vehement in de- 
crying all human attainments, consider, 
Aspasio, whether you do not check and 
dispirit us in the pursuit of exalted virtue. 

Asp. I suppose you never expected to be 
such an adept in geometry as Archimedes, 
nor so profound an astronomer as Newton ; 
yet this did not check your application to the 
study of mathematics, or the contemplation 
of the heavens. Your brother, the merchant, 
I presume, has no prospect of amassing the 
wealth of a Croesus, or the immense treasures 
of a Kouli-Khan ; yet this does not dispirit 
him in prosecuting the business which brings 
him both opulence and honour. 

However, Theron, so long as you deny 
the imputation of Christ's righteousness, I 
must acknowledge you act a consistent part 
in being zealous for the perfection of person- 
al obedience. You ought either to acquire 



* Zech. xvi. 6. 1 Cor. xiii. 9. " For we know in 
part." Perhaps this declaration of the apostle may 
be a key to the prophet's meaning. However, it is a 
su(ficiei-)t confirmation of Aspasio's sentiment. 



the one, or to accept the other ; Theretore 
I shall produce no more arguments for your 
discouragement ; but shall comprise the 
whole of my answer in the motto to an Irish 
nobleman's arms — Try. Or, if this be too 
concise, I will subjoin, with a very little al- 
teration, the words of a king ; When you 
have attained what you pursue, bring me 
word again, that 1 may go and possess it 
also," Matth. ii. 8. 

Ther. According to your account, the 
most advanced and established Christians 
are but like a company of invalids. Does 
not this extremely derogate from the honour 
of our Lord, considered as the Fhj'sician of 
souls ? It seems to make a mere nothing of 
sanctification, and would swallow up Christ 
the King in Christ the Priest. 

Asp. Invalids they are ;* and such will 
continue till they are dismissed from this 
great infirmary, and admitted into that holy^ 
happy, blessed world, where " the inhabi- 
tants shall no more say, I am, either in soul 
or in body, sick." Isa. xxxiii. 24. 

If the cure was never to be completed, 
this doubtless would be dishonourable to 
our almighty Physician. But the spiritual 
recovery, begun on earth, and advancing 
through time, will be perfected in heaven, 
and prolonged to eternity. Does this make 
a mere nothmg of sanctification ? No ; but 
it makes room for a continual progress, and 
affords cause for continual humiliation. It 
reserves a most exalted prerogative for the 
heavenly state and beatific vision ; and per- 
petually reminds us of a most important 
truth, — That our present blessedness con- 
sists, not in being free from all sin, but in 
having no sin imputed to us. Psalm xxxii. 2. 

This imperfection of our obedience, in- 
stead of confounding, maintains a proper 
distinction between Christ the King, and 
Christ the Priest : whereas, if we were per- 
fect in piety, the priestly office, with regard 
to us, would be superseded. What need of 
an intercessor to recommend our prayers ?. 
what occasion for an high priest to "■ bear 



* Not the best of men lament their ignorance of 
the divine perfections, their slowness of heart to be- 
lieve the divine promises, and the languor of their 
gratitude for inestimable, for innumerable gifts of the 
divine goodness. Do they not frequently feel dead- 
ness in their devotions, disorder in their aftections, 
and various other relics of the original leaven ? — Do 
they not often complain, in the language of the apos- 
tle, " When I would do good, evil is present with 
me: And say with the earliest Christians, " We tliat 
are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened ;" 
burdened, not so much with affliction— those heroes 
in Christianity had learned to rejoice in tribulation— 
but burdened with a sense of their spiritual infirmi- 
ties, and with the workings of their inbred corruption ; 
which, to a tender and lively believer, are the heavi- 
est of crosses, and the most galling of loads. Nay, do 
not the heirs of glory wash their very robes, even 
their fairest deeds and their brightest graces, in the 
blood of the Lamb? which, if they were free from 
spot, and void of impurity, need not be made white 
in this sacred fountain. See 2 Cor. v. 4; Rev. vii. 14. 



S12 



THERON AND ASPASIO 



the iniquity of our holy things ?"* if some 
taint of the original leaven did not pollute 
our best services ? 

Neither does this detract from the wis- 
dom, from the goodness, or from the power 
of Christ. It rather administers to the ad- 
vantageous display of all these divine attri- 
butes : Of his wisdom, in conducting the af- 
fairs of his church with such exact propriety, 
that the righteousness of faith may have its 
due honour, and the sanctification of the 
Spirit its proper esteem : Of his goodness, 
in carrying on the work of grace amidst so 
much infirmity, and so many corruptions ; 
and in crowning, with consummate happi- 
ness, such frail undeserving creatures : Of 
his power, in extracting a variety of benefits 
even from — 

Ther. Benefits, Aspasio ! Can any thing 
beneficial proceed from an evil, which, ac- 
cording to your own representation, is so 
incorrigibly malignant ? 

Asp. It will tend to make us lowly in our 
own eyes, when we remember that by na- 
ture we are altogether become abominable ; 
that the remains of natural depravity still 
adhere to our minds. How must such a 
view of ourselves cover us with shame, and 
lay us low in abasement ! Less than the 
least of all thy mercies," Gen. xxxii. 10, 
will be the language of such a one's very 
soul. 

, it will dispose us to compassionate others- 
How can we take a brother by the throat, 
and require faultless perfection in his beha- 
viour, when we ourselves in many things 
offend, in all things fall short ? Every such 
consideration rebukes what I may call spi- 
ritual immercifulness : it pleads for tender- 
ness and forbearance to our fellow-creatures; 
it is a monitor within, and whispers that af- 
fecting remonstrance, " Oughtest not thou 
to have compassion upon thy fellow-servant, 
smce thy almighty Lord hath" such renewed, 
such unwearied " pity on thee." Matth. 
xviii. 33. 

It will teach us to admire the riches of 
grace. Shall fallen creatures, that are taken 
from the very dunghills of sin, and rescued 
from a hell of inward iniquity — shall they, 
notwithstanding their deplorable depravity, 
and innumerable deficiencies — shall they be 
admitted into the bosom of eternal love ? 
they be exalted to the thrones of glory, and 
numbered with the princes of heaven ? This 
IS grace, transcendently rich, and divinely 
free indeed ! 

Will it not reconcile us to the approach 
of death ? This, methinks, like wormwood 
on the nipple, or gall in the cup, must tend 
to wean us from the world. How can we 
be enamoured with such a land of darkness, 



Exod. xxviii. 38. " Id est, expiare peccata, quibus 
sanctissims cseteroquin actionfe nostraj inquinatas 
sunt," Wits, de (Econ. 



and such a vale of tears ? Or why should 
we covet, when Providence gives the signal 
for our departure, to prolong our abode in 
these territories of disorder ? Surely this 
must incline us to leave them, every day, 
more and more in our affections ; and at 
last to leave them, without any reluctance, 
by final dissolution : leave them for that 
better country, where our personal righte- 
ousness will no longer be defective, like the 
waning moon, but shine forth with consum- 
mate lustre, like the meridian sun, in the 
kingdom of our Father. 

It will endear the blessed Jesus in every 
capacity ; as the stings of the fiery flying 
serpents, and the dearth of the waste howl- 
ing wilderness, endeared to the Israelites 
both their miraculous antidote, and their 
bread from heaven. They who believe this 
truth, must see their inexpressible and in- 
cessant need of Christ's Spirit. The pro- 
testation of Moses, on a particular occasion, 
will be the daily, the hourly breathing of 
their souls : " Carry us not up hence, un- 
less thy presence, thy Spirit, go with us." 
Exod. xxxiii. 15. For without his aid, we 
can discharge no duty aright, nor success- 
fully resist any temptation. They will be 
exceedingly cautious not to "grieve" (Eph. 
iv. 30) that sacred guest, lest he depart from 
them, and abandon them to the power of 
their lurking corruptions ; knowing that if 
he abandon them, when such foes are with- 
in, and so many snares without, their case 
will be worse than Samson's, when his locks 
were shaven, and the Philistines all around 
him. 

How highly will such persons value the 
blood of the covenant, and the intercession 
of their great High Priest ! They will no 
more presume to enter into the presence of 
the most high God, without a fiducial reli- 
ance upon the atoning and interceding Savi- 
our, than the sons of Jacob would have ven- 
tured to appear before the viceroy of Egypt, 
without the company of their younger bro- 
ther. Gen. xliii. 5, In all, in all their inter- 
course with heaven, the great Propitiation 
will be their plea, and the great Advocate 
their confidence. The impotent man waited 
at the pool of Bethesda, and the Syrian ge- 
neral dipped seven times in Jordan. These 
persons will not only wait, but live by the 
" fountain opened for sin and uncleanness." 
Zech. xiii. 1. They will wash in the sacred 
sanctifying stream, not seven times only, but 
seventy times seven. 

And when such sentiments possess the 
mind, how dear ! O how dear and desira- 
ble will our Lord's obedience be ! I called, 
some time ago, our own works worm-eaten 
things : and must not these corruptions, if 
they remain ever so little in the heart, tar- 
nish our graces, and debase our duties ? 
Must they not be depreciatory to all our ac . 



DIALOGUE XIV. 



313 



complishments, and too much like corroding 
vermin in the substance of our timber, or at 
the core of our fruits ? — Should we not then 
renounce, utterly renoimce, these tarnished 
worm-eaten things, and rely, wholly rely, for 
everlasting acceptance, on our divine High 
Priest, who, in his mediatorial works, as 
well as in his wonderful person, is altogether 
light and perfection ?* and neither in him 
nor in them is there any deficiency or any 
darkness at all. 

Excuse me, Theron ; I fear I have been 
preaching. The importance of the text 
must form my apology. It is an introduc- 
tion, not to the records of history, or the 
transactions of philosophy, but to the riches 
of Christ. 

Ther. If my Aspasio has been preaching, 
I can assure him for his comfort, that his 
audience has been very attentive ; and 
though the sermon was somewhat copious, 
the hearer neither slept nor gaped. How- 
ever, I should be glad to have the whole re- 
viewed and summed up, that if it has been 
large as the pyramid, it may, like the pyra- 
mid, terminate in a point. 

y/sp. This then is the state of our nature. 
The image of the Creator is lost ; blindness 
IS in the understanding ; disorder in all the 
alfections. — In the will, enmity against God, 
the sovereign good ; inability to all that is 
spiritual and heavenly; with a propensity to 
whatever is sordid and earthly. The whole 
soul is deformed, distempered, rebellious. 
And shall such a creature lay claim to those 
amiable and sacred endowments, which may 
be a proper recommendation to infinite holi- 
ness ? Is such a creature qualified to per- 
form those righteous acts, which may ap. 
prove themselves to the demand of God's 
law, and to the inflexibility of his justice,'' 

Should he conceive the vain hope, or 
make the vainer attempt, I would now ad- 
dress him as Jehoash formerly answered 
Amaziah. Amaziah king of Judah, elated 
with the little victories he had obtained over 
the Edomites, began to fancy himself in- 
vincible. Prompted by this foolish imagin- 
ation, he challenges Jehoash king of Israel to 
meet him in a pitched battle, and receives 
this ironical apologue by way of reply, which, 
for gallantry of spirit and delicacy of wit, for 



* Light and pffljedtion, — This is the meaning of 
that mysterious ornament, which, in the grand offici- 
ating robes of the Jewish high priest, was annexed to 
the hreast-plate, and styled Urim and Thunmiim; 
only the Hebrew words are in the plural number, and 
denote every degree of illumination, and all kinds of 
perfection. — Does not this very significantly teach 
sinners whence to seek their wisdom, and where to 
look for their perfection ? There never was, in all 
ages, more than one Urim and Thummim, and only 
one person in each generation was appointed to wear 
it. And who is there, in all worlds, that can give us 
heavenly knowledge, but the Spirit of Christ ? What 
.is there in ourselves, or all creatures, that can present 
us luiblamable before God, but the obedience of 
Christ ? 



poignancy of satire and propriety of applica- 
tion, has seldom been equalled., perhaps 
never exceeded : " The thistle that was in 
Lebanon, sent to the cedar that was in Le- 
banon, saying. Give thy daughter to my 
son to wife ; and there passed by a wild 
beast that was in Lebanon, and trod down 
the thistle." 2 Kings xiv. 9, What are we, 
when we offer to establish our own righte- 
ousness, or presume to justify ourselves be- 
fore the most high God, but despicable 
thistles, that fancy themselves stately cedars. 
And is not every temptation, is not each 
corruption, a wild beast of the desert, which 
will trample on the impotent boaster, and 
tread his haughty pretensions in the dust ? 



DIALOGUE XIV. 

Aspasio was employed in preparing for 
his journey. Theron, free from business, 
and disengaged from company, had the great- 
est part of the day to himself, which he 
spent in reviewing the substance of their late 
conferences, not without interminglipg aspir- 
ations to God for the guidance of his divine 
Spirit. 

At evening he went, like the patriarch of 
old, " into the field to meditate," Gen. xxiv. 
63, amidst the calm of nature to meditate 
on the grace of the gospel. The sky was 
peculiarly beautiful, and perfectly clear ; only 
where the fine indigo received an agreeable 
heightening by a few thin and scattered 
clouds, which imbibed the solar rays, and 
looked like pensile fleeces of purest wool. 
All things appeared with so mild, so majes- 
tic, so charming an aspect, that, intent as 
he was upon a different subject, he could 
not but indulge the following soliloquy. 

" How delightful are the scenes of rural 
nature ! especially to the philosophic eye, 
and contemplative mind. I cannot wonder 
that persons in high life are so fond of re- 
tiring from a conspicuous and exalted sta- 
tion, to the covert of a shady grove, or the 
margin of a cooling stream ; are so desirous 
of quitting the smoky town and noisy street, 
in order to breathe purer air, and survey the 
wonders of creation, in the silent, the serene, 
the peaceful villa. 

" It is true, in the country there are none 
of the modish, I had almost said, meretri- 
cious ornaments of that false politeness, 
which refines people out of their veracity; 
but an easy simplicity of manners, with an 
unaffected sincerity of mind. Here the so- 
lemn farce of ceremony is seldom brought 
into play, and the pleasing delusions of 
compliment have no place. But the brow 
is the real index of the temper, and speech 
the genuine interpreter of the heart. 

" In the country, I acknowledge, we are 



314 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



eeldom invited to see the mimic attempts of 
human art: But we everywhere, behold 
the grand and masterly exertions of divine 
power. . No theatre erects its narrow stage, 
surrounds it with puny rows of ascending 
Beats, or adorns it with a shifting series of gor • 
geous scenery: But fields extend their ample 
area, at first lightly clad with a scarf of 
springing green, then deeply planted with an 
arrangement of spindling stalks ; as a few 
more weeks advance, covered with a profu- 
sion of bearded or husky grain; at last, 
richly laden with a harvest of yellow plenty. 

"Meadows disclose their beautiful bo- 
som; yield a soft and fertile lap for the 
luxuriant herbage, and suckle myriads of the 
fa:rest, gayest flowers ; which, without any 
vain ostentation, or expensive finery, outvie 
each other in all the elegance of dress. 
Groves of various leaf, arrayed in freshest 
verdure, and liberal of their reviving shade, 
rise in amiable, in noble prospect all around. 
Droves of sturdy oxen, strong for labour, 
or fat for the shambles; herds of sleeky 
kine with milk in their udders, and violets 
in their nostrils ; flocks of well fleeced sheep, 
with their snowy lambkins, frisking at their 
side — these compose the living machinery. 
Boundless tracts of bending azure, varnish- 
ed with inimitable delicacy, and hung with 
starry lamps or irradiated with solar lustre, 
from the stately ceiling ; while the early 
breezes, and the evening gales, charged with 
no unwholesome vapours, breeding no pes- 
tilential taint, but fanning the humid buds, 
and waving their odoriferous wings, dispense 
a thousand sweets, mingled with the most 
sovereign supports of health. And is not 
this school of industry, this magazine of 
plenty, incomparably more delightful, as 
well as infinitely less dangerous, than those 
gaudy temples of profuseness and de- 
bauchery, where sin and ruin wear the mask 
of pleasm-e, where Belial is daily or nightly 
worshipped with what his votaries call mo- 
dish recreation, and genteel amusement ? 

" Here indeed is no tuneful voice to melt 
in strains of amorous anguish, and transfuse 
the sickening fondness to the hearer's breast: 
No skilful artist, to inform the lute with 
musical enchantment, to strike infectious 
melody from the viol, and sooth away the 
resolution and activity of virtue in wan- 
ton desires or voluptuous indolence. But 
the plains bleat, the mountains low, and the 
hollow circling rocks echo with the univer- 
sal song. Every valley re-murmurs to the 
fall of silver fountains, or the liquid lapse of 
gurgling rills. Birds, musicians ever beau- 
teous, ever gay, perched on a thousand 
boughs, play a thousand sprightly and har- 
monious airs. 

" Charmed, therefore, with the finest 
views, lulled with the softest sounds, and 
treated with the richest odours, what can 



be wanting to complete the delight ? Here, 
is every entertainment for the eye, the most 
refined gratifications for the ear, and a per- 
petual banquet for the smell, without any in- 
sidious decoy, for the integrity of our con- 
duct, or even for the purity of our fancy. 

" O ye blooming walks and flowery lawns, 
surrounded with dewy landscapes ! how of- 
ten have patriots and heroes laid aside the 
burden of power, and stole away from the 
glare of grandeur, to enjoy themselves in 
your composed retreats !* Ye mossy couch- 
es, and fragrant bowers, skirted with cool- 
ing cascades ! how many illustrious person- 
ages, after all their glorious toil for the pub- 
lic good, have sought an honourable and 
welcome repose in your downy lap ?f Ye 
venerable oaks and solemn groves ; woods 
that whisper to the quivering gale, clifis that 
overhang the darkened flood ! who can num- 
ber the sages and saints, that have devoted 
the day to study, or resigned a vacant hour, 
to healthy exercise, beneath your sylvan por-. 
ticoes and waving arches ? that, far from the 
dull impertinence of man, have listened to 
the instructive voice of God, and contem- 
plated the works of his adorable hand amidst 
your moss-grown cells and rocky shades ? 
How inelegant, or how insensible is the 
mind, which has no awakened lively relish 
for these sweet recesses, and their exquisite 
beauties!" 

* But whither am I carried? Is not this 
rural enthusiasm ? I find myself talking to 
trees, and forget the momentous question, 
which waits for our decision. Here, then, 
let my rhapsody end, and my inquiry pro- 
ceed — Does it betray a want of true deli- 
cacy, to be insensible of nature's charms ? 
My Aspasio thinks, it argues as wrong a 
taste in practical divinity, not to acquiesce 
in the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ. 
To this doctrine I have been always ex-, 
tremely averse. I set myself to oppose it 
with objections, drawn from the reason of 
things, and from various passages of scrip- 
ture ; to all which my friend replied. And 
though I was scarcely convinced, yet I was. 
silenced by his answers. 

I pleaded for the insufficiency of our sin- 
cere obedience, especially when accompa- 
nied with repentance, and recommended by 
the merits of Christ. Neither was this at- 
tempt successful : His arguments, some- 
what like the flaming sword planted at the 
entrance of paradise, " turned every way ;'" 
Gen. iii. 24; and precluded all access to 
life on the foot of our own duty. 



* "Mihi me reddentis agelli,"— says Ho- 
race of his little country-seat. 

f Virgil was so smitten with the amiableness of 
these scenes, that he assigns them as an habitation for 
happy spirits, in the regions of Elysium. 

— " Lucis habitamus opacis, 

Riparumque toros, et prata recentia rivis 
Incolimus." 



DIALOGUE XIV 



315 



^ At length, Aspasio quitted the defensive, 
and attacked me in his turn. He explained 
the precepts, and enforced the threatenings 
of the divine law. So exact its tenor, that 
it demands a perfect and persevering confor- 
mity to every injunction. So extensive its 
authority, that it reaches the inmost thoughts, 
and requires obedience, not barely in the ac- 
tions of life, but the very intentions of the 
heart. So inexorable its severity, that it 
condemns every the smallest offence, and 
curses every the least offender. 

This remonstrance had some of the terror, 
and almost all the effect of a masked bat- 
tery. It was quite unexpected, and alarm- 
ed me considerably. To push his advan- 
tage, he enlarged upon the infinite purity of 
God : A God, glorious in holiness, who 
cannot look upon evil with any connivance, 
or without the utmost abhorrence j before 
whom the heavens are unclean, and who 
will in no wise clear the guilty. 

To complete his victory, he played off the 
doctrine of original guilt, and original de- 
pravity : That, besides the imputation of 
Adam's apostacy, besides the commission 
of numberless iniquities, we were born in 
sin ; are, by nature, enmity against God ; in 
all our faculties Incorrupt ; in every imagina 
tion evil ; and, even when renewed* by grace, 
are still, still tainted with some base remains 
of the old leprosy. 

After all, he bid me consider — what 
fruits must spring from such a nature? how 
they must appear when compared with such 
a law ? what they must deserve when tried 
before such a God ? These, I must con- 
fess, are very weighty and startling queries. 
If these representations are true, the face of 
human affairs carries a most gloomy aspect ; 
or rather, a most dreadful storm is hanging 
over the children of men. Aspasio urges 
me to fiy, without any delay, to the covert 
of Christ's meritorious obedience. This, he 
says, was wrought out in my name, and in 
my stead; this will be admitted both at the 
throne of grace, and the bar of judgment, as 
my justifying righteousness. 

This, he adds, opens a way, on God's part, 
for the largest emanations, and most honour- 
able exercise of mercy. On man's part, it 
founds a title to pardon, to life and every 
spiritual blessing. This doctrine, especially 



* " Even when renewed." — For a display of this im- 
portant truth, and a remedy against this stubborn evil 
let me refer the reader to a little treatise pubUshed by 
Dr. Owen, and entitled, " The Nature, Power, Deceit, 
and Prevalencyof the Remainders of Indewelling Sin 
in Believers." The author's pen is indeed a dissecting 
knife, goes deep into this subject, and lays open this 
plague of the heart. Like a workman that need not 
be ashamed, he demonstrates his point, from the un- 
erring word of God, and the acknowledged experience 
of Christians. Like a compassionate as well as able 
physician, he all alone prescribes the proper antidote; 
nay, he shows how the poison may be so over-ruled by 
divine grace, and so managed by the watchful patient, 
as to become medicinal, salutary, and conducive to 
the most beneficial purposes. 



in such a connexion, begins to put on a 
more recommending appearance. My pre- 
judices are really wearing away. I am al- 
most a convert. 

Aspasio overheard the close of these reflec- 
tions. Unwilling to interrupt his friend in 
so serious an inquiry, and desirous to observe 
the issue of so interesting a debate, he had 
hitherto concealed himself. But, thinking 
this a favourable minute, he stepped forward 
and said, — 

Asp. Almost ! and why not altogether a 
convert ? What should hinder my dear The- 
ron from submitting to so rational a scheme, 
with the most entire acquiescence ? What 
should hinder him from embracing so com- 
fortable a doctrine with the utmost compla- 
cency ? Why should he not subscribe, both 
with hand and heart, that divine decree? 
" Their righteousness is of me, saith the 
Lord," (Isa- liv. 17.) 

TTier. If, by this doctrine, the claims of 
the law are answered — if the perfections of 
God are glorified — if the interests of morali- 
ty are secured— I must acknowledge, it will 
be more worthy of acceptance than I could 
once have imagined. 

Asp. And if these points are not 
gained, gained too in the most eminent 
manner, I solemnly declare, that I will 
never plead for imputed righteousness more. 

But the claims of the law are all answer- 
ed : For there is nothing in its sacred in- 
junctions, which Christ did not perform; 
and nothing in its awful threatenings which 
Christ did not sustain. He fulfilled all its 
precepts, by an unspotted purity of heart, and 
the most perfect integrity of life. He ex- 
hausted its whole curse, when he hung upon 
the cross, abandoned by his Father, and a 
bleeding victim for the sinsofhis people. This 
obedience brings higher honour to the divine 
law, than it could have received from the un- 
interrupted duty of Adam, and all his poste- 
rity in all their generations. 

The perfections of God which were dis- 
honoured by our rebellion, are glorified. He 
appears, by this method of justification, in- 
conceivably rich in showing mercy, yet 
steady, inflexibly steady, in executing ven- 
geance- The sceptre of grace, and the sword 
of justice, have each its due exercise, each 
its full scope. The holiness of the divine 
nature, and the dignity of the divine go- 
vernment, are not only maintained, but 
most magnificently displayed. Indeed it is 
the peculiar excellence of this wonderful ex- 
pedient, that it renders all the divine attri- 
butes supremely venerable, and supremely 
amiable. 

Ther. But are the interests of morality 
secured ? — This is what I am strongly in- 
clined to doubt. And, to say the truth, 
this is now my principal objection to your 
scheme. 



S16 



THERON AND ASPASiO. 



Jsp. I shall never blame my friend for be- 
ing vigilant and jealous over the interests of 
morality. If our doctrine had a malignant 
aspect on true morality, I would give my 
voice against it, and use all my endeavours 
to suppress it : But it is formed with every 
tendency to awaken the utmost dread of sin, 
and affect us with the warmest sense of our 
Creator's love. And is not that the strong- 
est barrier against the encroachments of vice? 
Is not this the sweetest inducement to the 
practice of virtue ? 

I am glad to find, that a jealousy for the 
interests of morality is the chief obstacle in 
the way of your assent ; because I am per- 
suaded, it is much of the same nature with 
those forbidding and mistaken apprehensions 
which our ancestors entertained concerning 
the ocean. They looked upon it as an un- 
surmountable obstruction to universal so- 
ciety : whereas it is, in fact, the very cement 
of society : the only means of accomplishing 
a general intercourse, and the great highway 
to all the nations of the earth. What is 
here affirmed may, on some future occasion, 
be proved. At present let me desire you 
to imagine, rather may the blessed Spirit 
enable you to believe, that your sins are ex- 
piated through the death of Jesus Christ — 
that a righteousness is given you, by virtue 
of which you may have free and welcome 
access to God, the merit of which you may 
plead for obtaining all the blessings of time 
and eternity. Thenjet me ask, will this alie- 
nate your affections from your Almighty 
Benefactor? will this irritate evil concupis- 
cence, or send you to carnal gratifications in 
quest of happiness. Quite the reverse. 
When this faith is wrought in your heart, 
nothing will be so powerful to produce holy 
love and willing obedience, to exalt your 
desires and enable you to overcome the world. 

What says the apostle ? " I through the 
law am dead to the law. Gal. ii. 29. Be- 
ing made to understand its spirituality and 
perfection, I have no longer any hope of 
justification from my own conformity to its 
precepts. Did this prompt him, did this 
embolden him to neglect or violate his duty ? 
Hear the sacred writer's own declaration ; — 
I am released from the rigour and bondage 
of the law; I am directed to Christ for 
righteousness and salvation ; " that I may 
hve unto God ;" that my whole life may be 
devoted to his honour, who has brought me 
into a state so delightful, into a liberty so 
glorious. 

TTier. This liberty, I am afraid, will be 
of very little service to the licentious and 
gay world 

Asp. I shall be in no pain even for the 
gay world, if once they cordially receive this 
grace, and are vitally influenced by this doc- 
trine ; which, far from dissolving the least 
obligation to obedience, or weakening any 



one principle of piety, adds to every other 
motive, the endearing engagements of gra- 
titude and the winning persuasives of love. 

Nay, I verily believe, that multitudes in 
the gay and licentious world are held fast 
in the fatal snare, by their ignorance of this 
sweet, alluring, consolatory truth. They 
find themselves deeply obnoxious to divine 
justice, and feel themselves strongly bound 
with the chains of sensuality. They think 
it is impossible to clear the enormous score 
of their guilt ; impossible to deliver them - 
selves from the confirmed dominion of sin : 
Therefore, like desperate debtors, they stifle 
every serious thought ; lest a consciousness 
of their long arrears, and a prospect of the 
dreadful reckoning, should " torment them 
before the time." Matt. viii. 29. 

But if they were informed, that the in- 
finitely-merciful Son of God has undertaken 
to redeem such undone and helpless sinners ; 
that he has thoroughly expiated the most 
horrid transgressions, and procured, even 
for ungodly wretches, all the needful supplies 
of strengthening grace ; that, instead of be- 
ing prohibited, they are invited to partake, 
freely to partake, of these unspeakable bless- 
ings : were they acqiiainted with these glad 
tidings of the gospel, surely they would burst 
their chains, and spring to liberty. These 
truths, if once revealed in their hearts, 
would, of all considerations, be most eft'ec- 
tual to "make them free." John viii. 32. 

What shall I say more to obtain my 
Theron's approbation ? Shall I point out 
and plead the most illustrious precedents ? 
— God the Father is well pleased with this 
righteousness of our Redeemer. He ex- 
presses his complacency by the most em- 
phatical words ; Behold my servant whom 
I uphold ; mine elect, in whom my soul 
dehghteth." Isaiah xhi. 1. In Christ and 
his righteousness, God is not only pleased 
but " delighted ; his " very soul," every 
perfection of the Godhead, with ineffable 
satisfaction, rests and acquiesces in them.— . 
I said ineffable ; for he has declared this, in 
a manner superior to all the energy of lan- 
guage, by raising our crucified Surety from 
the dead, by exalting him to the heaven oi 
heavens, and placing him at his own right 
hand in glory. 

Our Lord Jesus Christ is well pleased. 
He esteems it his honour to shine fortli as 
the everlasting righteousness of his people : 
It is the brightest jewel of his mediatorial 
crown. In this he *' sees of the travail of his 
soul, and is satisfied :" accounting h mself 
fully recompensed for all the labours of his life, 
and all the sorrows of his death, when sin- 
ners are washed from their guilt in his blood, 
and presented faultless by his obedience. 

The Holy Spirit is equally pleased with 
this great transaction, and its nofile effects. 
It is his peculiar office, arid favourite employ, 



DIALOGUE XIV. 



317 



to convince the world of their Saviour's 
righteousness : not only that his nature was 
spotlessly pure, and his conversation perfect- 
ly holy ; but that from both results a right- 
eousness of infinite dignity and everlastingeffi- 
cacy ; sufficient, throughout all ages suffici - 
ent, for the acceptance and salvation of the 
most unworthy creatures. 

Since then this method of acceptance and 
salvation is excellent and glorious in the 
eyes of the most adorable Trinity; since 
it magnifies the law, and yields the most 
exalted honour to its divine Author ; since 
it makes ample provision for the holiness of 
a corrupt, and the happiness of a ruined 
world ; why should my friend any longer 
dislike it, oppose it, or treat it with a cold 
indifference ? Surely, all these grand recom- 
mendations are enough to overrule any 
little objections which may arise from the 
suspicions of timidity, or may be started by 
the artifices of sophistry. 

Ther. I know not how it is, Aspasio ; 
but 1 cannot reconcile myself to this doc- 
trine of imputed righteousness, notwith- 
standing all the pains you have taken to 
make me a convert. 

Asp. The disappointment is mine, but 
the loss is yours, Theron. However, let 
me entreat you not to reject my sentiments 
absolutely, nor to condemn them prematurely. 
Suppose it possible, at least, that they may 
be true, and weigh them in an even balance. 
Learn wisdom from your Aspasio's folly. 
1 was once exactly in your situation ; saw 
things in your light, and through your me- 
dium. 

Conversing, I well remember, with a de- 
vout, but plain person, our discourse hap- 
pened to turn upon that solemn admonition; 
" If any man will come after me, let him 
deny himself." Matth. xvi. '24<. I was ha- 
ranguing upon the import and extent of the 
duty ; showing, that merely to forbear the 
infamous action, is little. We must deny 
admittance, deny entertainment at least, to 
the evil imagination ; and quench even the 
enkindling spark of irregular desire. When 
1 had shot a random bolt, my honest friend 
replied, " There is another instance of self- 
denial, to which this injunction extends, 
and which is of very great moment in the 
Christian rehgion : I mean, the instance 
of renouncing our own strength, and our 
own righteousness ; not leaning on that for 
holiness, not relying on this for justification." 
I thought the old man, I must confess, lit- 
tle better than a superstitious dotard ; and 
wondered at (what I then fancied) the motley 
m.ixture of piety and oddity in his notions. 
But now I discern sense, solidity, and truth 
in his observation.* Now I perceive, that 



• MiltoD thought the same, otherwise he would ue- 



we ourselves are often the dreamers, when 
we imagine others to be fast asleep. 

Ther. I shall not forget your caution, and 
will endeavour to avoid the rock on which 
my Aspasio struck, but happily, it seems, 
escaped shipwreck. You may likewise as- 
sure yourself, that upon a subject of exceed- 
ing great and eternal consequence, I shall 
not fail to use the most attentive and im- 
partial consideration. An indolent supine- 
ness or abigotted obstinacy^in this great cri- 
sis of affairs, would be of all errors the most 
inexcusable, and must prove of all miscar- 
riages the most fatal. 

Asp. But still you cannot reconcile your- 
self. And no wonder. For this way of 
salvation runs directly counter to the stream 
of corrupt nature. It puzzles our reason, 
and offends our pride. What? shall we 
not work, but " believe unto righteous- 
ness?" Bom. x. 10. Shall we receive all 
freely, and reckon ourselves no better than 
unprofitable servants? This is a method 
to which we should never submit ; this is 
a proposal which we should always spurn, 
were not our sentiments rectified, and our 
hearts new-moulded, by sovereign grace. 

Let me remind you of a httle incident 
which you must have read in the Grecian 
history. A certain stranger came, one day, 
to dine with some Lacedemonians. They, 
you know, always sat down at a public ta- 
ble, and were content with the plainest food. 
The gentleman, accustomed to higher eating, 
could not forbear expressing his disgust at 
the homely provision. Sir, said the cook, 
you do not make use of the sauce. What 
do you mean ? repHed the guest. You do 
not use hard exercise ; nor habituate your- 
self to long abstinence, nor bring a sharpened 
appetite to the meal — And you, my dear 
friend, lam apprehensive, have not the sauce, 
have not the proper preparative for this salu- 
tary doctrine, which is indeed the bread of 
life, and the very marrow of the gospel. 

Ther. What preparative ? 

Asp. A sense of your great depravity, 
your extreme guilt, and your utterly undone 
condition. — While destitute of these con- 
victions, our souls will be like the full sto- 
mach, that loathes even the honey-comb. 
So long as these convictions are slight, and 
hover only in the imagination, we shall be 
like Gallio,* listless, indifferent, and " 



ver have put those words into the mouth of a divine 
speaker. 

Thy merit 

Imputed shall absolve them, who renounce 
Their own, both righteous and unrighteous, deeds 
And live in thee transplanted, and from thee 
Receive new life. — Book iii. 1. 290. 
* Acts xviii. 17. A late commentator, of distin- 
guished eminence, has attempted to vindicate Gallio's 
conduct; and would represent it as an amiable in- 
stance of prudence and moderation. 

According to my apprehension, this Roman gover- 
nor acted a part both irreligious and unjust. Irreli- 
gious, because he refused to hear the apostle's defence^ 



318 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



for none of these things." But when they 
are deep and penetrate the heart, then the 
righteousness of a Redeemer will be sweet,, 
tasteful, and inviting, as myrrh and frankin- 
cense to the smell, as milk and honey to 
the palate, as gold and treasures to the 
ruined bankrupt. 

Ther. What method would you advise 
me to use, in order to get these convictions 
impressed on my heart ? 

Asp. Endeavour to understand God's 
holy law. Consider how pure, how exten- 
sive, how sublimely perfect it is. Then judge 
of your spiritual state, not from the flatter- 
ing suggestions of self-love, nor from the de- 
fective examples of your fellow-creatures, 
but by this unerring standard of the sanctu - 
ary. Above all, beseech the God and Fa- 
ther of our Lord Jesus Christ to send his 
enlightening Spirit into your soul. For in- 
deed, without the enlightening influences of 
the Spirit, we may have the divine law in 
our own hand, we may comprehend its gram- 
matical meaning, yet be like blind Bartimeus 
under the meridian sun. It is the blessed 
Spirit alone who can rend the veil of igno- 
rance from our minds, and show us either 

the wonderful things of God's law," or the 
glorious mysteries of his gospel. In this 
sense, our polite poet* speaks a truth, as 
singularly important, as it is elegantly ex- 
pressed : 

He from thick films shall purge the visual ray. 
And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day.— 

Pope's Messiah. 

Will you give me leave to propose another 
expedient, which I believe may be consider- 
ably serviceable in this particular case, — 
which 1 am assured will be greatly advan- 
tageous in many other respects ? 

Ther. Backward as I am to adopt your 
doctrine, I am no enemy to my own inter- 
est ; therefore shall not only give you leave 
to propose, but give you thanks for commu- 
nicating so valuable an advice. 

Asp. It is, in reahty, none of mine. It 
was long ago recommended by your old ac- 
quaintance Horace.f It consists in keeping 
a diary. 

Compile a secret history of your heart and 
conduct. Take notice of the manner in 
which your time is spent, and of the strain 
which runs through your discourse ; how 
often the former is lost in trifles, how often 
the latter evaporates in vanity. Attend to 



which was the most likely means of his conversion and 
salvation. Unjust, because he permitted Sosthenes, 
then an innocent person, afterwards a disciple of 
Christ, (1 Cor. i. 1.) to be so illegally treated, and 
outrageously abused, without interposing for his 
rescue. 

* Mr. Pope, in his charming poem styled the Mes- 
siah- 

t " Ille velut fidis arcana sodalibus olim 
Credebat libris; neque si male cesserat usquam 
Decurrens alio, neque si bene : quo sit, ut omnia 
Votiva pateat veluti descripta tabella 
Vita senis."— HoRAT. Sat. 



the principle from which your actions flow ; 
whether from the steady habitual love of 
God, or from some rambling impulse, and 
a customary propensity to please yourself. 
Minute down your sins of omission ; how 
frequently you neglect to glorify your Crea- 
tor, to edify your fellow-creatures, and to 
improve yourself in knowledge and holiness. 
Observe the frame of your spirit in religious 
duties — with what reluctance they are un- 
dertaken, and with what indevotion perform- 
ed ; with how many wanderings of thought, 
and how much dullness of desire : how of- 
ten, in the common affairs of life, you feel 
the inordinate sallies of passion, the work- 
ings of evil concupiscence, or the intrusion 
of foolish imaginations. 

Register those secret faults, to which none 
but your own conscience is privy, and which 
none but the all-seeing eye discerns. Often 
review these interesting memoirs. Fre- 
quently contemplate yourself in this faithful 
mirror. An artist some time ago took a sur- 
vey of your estate, drew the form and mea- 
sured the dimensions of each enclosure, pic- 
tured out every hedge, and scarce omitted 
a single tree that grew upon the premises. 
Act thus with your vpill, your understanding, 
your affections. These are your noble in- 
ternal demesne, of which none but yourself 
can be a competent surveyor. 

Ther. It is unreasonable and preposterous, 
I must acknowledge, to be minutely exact 
in meaner matters, and use no accuracy of 
ijispection in the most momentous aflairs ; 
to have a correct draught of our lands, which 
are a transient inheritance, and no map of 
that everlasting possession — -the soul. 

Asp. Gratify me then, my dear Theron, 
in this particular. As I purpose to set out 
very early in the morning, I shall insist upon 
it that you do not rise before your usual 
time in order to conpliment my departure. 
But I now make it my last wish, and my 
parting request, that you will for some 
months at least keep a diary. 

You have wondered at my opinion con- 
cerning the corruption of our nature, and the 
insufficiencyof our own righteousness. This 
may seem strange, this may appear shocking, 
to a mind unacquainted with itself. But 
when you have searched your heart by this 
probe — when you have felt the pulse of your 
soul by self-examination — then you will be 
better able to judge of my sentiments, and 
enter into the reasons of my faith. 
#By this means we shall also discover the 
sins that most easily beset us, which most 
frequently elude our vigilance, and baffle our 
resolution. We shall learn how to post our 
guard, when to exercise the strictest watch, 

j and where to direct the artillery of prayer. 

I In a word, we shall learn, better than from 
ten thousand volumes, to know ourselves .- a 

i knowledge which was supposed by the an- 



LETTER I. 



319 



cient philosophers, to descend from heaven ; 
and which, 1 believe, our Christian divines 
will allow, has a happy tendency to lead 
people thither ; because, of all other prepa- 
ratives, it best disposes them for that bless- 
ed Redeemer, who is the way, the only way 
to those blissful mansions. 

Now I have mentioned a way, let me sup- 
pose you travelling through an unknown 
country. You come to a place, where the 
road divides itself into two equally -inviting 
parts. You are at a loss which track to 
pursue. Whose direction will you choose to 
follow ? that man's who has passed through 
neither of them ; that man's who has passed 
through one of them only ; or that man's 
who has passed and repassed them both ? 
To wait for an answer, would be an affront 
to your judgment. Only let me observe, 
that the last is your Aspasio's case. He 
has travelled long, and proceeded far, even 
in your path. All that circumspection and 
assiduity, all that prayer and self denial, all 
that fasting and alms, and every other means 
of grace could do, in order to establish a 
righteousness of his own, has been done : 
But to no purpose. He has also trod every 
step in the way which he recommends to 
his beloved friend. He has made the trial ; 
can set his probatum est to whatever he ad- 
vises ; and may very truly say, with his 
divine Master, " We speak that we do 
know," John iii- II, and testify that we 
have experienced. 

Ther. I am sorry to observe, that the night 
is coming on, and our conversation almost at 
an end. My regret is increased, by the 
consideration of your intended journey. 
Though business obliges you to depart, it 
will, I hope, afford you leisure to write. 
This will be some compensation for the 
want of your company. 

Yonder sun is sinking below the horizon, 



and just taking his leave of our earth. To 
retard the departing radiance, at least to 
alleviate the approaching loss, those western 
clouds catch the rays, and reflect them to 
our view in a most amusing diversity of co- 
lours. By this means we enjoy the great 
luminary in his beams, even when his orb 
is withdrawn from our sight. — An epistolary 
correspondence has something of the same 
nature. Letters may be called the talk of 
absent friends. By this expedient, they 
communicate their thoughts, even though 
countries, kingdoms, or seas intercept their 
speech. You must therefore promise me 
this satisfaction ; and let me converse with 
my Aspasio by the pen, when I can no long- 
er have an intercourse with him in person. \ 
Asp. You have anticipated me, Theron. 
Otherwise, what is now my promise would 
have been my request. 

I cannot but take notice of another par- 
ticularity in that magnificent assemblage of 
clouds. How they varied their appearance, 
as the lamp of day changed its situation ! 
A little while ago, these curtains of the sky 
were streaked with orange, or tinged with 
amber. Presently, they borrowed the blush 
of the rose, or the softened red of the pink. 
Ere long, they glow with vermilion, or 
deepen into crimson. Soon succeeds the 
purple-tinctured robe of majesty ; and as 
soon (thus transient is all sublunary gran- 
deur I) gives place to the sable veil of even- 
ing, or the gloomy pall of night. Such, I 
trust, will be the issue of my Theron's pre- 
sent apprehensions. All his splendid ideas 
of human excellency and self-righteousness 
will become faint, will lose their imaginary 
lustre, till at length they fade away, and 
darken into absolute self-abasement. Then 
the Sun of Righteousness will be amiable, 
will be desirable, as the beauties of the 
dawn breaking upon the shades of night. 



LETTERS. 

LETTER 1. 



Aspasio to Theron. 



Dear Theron, — I am now at the seat 
of my worthy friend Camillus, where busi- 
ness and inclination will fix me for some 
weeks. This evening we had a most 
pleasing ramble. I have met with nothing 
so agreeable since I left your house, and 
lost your company. 

The time was just arrived, and the scene 
was fully opened, which furnished our great 
poet with his fine description : 



Now was the sun in western cadence low. 
From noon ; and gentle airs, due at their hour. 
To fan the earth now waked, and usher in 
The evening cool. 

At this juncture, Camillus invited me to 
take the air. We walked several times 
along a close shady alley, arched with the 
foliage of filberts. Here, hid from every 
eye, and the whole world withdrawn from 
our view, we seemed like monks strolUng in 



S20 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



their cloisters. Turning short at the end, 
we enter a parallel range of majestic and 
uniformly spreading walnut-trees. This 
transition was somewhat like advancing, 
through a low porch, into the aisles of a mag- 
nificent cathedral. The broad leaf and large 
trunk of those lordly trees, their very diffu- 
sive spread, added to their prodigious height, 
gave them an air of uncommon dignity. It 
swells the imagination with vast ideas, and 
entertains us with a romantic kind of de- 
light, to expatiate amidst such huge columns, 
and under such superb elevations of living 
architecture. 

Quitting our cathedral, we turn once 
again, and pass into a grand colonnade of 
oaks ; so regular in their situation, so simi- 
lar in their size, and so remarkably corres- 
pondent in every circumstance, that they 
looked like the twins of nature, not only 
belonging to the same family, but produced 
at the same birth- Through these lay a 
walk, straight, spacious, and gracefully long, 
far exceeding the last in the extent of its 
area, though much inferior in the stateliness of 
its ceiling. It put me in mind of that di- 
vine benigtiity, which has allowed us six 
days for the prosecution of our own com 
paratively low affairs, and set apart but one 
for the more immediate attendance on the 
sublime exercises of devotion. 

This walk was covered with the neatest 
gravel, and not a weed to be seen, nor one 
spu'e of grass, through the whole extended 
surface. It stole into a continual ascent, 
yet so very gradually, that the rise was scarce 
discernible, either by the searching eye, the 
toiling feet, or the panting breath. At the 
extremity, a handsome summer-house show 



made repeated efforts of flowing back to its 
source, till at last, having wandered more 
than twice the length of the meadows, hav- 
ing held a mirror to the aspiring poplars and 
bending willows, having paid a welcome sa- 
lute to several ornamented villas, and passed 
through the arches of two or three curiously 
pendent bridges, it seemed to meet the sky, 
and mingle with the horizon. 

Opposite to the front window, a cascade 
fell from the adjacent stream. It flashed 
and foamed along the broad slope, indented 
with small pits, and jagged with protuberant 
stones. The current, vexed and embarrass- 
ed, seemed to rave at the intervening ob- 
stacles, and forcing its rapid, indignant, so- 
norous way, struck the ear with a peal of 
liquid thunder. These fretful waters — let 
our angry passions observe the admonition, 
and follow the example — soon were pacified, 
soon forgot to chide. Collected into a httle 
rivulet, they ran off in calm and silent lapse, 
till they lost themselves amongst beds of osier 
and plantations of alder. 

The river, widening as it flowed, was 
parted here and there by several little 
islands ; some tufted with reeds, and the re- 
sort of swans ; some adorned with stately 
porticoes and splendid alcoves, the graceful 
retreats of rural pleasure ; some furnished 
with green embowering walks, fitted for 
studious retirement and sedate contempla- 
tion. On either side of the charming valley, 
towns and villages lay thick, and looked gay, 
adding ornament and variety to the scene, 
and receiving innumerable advantages from 
the passing wave. 

The whole recalled to an attentive ob- 
server's mind that amiable and august spec- 
tacle, which the Syrian soothsayer could not 
behold vv^ithout a rapture of delight : Numb, 
xxiii- 7 : " From the top of the rocks I see 
the tribes of Jehovah, and from the hills I 
behold the habitations of his chosen people. 
How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob ! and 
thy tabernacles, O Israel ! As the valleys 
are they spread forth, as gardens by the 
river's side ; as trees of exquisite fragrance,* 
which the Lord hath planted ; as cedars of 
stateliest growth, flourishing beside the 
waters." 

We had but just looked about us when a 
messenger came for Camillus. As he was 
called to settle some private affairs, I chose 
to stay in this inviting retreat ; and deter- 
mined to make myself amends for the loss 
of Camillus' company, by beginning a corres- 



ed a flight of steps, and half a Venetian 
door. The rest of the building was hid by 
the clustering branches. 

As soon as we enter the apartment, Ca- 
millus throws open the left-hand sash, and 
with it a most enlarged and amusive pros- 
pect. The structure appeared situate on 
the brow of a considerable eminence, whose 
sides were partly confused and wild with 
broken rocks, partly shagged and perplexed 
with thorny shrubs. The spectator is agree- 
ably surprised to find himself accommodated 
with so elegant a mansion, on the summit 
of so rude and ruinous a spot. But how 
greatly is his surprise and his satisfaction 
augmented, when he casts his eye forward, 
and beholds the beautiful meads, which, 
from the foot of this rugged hill, stretch 
themselves into a space almost unmeasur- 
able 1 

Through the midst of this extensive vale, * j^^^^^^ ^xiv. 5. G. it is well known that the ori- 

which was decked with the finest verdure, ginal word is used m the sacred writings, to denote 
and replenished with the richest herbage, a j tS^^^^^^T'c^^i^TZ^ 
rivei' rolled its copious flood — rolled m a ' which reason, I think it very justifiable to render the 
thousand serpentine meanders, as though it j ^SlSd it^Sfle^aVSlnfeSfgfSfe 
had lost Its way in the flowery labyrmth, or I ality of readers, than trees of lign-aloes." 



L-ETTER 



321 



poridence with my Theron. We have pen, 
ink, nnd paper, in all our rural retirements, 
that if any thing is started in discourse, or 
occurs in meditation, worthy to be remem- 
bered, it may immediately be committed to 
writing. 

I could not but observe to my friend, that, 
fine as the prospect appeared, there was one 
decoration' wanting; if some grand deformi- 
ty may be called a decoration. The ridges 
of a bleak and barren mountain, or the 
skirts of a sun-burnt tawny heath, would 
give additional liveliness to the ornamented 
parts of the landscape, and make their beau- 
ties strike with double vigour. This also, 
by showing us what wretched abodes and 
inhospitable quarters might have fallen to 
our share, would awaken in our hearts a 
more fervent gratitude to the Supreme Dis- 
poser of things ; who has cast our " lot in 
a fairer ground, and given us a more goodly 
heritage." 

So, a proper knowledge of the divine law 
■ — of its sublime perfections and rigorous 
sanction — ^joined with a conviction of our 
own extreme deficiency and manifold trans- 
gressions ; — all this would endear the blessed 
Jesus to our affections, and powerfully re- 
commend his righteousness to our desires. 
The remainder of this epistle, therefore, 
shall turn upon some instances of duty en- 
joined m that sacred system : by which it 
may be highly useful to examine our con- 
duct and sift our hearts ; in which, I believe, 
we have all fallen short, and are all become 
guilty ; from which, we may learn the im- 
perfection of our best services, and see the 
inexpressible need of a better righteousness 
than our own. 

The knowledge of God is the foundation 
of all vital religion, and indeed is the con- 
summation of human happiness. It is not 
only matter of present duty, but the very 
essence of our future bliss : " This is life 
eternal, to know thee the only true God, 
and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent.'' 
John xvii. 3. Yet, important and obligato- 
ry as it is, are we not very defective in this 
divirve science ? Have we duly acquainted 
ourselves v.ith the marvellous excellencies of 
the Lord Jehovah ? his uncontrollable pow- 
er, and all-comprehending wisdom ; his un- 
bounded goodness, and unwearied patience ; 
his immaculate holiness, and inflexible jus- 
tice ; his never-failing faithfulness, and in- 
violable veracity ? Have we, according to 
the direction of our inspired tutor, pursued 
this sacred study on our knees? James i. 
5 ; and sought this most noble of all intel- 
'ectual endowments, not merely from books, 
but principally at the throne of grace ? 
Have we sought it, like that ancient Jew- 
ish student, with an early application, and 
with incessant assiduity; even "from the 
flower till the grape was ripe ? Eccl. Li. 15. 



Is that scanty ray of knowledge, which 
perhaps has forced itself through our ori- 
ginal darkness, operative on oiu- affections ? 
" Have we loved the Lord our God with all 
our heart ?" — " This is the first and great 
commandment !" Matth. xxii. 38. HaA'-e 
we constantly entertained the most magnifi- 
cent and honourable thoughts of his sublime 
perfections ? Is our esteem for this im- 
mensely great and most blessed Being, high, 
superlative, matchless ? somewhat like that 
expressed by the Psalmist, " Whom have I 
in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon 
earth that I desire in comparison of thee," 
Psalm Ixxiii. 26. Have we been affection- 
ately concerned for his glory, and zealous to 
advance his holy religion ? troubled, very 
sensibly troubled, when our JMaker's honour 
has been trampled in the dust, by licentious 
tongues, or flagitious deeds ? 

Have we made it our ruling care to ap- 
prove the whole of our life, and the most 
secret transactions of our breast, to his all- 
seeing eye ? resolved, deliberately resolved 
to sacrifice, not only our darling lusts, but 
even our most valuable interests, whenever 
they stand in competition with the good 
pleasure of his will ? In a word, as the hart 
panteth after the water-brooks, with such 
vehement and inextinguishable ardour have 
, we thirsted after — a brighter manifestation 
of bis divine attributes — some sweeter as- 
surances of his special love — and an eveiv 
increasing conformity to his holy image? 

Such was the temper of those excellent 
men, who are characterised in the scriptures 
of truth as children of the Highest, and pat- 
terns for our imitation. This is their lan- 
guage : " The desire of our soul is unto 
thy name, and to the remembrance of thee. 
With ray soul have I desired thee in the 
night ; 3-ea, with my spirit within me will I 
seek thee early."* Isa. xxvi. 8, 9. Neither 
is such warmth of love, and fervour of de- 
sire, any needless or extravagant pitch of 
devotion : but a reasonable service, indis- 
pensably due, from all intelligent creatures, 
to the great author of their being ; in whom 
aU possible perfections, with the utmost ex 
altation and dignity, reside: from whom aU 
manner of blessings, in the most copious 
and never-failing communications, flow. 

'When we receive from an absent friend 
rich and repeated presents ; casks of gener- 

*We can hardly tell which to admire most, the 
beauty of the description, or the piety of the persons. 
I have desired, and not with inactive'wishes, but such 
as prompt to vigorous endeavours. I will seek thee: 
and early, with the most vigilant application, and un- 
wearied assiduity. The emphasis is very much in- 
creased, by the addition of these lively words, " with 
my soul, yea, with my v;hole spirit;" with the whole 
bent and sway of my affections, and with the steady 
invariable determination of my judgment. Thus 
have I desired thee, even in the night ; when both the 
pursuits and the thoughts of other people are sunk and 
lost in profound repose. Thus will I seek thee, with 
a zeal— rcafly as the rising — constant as the retuniing 
sun. 

Y 



822 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



ous wine, or jars of delicious fVuit, we feel 
ourselves enkindled into a grateful affection. 
We honour, we love the person, who allows 
us such a distinguished place in his heart; 
and expresses his cordial regard, by such a 
series of active and tender benevolence. The 
blessed God is a friend to us all, infinitely 
powerful, and equally munificent. We are 
the constant objects of his more than friend- 
ly, of his parental cares. Every passing mo- 
ment is a messenger of his patience, and 
charged with some token of his bounty. For 
our sake, he has diffused blessings over all 
the face of the earth, and commanded every 
element to concur in ministering to our ac- 
commodation. He has not only adapted his 
benefits to our several wants ; but has given 
them a diversification, large as the scope of 
our wishes ; and an enrichment, far beyond 
all that our fancy could conceive. Profuse 
liberality ! yet small and scanty, compared 
with his most adorable benignity in Christ 
Jesus. 

What, if God, willing to manifest the 
superabundant riches of his kindness, had 
rnaae bare the arm of his omnipotence, and 
struck a most miraculous road through the 
surges of the ocean, to afford us a safe 
passage? — if, to accommodate us in our 
travels, he had brought waters out of the 
flinty rock ; and bid the ravens bring meat 
to our hands, bid the winds convey manna 
to our doors ? — if, to furnish us with a com- 
modious settlement, he had dethroned mighty 
kings, dispossessed populous nations, and 
made the walls of impregnable cities fall to 
the ground? — if, to further the dispatch of 
our business, or' facilitate the conquest of 
our enemies, he had arrested the sun ni his 
meridian career, and laid an embai-go upon 
the moon setting out on her nightly tour ? 
In short, if, to promote our welfare, he had 
suspended the powers, and controlled the 
laws of universal nature ; had wrought all 
the miracles exhibited in the land of Kgypt, 
or recorded in the volumes of inspiration ; 
— should we not think ourselves luider the 
most inviolable engagements to love the 
Lord our God, " who had done so great 
things for us ?" to love him unfeignedly and 
ardently; to love him with a supreme affec- 
tion, far above every other amiable object ? 
Yet we have greater, incomparably greater 
obligations to our almighty Benefactor. ^For 
(hear, O heavens ! wonder, O earth ! and 
let eternity dwell upon the stupendous truth !) 

God spared not his Son — his own Son" — 
his transcendently glorious and divinely ex- 
cellent Son — but delivered him up to the 
deepest humiliation, and to the most ac- 
cui-sed death, for us men, and our salvation." 

O, Theron ! have we been impressed with 
wonder, at the contemplation of this good- 
ness ? Have our hearts glowed with grati- 
tude, under a sense of these mercies ? Surely 



no man need be convicted of any other criffle 
at the great tribunal than insensibility of 
such love, and ingratitude for such fa- 
vours. This, without the accession of hor- 
rid impieties, is enough to leave him abso- 
lutely inexcusable. This is enough to prove 
him one of the most disingenuous and de- 
testable of creatures. 

Have we exercised ourselves in frequent 
thanksgiving? Many are the exhortations 
to this honourable duty. " Praise thy God, 
O Zion," Psalm cxlvii. 12, " praise him for 
his mighty acts;" Psalm cl. 2; "praise 
him according to his excellent greatness."* 
Innumerable are the incitements to abound 
in this pleasant service. Every comfort has 
a voice, and cries in the ear of reason, " O 
that men would therefore praise the Lord 
for his goodness !" Every deliverance en- 
forces the address, and furnishes fresh ma- 
terials for the heavenly employ. The mdn 
after God's own heart declares, as an invit- 
ing example for our practice, " 1 will bless 
the Lord at all times ; his praise shall con- 
tinually be in my mouth." Psalm xxxiv. 1. 
" Yea, as long as I have any being, I will 
sing praises unto my God," Psalm cxlvi. 2. 
Indeed, when we consider the inexhaustibly 
rich bounty of God our Creator, and the in- 
conceivably tender mercy of God our Re- 
deemer, it is both strange and deplorable 
that the love of God is not always prevail- 
ing in our hearts, and the language of prai&e 
ever tiowiiig from our lips. 

I will not suppose our character so irre- 
ligious, that we have neglected the daily 
worshi]) of God, either in our closet or in 
our family: But have we prayed with that 
profound reverential awe, which is due to 
the high and lofty One, " who inhabiteth 
eternity?" Have we made our supplications 
with that fervent importunity which may, 
in some measure, correspond with the ex- 
treme indigence of our state, and the invalu- 
able worth of the blessings we crave ? Have 
our petitions been attended with that steady 
affiance, which may glorify the goodness, the 
power, the veracity of the Lord ? may evi- 
dently declare that he " is rich in mercy to 
all that call upon him;" Rom. x. 12; that 
he is the Lord Jehovah, in whom is ever- 
lasting strength ;" Isa. xxvi- 4 ; " that he is 
the God of truth, and faithful for ever." 
Deut. xxxii. 4. We call him Father ; but 
have we trusted in him with that unsuspect- 



* Among these exhortations, we may rank that 
beautiful and devout address to God, Psalm xxii. 3 
Thou that inhabitest — light inaccessible, shall I say ? 
the regions of immensity, or the ages of eternity ? 
No, but what is a more exalted character— the praises 
of Israel: finely signifying that praise is a most ac- 
ceptable sacrifice, to which the divine Majesty at- 
tends with the greatest delight; intimating also, that 
the exercise of praise should not be an occasional 
thing, like a transient visit to a stranger's house; but 
a daily and almost unintermitted service., like Uve 
stated residence of a person in his own habitation. 



LETTER L 



323 



ing, choevful, fiHai confidence, which a child 
reposes on the fidelity and indulgence of 
such an earthly relative ? Have we not en- 
tertained, too often entertained, narrow, dis- 
bonourable, beggarly apprehensions, concern- 
ing the treasures of his liberality, and the 
bowels of his pity ; rating them even lower 
than our parents, our friends, or our own ? 

Have we been careful to carry the spirit 
of our prayers into our ordinary conversation, 
and waited at the door, as well as approach- 
ed to the throne of grace ? — Amidst the in- 
tervals of our solemn devotions, have we 
cultivated an ejaculatory intercourse with 
heaven ? How highly would the ambitious 
courtier prize, and how frequently would he 
use a privy key, which should give him, at 
all hours, free admittance to his sovereign. 
This key of admittance, only to an infinite- 
ly more exalted Potentate, we all possess in 
the practice of mental aspirations to God. 
It is certainly the noblest employ, and will 
be the richest improvement of our thoughts, 
to send them in such short embassies to the 
King of kings ; and to derive, by such occa- 
sional sallies of faith* a renewed supply 



♦ "We have, in Scripture, very remarkable instances 
of the success which has attended ejaculatgry prayer. 
Observe Nehemiah : He stands before Ahasuerus, ap- 
prehensive of the monarch's displeasure, yet desirous 
to solicit him in behalf of Jerusalem. To Redelivered 
from his fears, and to obtain his desires, what method 
does he use ? The mean and servile arts of flattery ? 
No; but the manly and devout expedient of prayer. 
I prayed, says the patriot, to the God of heaven. — We 
cannot suppose, that he fell on his knees, or spoke 
with his lips, while he continued in the royal presence. 
Buthe darted up his soul in silent supplication ; which 
supplication pierced the clouds, reached the eternal 
throne, and returned not again till a blessing was sent ; 
such as totally averted the wrath he dreaded, and pro- 
cured favour and assistance much larger than he ex- 
pected. Neh. ii. 4. 

When David heard that Ahithophel, tne ablest po- 
litician in his kingdom, was revolted to Absalom ; sen- 
sible what a loss his affairs had sustained, and what an 
advantage the rebellious party hadacquired, he betook 
himself to his God. He staid not for an opportunity 
of retirement, but instantly and upon the spot cried, 
** OLord, I pray thee, turn the counsel of Ahithophel 
into foolishness !" — A short address, but very effica- 
cious. He who disappointeth the devices of the craf- 
ty, sent a spirit of infatuation among the rebels; and 
inclined them to reject the advice of that judicious 
statesman. Which false step brought upon their hor- 
rid enterprise the ruin it deserved, and chagrined the 
wretched traitor, even to rage, frenzy, and suicide. 2 
Sam. XV. 31 ; xvii. 23. 

Amyntor, at a memorable period of his life, was 
under great distress of conscience, and harassed by 
violent temptations. He made his case known to an 
experienced friend, who said, " Amyntor, you do not 
pray." — Surprised at this, he replied, " I pray, if such 
a thing be possible, too much. I can hardly tell how 
many times in the day I bow my knee before God : 
almost to the omission of my other duties, and the ne- 
glect of my necessary studies." " You mistake my 
meaning, dear Amyntor. I do not refer you to the 
ceremony of the knee, but to the devotion of the 
heart ; which neglects not any business, but inter- 
mingles prayer with all ; which, in every place, looks 
unto the Lord ; and, on every occasion, lifts up an in- 
digent, longing soul, for the' supply of his grace. 
Thus," (added he, and spoke with a peculiar vehe- 
mence), " this is the prayer which all the devils in 
hell cannot withstand." This, I wouldfiirther observe, 
is the prayer whicii brings down somewhat of heaven 
into the heart; in which I would desire to abound, 
and would earnestly recommend to all my acquaint- 
ance, and all my readers. 



from the fountain of all good. How great 
a loss then must it be to oiu- spiritual inter- 
ests, and how contemptuous a disregard of 
the ever-present Jehovah, to omit entirely, 
or long to discontinue, this most beneficial 
practice of habitual adoration? — Can you, 
my dear Theron, acquit yourself on this ar- 
ticle of inquiry ? Has not every day of your 
life been a day of negligence in this respect ; 
been a perpetual disobedience to our Savi- 
our's injunction, " Men ought, in this man- 
ner, always to pray, and not to faint?" 
Luke xviii. 1. 

Have we sanctified the Sabbath? Has tne 
Lord's day, mth all its solemn and sacred 
offices, been our delight ? Have we remem- 
bered that distinguished portion of our time, 
as Jacob remembered the delightfid inter- 
view at Peniel ? Have we expected it, as 
merchants expect the arrival of a richly la- 
den vessel ? Have we improved it, as hus- 
bandmen improve the shining hours of the 
harvest ? Have we wholly laid aside every 
eartWy engagement, " not speaking our own 
words," Isa Iviii. 13, nor allowing our- 
selves in any gratifications that may hiter- 
rupt our communion with the Father of 
Spirits? Has " one day in his courts been 
preferable to a thousand," Psal. Ixxxiv. 10, 
spent either in the works of our calling, or 
in the scenes of recreation ? Have the me- 
morials of our Redeemer's dying merits, and 
the seals of his unchangeable loving-kindness, 
been relished as a feast, and prized as a por- 
tion ? 

Have we honoured God's holy word ? 
What greater mark of discsteem than to de- 
spise a person's discourse, and not to think 
his speech worthy of our notice ? especially 
when he addresses us with very great seri- 
ousness, and with the utmost aifection. In 
om- Bible, the God of glory speaks to his 
creatures ; speaks with the most persuasive 
energy, and with all the yearnings of parental 
tenderness. Have we listened to our Crea- 
tor, with reverence and delight ; and rejoiced 
with trembling at — " Thus saiththe Lord?" 

Have we searched the oracles of truth, not 
merely as scholars, but as sinners ; not from 
a spirit of curiosity, or with an air of forma- 
lity, but with a solicitude and ardour becom- 
ing persons who inquire after the Saviour of 
their lost souls ? Have we submitted our 
inmost thoughts to their impartial scrutiny ; 
to receive conviction of sin from their aw- 
ful remonstrances, and to hear the sentence 
of condemnation at their righteous bar? 
Have we been willing to suffer the reproach 
of conscious baseness, while they have ripped 
up the disguises of fidsehood, laid open our 
secret iniquities, and brought all cur evil 
ways to remembrance ? Thus Josiah acted : 
" His heart was tender, and he humbled 
himself before the Lord : he rent his clothes, 
and wept before the Lord, when lie heard 



324 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



the words of tlie'book of the law." 2 Chron. 
xxxiv. 27. 

Have we hid the glad tidings of the gos- 
pel within our memories, within our hearts ? 
Have we been diligent to suck this " honey- 
comb" (Cant. v. 1.) of grace, by concomi- 
tnnt meditation, and subsequent prayer ? 
Have we valued the precious promises, as 
gentlemen of wealth value the writings of 
their private estates ; or as infranchised bo- 
dies esteem the charter of their public pri- 
vileges ? Have we, like the princely patri- 
jiich, longed for those words of edification, 
exhortation, and comfort, more than for our 
necessary food ? Job xxiii. 1 2, and, like the 
royal prophet, prevented the night-watches, 
t hat we may be occupied in those statutes 
and ordinances of heaven ? Psalm cxix. 148. 

We have hitherto confined the examina- 
tion to a few instances of the affirmative 
kind ; how dreadfully will the dark account 
he swelled, if, instead of love and obedience, 
there be hatred and opposition — -hatred of 
tlie name, glory, and worship of God — op- 
position to his interest, kingdom, and ser- 
vice ? 

God is infinite perfection, worthy of all 
admiration, exalted above all praise. Yet 
do not our thoughts more frequently, or 
more naturally, turn upon our own accom- 
plishments, than upon the adorable and 
shining attributes of the almighty ? This 
is, in itself, the most shameful dotage ; and, 
in God's sight, the most abominable idolatry. 
Yet let us observe what passes within, and 
we shall probably find, that as damps arise 
in the mines, or fogs in the fenny grounds, 
so naturally and so copiously do these over- 
weening reflections arise in our depraved 
minds. 

God is an everlasting King. Have we 
not too often resisted his authority ? Have 
we not, as far as in us lay, deposed the om- 
nipotent Sovereign, and exalted self into the 
throne ? made self-will our law, and self- 
pleasing our end ? thus adding sacrilege to 
rebellion? 

God is transcendently gracious and amia- 
ble. Have we not turned our backs upon 
him, by forgetting his mercies ? Nay, have 
we not spurned him from our aiFectipns, by 
being " lovers of pleasm'e, more than lovers 
of God?" 2 Tim. iii. 4. Awake, con- 
science ! bear thy impartial testimony ; and 
I am persuaded, the Pharisee in our breasts, 
like the man unfurnished with the wedding 
garment, must be struck dumb ; must be 
covered with confusion. 

Is our hearts warm with brotherly love ? 
Good manners will put expressions of civility 
into our mouths ; but has a power from on 
high implanted the royal law of charity in 
our breasts ? The character of a gentleman 
requires a deportment accessible, obliging, 
and courteous ; has the spirit of Chiistiani- 



ty taught us to love, " not in word," or 
plausible appearance only, " but in deed and 
in truth ?" 1 John iii. 18. Do we love our ' 
neighbours, not merely on account of some 
relation they bear us, or some services they 
have done us ; but because they are crea- 
tures of the blessed God, are the objects W: 
his providential care, and capable, at least,- 
of being conformed to his image ? Do we 
love them, because we hope that the Lord • 
Jesus Christ has bought them with his 
blood ; is willing to make them partakers 
of his Spirit, and members of his mystical, 
body ? 

Are we sincerely concerned for their pre- 
sent welfare and their eternal happiness?- 
Do we embrace all opportunities of proroot-; 
in g both the one and the other? embrace- 
them with the same alacrity ; and improve 
them with the same zeal, which actuate us- 
in seeking our own felicity ? If they exceed 
us in all that is amiable, and all that is pros- 
perous, do we contemplate their superior 
excellence with a real complacency, and their 
more abundant success with a real satisfac- 
tion ? 

Do we dislike to hear, and abhor to 
spread, defamatoiy tales ; even when our ad- 
versaries are the men whom they tend to black- 
en ? When rudely aff"ronted, or causelessly* 
abused, do we pity the oftenders, for the 
wrong done to their own souls, rather than 
kindle into resentment at the indignity of- 
fered to ourselves ? When greatly injured, 
are we slow to anger, and not easily pro-' 
voked ? Are we much more willing to be 
reconciled than to foment displeasure, and 
prosecute revenge ? In a word, do we 
" love our enemies ; bless them that curse 
us ; do good to them that hate us ; and 
pray for them that despitefully use us 
and persecute us ?" Matt. v. 44. Without 
this loving and lovely disposition, we abide, 
says the apostle, in death, 1 John iii. 14, 
are destitute of spiritual, and have no title 
to eternal life.* 

Let me add — are all our graces, and all 
our works " clothed with humility ?" This 
should be the dress in which they severally 
appear, as well as the bond of connexion 
which unites them all. Do we maintain a 
very low opinion of our own accomplish- 
ments, and " in honour prefer others to 
ourselves ?" Rom. xii. 10 ; habicu«illy sen- 
sible that we are less than the least of the 
divine mercies, and the very chiefest of sin-i 
ners ? 

I might easily have branched out the 
preceding subjects into a much greater va- 



* What manner of love is this? How disinterest- 
ed ! how extensive ! how triumphant ! Must not all 
the boasted benevolence of the philosopher and the 
moralist strike sail to this evangelical charity ? 
Must not both moralist and philosopher acknowledge 
the necessity of a divine operation, thus to enlarge, 
exalt, and refine their social affections ? 



LETTER II. 



riety oF interrogatoiy articles. But I in- 
tend only to present you with a specimen. 
Your ox^Ti meditations will enlarge the 
sketch, and supply what is defective. Only 
let me beg of you, my dear friend, to try 
your state by this touchstone ; to prove 
your conduct by this standard. And may 
the Father of lights give you an under- 
standing to discern the exact purity and 
sublime perfection of his holy law ! 

Have you lived in the unintemipted ob- 
servance of all these duties ; avoiding what- 
ever is forbidden, and obeying whatever is 
commanded? Your outward behaviour, I 
know, has been free from notorious viola- 
tions; but has your inward temper been 
preserved from all ungodly motions, and 
from every irregidar desire ? Is there no 
enmity in your heart to any of the precepts, 
nor any backwardness, nor any failure in 
performing each and every injunction ? 

When you put these questions to your- 
self, remember, that if you fail in one point, 
or in any degree, you are guilty of all, 
James ii. 10- If your conformity be not 
persevering as well as perfect, you incur the 
penalty, and are abandoned to the curse. 
Gal. iii. 10. You stand charged, be- 
fore the Judge of the world, with all the 
guilt of all your sins, both original and ac- 
tual ; and there is not one circumstance, 
nor one aggravation, of any of your iniqui- 
ties, overlooked or forgotten — uidess, re- 
nouncing all your personal performances, 
you ]Viace your whole affiance on a Saviour's 
atonement, and a Saviour's righteousness, 
I think you will not dar.s to put the issue 
of your everlasting state upon the former 
footing, XA'hich is not only hazardous, but 
must be inevitably ruinous. You will in- 
finitely rather choose to acknowledge your- 
self a poor insolvent, and plead the mi- 
searchable riches of your Redeemer's obe- 
dience. 

To those who believe, the law, though 
; trict, is not terrible ; because, be its pre- 
cepts of holiness ever so extensive, they 
1 ave been most completely fulfdled by their 
glorious Surety. Be its ])enal sanctions 
ever so rigorous, they have been satisfied 
to the utmost by their great Mediator. 
Believers, therefore, may make their boast of 
their adorable Sponsor ; they " may sit 
under his shadow with great delight," Cajit. 
ii. 3 ; while the thunderings of Mount 
Sinai, and all the terrors of the legal dis- 
pensation, tend only to increase and quick- 
en the refreshing sense of their safety. 
Just as the possessor of a plentiful estate, 
in some peaceful and prosperous country, 
re})Oses himself under the shade of his vine, 
oi- the shelter of his fig-tree ; and hearing of 
the wars which embroil, or the plagues 
which depopulate other nations, tastes,' 
with augmented relish, his own felicity. 



lict me close with the affectionate and 
emphatical wish of an inspired epistolary 
■writer — " That the Lord of peace may, 
give," my dear Theron, " peace — always 
by all means !" 2 Thess. iii. 16. Then 
I shall think my wishes are accomplishing, 
and this blessing is at the door, when he 
sees the purity of the divine lavv' — sees the 
depravity of his own nature — and the im- 
possibility of being justified without an in- 
terest in the great IMediator's righteous- 
ness ; that righteousness which, as it is the 
only hope and the constant joy, is there- 
fore the darling theme, of 

Your ever faithful 

ASPASIO. 

P. S". Shall I abridge the preceding let- 
ter, and contract the whole into those two. 
great commandments Avhich made the first 
awakening impressions on my own mind ? 
" Thou shalt "love the Lord thy God with 
all thy heart ; thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bour as thyself." Amazing ! said your 
Aspasio. Are these the commands of 
God? as obligatory as the prohibition of 
adidtery, or the observation of the Sab- 
bath ? Then has my whole life been a 
continual act of disobedience. Not a day, 
no, nor an hour, in which I have performed 
my duty. This conviction struck me, as 
the hand-writing upon the wall struck the 
jjrestunptuous monarch. It pursued me, 
as Saul i)ursued the Christians, not only to 
my own house, but even to distant cities ; 
nor ever gave up the great controversy, tUl, 
under the influences of the Spirit, it brought 
me " weary and heavy laden to Jesus 
Christ." 



LETTER IL 

Theron to Aspasio. 

Di'.Aii Aspasio, — More than three 
^^'oeks are elapsed since you favoured 
nie witli your improving company, dur- 
ing which interval I have frequently re- 
collected the most material parts of our 
late discourses. I have carefully con- 
sidered both the doctrines you advanced 
and the answers you returned to my several 
objections. I have often reviewed your 
valuable letter, have used it as a touch- 
stone to examine my state, and have with 
great punctuality observed yom* parting 
advice. I have sat every evening for a 
picture of my mind, and have endeavoured 
to take a true unflattering draught of all its 
distinguishing qualities. And if the diary 
is a faithful mirror, if it does not aggravate 
the deformity of my features, I shall be 
absolutely out of conceit with myself : I 



326 



THERON AND ASPASIO, 



shall ever entertain the meaiiest opinioTi of 
my own, either moral or religious qualifi- 
cations. 

"Where is that intense and supreme love 
of God, which his transcendent perfections 
challenge, and his ineffable goodness claims ? 
Where that firm and joyful reliance on 
Christ Jesus in any degree proportioned to 
his infinite merits and inviolable promises ? 
Where that cordial and tender affection for 
my fellow-christians, which is due to the 
servants of a divine Redeemer ; the people 
whom he ransomed by his agonies, and pur- 
chased with his very blood ? Where is the 
incense Of holy contemplation and refined 
desire ? where the flame of fervent devo- 
tion and ever-active zeal ; such as become 
the living temple of God, in which his most 
immaculate and glorious Spirit vouchsafes 
to reside ? These fundamental graces, like 
the grand organs in the animal system, 
should impart health to the soul, and spread 
the beauty of holiness through all the con- 
versation. But these, alas ! far from beating 
with a vigorous and uniform pulse, hardly 
heave with life ; only just struggle, now and 
then, with some faint, intermitted, uneven 
throes. 

How seldom do my actions spring from 
gratitude to the everlasting Benefactor, or 
aim at the glory of his superexcellent ma- 
jesty ! In addressing the King immortal, 
invisible, how languid are my affections, and 
how wandering is my attention ! how great 
my unbelief, and how little my reverential 
awe .* I receive innumerable mercies ; but 
Ivhere are my returns of correspondent 
thankfulness ? I am visited wdth many gra- 
cious chastisements : but without proper re- 
signation, or due improvement. Alas, for 
my heartless devotions, my lifeless virtues, 
and the multitude of my refined iniquities ! 
Hid behind the mask of outward decency, 
and some customary forms of religion, I was 
altogether unacquainted with my spiritual 
state. I fancied myself " rich, and increas- 
ed with goods, and to have need of nothing ;" 
even while I was " MTetched, and misera- 
ble, and poor, and blind, and naked," Rev. 
iii. 17. 

It I look back, and review the years of 
youth and manhood, what has been the 
tenor, what is the aspect of my life ? More 
like a desolate and horrid wilderness, than 
a cultivated garden, or a fruitful vineyard. 
In youth, what sordid gratifications of ap- 
petite ! In manhood, what base compliances 
wdth a wicked world ! In both, what shoals 
of evil inclinations have polluted my heart ! 
what swarms of vain imaginations have de- 
based my thoughts! Avhat frothy and un- 
profitable words have dropt from my lips ! 
By all which, how have I disobeyed, and 
how dishonoured God ! how have I denied, 
and how crucified the Lord Jesus Christ ! 



and yet supposed myself, all the while, to 
be good enough. 

It is something unaccountable, that a 
person of my inquisitive disposition should, 
through the course of so many years, be 
such an utter stranger to himself. I won- 
der at my own preposterous folly ! To 
travel into foreign countries, and visit the 
most reno\vned cities of Europe ; yet never 
step over the threshold, nor look within the 
apartments of my own breast ! To carry on 
a correspondence wdth my friends, even in 
the remotest nations, and never enter upon 
a conference, nor hold any intelligence with 
ray own heart ! To inquire after news 
from the fleet, news from the army, news 
from the court ; yet exercise neither curi- 
osity nor care wdth regard to the hope of 
heaven, and the concerns of eternity ! What 
egregious misconduct is this ! A most 
pernicious error in the economy of religious 
life! 

Sometimes I have cast a transient glance 
on my outward behaviour, but never ex- 
tended my search to the delinquent, the 
traitor, the rebel wdthin. And even my 
outward behaviour has been surveyed with 
as much erroneous partiality as superficial 
levity. It has been compared, not with 
that exact and sublime standard, the scrip- 
tures of truth ; but, as in the case of the 
self-deceiving Pharisee, with the unjust, 
extortionate, adulterous practices of some 
other people. From whence I most un- 
warrantably concluded, that being not quit,e 
so abandoned as the most profligate crea- 
tures, my character must be good, and my 
condition safe. But, thanks to yom last 
friendly letter, and the searching expedient 
it recommended, I am now in a different 
way of thinking. 

It is strange to recollect, and indeed it 
is shameful to confess, the many artifices 
which I have used to put a cheat upon my- 
self. Sometimes I have fancied that the 
divine law could never be so strict as to 
condemn us inexorably, if we continue not 
in all its precepts. Sometimes I have 
pleaded the infirmity of our nature, and en- 
deavoured to make the w'orks of darkness 
appear only as pitiable failings. Sometimes 
I have taken refuge in the excellency of om- 
church, and plumed myself with the bor- 
rowed feathers of a religious profession. 
At other times I have soothed my con- 
science to rest, by a punctuality of atten- 
dance on places, or a zealous attachment to 
forms. And all this to seduce, cajole, and 
betray myself — betray myself, first into a 
vain conceit of my own endowments, then 
into a contemptuous disregard of Christ, 
and at last into eternal destruction. But 
now I see my guilt, I apprehend my dan- 
ger, and feel my helpless condition. 

Indeed, my Aspasio, I am now f oavinced 



LETTER in. 



ih:i[ ihe darkest colours cannot be too dark that, in expecting justification from the 1; 



for the portrait of my spiritual state. I see 
myself overspread with an habitual depravi- 
ty, arid cannot forbear ciying out, Avith the 
abashed leper, " Unclean ! Unclean ! Lev. 
xiii. 45. The sacred oracles in no wise 
misrepresent fallen man, when they describe 
him as altogether become abominable. Job 
XV. 16. They are far from underrating hu- 
man works, when they denominate them 
" filthy rags."* Rags they are, if we consi- 
der their great imperfections ; filthy rags, if 
we advert to their manifold defilements. 
And since the nature of God is so irrecon- 
cilably adverse to all contamination, since 
the law of God requires such unspotted per- 
fection, O ! " who can stand before this ho- 
ly Lord God," I Sam. vi. 20 ; in any ac- 
complishments of their o\yr\ ? 

"VVTaen I farther reflect, that I have only 
a very obscm-e glimpse of the divine purity, 
and am a mere novice in the knowledge erf 
my own heart ; how am I amazed at the 
lofty apprehensions which I once formed 
concerning the dignity of my nature and the 
integiity of my conduct ! All owing to igno- 
rance, the grossest ignorance of myself and 
the scriptures. How do I shudder to think, 



* Isa. Ixiv. 6. Does not Theron misapply tliis text? 
Can it be intended to discredit the qualifications of 
the upright ? Is it not rather a brand set upon tlie 
works of the wicked; whose very sacrifices are an 
abomination to the Lord ? Or, a rebuke gi\ en to the 
specious performances of the hypocrite; who is pre- 
cise in the form, but destitute of the power of godli- 
ness ? Or, may it not refer to ritual observances; in 
contradistinction to moral duties and spiritual ac- 
complishments? 

The disparaging character must not, I think, be 
confined to ritual observances ; because it is expressly 
said, all our righteousnesses, including every kind of 
religious duty : Neither can it be ap{)ropriated to the 
formal hypocrite, much less to the notoriously wick- 
ed ; because, those very persons, who are the subject 
of this assertion, declare, in the context, "Lord, we 
are thy people, thou art our Father, we shall be 
saved." So that it seems intended to stain the pride 
of all human glory. 

Besides, the prophet speaks of himself : We are all 
as an unclean thing; which, however strange or un- 
reasonable it may seem, is the very same charge to 
which he pleads guilty in another place; "Woe is me! 
I am undone ! for 1 am a man of unclean lips !" Not 
that he was defiled with any gross pollutions; nay, 
he was a saint of the most distinguished lustre, but 
his eyes had seen the King, the Lord of hosts. He 
was under the clear manifestations of a God, glorious 
in holiness, inflexible in justice, and infinite in all 
perfections. Amidst these manifestations, the impu- 
rity of his heart and nature were not only apparent, 
but glaring ; overwhelmed him with abashment, and, 
till Christ was applied in atype, (Isa. vi. 7,) filled him 
with terror. 

In such circumstances, and under such views, all our 
moral virtues and evangelical graces, all our exer- 
cises of devotion, and acts of charity, will appear both 
defective and polluted : by no means proportioned to 
the demands of the law, nor sufficient for our recom- 
mendation to the Supreme Lawgiver ; no more than 
a few tattered rags can claim the character or per- 
form the services of a complete suit ; no more than 
a few filthy rags are fit to dress the bride for her nup- 
tials, or the courtier for a birthnight. 

But there is a righteousness — blessed be divine 
grace ! — spotlessly pure and consummately excellent; 
a righteousness which answers all that the Creator re- 
quires, and supplies all that tlie creature needs. To 
prove this momentous point, and to display this un- 
speakable gift, is the design of the following sheets. 



1 was resting the welfiire of my immortal 
soul, not on the foundation of a rock, but 
on the point of a dagger. I was going to 
the decisive tribunal, flushed with the falsest 
hopes, and charged with a set of glittering 
sins ; going, like poor deluded Uriah, 

2 Sam. xi. 14, 15, not with any valid cre- 
dentials, ■ but with the ministration of 
death," -2 Cor. iii. 9, in my hand. 

Though I cannot but acknowledge the 
arrogance of these pretensions, yet loath, 
very' loath, is my pride to renounce the 
pleasing absurdity. Self-love has searched, 
and searched again, for something excellent. 
It would fain make a better appearance, and 
can hardly brook the humiliation of implor- 
ing all sub Jorma paupens. * With what re- 
luctance is a sinner brought to confess him- 
self sinful in every duty, sinful in every ca- 
pacity ? Strange perverseness ! But the 
charge is undeniable- However unwilling, 
I must plead guilty. " Thou art wciglied 
in the balances, and found wanting," Dan. 
V. 27, is evidently written on all I am, all 
I have, all I do. And if I am thus defec- 
tive, even in my own estimation; if I 
am utterly condemned at the bar of ray own 
conscieTice, " what then sh;dl I do, when 
God riseth up ? and when he visiteth, what 
shall I answer him ? Job xxxi. 14. 

I now see the necessity of an imputed 
righteousness. Without some such object 
for my trust, I am undone- I long, there- 
fore, to hear your arguments in its behalf. 
And I must declare to you, if it can be sa- 
tisfactorily proved from the scriptures, it is 
the most comfortable doctrine in the world, 
and worthy of all acceptation. 

A letter upon this subject would be a 
singidar favour, and, I hope, an equal bless- 
ing, to your obliged and jifFectionate 

Theron. 



LETTER III. 

AsPAsio TO Therov. 

Dear Theron, — Though all your let- 
ters give me pleasure, none vA'as ever so 
highly pleasing as yoiu* last. I look upon 
it with the same secret joy, as when a com- 
passionate physician observes some very 
favourable symptoms in the crisis of a be- 
loved patient's distemper. 

What you ask, I shall, A^dthout any far- 
ther preface, attempt to execute. If my at- 
tempt proves satisfactory to your judgment, 
I am stu-e it will be the most likely means 



This is under the character of a poor destitute, 
or as a begger sues for his aims. 



328 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



of healing your conscience, and^ calniiiifr 
your fears. When we perceive the odious, 
depravity of our nature ; when we discern 
the horrible iniquity of our lives, and are 
sensible of that tremendous wrath and ever- 
lasting vengeance which are due to such 
guilty creatures ; then nothing can be found 
that will speak effectual peace, nothing that 
will administer solid comfort, but only the 
vicarious sufferings and the imputed righte- 
ousness of Jesus Christ. 

To this purpose speaks one of the wisest 
and best of spiritual guides ; " Has sin 
abounded ?" as undoubtedly it has, in our 
heart and our life ; " grace has much more 
abounded," in the obedience and the merits 
of our Redeemer. Nay, "has sin reigned?" 
exerted its malignant power in the most ex- 
tensive and most destructive manner, ren- 
dering us subject unto death, both tempor- 
al and eternal ? " Even so has grace reign- 
ed ;" exerted its benign efficacy, and in a 
manner yet more triumphant ; not only res- 
cuing us from guilt and ruin, but restoring 
us to everlasting life and glory ; and all this 
through the righteousness, the complete 
meritorious righteousness, brought in "by 
Jesus Christ our Lord." Rom. v. 21. 

You inquire after the proofs of this im- 
puted righteousness. From a multitude I 
shall select a few ; sufficient, I hope, to 
make it appear, that this is the declared doc- 
trine of our church, and the avowed belief 
of her most eminent divines ; that it is co- 
piously revealed through the whole Scrip- 
tures, revealed in many express passages, 
and deducible from a variety of instructive 
similitudes. 

Hear the language of our Common 
Prayer, in a very affecting and solemn ad- 
dress to the Almighty ! " We do not pre- 
sume to come to this thy table, O merciful 
Lord, trusting in our own righteousness." 
If we may not, if we dare not, rely on our 
own righteousness when .we approach the 
eucharistic table, much less may we depend 
upon it when we are summoned to the de- 
cisive tribunal. Should you ask, on what 
we are to depend ? The exhortation to the 
communion furnishes an answer ; " On the 
meritorious death and passion of Christ, 
whereby alone we obtain remission of sins, 
and are made partakers of the kingdom of 
heaven." 

The Collect appointed for the festival of 
circumcision, has this remarkable introduc- 
tion ; " Almighty God, whose blessed Son 
was obedient to the law for man." In what 
sense, or with what propriety, can this be 
affirmed, unless Christ's perfect obedience 
be referable to us, and accepted instead of 
ours ? On any other interpretation, I should 
think he was obedient, not for man, but for 
himself. 

Should the artful critic give some other 



turn to these passages, it wi:! ovail him but, 
little; because the churel), her ov,n best 
expositor, lias explained the meaning of such 
phrases, and put the matter beyond all 
doubt. In her eleventh article she says, 
" We are accounted righteous before God, 
only for the merits of our Lord and Saviour 
Jesus Christ." The doctrine relating to 
pardon of sin had been stated in a preced- 
ing article. This displays the method 
whereby sinners may appear righteous in 
the eye of God and in the court of heaven, 
so as to recover the divine favour and 
obtain a title to eternal bliss. This is done, 
not by any native righteousness, not by any 
acquired righteousness, but by an imputed 
righteousness. Were we justified by either 
of the former methods, it would not have 
been said, we are accounted, but we are 
righteous. They are so far from constitut- 
ing our reconciling and justifying righteous- 
ness, that they have no share in it, contri- 
bute nothing towards it, are totally excluded 
from it. We are accounted righteous,, and 
accepted as such, only (mark the expression) 
only through the meritorious obedience, and 
propitiating blood of our great Mediator. 

The Homilies are, if it be possible, still 
more explicit and more cogent. In the Ho- 
mily concerning the salvation of mankind, 
we read the following words ; " The 
apostle toucheth three things, which must 
go together in our justification : On God's 
part, his great mercy and grace : On Christ's 
part, the satisfaction of God's justice, or the 
price of our redemption, by the offering of 
his body, and the shedding of his blood, with 
fulfilling of the law perfectly : On om' part, 
true and lively faith in the merits of Jesus 
Christ, which yet is not ours, but by God's 
working in us." You see, according to the 
judgment of our venerable reformers, not 
only the offering of Christ's body, and shed- 
ding of Clirisc's blood, but also his perfect 
fulfilling of the law, are the adequate price 
of our redemption. All these act conjoint- 
ly ; they sweetly harmonize in the great and 
glorious work. To suppose their disunion, 
is a doctrinal mistake, somewhat like that 
practical error of the Papists, in severing 
the sacramental wine from the sacramental 
bread ; administering to the laity the sym- 
bols of the slaughtered body, but withhold- 
ing the symbols of the streaming blood. 

There are other clauses in the same Ho- 
mily, which set the seal of the church to 
our sentiments. I shall content myself with 
transcribing one from the conclusion. 
" Christ," says that form of sound words, 
" is the righteousness of all them that do 
truly believe. He, for them, paid their ran- 
som by his death. He, for them, fulfilled 
the law in his life. So that now, in him, 
and by him, every true Cluistian may be 
called a fuifiiler of the law ; forasmuch as 



LETTI 

that wliich their infirmity lacked, Christ's 
righteousness hath supplied." This autho- 
nty is as clear, as the doctrine authorized is 
comfortable. May the former sway our 
judgment ! may the latter cheer our hearts ! 
. The Homily on Christ's nativity informs 
the reader, that the design of our Lord's 
incarnation was — " to give light unto the 
world, and call sinners to repentance ; to 
fulfil the law for us, and become the propi- 
tiation for our sins ; to cast out the prince 
of this world, and destroy the ^vorks of the 
devil." We have all broke the law; we are 
ail unable to keep the law ; therefore the 
blessed Jesus fulfilled the law ; fulfilled it 
in each and every of its demands ; fulfilled 
it in the highest degree of perfection ; and 
what is of all considerations most delightful, 
fulfilled it for us. His obedience took the 
place of v/hat we were obliged to perform 
under the covenant of works ; and is not 
only the meritorious, but also the constitu- 
ent cause of our justification. 

So that, if there be any worthiness in our 
Lord's most holy natm*e, any merit in his 
exercise of the sublimest virtues, completed 
by his submission to the most ignominious 
sufferings and tormenting death, then, ac- 
cording to this standard-system of orthodox 
divinity, these are the ground, these are the 
substance of a sinner's justification. And, 
according to the dictates of the most unbi- 
assed reason, they are the best, the surest 
ground that can either be wished or ima- 
gined. 

Does it not from the preceding quotations 
appear, that the doctrine of justification, 
through the imputed righteousness of our 
Redeemer, is far from being disclaimed by 
the established church? I am sorry, but 
constrained to own, that we rai'ely find any 
considerable strictures of this great evange- 
lical peculiarity in our modern theological 
discourses. Yet there have been preachers 
of the highest repute for learning, for judg- 
ment, and for piety, who professedly main- 
tained this grand truth of the gospel. 

The devout Bishop Beveridge, in his 
" Private Thoughts," has left upon record 
the following very remarkable acknowledg- 
ment, which, if it suited his state of eminent 
holir.ess, cannot be too humbling, my dear 
Theron, for your lips and for mine. " I do 
not remember, neither do I believe, that I 
ever prayed, in all my lifetime, ^vith that 
reverence, or heard with that attention, or 
received the sacrament with that faith, or did 
any work with that pure heart and single 
eye, as I ought to have done. Insomuch, 
that I look upon all my righteousness but 
as filthy rags ; and it is in the robes only of 
the righteousness of the Son of God, that I 
dare appear before the Majesty of heaven." 

The fervent and affectionate Bishop Hop- 1 



IlL 

kins* speaks in perfect consonance with his 
brother of St. Asaph. " The law was 
given us, not that we should seek justifica- 
tion by the observance of it, but finding it 
impossible to be justified by fulfilling it, we 
should thereby be driven to Christ's righte- 
ousness, who hath both fulfilled it in him- 
self, and satisfied for our transgressing of 
it ; and therefore saith the apostle, " The 
law was a schoolmaster to bring us to Christ, 
that we may be justified by faith." To 
this end it was promulgated, that seeing the, 
strictness of its precepts, the rigour of its 
threatenings, and withal being convinced of 
our impotence to fulfil its commands, v/e 
might be urged, by its terrors, to fly to 
Christ, and find that righteousness in him 
which may answer all the demands of the law. " 

Bishop Reynolds,! styled by his contem- 
poraries, and not without reason, " a walk- 
ing library," bears his testimony in the fol- 
lo\ving words : " Christ as our surety paid 
our debt, underwent the curse due to our 
sins, and bare them all in his own body on 
the tree ; became subject to the law for us, 
and representatively in our stead fulfilled all 
the righteousness the law required, active 
and passive. For sin being once commit- 
ed, there must be a double act of justifica- 
tion ; the suffering of the curse, and the 
fulfilling of righteousness anew. The one, 
a satisfaction for the injury we have done to 
God as our Judge ; the other, the perform- 
ance of a service which we owe unto him 
as our Maker." 

To this illustrious triumvirate, let me 
join Bishop Davenant, who for his great 
abilities, and unquestionable integrity, was 
appointed one of our religious plenipotentia- 
ries at the renowned Synod of Dort. In 
his very valuable exposition of the epistle 
to the Colossians, he wrtes to this effect : 
" Ye are complete in Christ. Ye are 
furnished, in that all-sufficient Redeemer, 
with whatever is requisite to everlasting 
salvation. "W^ith wisdom ; since it is the 
consummadon of this noble endowment, to 
know Christ, and him crucified. With 
righteousness ; because he has perfectly sa- 
tisfied the law,J and thoroughly expiated 

* See his Sermon on John vii. 19. 

t See his treatise, entitled, the Life of Christ, 
which, as well as all his other works, abound with 
striking sentiments, have much elegance of diction, 
a copious variety of learning, and a lively animating 
spirit of evangelical piety. 

t In this respect principally (says our author, en- 
larging upon the text) are believers complete; because, 
though destitute of any righteousness that may pro- 
perly be called their own, Christ has graciously en- 
riched them with his. Vid. Davenant in epist. ad 
Coloss. cap. ii . com. 10. 

Let me beg leave to intimate, that this exposition 
of the epistle to the Colossians, for persnicuity of 
style, and accuracy of method, for judgment in dis- 
ct-rnnig, and fidelity in representing the apostle's 
meaning, for strength of argument in refuting errois, 
and felicity of invention in deducing practical doc- 
trines, tending both to the establishment of faith, and 
the cultivaliou of holiness— is, I think, inferior to no 



330 



our guilt. With sanctification ; because 
his Spirit, dwelling in our hearts, mortifies 
our corrupt affections, and renews the soul 
after the image of its Creator." 

Let me bring up the rear with a testi- 
mony, which for clearness, solidity, and a 
full representation of the evangelical doc- 
trine, might very justly have claimed a place 
in the van. It is taken from an author, 
whom the general consent of our nation has 
distinguished with the title of "judicious." 
The judicious Hooker, in a treatise on jus- 
tification, says — " It is a childish cavil our 
adversaries so greatly please themselves 
with, exclaiming, that we tread all Christian 
virtues under our feet, because we teach, 
that faith alone justifieth. Whereas, by this 
speech, we never meant to exclude either 
hope or charity from being always joined as 
inseparable mates with faith in the man that 
is justified ; or works from being added, as 
necessary duties, required of every justified 
man ; but to show, that faith is the only 
hand v/hich putteth on Christ to justifica- 
tion ; and Christ the only garment which, 
being so put on, covereth the shame of 
our defiled nature, hideth the imperfec- 
tion of our works, and preserveth us blame- 
less in the sight of God : before whom, 
otherwise, the weakness of our faith were 
cause sufficient to make us culpable, yea, to 
shut us out of the kingdom of heaven, where 
nothing that is not absolute can enter," 

You will allow the sagacious Bishop 
Sanderson* to sum up the evidence ; or lea- 
ther, to make an important remark on the 
whole of the controversy. That great light 
of the church, both in casuistical and prac- 
tical divinity, observes — " The tidings of a 
Redeemer must be blessed and welcome 
news, to those that are sensible of their own 
poverty, and take it of grace." Our eagle- 
eyed divine penetrates into the true cause 
of the prevailing averseness to this evangeli- 
cal doctrine. It is founded on the state of 
the heart, more than upon any force of ar- 
gument. People are but little, if at all, 
sensible of their spiritual and moral indi- 
gence ; of the defects which depreciate, and 
the defilements which sully, whatever they 
have, and whatever they do. Nay, strong- 
ly tinctured with pride, they would be them- 
selves the Alpha, and suffer the blessed 
Jesus to be no more than the Omega, in 
procuring their eternal salvation. There- 
fore they can hardly be reconciled to the 
humbling character of an eleemosynary; 
one who lives wholly upon the alms of the 
gospel, and is dependent upon grace for his 
all. 

Whereas, was this grand obstacle once 



writing of the kind ; and richly deserves to be read, 
to be studied, to be imitated by our young divines. 
* Se<i his Sermon on Isa. liii. 3. 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 

remov^ed; were men convincecf of sin, of 
exceeding sinfulness 4n their worst estate, 
and of remaining sinfidness in their best ; 
they would soon be " convinced of righte- 
ousness," John xvi. 8, of the absolute ne- 
cessity and inestimable worth of a Redeem- , 
er's righteousness. They would no longer 
dispute against it, but cordially receive it ; 
entirely rely on it; and adore the goodness, 
the transcendent and unutterable goodness 
of God, in providing it. 

I think, in one of our conferences, I un- 
dertook to produce my vouchers from the 
ancient fathers. Let me now subjoin two 
or three attestations of this kind. From 
one of which you will perceive, that those 
early writers had a considerable degree of 
clearness upon the point. From the other 
you will see, that far from rejecting the 
doctrine, they embrace it with delight and 
rapture. — And if you will admit of the last, 
you cannot be startled at any thing which 
I shall advance upon the subject. Let me 
only premise, in general, that if those au- 
thors are not so copious and explicit with 
regard to the imputation of active righte- 
ousness, they abound in passages which 
evince the substitution of Christ in our 
stead : passages which disclaim all depen- 
dence on any duties of our own, and fix the 
hopes of a believer entirely upon the me- 
rits of his Saviour. When this is the case, 
I am very little solicitous about any parti- 
cular forms of expression ; and far from 
being angry, even though the words which 
I think most significant are not retained. 

Clemens — an intimate acquaintance of 
St. Paul's, and whose " name was in the 
book of life," Phil iv. 3, in his truly excel- 
lent epistle to the Corinthians, assures that 
people ;* we are not, in any respect, or in 
any degree, justified by ourselves, but 
wholly by Jesus Christ ; " not by our ov/n 
wisdom or prudence," which could never 
find out the way; " not by the piety of our 
hearts, or works of righteousness performed 
in our lives," Avhich could never be suffi- 
cient for the purpose ; " but by faith ;"the 
one invariable method, " by which tlie Al- 
mighty Sovereign has justified all" his peo- 
ple, " ever since the world began." 

Justin, who was first a Gentile philoso- 
pher, then an eminent Christian, and at last 
a martyr for the truth, speaks more fully lo 
the point ;t — " What else could cover oar 



ri^a^i (fo^toLs^ n ffuviffgu;, r, svffi(iii»s, >I i^y^v <uv , 
KOrTSi^'yatrei/u.iB-a iv offtornn xa^^ias' aXXa het 
rr/s ^la'Tseu;, ^1 tig Tfavrixs th; ar oimvoso 
TecvTOK^tUTa)^ Qios i^iKaitutrsv. 1 Epist. ad Corinth' 
— This quotation is explained, as well as translated. 
But that every reader may distinguish the text from 
the paraphrase, the first is printed within inverted 
commas. 



LETTER IV. 



331 



sins, but the righteousness of Jesus Christ ? 
By what possible means could we, unright- 
eous and unholy creatures, be justified, but 
only by the interposition of the Son of 
God in our behalf ?"— Having in this clause 
made a profession of his faith, the good 
man, on the contemplation of such a privi- 
lege, breaks out into a kind of holy trans- 
port ! " O sweet and delightful exchange ! 
a dispensation unsearchably wise and gra- 
cious ! benefits quite unexpected, and rich 
beyond all our hopes ! that the sin of many 
should be hid by one righteous person, and 
that the righteousness of one should justify 
many transgressors," 

The following words are remarkably 
strong, and the sentiments peculiarly bold. 
But they come from the pen of the finest 
writer in ecclesiastical antiquity. They have 
the great name and venerable character of 
St Chrysostom for their recommendatory 
preface. * " Fear not, says he, on ac- 
count of any of thy past transgressions of 
the law, when once thou hast fled by faith 
to Jesus Christ, The most enormous and 
the most destructive violation of the law is, 
to be withheld, by the consciousness of any 
guilt whatever, from believing on Christ. 
When thou actest faith on him, thou hast 
fulfilled, I might say more than fulfilled the 
law : For thou hast received a better right- 
eousness than it could ever require ; thou 
art possessed of a better obedience than any 
creature could possibly pay." 

Two or three witnesses of distinguish- 
ed ability, and undoubted veracity, are a 
sufficient confirmation of any cause. For 
this reason, and to avoid a tiresome pro- 
lixity, I have set aside a multitude of 
voices, which, fruin the writings of our 
own and foreign divines, are ready to pom* 
their united evidence ; and lest the business 
of quotation, though sparingly managed, 
should seem dry and tedious, I will relieve 
your weariness, and enliven the collection, 
by an extract from the prince of English 
})oetry. Michael, the prophetic archangel, 
mentioning the destructive consequences 
of the fall, and asserting the Godhead of 
that glorious Person who undertook to be 
the repairer of this deadly breach, adds, 

ouvxTov Tii; uvoiiiss rifi 'S k t oi,''i(iits, >) iv ru via 

Tn 0£s; Vl TH2, TATKEIAS KATAA- 

Epist. ad Diogn. Though Du Pin questions the au- 
thority of this epistle, he allows it to have been writ- 
ten by an ancient hand. Dr. Cave, as capable a judge, 
thinks there is no reason to doubt but it is the ge- 
nuine work of Justin. 

t<T6'2av Tfj ^tffru TT^offiXSns' Ton ya^oi.v'fov ora^a- 
Scciveis on avrov ru ^^kttu /avi Trnnvtrv^s' t>>i 
av <xiar vans avruy xxkhvov iTrXn^uxrc/.s aett voX- 

Xco TTkiOV VI iKiXiVffi* ToXko) yx^ jU,H(^OVtX, ^IKXIO' 

auy/iv iXuQ 5. Homil. xvii. in x. ad Rom. 



Which he, who comes thy Saviour, shall secure. 
Not by destroying Satan, but his works. 
In thee and in thy seed. Nor can this be, 
But by fulfilling (that which thou didst want) 
Obedience to the law of God, imposed 
On penalty of death ; and suffering death, 
The penalty to thy transgression due ; 
And due to theirs, which out of thine will grow. 
So only can high justice restappaid. 

Milton, book 12, 1. 393. 

Here then is the express determination 
of our Homilies, supported by the authority 
of' our Articles, established by the concur- 
rence of our Liturgy, still farther ratified by 
the unanimous attestation of several cele- 
brated divines, whose lives were the bright- 
est ornament to our church, and whose writ- 
ings are the most unexceptionable interpre- 
tation of her meaning. As a capital to 
crown and complete this grand column, su- 
pervenes the declaration of the ancient fa- 
thers, those who flourished, and with the 
highest renowTi, in the first and purest ages 
of Christianity. So that, if great authori- 
ties carry any weight, if illustrious names 
challenge any regard, this tenet comes at- 
tended and dignified with, very considerable 
credentials. 

Yet I will venture to affirm, that all these, 
considerable as they appear, are the least of 
those testimonials which recommend the 
doctrine to my Theron's acceptance, and 
which have gained it admittance into the 
heart of, 

His most aflJ'ectionate 

Asp ASIC. 



LETTER IV. 
AsPASio TO Therok. 

Dear Theron, — The family in which 
I have the satisfaction to reside, though re- 
markable for their genteel figure and ample 
fortune, are still more amiably distinguished 
by their benevolence, hospitality, and cha- 
rity. As they live at a distance from the 
market to^vn, the lady has converted one 
apartment of her house into a little dispen- 
satory, and stocked it with some of the 
most common, the most needed, and most sa- 
lutary medicines, which, in cases of ordinary 
indisposition, she distributes to her indigent 
neighbours with singular compassion, and 
with no small success. This fine morning, 
Emilia has ordered some skilful hands into 
the fields, to cull their healing simples, and 
lay up a magazine of health for the afflicted 
poor. Camillus is withdrawn to receive 
his rents, and settle accounts with his te- 
nants. 

Suppose Ave act in concert with these va- 
luable persons. Suppose we range the de- 
lightful fields of scri]iture, and form a col- 
lection, not of salutiferous herbs, but of in- 



m 



THERON AND ASPASiO. 



estimable texts ; such as may be of sovereign 
efficacy to assuage the anguish of a guilty 
conscience, and impart saving health to the 
distempered soid. Suppose we open the 
mines of divine inspiration, and enrich our- 
selves, not with the gold of Ophir, but with 
the unsearchable treasures of Christ ; or 
with that perfect righteousness of our Re- 
deemer, which is incomparably more preci- 
ous than the revenues of a county, or the 
produce of Peru. 

In pleading for imputed righteousness, 
we have already urged the authority of our 
established church, and the suffrage of her 
most eminent divines. The opinion of ex- 
cellent wTiters, which has been the result 
of much learning, great attention, and ear- 
nest prayer, is no contemptible evidence. 
Yet we must always reserve the casting 
voice for those infallible umpires the pro- 
phets and apostles. *' If we receive," v.dth 
a differential regard, " the witness of men ; 
the witness of God is greater, 1 John v. 9, 
and challenges the most implicit submission ; 
which remark naturally leads me to the in- 
tended subject of this epistle, or rather calls 
upon me to fulfil my late engagement, and 
show that the above-mentioned doctrine is 
copiously revealed through the whole pro- 
cess of the Scriptures. 

Let me detach a very significant portion 
from the epistle to the Romans ; which, 
though little inferior to a decisive proof, is 
produced only as an introduction to others ; 
" Now the righteousness of God without 
the law, is manifested, being witnessed by 
the law and the prophets ; even the righte- 
ousness of God, which is by faith of 
Jesus Christ unto all, and upon all them 
that believe," Rom, iii. 21, 22. The righte- 
eusness of God signifies that righteousness 
which the incarnate God wrought out in 
his own all-glorious person.* It is styled 
the righteousness of God by way of super- 
lative pre-eminence, in opposition to any 
righteousness of our own, and in contra- 
distinction to the righteousness of all crea- 
tures whatever. This righteousness is 
without the law. Its efficacy has no de- 
pendence on, its merit receives no addition 
from any conformity of our practice to the 



* This explication, or something to the same pur- 
pose has occurred already. But it is hoped, that the 
candid reader will not condenm the repetition, as a 
disagreeable and jejune tautology. — Because it is so 
consonant to the practice of our great apostle, whore- 
peats the term, reinculcates the doctrine, and hardly 
knows how to desist from the favourite topic, like one 
who was quite enamoured with the subject, who 
found music in the words, and whose happiness was 
bound up in the blessing. Because it is conformable 
to another and a greater example. The Lord Jeho- 
vah himself, within the compass of one chapter, once 
and again, yea, a third and a fourth time, styles this 
wonderful obedience, my righteousness. As though the 
God of infinite perfection glorified in it, thought 
himself most eminently magnified by it, and was jea- 
lous to have all the honour resulting from it. See 
Jsaiali ii. 



divine law ; being complete^ absolutely com- 
plete in itself, and altogether sufficient to 
procure the reconciliation and acceptance of 
sinners. This righteousness is " witnessed 
by the law and the prophets ;" receives an 
uniform attestation from the various writ- 
ings of the Old Testament. To investi- 
gate which attestation, to examine its per- 
tinency, and weigh its sufficiency, is our pre- 
sent pleasing business. 

We may begin with that gracious declar- 
ation made to the first trangressors ; " The 
seed of the woman shall bruise the ser- 
pent's head," Gen. iii. 15, shall destroy the 
works of the devil, and retrieve whatever 
was lost by his malicious artifices. * How 
could this be effected, but by restoring that 
righteousness which for a while our first 
parents possessed : which they ought al- 
ways to have held fast ; but from which 
they so soon and so unhappily swerved. 
Take the position in the right sense, and 
Christianity is, if not entirely, yet very near- 
ly as old as the creation. It was compre- 
hended in this blessed promise, as the sta- 
mina of the largest plants are contained in 
the substance of their respective seeds : 
every subsequent revelation being no more 
than a gradual evolution of this grand evan- 
gelical principle ; acting like the vegetative 
powers of nature, which in rearing an oak, 
with all its spread of branches, only expand 
the tunicles, and fill up the vessels of the 
acorn. 

This doctrine seems to have been typical- 
ly taught by the remarkable manner of 
clothing our first parents. All they could 
do for their own recovery was like the patch- 
ed and beggarly mantle of fig-leaves : This 
they relinquish, and God himself furnishes 
them with apparel, Gen. iii. 21. Aiumals 
are slain, not for food but sacrifice ; and 
the naked criminals are arrayed with the 
skins of those slaughtered beasts. The vic- 
tims figured the expiation of Christ's death, 
the clothing typified the imputation of his 
righteousness. In perfect conformity, per- 
haps with a reference to the passage thus 
inter]3reted, the apostle just now expressed 
himself : " Even the righteousness of God, 
which is not only made over to all believers, 
as a rich portion, but put upon all as a beau- 
tiful garment," Rom. iii. 22,f whereby alone 
their moral deformity can be covered, and 
their everlasting confusion prevented. Mil- 
ton, it is certain, speaking of this memora- 
ble transaction, considers it in the same spi- 
ritual sense : — 



* In some such sense, 1 think, our first parents must 
understand the promise. Othervdse it could yield 
tliem no eiTectual relief, luider the distressingsenseof 
their own misery, and the dismal apprehension of their 
poiterii.y"s ruin. 

f EI2 55r«vTaj EI II <7izyT f r^i TTiffrivovrccs, 



Nor-he their ontward only with the skins 
Of beasts, but inward nakedness, (much more 
Opprobrious !) with his robe of righteousness 
Arraying, covered from, his Father's sight. 



LETTER IV. 333' 
gi'ave ; and his soul,'' throuo:h the multitude ' 



, " In thy seed," says the great Jehovah to 
his servant Abraham, " shall all the nations 
of the earth be blessed,'* Gen. xxii. 18. 
That the seed here mentioned is Christ, 
the apostle places beyond all doubt.* 
Both scripture and reason declare that 
ti-ue blessedness must necessarily include 
the pardon of sins and the favour of 
God, the sanctification of our souls, and 
the inheritance of life eternal. None 
of which are to be acquired by any hu- 
man performances, but all are to be sought, 
and all may be found in the root and off- 
spring of Abraham, Jesus Christ ; who is 
therefore most pertinently styled, " The de- 
sire of all nations," Hag. ii. 7, the actual 
desire of every enlightened nation, arul the 
implicit desire of all nations whatever; be- 
cause all, without any exception, covet what 
is to be derived only from Jesus Christ the 
righteous, real happiness. 

The patriarchal age, and the legal econo- 
my, bore their testimony to this truth, by 
typical persons, emblematical miracles, and 
figurative usages. Indeed, the v/hoie cere- 
monial service was a grand series of types, 
representing Christ and his everlasting right- 
eousness. In all which this was the unani- 
mous though silent language ; " Behold the 
I^amb of God, that taketh away the sin of 
the world." These I shall not stay to dis- 
cuss, because proofs of a more explicit and 
positive nature wait for our consideration ; 
only I would just make a transient observa 
tion, relating to one very remarkable consti 
tution in the Jewish ritual. — The high-priest 
had on the front of his mitre a plate of pure 
gold, engraven with that venerable motto, 
" Holiness to the Lord," Exod. xxviii. 86 
37, which was always to be on his forehead 
when he performed the solemn ministrations 
of the sanctuary; and for this important 
reason, that the people " might be accepted 
before the Lord." Exod. xxviii. 38. Did 
not this most clearly foreshow the immacu- 
late holiness of our great High Priest ? and 
with equal clearness imply, that his holiness 
should procm-e acceptance for all his fol- 
lowers. 

In the book of Job we have several hints 
of this truth, and one passage veiy express 
to our purpose. Elihu describes an uncon- 
verted person under the chastising hand of 
Providence, " whose life," through the ex- 
tremity of his disease, " drew near to the 



of his iniquities, was ready to become a prey 
"to the destroyers.'' In this deplorable 
condition, " if there be present with him 
the Messenger* of the covenant of peace, 
that great Interpreter* of the divine coun- 
cils," who for his superexcellent wisdom is 
justly deemed " one among a thousand," or' 
rather " the chiefest among ten thousand ;" 
if he, by his enlightening Spirit, vouchsafe 
to show unto the afflicted man his own per- 
fect righteousness, that most meritorious 
uprightness on which alone a sinner may 
depend, both for temporal and eternal sal- 
vation ; then the poor distressed creature, 
attentive to this instruction, and applpng 
this righteousness, is made partaker of par- 
don. God, the sovereign Lord of life and 
death, is gracious unto him, and saith, in 
the greatness of his strength, as well as in 
the multitude of his mercies, " deliver him 
from going down into the pit" of corruption, 
as a pledge of his deliverance from the pit 
of perdition ; for " I have found a ransom" 
sufficient to satisfy my justice : I have re- 
ceived an atonement in behalf of this once 
obnoxious, now reconciled transgressor. 

But why do I select one particidar para- 
graph ? It seems to be the main design of 
the whole book to overthrow all pretensions 
of any justifying righteousness in man, that 
the wretched sinner, nay, that the greatest 
saint, stript of every personal plea, may rely 
only on the merits of a Redeemer. This is 
the final issue of all those warm debates 
which pass between the adiicted hero and 
his censorious friends. This is the grand 
result of Elihu's calm reasoning, and of 
God Almighty's awful interrogatories. The 
apparent centre this, (see Job xlii. 6,) in 
which all the lines terminate ; justly there- 
fore to be considered as the principal scope- 
of the whole work. 

I must not omit an excellent observation, 
which I find in some critical 'and explanato- 
ry notesf on the last words of David. The 
judicious author, proving that this song re- 
lates to Christ ; that it displays the dignity 
of our Redeemer, under the character of the 
" the Kang," and " the Just One," adds, as 
an explication of the last amiable and glorious 
title — " Our Lord Jesus Christ is so called, 
not so much for having fulfilled all righte- 
ousness in his own person, and performed 



» See St. Paul's comment upon this invaaiable pro 
mise. Gal. iii.8, &c. This commentator, weall allow 
was guided by the Spirit, and knew the mind of God 
Accm-ding to his exposition of the text, it ispregnan 
with the doctrine of justification by faith, and con 
tains an abridgment of llie gospel. 



» See Job xxxiii. 22, &c.— Christ is called "JKbo 
the angel of the divine presence, Isa. Ixiii. 9. The 
messenger of the covenant, Mai. iii. 1. He is also, in 
the most unlimited sense of the phrase, 1/]Vd the in- 
terpreter of the divine councils; he to whom the Fa- 
ther hath given the tongue of the learned, and by whom 
he makes known the oth.erwise unsearchable myste- 
ries of the gospel.— Should any doubt remain concera- 
mg the propriety of applying this passage to our Lord 
Jesus Christ, the reader, I hope, will give himself the 
pleasure of perusing the polite Witsius, (Econ. lib. 4. 
pregnant , cliap. in. xxxi. and Dr. Grey's valuable notes u}>on 



the place, in his Liber Jobi. 
t ISy Dr. Grey. Sec 2 Sam. xxiii. ), 



334 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



an unsinning obedience to the will of God, 
as because, by his righteousness imputed to 
us, we also, upon the terms* of the gospel, 
are justified, or accounted righteous before 
God." 

I think we may evidently discern the same 
vein of evangelical doctrine running through 
many of the psalms. "He shall convert 
my soul,"f Psal xxiii. 3, turn me not only 
from sin and ignorance, but from every false 
confidence, and every deceitful refuge. " He 
shall bring me forth in paths of righteous- 
ness," in those paths of imputed righteousness 
which are always adorned with the trees of 
holiness ; are always watered with the foun- 
tains of consolation : and always terminate in 
everlasting rest. Some, perhaps, may ask, 
WJiy I give this sense to the passage ? Why 
may it not signify the paths of duty ; and 
the way of our own obedience ? Because 
such effects are here mentioned as never 
have resulted, and never can result from any 
duties of our own. These are not " green 
pastures," but a parched and blasted heath. 
These are not *' still waters," but a troubled 
and disorderly^ stream. Neither can these 
speak peace or administer comfort when we 
pass through the valley and shadow of death. 
To yield these blessings is the exalted office 
of Christ, and the sole prerogative of his 
obedience. 

Admitting that this obedience is of so- 
vereign advantage during the years of life, 
and in the hour of death, it may still occur 
to the serious and inquisitive mind what will 
be our safeguard after the great change? 
When the soul departs, and oiu: place on 



* That is, freely; or, as the prophet speaks, "with- 
out money and without price." For nothing is re- 
quisite in order to a participation of Christ and his 
benefits, but a conviction of our extreme need, and an 
unfeipaed desire toreceive them ; receive them as gifts 
of pure grace, vouchsafed to the most undeserving crea- 
tures. Tiiis point, which is so intimately connected 
with our comfort and hope, the reader may see more 
fully stated in Dialogue XV- 

t I am sensible the word D^.l^'' may signify to 
refresh or restore ; may answer to the Greek phrase 
and denote the comforts of the Holy Ghost, 
This verb may also bear the same signification with 
the participle l yrKTr^i^ai, in our Lord's exhortation 
to Peter, ivhen thou art converted. Not describing 
the first grand revolution in the heart, by which a new 
determination is given to the judgment, and a new 
bias to the affections: but expressing those subsequent 
operations of the Divine Spirit, by which we are re- 
covered from our various relapses, and healed of our 
daily infirmities. And I question whether there is any 
instance in which we more frequently need these re- 
storing aids, than in the caseoT adherine, lo our Re- 
deemer's righteousness. So prone are we to forget our 
resting place ! so liable to fall from our steadfastness in 
.T^hrist. 

% Blasted, disorderly. — Let not these words grate on 
the ear, or, if they grate on the ear, let them humble 
the heart. What were Job's duties? Zealous and ex- 
emplary ; practised from his very youth, and neither 
equalled nor excelled by any person on earth. Yet 
these, in point of justification, were not a whit better 
than Aspasio represents. Let us hear the last words 
of this matchless saint, " I abhor myself, and repent 
in dust and ashes." From this confession we learn, 
that, with all his furniture of personal obedience, he 
had just enci'gh to be ashamed, confounded, lui lone. 



earth knows us no more ; when the body. 

revives, and we shall all stand before the 
judgment-seat, what will then avail us? 
The same righteousness of our divine Lord. 
This, if I mistake not, is displayed in the 
very next psalm, which begins with a solici- 
tous inquiry ; subjoins a satisfactory answer, 
and closes with a most pertinent but rap- 
turous apostrophe. This is the inquir}', 
" Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord ! 
or who shall rise up in his holy place ?" This 
is the answer : " Even he that hath clean 
hands and a pure heart.* He shall receive 
the blessing" of plenary remission " from 
the Lord, and righteousness also from the 
God of his salvation ;" even that perfect 
righteousness, which is not acquired by man, 
but bestowed by Jehovah ; which is not per- 
formed by the saint, but received by the sin- 
ner ; which is the only solid basis, to sup- 
port our hopes of happiness ; the only valid 
plea for an admission into the mansions of 
joy. Then follows the apostrophe : The 
prophet foresees the ascension of Christ and 
his saints into the kingdom of heaven. He 
sees his Lord marching at the head of the 
Redeemed world, and conducting them into 
regions of honour and joy. Suitably to such 
a view, and in a most beautiful strain of 
poetry, he addresses himself to the heavenly 
portals : " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, 
and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors ; and 
the King of glory," with all the heirs of his 
grace and righteousness, shall make their 
triumphant entry ; " shall enter in," and go 
out no more. 

Having shown the powerful and extensive 
influence of our Redeemer's righteousness 
— its efficacy in this world to justify, in the 
other world to glorify — well may the sweet 
singer of Israel profess his supreme value 
for it, and entire dependence on it. " I will 
go forth in the strength of the Lord God, 
and will make mention of thy righteousness 
only."-)- As though he had said, I will have 
recourse to no other righteousness for the 
consolation of my soul. I will plead no 
other righteousness for the recommendation 
of my person. J will fly to no other right- 
eousness for my final acceptance. and endless 
felicity. This is that " raiment of needle- 
work and clothing of wrought gold," Psalm 
xlv. 13, in which the King's daughter is in- 
troduced to Him " who sitteth in the hea- 
vens over all." This is that " garment foK 
glory and for beauty," which clothed our grea# 
High Priest, and descending to his vel^ 



* Psal. xxiv. 4. " Who hath clean hands and a pure 
heart?" he only whose heart is sprinkled from an evil 
conscience, by the precious blood of Christ ; and wha 
lives by faith in the Son of God. Heb. x. 22. Gal.ii. 20. 

t Psalm Ixxi. IG. There is, in the Hebrew original 
and in the new translation, a very emphatical repeti- 
tion ; which adds weight to the sentiment, and de- 
mands a peculiar attention from .the reader : " Thy 
righteousness, even thine only." 



LETTER IV. 



feet, Rev. i. 13, clothes and adorns the 
lowest members of his mystical body. j 
Recollecting all the foregoing particulars, ' 
justly, and on the most rational ground, j 
does our royal author declare, " Blessed are 
the people that know the joyful sound : they 
shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy 
countenance. In thy name shall they re- 
joice all the day ; and in thy righteousness 
shall they be exalted." Psalm Ixxxix. 15, 
16. They are truly blessed, they alone are 
happy, who " know the joyful sound" of 
the gospel ; not only receive it with their 
ears, but admit it into their very hearts, so 
as to partake of the sacred peace and spiri- 
tual liberty which it proclaims. " They 
shall walk in the light of thy countenance 
they shall enjoy such communications of thy 
grace, and such manifestations of thy love, 
as will constitute the serenity and sunshine 
of their souls. In thy name, O Lord Je- 
sus Christ, in thy glorious person, and thy 
infinite merit, " shall they rejoice :" and not 
occasionally, but habitually ; not barely at 
some distinguished intervals, but " all the 
day." Their joy shall be as lasting as it is 
substantial. " And in thy righteousness 
shall they be exalted," set above the tantaliz- 
ing power of temporal things ; placed beyond 
the slavish fear of the last enemy ; and 
raised, when time shall be no more, to a 
state of celestial glory and consummate 
bliss. 

How thoroughly evangelical is this sera- 
phic writer! He has joy, he has blessed- 
ness, and he looks for everlasting exalta- 
tion ; yet not from his faith, his repentance, 
and his own sincere obedience. According 
to this, which is the modern scheme, faith, 
instead of receiving, would supplant the 
Lord Jesus ; repentance, instead of being 
the gift of Christ, would become his rival ; 
and sincere obedience, which is for the praise 
and glory of God, would eclipse and impo- 
verish his grace. But David adopts no 
such sentiments ; David maintains no such 
doctiine. This is the invariable language 
of his heart : " All my springs of hope, of 
trust, and consolation, O thou adored Ema- 
nuel ! are in thee." Psalm Ixxxvii. 7. 

This sense is the less precarious, I had 
almost said the more certain, as it exactly 
corresponds with the analogy of faith, and 
coincides with the express declarations of 
other scriptures. Isaiah is styled the evan- 
gelist of the Jewish church ; because more 
frequently than any of the prophets he ce- 
lebrates, and more copiously explains, this 
and other peculiarities of the gospel. In 
the very first chapter, he preaches these 
glad tidings : " Zion shall be redeemed with 
judgment, and her converts with righteous- 
ness." Zion, the gospel church, composed 
of fallen creatures, sometime disobedient to 
their God, and ensl ivcd to Satan, shall be 



mm 

redeemed ; redeemed, " not with corrupti- 
ble things, as silver and gold," but by severe 
judgments executed on their glorious Head, 
and gracious Representative ; and not by 
these only, but by righteousness also, by the 
perfect and most meritorious righteousness 
of the same divinely-excellent Person. 

Our sacred author bears his testimony 
with Avarmer zeal and brighter evidence as 
he proceeds in his incomparable discourses. 
" Snrely shall one say," (or, as it may be 
rendered, onh/ J "in the Lord have I right- 
eousness and strength." Isaiah xlv. 24. 
Please to observe, Theron, it is not said, 
in my own works, in my own repentance, 
no, nor in my own faith, " but in the Lord 
Jesus have I righteousness ;" righteousness 
for justification, and strength for sanctificsi- 
tion ; an imputed righteousness, to procure 
my acceptance ; an imparted strength, to 
produce my holiness : the first constituting 
my title to the everlasting inheritance, the 
last forming my personal preparation for its 
enjoyment. " Surel)'," which expresses a 
firm persuasion, and an unshaken affiance. 
" Only," which denotes an utter renuncia- 
tion of all other confidence, and excludes 
every other ground of hope. " Righteous - 
nesses,"* the originalis in the plural number ; 
which seems to be used, not without an im- 
portant design, to enlarge the significancy of 
the word, and make it correspond with the 
richness of the blessing ; so that it may 
imply the fulness and the supereminent ex- 
cellency of this gift of gr. ce ; as compre- 
hending whatever, either of suffering or obe- 
dience, is requisite to the justification of 
sinners. Insomuch that, in the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and his all-perfect righteousness, 
the seed of Israel shall not only be justified, 
but rejoice ; and not only confide, but glory, 
Isa. xlv. 25. 

What he had just nowasserted, he exem- 
plifies in his own, and in the person of every 
true believer. '* I will greatly rejoice in the 
Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God ; 
for he hath clothed me with the garments of 
salvation, he hath covered me with the robe 
of righteousness, Isa. Ixi. 10. True be- 
lievers are compared, in one of our sacred 
eclogues, to " a company of horses in Pha- 
roah's chariot ;" Cant. i. 9 ; to horses, than 
which no animal is more stately and grace- 
ful ; to Egyptian horses, which were the 
best and completest then in the world ; 
to those in Pharaoh's chariot, which doubt- 
less were a choice set, selected from thou- 
sands, and finest where all were fine. Here^ 
methinks, I see the comparison realized. 
Christians, endued with such a spirit as 



* rrtpiy parallel to which, both in construc- 
tion and signification, is the phrase used by St. John 
At <ai -//-ccTU, Tiev. xix. 8. " The fine linen is the 
righteousness (properly, the righteousnesses) of the 
saints." 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



brpathep in this animated text, are like a 
colleetiftn of those gallant and majestic 
steeds — not destined to low drudgery, but 
appointed to run in the royal chariot ; all 
life, full of fire, champing the bit, and eager 
for the chase. Nothing can more beauti- 
fully describe a state of exultation and ar- 
dour, than the preceding similitude, or the 
following words : " I will rejoice ; I will 
greatly rejoice ; my very soul, and all that 
is within me, shall be joyful in my God." 
Wherefore ? Because he hath cloChed me, 
undone sinner as I am, with the garments 
of salvation ; because he hath covered me, 
defective as all my services are, with the 
robe of righteousness ; a robe, which hides 
every sin that, in thought, word, or deed, 
I have committed ; a robe, which screens 
from the sword of justice, the curse of the 
law, and all the vengeance my iniquities 
have deserved ; a robe, which adorns and 
dignifies my soul, renders it fairer than the 
moon, clear as the sun, and meet for the in- 
heritance of saints in light. 

Having represented this righteousness, in 
a variety of grand and charming views, the 
prophet farther characterises it, as the un- 
alterable and never-failing origin of our jus- 
tification and happiness. This he displays 
by a train of images, bold and sublime to 
the last degree. " Lift up your eyes to the 
heavens, and look upon the earth beneath ; 
for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, 
and the earth shall wax old like a garment ; 
but my salvation shall be for ever, and my 
righteousness shall not be abolished." Isa. 
li. 6. Observe the vast dimensions, and the 
firm foundations, both of the upper and the 
lower world, how strong, how steadfast they 
all appear ! Yet these, indissoluble as they 
may seem, shall perish. This majestic 
globe, on which mountains rise, and oceans 
roll, shall lose its beautiful gloss; and be 
laid. aside, like a decayed useless garment. 
Even that more majestic concave, in which 
stars are fixed, and planets revolve, shall be 
deprived of its very superior lustre ; and va- 
nish away like the dissolving smoke. 
Whereas, " my salvation," with all the spi- 
ritual and heavenly blessings included in it, 
shall subsist and flourish for ever : " And 
my righteousness," which is the meritorious 
cause of all, shall be an immoveable founda- 
tion for riepose and happiness. In short, 
whether there be moral virtues, they shall 
be found wanting ; whether there be Chris- 
tian graces, they shall prove ineffectual ; 
but my conformity to the law, and my obe- 
dience unto death, neither need addition, 
nor admit of change ; they are all-sufficient 
in their merit, and in their virtue everlasting. 

When day arise? on our benighted he- 
misphere, it breaks and spreads by a gra- 
dual increase — forming, first the grey twi- 



light, next the blushing morn, then the 
shining light, till all is heightened into 
the blaze and glow of noon. When spring 
revisits our wintry clime, she also ad- 
vancce by gentle degrees ; first swells the 
bud and protrudes the gem, then expands, 
the leaf, and unfolds the blossom : the face 
of things is continually changing for the bet- 
ter, and nature shows herself, almost every 
hour, in some new and more engaging dress. 
This leisurely process renders the strong ef- 
fulgence of the celestial orb more supporta- 
ble, and the lovely expansions of the vegeta- 
ble creation more observable. 

So progressive and increasing are the dis- 
plays of Jesus Christ exhibited in the Scrip- 
tures, whose appearance is unspeakably more 
delightful to the soul than the emanations of 
orient light are to the eye, or the entertain- 
ments of the vernal season to our other 
senses. The gloom of fallen Adam was 
alleviated by a ray from this Sun of Righte.i-. 
ousness. Abraham and the patriarchs saw 
afar off the blessed Jesus, " as the morning 
spread upon the mountains, Joel ii. 2. The 
psalmist and the prophets beheld his nearer 
approaches, like the sun upon the point of 
rising. To the apostles and evangelists, he 
arose in perfect lustre and complete beauty. 
The grace and the privileges which dawned 
under other dispensations of religion, are 
brought even to meridian light by the gospel. 
This I mention, just to intimate what you 
may expect from a following letter. 

In the mean time, let us attend to the 
prophet Daniel. He records a message 
from heaven, which is more cleai'ly descrip- 
tive of this great evangelical blessing than all 
the foregoing texts. He had been under 
much distress, and in great perplexity ; af- 
flicted for his own and his countrymen's 
sins ; anxious for the welfare of the chosen ^ 
nation, and the prosperity of true religion ; 
when an angel was despatched to the holy 
mourner with this most cheering news, whicii, 
received by faith, is the richest balm to a 
wounded conscience, and the only remedy 
for a guilty world : " Seventy weeks are de- 
termined upon thy people, and upon thy 
holy city ; to finish the transgression, and 
make an end of sin ; to make reconciliation 
for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righ- 
teousness." Dan. ix. 24. This prophecy 
relates to the Messiah. It foretells that, in 
the fulness of time, he should ''finish the 
transgression restrain and suppress the 
power of corruption, by purifying to himself 
a peculiar people ; — should " make an end 
of sin by sealing up or secreting its guilt, 
and totally abolishing its condemning power; 
— should " make reconciliation for iniquity," 
by sustaining the vengeance due to sinners, 
and fully satisfying the divine justice for all 
their offences; — should not barely publish, 



LETTER V. 



339 



and lift up its head like a cedar in Lebanon. 
To such a soul the great Redeemer's right- 
eousness will be welcome, as waters to the 
thirsty soil, or as rivers in the sandy desert. 



LETTER V. 

AsPASio TO Theron. 

Dear Theron, — Give me leave to re- 
late an uncommon accident which happen- 
ed a little while ago in this neighbourhood, 
and of which I myself was a spectator. 
The day was the Sabbath ; the place ap- 
propriated to divine Avorship was the scene 
of this remarkable affair. 

A boy came running into the church 
breathless and trembling. He told, but in 
a low voice, those who stood near, that a 
press-gang* was advancing to besiege the 
doors, and arrest the sailors. An alarm 
was immediately taken. The seamen, with 
much hurry, and no less anxiety, began to shift 
for themselves. The rest of the congrega- 
tion, perceiving an unusual stir, were struck 
with surprise. A whisper of inquiry ran 
from seat to seat, which increased by de • 
grees into a confused murmur. No one 
could inform his neighbour, therefore every 
one was left to solve the appearance from 
the suggestions of a timorous imagination. 
Some suspected the town was on fire : some 
were apprehensive of an invasion from the 
Spaniards : others looked up, and looked 
round, to see if the walls were not giving 
way, and the roof falling upon their heads. 
In a few moments the consternation be- 
came general. The men stood like statues, 
in silent amazement, and unavailing per- 
plexity. The wonicn shrieked aloud ; fell 
into fits; sunk to the ground in a swoon. 
Nothing was seen but wild disorder ; no- 
thingheard but tumultuous ckunour. Drown- 
ed was the preacher's voice. Had he 
spoke in thunder, his message would scarce 
nave been regarded. To have gone on 
with his work, amidst such a prodigious fer- 
ment, had been like arguing with a whirl- 
wind, or talking to a tempest. 

This brought to my mind that great tre- 
mendous day, when the heavens will pass 
away, when the earth will be dissolved, and 
all its inhabitants receive their final doom. 
If at such incidents of very inferior dread 
our hearts are ready to fail, what unknown 



* The reader, it is hoped, will excuse whatever 
may appear low, or savour of the plebeian, in any of 
these circumstances. If Aspasio had set himself to 
invent the description of a panic, he would probably 
have formed it upon some more raised and dignified 
incident. But as this was a real matter of fact, which 
lately happened in one of our sea-port towns, truth, 
even in a plain dress, may possibly be no less accepta- 
ble than fiction tricked up with the most splendid 
embellishments. 



and inconceivable astonisnment must seize 
the guilty conscience, when the hand of the 
Almighty shall open those unparalleled 
scenes of wonder, desolation; and horror .' 
when the trumpet shall sound — the dead 
arise — ^the world be m flames — the Judge 
on the throne — and all mankind at the bar ! 

" The trumpet shall sound," 1 Cor. xv. 
52, says the prophetic teacher. And how 
startling, how stupendous the summons ! 
Nothing equal to it, nothing like it, was 
ever heard through all the regions of the 
universe, or all the revolutions of time. 
When conflicting armies have discharged 
the bellowing artillery of war, or when vic- 
torious armies have shouted for joy of the 
conquest, the seas and shores have rung, 
the mountains and plains have echoed. But 
the shout of the archangel and the trump 
of God will resound from pole to pole; 
will pierce the centre, and shake the pillars 
of heaven. Stronger, stranger still ! it will 
penetrate even the deepest recesses of the 
tomb. It will pour its amazing thunder 
into all those abodes of silence. The dead, 
the very dead, shall hear. 

When the trumpet has sounded, " the 
dead shall arise." In a moment, in the 
twinkling of an eye, the graves open, the 
monumental piles are cleft asunder, and the 
nations under ground start into day. What 
an immense harvest of men and women, 
springing up from the caverns of the earth, 
and the depths of the sea ! Stand awhile, 
my soul, and consider the wonderful spec- 
tacle. — Adam formed in Paradise, and the 
babe born but yesterday ; the earliest ages 
and latest generations, meet upon the same 
level. Jews and Gentiles, Greeks and 
Barbarians, people of all climes and lan- 
guages, unite in the promiscuous throng. 
Here, those vast armies, which like swarms 
of locusts covered countries, which with an 
irresistible sweep overrun empires — hear 
they all appear, and here they all are lost- 
lost like the small drop of a bucket, when 
plunged into the unfathomable and boiuid- 
less ocean. O the multitudes ! the multi- 
tudes which these eyes shall survey, when 
God " calleth the heavens from above, 
and the earth, that he may judge his peo- 
ple!" What shame must flush the guilty 
cheek ! what anguish wound the polluted 
breast ! to have all their filthy practices, and 
infamous tempers, exposed before this in- 
numerable crowd of witnesses ! — Fly, my 
Theron ; and fly, my soul ; instantly let us 
fly, earnestly let us fly, to the purifying blood 
of Jesus ; that all our sins may be blotted 
out ; that we may be found " unblamable 
; and unreprovable" in the presence of the 
assembled world, and what is infinitely more 
to be revered, in the sight of the omnipotent 
God. 

When the swarm issues, the hive will 



340 



TIIERON AND ASFASEO. 



burn : There is no more need of this habi- 
table globe. The elect have fought the 
good fight, and finished their course : The 
wicked have been tried, and found incorrigi- 
ble. The important drama is ended, every 
actor has performed his part ; now, there- 
fore, the scenes are taken down, and the 
stage is demolished. " Wo be to the earth, 
and to the works thereof!" Its streams are 
turned into pitch, its dust into brimstone, 
and the breath of the Almighty, like a tor- 
rent of fire, enkindles the whole. See ! see 
how the conflagration rages, spreads, prevails 
over ail ! The forests are in a blaze, and 
the mountains are wrapt in flame. Cities, 
kingdoms, continents sink in the burning 
deluge. London, Britain, Europe, are no 
more. Through all the receptacles of wa- 
ter, through all the tracts of land, through 
the whole extent of air, nothing is discerni- 
ble, but one vast, prodigious, fiery ruin 

Where now are the treasures of the covet- 
ous ? where the possessions of the mighty ? 
where the delights of the voluptuary ? — 
How wise, how happy are they, whose por- 
tion is lodged in heavenly mansions ! their 
*' inheritance is incorruptible and undefiled ;" 
such as the last fire cannot reach, nor the 
dissolution of nature impair. 

But see ! the azure vault cleaves ; the 
expanse of heaven is rolled back like a scroll ; 
and the Judge, the Judge appears ! *' He 
Cometh," cries a mighty seraph, the herald 
of his approach, "he cometh to judge the 
world in righteousness, and minister true 
judgment unto the people !" He cometh, 
not as formerly in th« habit of a servant, but 
clad with uncreated glory, and magnificently 
attended with the armies of heaven. Angels 
and archangels stand before him, and ten 
thousand times ten thousand of those celes- 
tial spirits minister unto him. Behold him, 
ye faithful followers of the Lamb ; and won- 
der and love ! This is he who bore all your 
iniquities on the ignominious cross : This is 
he who fulfilled all righteousness for the 
justification of your persons. — Behold him, 
ye despisers of his grace, and wonder, and 
perish ! This is he whose merciful over- 
tures you have contemned, and on whose 
precious blood you have trampled. 
, The great white throne. Rev. xx. 11, be- 
yond description august and formidable, is 
erected. The King of heaven, the Lord of 
glory, takes his seat on the dreadful tribunal. 
Mercy on his right hand displays the olive- 
branch of peace, and holds forth the crown 
of righteousness : Justice on his left poises 
the impartial scale, and unsheaths the sword 
of vengeance : while wisdom and holiness, 
brighter than ten thousand suns, beam in 
his divine aspect. What are all the preced- 
ing events to this new scene of dignity and 
awe ? The peals of thunder, sounding in 
the archangel's trumpet ; the blaze of a burn- 



ng world, and the strong convulsions of ex- 
piring nature ; the mmumbered myriads of 
human creatures, starting into instantaneous 
existence, and thronging the astonished 
skies ; all these seem familiar incidents, 
compared with the appearance of the incar- 
nate Jehovah. Amazement, more than 
amazement, is all around. Terror and glory 
unite in their Extremes. From the sight oi 
his majestic eye, from the insupportable 
splendours of his face, the earth itself, and 
the very " heavens flee away." Rev. xx. ,11. 
How then ? Oh, how shall the ungodly 
stand ? stand in his angry presence, and 
draw near to this consuming fire ! 

Yet draw near they must, and take tlieir 
trial, their decisive trial, at his righteous bar. 
Every action comes under examination ; for 
each idle word they must give account'. 
Not so much as a secret thought escapes 
this exact scrutiny. How shall the crimi- 
nals, the impenitent criminals, either conceal 
their guilt or elude the sentence ? They 
have to do with a sagacity too keen to be 
deceived, with a power too strong to be re- 
sisted, and (O ! terrible, terrible considera- 
tion !) with a severity of most just displea- 
sure, that will never relent, never be entreated 
more. What ghastly despair lowers on their 
pale looks ! What racking agonies rend 
their distracted hearst ! The bloody axe 
and the torturing wheel are ease, are down!, 
compared with their prodigious wo. And 
(O holy God I) wonderful in thy doings! 
fearful in thyjudgments, even this prodigious 
wo is the gentlest of visitations, compared 
with that indignation and wrath which 
are hanging over their guilty heads, which 
are even now falling on all the sons of re- 
bellion, which will plunge them deep in 
aggravated and endless destruction. 

And is there a last day ? and must thei'e come 
A sure, a fix'd irrevocable doom ? 

Surely then, to use the vi^ords of a pious 
prelate,* it should be *' the main care af 
our lives and deaths, what shall give us 
peace and acceptation before the dreadful 
tribunal of God. What but righteousness ? 
What righteousness, or whose ? Ours, or 
Christ's ? Ours, in the inherent graces 
wrought in us, in the holy works wrought 
by us? or Christ's, in his most perfect obe- 
dience and meritorious satisfaction, wrought 
for us, and applied to us? The Popish 
faction is for the former : we Protestant? 
are for the latter. God is as direct on our 
side as his word can make him ; everywhere 
blazoning the defects of our own righteous- 
ness, everywhere extolling the perfect obe- 
dience of our Redemer's." 

"Behold!" says the everlasting King, 
" I lay in Zion for a foundation, a stone ; 
a tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a 



Bishop Hall. 



swfe foundation ; he that beHevcth, shall 
not make haste," Isa. xxviii. 16. As this 
text contains so noble a display of our Sa- 
viour's consummate ability for his great 
work ; as it is admirably calculated to pre- 
serve the mind from distressing fears, and 
to settle it in a steady tranquillity ; you 
will give me leave to touch it cursorily with 
my pen, just as I should descant upon it in 
conversation, was I now sitting in one of 
your agreeable arbours, and enjoying your 
more agreeable company. 

. How beautiful the gradation ! how lively 
the description j and how very important 
the practical improvement ; or^ I might say, 
the inscription, which is engraven on this 
wonderful stone. — " Behold !" Intended 
to rouse and fix our most attentive regard. 
The God of heaven speaks. He speaks, 
iMid every syllable is balm ; every sentence 
is rich with consolation. If ever, therefore, 
we have ears to hear, let it be to this 
Speaker, and on this occasion. 

• A stone." — Every thing else is sliding 
sand, is yielding air, is a breaking bubble. 
Wealth will prov^ a vain shadow, honour 
aj) empty breath, pleasure a delusory dream, 
our own righteousness a spider's web. If 
on these we rely, disappointment must en- 
sue, and shame be inevitable. Nothing but 
Christ, nothing but Christ, can stably sup- 
port our spiritual interests, and realize our 
expectations of true happiness. And, bless- 
•ed be the divine goodness ! he is, for this 
purpose, not a stone only, but 

" A tried stone." — Tried, in the days of 
his humanity, by all the vehemence of temp- 
tations, and all the weight of afflictions ; yet, 
like gold from the furnace, rendered more 
shining and illustrious by the fiery scrutiny. 
Tried, under the capacity of a Saviour, by 
millions and millions of depraved, wretched, 
and ruined creatures, who have always found 
him perfectly able, and as perfectly willing, 
to expiate the most enormous guilt — to de- 
liver from the most inveterate corruptions 
— and save, to the very uttermost, all that 
come unto God through him. 

" A corner stone." — Which not only 
sustains, but unites the edifice, incorporat- 
ing both Jews and Gentiles, believers of 
various languages, and manifold denomina- 
tions — here, in one harmonious bond of 
brotherly love — hereafter, in one common 
participation of eternal joy. 

" A precious stone." — More precious 
than rubies ; the pearl of great price, and 
the desire of all nations. — Precious, with 
regard to the divine dignity of his person, 
and the unequalled excellency of his media- 
torial offices. In these, and in all respects, 
greater than Jonah — wiser than Solomon — 
fairer than all the children of men — chiefest 
among ten thousand — and to the awakened 



sirmer, or enlightened believer, " altogether 
lovely." Cant. v. 16. 

" A sure foundation." — Such as no pres- 
sure can shake ; equal, more than equal to* 
every weight, even to sin, the heaviest load 
in the world. '* The Rock of Ages," such 
as never has failed, never will fail, those 
humble penitents who cast their burden 
upon the Lord Redeemer ! who roll* all 
their guilt, and fix their whole hopes, on 
this immoveable basis ; or, as the origi- 
nal words may be rendered, " a founda- 
tion ! a foundation !" There is a fine spirit 
of vehemency in the sentence, thus under- 
stood. It speaks the language of exultation, 
and expresses an important discovery. That 
which mankind infinitely want ; that which 
multitudes seek, and find not ; it is here ! 
it is here ! This, this is the foundation for 
their pardon, their peace, their eternal fe- 
hcity. 

" Whosoever believeth," though pressed 
with adversities, or surrounded by dangers,' 
•'shall not make baste :"-j- but, free from 
tumultuousand perplexing thoughts, preserv-' 
ed from rash and precipitate steps, he shall 
possess his soul in patience ; knowing the 
sufficiency of those merits, and the fidelity of 
that grace, on which he has reposed his con- 
fidence, shall quietly, and without perturba- 
tion, wait for an expected end. And not 
only amidst the perilous or disastrous 
changes of life, but even in the day of ever- 
lasting judgment, such persons shall stand 
with boldness. They shall look up to the 
grand Arbitrator — look round on all the 
solemnity of his appearance — look forward 
to the unalterable sentence — and neither 
feel anxiety, nor fear damnation. 



Such, in that day of terrors, shall be seen 
To face the thunders with a godlike mien. 



* Roll.— This is the exact sense of the sacred phrase, 

P?al. xxii. 8; xxxvii. 5. Prov. 
xvi. 3. I am not ignorant, that some people have 
presumed to censure, and many have been shy of us- 
ing this bold and vigorous metaphor : which never- 
theless appears to me, of all others, the most just, the 
most significant, and therefore the most truly beau- 
tiful. . 

t " Shall not make haste." This metaphorical ex 
pression, though it might be very intelligible to a 
Hebrew, is, to an English reader, like some fine pic- 
ture placed in a disadvantageous light. We may pos- 
sibly illustrate the prophet's meaning, and exemplify 
his assertion, if we compare the conduct of Moses 
with that of the Israelites, on viewing the fatal catas- 
trophe of Dathan and Abiram. When the earth 
trembled under their feet, when the ground opened 
its horrid jaws, when the presumptuous sinners went 
down alive into the pit, when the tremendous chasm 
closed upon the screaming wretches ; the children of 
Israel, it is v/ritten, " fled at the cry of them, fled in 
wild and hasty confusion ; for they said, lest the earth 
swallow us up also." But Moses, v/ho denounced the 
dreadful doom, Moses, who was sure of the divina 
protection ! Moses made no such precipitate or dis- 
orderly haste. He stood calm and composed ; saw 
the whole alarming transaction, without any uneasy 
emotions of fear, or any unnecessary attempts to es- 
cape. So that his behaviour seems to be a clear and 
apposite comment on Isaiah's phrase. See Numb 



342 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



The planets drop ; their thoughts are fix'd above : 
The centre shakes ; their hearts disdain to move. 

. This portion of Scripture, which I hope 
will both delight and edify my friend, recalls 
our attention to the subject of my present 
letter — to those propitiatory sufferings, and 
that justifying righteousness, which, imput- 
ed to sinners, are the ground of their com- 
fort, and the bulwark of their security. 
Andi what say the writers of the New Tes- 
tament upon this point? they, whose under- 
standings were opened by the " Wonderful 
Counsellor," to discern the meaning of the 
ancient oracles ; who must therefore be the 
most competent judges of their true import, 
and our surest guides in settling their sense. 
Do they patronize our interpretation of the 
prophets ? do they set their seal to the au- 
thenticity of our doctrine ? 

St. Luke, in his ecclesiastical history, has 
preserved this weighty declaration of the 
apostles : We believe, that through the 
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be 
saved even as they. Acts. xv. 11. Here 
the thing is implied. — St. Peter, in the in- 
troduction to one of his theological epistles, 
thus addresses his happy correspondents : 
" To them that have obtained like precious 
faith, in the righteousness* of our God and 
Saviour Jesus Christ." 2 Pet. i. 1. Here 
the point is expressly asserted — With 
equal clearness is the doctrine delivered by 
Matthew the evangelist : Seek ye first 
the kingdom of God and his righteousness." 
Matt. vi. 33. What can the " kingdom of 
God" mean ? An experience of the power, 
and an enjoyment of the privileges of the 
gospel. What are we to understand by 
*' his righteousness ?" Surely, the right- 
eousness which is worthy of this grand ap- 
pellation, and peculiar to that blessed insti- 
tution. 

Would we learn what is the great and dis- 
tinguishing peculiarity of the gospel ? St. 
Paul informs us : " Therein the righteous- 
ness of God is revealed, from faith to faith." 
As this text leads us into the Epistle to the 
Romans ; as this epistle is, for the proprie- 
ty of its method, as well as for the impor- 
tance of its doctrine, singularly excellent ; 
it may not be amiss to examine its struc- 
ture, and inquire into its design. 

The apostle writes to a promiscuous peo- 
ple, who had been converted, partly from 
Judaism, partly from Gentilism. His aim 
is, to strike at the very root of their former 
errors respectively— to turn them wholly to 
the superabundant grace of God, and esta- 



* The phrase is '^vo'T/v tv ^iitatoffvvvi' If we retain 
the common translation, it proves another very mo- 
mentous truth : " that the righteousness of our God, 
even of our Saviour Jesus Christ," is the one merito- 
rious procuring cause of all spiritual blessings; of 
faith, as well as of fruition; of grace, as well as of 
glory. 



blish them solely on the all-sufficient merits 
of Christ. 

The Gentiles were, for the most part, 
grossly ignorant of God, and stupidly negli- 
gent of invisible interests. If any among 
them had a sense of religion, their virtues, 
they imagined, were meritorious of all that 
the Deity could bestow. If they fell into sin, 
sin they supposed might easily be obliterat- 
ed by repentance, or compensated by a 
train of sacrifices.* A few of their judi- 
cious sages taught, that the most probable 
means of securing the divine favour, was a 
sincere reformation of life. 

The Jews, it is well known, placed a 
mighty dependence on their affinity to Abra- 
ham, and the covenant made with their fa- 
thers, on their adherence to the letter of 
the moral law, and their scrupulous per- 
formance of ceremonial institutions ; Gen- 
tiles and Jews agreeing in this mistake, that 
they looked for the pardon of guilt, and the 
attainment of happiness, from some services 
done, or some qualities acquired by them- 
selves. 

Against these errors the zealous apostle 
draws his pen. He enters the lists like a 
true champion of Christ, in the most spirit- 
ed and heroic manner imaginable. *' I am 
not ashamed of the gospel of Christ ;" for, 
however it may be deemed foolishness by 
the polite Gi'eeks, or prove a stumbling- 
block to the carnal Jews, " it is the power 
of God unto salvation," Rom. i. 16, it is the 
grand instrument, which he has ordained 
for ^his blessed purpose, and which he will 
certainly crovv-n with the desired success. ^ 
Whence has the gospel this very peculiar, 
power ? because therein a righteousness is 
revealed, a true and perfect righteousness, 
which obliterates all guilt, and furnishes a 
solid title to eternal life. What righteous- 
ness is this ? the righteousness, not of man 
but of God ; which was promised by God 
in the scriptures, was introduced by God in 
the person of his Son, and on accoimt of its 



* See Witsii Animadversiones Irencise, cap. 7 — 
A choice little piece of polemical divinity ; perhaps 
the very best that is extant ; in which the most im- 
portant controversies are fairly stated, accurately dis- 
cussed, and judiciously determined, with a perspicui- 
ty of sense, and a solidity of reasoning exceeded by- 
nothing but the remarkable conciseness, and the still 
more remarkable candour of the sentiments. 

The Oeconomia Foederum, written by the same 
hand, is a body of divinity, in its method so well di- 
gested, in its doctrines so truly evangelical, and (what 
IS not very usual with our systematic writers,) in its 
language so refined and elegant, in its manner so affec- 
tionate and animating, that I would venture to re- 
commend it to every young student of divinity. I 
would not scruple to risk all my reputation upon the 
merits of this performance; and I cannot but lamen 
it, as one of my greatest losses, that I was not sooner 
acquainted with this most excellent author. All 
whose works have such a delicacy of composition, and 
such a sweet savour of holiness, that 1 know not any 
comparison more proper to represent their true char- 
acter, than the golden pot which had manna; and 
was outwardly, bright with burnished gold, inwardly 
rich with heavenly food. 



Letter v. 



343 



consummate excellency, is both acceptable 
and available in his sight. ' 

This righteousness is " from faith to 
faith," Rom. i. 17 ; held forth, as it were, 
by a promising God, and apprehended by a 
believing soul, who first gives a firm assent 
to the gospel — then cordially accepts its 
blessings, from a conviction that the doc- 
trine is true, passes to a persuasion that the 
privileges are hi^ own. When this is ef- 
fected, a foundation is laid for all happiness, 
a principle is wrought, to produce all holi- 
ness. 

But why was it requisite that such a 
righteousness should be provided by God, 
and revealed in the gospel ? Because both 
Gentile and Jew neither possessed, nor 
could attain, any righteousness of their 
own ; and this righteousness, though so ab- 
solutely necessary for their fallen state, was 
infinitely remote from all human apprehen- 
sions. The latter assertion is self-evident ; 
the former is particularly demonstrated. — 
First, with regard to the Gentiles ; the gener- 
ality of whom were abandoned to the most 
scandalous excesses ; and they who had es- 
caped the grosser pollutions, fell short in 
the duties of natural religion. Next, with 
regard to the Jews ; many of whom lived 
in open violation of the external command- 
ment ; and not one of them acted up to 
the internal purity required by the Mosaic 
precepts. From which premises this conclu' 
sion is deduced — that each of them had 
trangressed even their own rule of action ; 
that all of them were, on this account, 
utterly inexcusable : therefore by the works 
of the law, whether dictated by reason or 
delivered by Moses, "no mortal can be jus- 
tified, Rom. iii. 20, in the sight of God. 

Lest any should imagine, that righteous- 
ness may be obtained, if not by a conformi- 
ty to the law of nature, or the law of Moses, 
yet by an observation of evangelical ordi- 
nances, he farther declares, that sinners are 
justified freely, without any regard to their 
own endowments, " through the redemp- 
tion, the complete redemption of Jesus 
Christ, Rom. iii. 24, after such a manner, 
as may lay them low in humiliation, even 
while it exalts them to the kingdom of hea- 
ven ; after such a manner, as may bring hfe 
and salvation to their souls, while all the 
glory reverts to God the Father, and his 
Son Jesus Christ. 

In the prosecution of this very momen- 
tous subject, our sacred disputant removes 
an objection which is as common as it is 
plausible. " Do we make void the law 
through faith ?" Do we render it a vain in- 
stitution, such as never has been, never will 
be fulfilled ? " God forbid !" This were a 
flagrant dishonour to the divine Legislator 
and his holy commandments ; such as we 
would abhor, rather than countenance. On 



the contrary, "we establish the law,"* Rom. 
iii. 31 ; not only as we receive it for a rule 
of life, butas weexpectno salvation without a 
proper, without a perfect conformity to its 
injunctions. How can this be effected ? 
by qualifying itssense, and softening it into an 
easier system ? This were to vacate the law, 
to deprive it of its honours ; and hinder it 
from attaining the due end, either of obedience 
or condemnation. No ; but we establish the 
law, by believing in that great Mediator, 
who has obeyed its every precept, sustained 
its whole penality, and satisfied all its re- 
quirements in their utmost extent. 

Farther to corroborate his scheme, he 
proves it from the renowned examples of 
Abraham and David. The instance of 
Abraham is so clear, that it wants no com- 
ment; Any paraphrase would rather ob- 
scure, than illustrate it. The other, derived 
from the testimony of the Psalmist, may ad- 
mit the commentator's tool ; yet not to 
hammer it into a new form, but only to clear 
away the rubbish; to rescue it from misrepre- 
sentation, and place it in a true light. 
" Even as David describeth the blessedness 
of the man, to whom God imputeth right- 
eousness without works,, saying, Blessed 
are they, whose unrighteousness is forgiven, 
and whose sins are covered : Blessed is the 
man to whom the Lord will not impute sin." 
Rom. iv. 6. 7. Here is imputation assert- 
ed — the imputation of righteousness — of 
righteousness without works ; without any 
respect to, or any co-operation from any kind 
of human works. It is a blessing vouchsafed 
to the ungodly; not fo imded on a freedom from 
sin, but procuring a remission of its guilt. 

Some, I know, have attempted to re- 
solve all the force of this passage into an ar- 
gument for the sameness of pardon and jus- 
tification ; whereas the apostle undertakes 
to prove, not that forgiveness and justifica- 
tion are indentically the same, but that both 
are absolutely free- To maintain which posi- 
tion he argues : " This doctrine is as true, 
as it is comfortable. It agrees with the ex- 
perience, and has received the attestation 
of David. When he speaks of the blessed 
and happy man, he describes him, not as an 
innocent, but guilty person ; not as having 
any claim to the divine favour, on account 
of deserving performances, or recommend- 
ing properties; but as owing, all his accep- 
tance to that sovereign grace, which for- 
gives iniquities and blots out sin. Such is 
the case with regard to that evangelical jus- 
tification which we preach ; even as it is, 
in the manner of its vouchsafement perfect- 
ly similar to the blessedness celebrated by 
the Psalmist." The apostle's eye is not so 
directly upon the nature of the privilege, as 
upon the freeness with which it is granted : 

* An incoiitestiWe proof that the apostle treats of 
the moral law. 



344 



THERON AND ASPASTO. 



Nor can any infer from the tenor of his rea- 
soning, that to be forgiven, is the same as 
to be justified ; only that both are acts of 
infinitely rich mercy, designed for sinners 
promised to sinners, bestowed on sinners ; 
who have nothing, nothing of their own, 
either to boast or to plead. 

In the fifth chapter, from verse the twelfth 
to the end, the sacred penman points out 
the cause, and explains the method of jus- 
tification : Of which this is the sum — That 
Christ, in pursuance of the covenant of grace, 
fulfilled all righteousness in the stead of his 
people : That this righteousness being per- 
formed for them, is imputed to them : Th^t 
by virtue of this gracious imputation they 
are absolved from guilt and entitled to bliss ; 
as thoroughly absolved, and as fully entitled, 
as if in their own persons they had under- 
gone the expiatory sufferings and yielded the 
meritorious obedience. Lest it should seem 
strange in the opinion of a Jew or a Gentile, 
to hear of being justified by the righteous- 
ness of another, the wary apostle urges a 
parallel case, recorded in the Jewish revela- 
tion, but ratified by universal experience ;* 
namely, our being condemned for the un- 
righteousness of another. In this respect, 
he observes, Adam was a type of our Lord, 
or "a figure of him that was to come." 
Rom. V. 14. The relation is the same, but 
the effect is happily reversed. Adam the 
head of his posterity ; Christ the head of 
his people. Adam's sin was imputed to all 
his natural descendants ; Christ's righteous- 
ness is imputed to all his spiritual offspring. 
Adam's transgression brought death into the 
world, and all our wo ; Christ's obedience 
brings life, and all our happiness.f The 
whole closes with this very obvious and no 
less weighty inference : *' Therefore, as by 
the offence of one, judgment came upon all 
men to condemnation ; even so, by the righ- 
teousness of one, the free gift came upon all 
men unto justification of life." Rom. v. 18. 

I do not recollect any other similitude 
which the apostle so minutely sifts, and so 
copiously unfolds. He explains it, he ap- 
plies it, he resumes it, he dwells upon it, 
and scarcely knows how to desist from it. 
I am sure you will not blame me if I imi- 
tate the sacred author, revert to the subject, 
•and quote another passage from the same 
paragraph. Much more shall they who 
receive abundance of grace, and of the gift 
of righteousness, reign in life by one, Jesus 
Christ. Rom. v. 1 7. Here I am ready to 
think, the inspired writer puts- a difference 
between the two grand blessings purchased 



by Emanuel — remission and righteousness. 
For who are the persons which receive abun- 
dance of grace ? They, I apprehend, that> 
having sinned much, have much forgiven. 
Who are the persons which receive abun- 
dance of the gift of righteousness ? They 
that, having in their own conduct wrought 
out none which will bear the test of God's 
impartial scrutiny, have one placed to their 
account which the all-seeing eye of heaven 
approves. However, whether the distinc- 
tion I have ventured to propose be fanciful 
or substantial, of this I am persuaded, that 
the gift of righteousness* must signify a 
righteousness not originally their own, but 
another's ; not what they themselves have 
acquired, but what was fulfilled by their 
Surety ; and is, by an act of heavenly in- 
dulgence, consigned over to them. Accord- 
ingly it is represented, not as a work, but as 
a gift ; and those who are interested in it are 
styled, not workers, but receivers. 

I should but faintly copy the apostolie 
example, if 1 did not once again avail myself 
of this important topic. Suffer me, there- 
fore, to transcribe one more verse from this 
admirable chapter. " As by the disobedi- 
ence of one man, many were made sinners ; 
so by the obedience of one, shall many be 
made righteous." Rom. v. 19. The "diso- 
bedience of one," is the disobedience of 
Adam, his actual transgression of the divine 
law. Hereby " many were made sinners 
sinners in such a sense as to become ob- 
noxious unto condemnation and death. All 
this, I think, is, from the apostle's own 
words, indisputable. And if we would pre- 
serve the propriety of his antithesis, or the 
force of his reasoning, we must allow, that 
the obedience of one is the obedience of 
Christ ; his actual and complete perform^ 
ance of the whole law. Hereby " many 
are made righteous ;" righteous in such a 
sense, as to be released from condemnation, 
and vested with a title to life eternal. How 
clear and easy is this meaning ! how just and 
regular this argumentation ! What subtil ty of 
evasion must be used, to give a different 
turn to the instructive text ! 

This is the most consistent sense in which 
I can understand Rom. viii. 5. " That the 
righteousness of the law might be fulfilled 
in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after 
j the Spirit :" That the righteousness requir- 
ed by the holy, but broken law, might be 
thoroughly accomplished ; accomplished by 
our public Representative, and in our hu^ 



* By the pains and death which infants in every na- 
tion endure, which are unquestionably punishments, 
and to which they are doomed by the righteous judg- 
ment of God. 

t " As the sinof Adam," saysBengelius, "without 
any concurrence of the sins which we ourselves respec- 
tively commit, occasioned our ruin ; so the nghteous- 
ness of Christ, abstracted from all consideration of 
our personal obedience, procures our reco* ery." 



* I cannot but wonder at the assertion of a late 
writer, who roundly declares, " That there is not one 
word in this whole chapter relating to the antecedent 
obedience of Christ's life, but expressing only his pass- 
ive obedience." Must then this group of expressions 
— 2ncato?vvn — '^ixcx.iMf/.ei — wraKon — be confined 
barely to the sufferings of our Lord ? To put such a 
sense upon the words of the apostle, is, according to 
my apprehension, not to hear his voice, but to gag his 
mouth ; not to acquiesce in the sacred oracles, but to 
make theni speak our own meaning. 



LETTER V. 



345 



man natiu'e ; so as to be deemed, in point 
of legal estimation, fulfilled for us and by 
us.* Tbis, I say, is most consistent wUh the 
tenor of St. Paul's arguing, and with the 
exact import of his language. — With the tenor 
of his arguing ; for he undertakes to demon- 
strate the impossibility of our justification 
by any personal conformity to the law ; 
whereas, if we could satisfy its penalty, and 
obey its precepts, or, in other words, fulfil 
its righteousness, this impossibility would 
cease With the exact import of his lan- 
guage; for the original phrase denotes not 
a sincere, but a complete obedience ; not 
what we are enabled to perform, but what 
the law has a right to demand ; which every 
one must acknowledge, is not fulfilled in 
any mere man since the fall, but was fulfill- 
ed by Jesus Christ for our good and in our 
stead. This intei-pretation preserves the 
sentences distinct, and makes a veiy natural • 
introduction for the following clause, where 
the persons interested in this privilege are 
described by their fruits, " who walk not 
after the flesh, but after the Spirit imply- 
ing, that justification and sanctification are 
like the ever-corresponding motion of our 
eyes, inseparable concomitants ; and we 
vainly pretend to the former, if we continue 
destitute of the latter. 

We have produced positive proofs of our 
doctrine : we have heard an apostle declar- 
ing the assured happiness and complete jus- 
tification of true believers. Let us now ob- 
serve the same sagacious judge of men and 
things discovering the danger of those self- 
justiciaries who reject the Kedeemer's right- 
eousness. 

He is filled with the darkest apprehen- 
sions, concerning his brethren the Jews. 
He is impressed with melancholy presages, 
relating to their eternal state. Rom. ix, 2. 
What was the cause of this tender solici- 
tude? Had they cast oflf all religion, and 
given themselves over to gross immoralities ? 
On the contrary, they were worshippers of 
the true God ; and had, in their way, not 
only a regard, but a zeal for his honour. 
Rom. x. 2. Wherefore, then, does this 
compassionate father in Israel feel the same 
trembling uneasiness for his kinsmen accord- 
ing to the flesh, as Eli felt for the endan- 
gered ark ? Himself assigns the reason : 
Because " they, being ignorant of God's 
righteousness, and going about to establish 
their own righteousness, have not submitted 
themselves to the righteousness of God," 
Rom. X. 3. Not knovN'ing that immaculate 
holiness, which the perfect nature, and 
equally perfect law of the most high God 
require ; being wilfully ignorant of that con- 

* It is remarked by a judicious critic and very val- 
uable expositor, that the preposition <" sometimes 
signifies 6y or for, and is so translated. IVIatt. v. 34 ; 
Heb. i. 1. See Dr. Guyse's Exposition of the New 
Tesuiment. 



summate obedience, which an incarnate God 
vouchsafed to perform for the justification of 
his people ; they sedulously, hut foolishly 
endeavoured to establish their own right- 
eousness ; to make it, scanty and decrepit 
as it was, the basis of their hopes. Thus 
were they resting their everlasting all on a 
bottom, not precarious only, but irreparably 
ruinous. A boundless eternity the fabric : 
yet they build (wonder, O heavens !) on the 
foam of the waters ! and (which added stub- 
bornness to their folly) in avowed contempt 
of that strong and sure foundation, laid by 
God's own hand in Zion. For this the 
good apostle was afilicted with " great hea- 
viness and continual sorrow." For this he 
made the prophet's pathetic complaint his 
own : '•' O that my head were waters, and 
my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might be- 
wail day and night," Jer. ix. 1, the incorri- 
gible perverseness of my people ! " For my 
people have committed two evils," in not 
thankfully submitting to the righteousness of 
God, " they have forsaken the fountain of 
living waters," in attempting to establish 
their own righteousness, " they have hewed 
themselves out cisterns, broken cisterns, that 
can hold no water." Jer ii. 13. 

Having showed their fatal error, he 
strengthens his representation by displaying 
the happy success of the Gentiles. " What 
shall we say then ?" This, however impro- 
bable it may seem, we confidently affirm, 
" That the Gentiles, who followed not after 
righteousness," who had no knowledge of it, 
and no concern about it ; even " they have 
attained to righteousness."* Strange as- 
sertion ! how is this possible ? Doubtless, 
the righteousness which they attained, 
could not be any personal righteousness ; of 
this they were totally destitute. Instead of 
practising moral virtues, or religious duties, 
they were immersed in sensuality, and aban- 
doned to idolatry. It must therefore be the 
evangelical, the imputed righteousness, "even 
that which was wrought by Christ, and is 
received by faith. "f 

Israel, in the mean time, the nominal Is- 
rael, who with great pretensions to sanctity, 
and many costly oblations, " followed after 



* Surely, this must signify more than "attaining 
to the profession of a religion, whereby they may be 
justified and saved. To this multitudes attain, who 
continue as the prophet speaks, " stout hearted and 
far from righteousness : whoi derive no real benefit 
from their profession ; but are rendered utterly inex- 
cusable, and liable to more aggravated condemna- 
tion. 

t Surely the righteousness, which is by faith, cannot 
consist "in humblv cormnitting the soul to Christ in 
the way that he ha'th appointed." According tolthis 
notion, the justifying righteousness would spring from 
ourselves — would' be constituted by an act of our own, 
and not bv the perfect obedience of our Lord. 

I am sorry to see this, and the preceding interpreta- 
tion, in the'works of an expositor, whose learning I 
admire, whose piety I reverence, and whose memory 
I honour. Yet I niust say on this occasion, with one 
of the ancient philosophers, " Amicus, Plato, amicus 
Socrates, sed magis arnica, Veritas." 



340 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



the law of righteousness, hath not attained to 
the law of righteousness." " Attained !" 
they have done nothing less. They are fal- 
len vastly short of it ; they are pronounced 
guilty by it ; they stand condemned before 
it.* Wherefore did they so grossly mis- 
take, and so greviously miscarry Be- 
cause they forsook the good old way, in 
which Abraham, David, and their pious 
ancestors walked. They adopted a new 
scheme ; and v/ould fain have substituted 
their own, instead of relying on a Saviour's 
righteousness. They sought for justifica- 
tion, not " by faith," but as it were " by the 
works of the law," Rom. ix. 30, 31, 32, 
A method which their fathers knew not ; 
which their God ordained not ; and which 
proved, as it always will prove^ not only, 
abortive but destructive. At this stone they 
stumbled, on this rock they split. Let their 
rum be a way-mark, and the apostle's obser- 
vation a light-house to my Theron. 

Our zealous writer tries every expedient : 
He mingles hope with terror. Having point- 
ed out the rock on which the Israelites 
suffered shipwreck, he directs us to the 
haven in which sinners may cast anchor 
and find safety. He gives us a fine descrip- 
tive view of the Christian's complete hap- 
piness. He opens (if I may continue the 
metaphor) a free and ample port for 
perishing souls ; not formed by a neck of 
land or a ridge of mountains, but by a mag- 
nificent chain of spiritual blessings ; all 
proceeding from, and terminating in, that 
precious corner-stone, Jesus Christ, " who 
of God is made unto us wisdom and right- 
eousness, and sanctification, and redemption," 
I Cor. i. 30; "wisdom," to enlighten our 
ignorant minds ; " righteousness,"-]' to jus- 
tify our guilty persons; " sanctification,'"-!- to 
renew our depraved natures ; *' redemp- 
tion," to rescue us from all evil, and render 
us, both in body and soul, perfectly and 
eternally happy. Let it be remarked, how 
carefully our inspired writer sets aside all 
sufficiency, as well as all merit, in man. 



* This, I apprehend, is the purport of the apostle's 
speech, when he tells us, that his countrymen " had 
not attained unto the law of righteousness." He uses 
the figure f^natris, and means more than he express- 
es. Somewhat like the prophet in the close of this 
chapter who assures the believers in Jesus, they shall 
not be ashamed," that is, " they shall be encouraged, 
emboldened, established." 

t "Righteousness and sanctification ;" the former 
imputed, the latter inherent. This preserves a distinc- 
tion between the noble articles, and assigns to each 
a grand share in the economy of salvation. To say, 
that if one of the blessings is communicated in the 
same manner, seems to be cavilling, rather than argu- 
ing ; because the subjects are of a different nature, Jand 
therefore must be enjoyed in a different way. The 
cocoa tree is, to the American, food and clothing, a 
habitation and domestic utensils: but must we suppose 
it administering to all those uses in one and the same 
unvaried method ? Because in one respect it is eaten, 
in another it is wore, must it be thus applied in all ? 
I believe, the illiterate savage who enjoys the several 
gifts, need not be taught the absurdity of such a sup- 
position. 



He represents the whole of our salvation, 
both in its procurement and application, as 
a work of freest grace. Christ is, and not 
we ourselves, the author of this glorious 
restoration^ the cause of this great felicity^ 
He is made all this unto us. How ? Not 
by our own resolution and strength ; but of 
God, by the agency of his mighty power 
and blessed Spirit He shows us the all' 
sufficient fulness of Christ. He brings us 
by ardent longings to Christ. He implants 
us into Christ, and makes us partakers of 
his merits. 

In the process of the same epistle, the 
sacred penman enumerates the constituent 
parts of that great salvation which the Son 
of God has procured for ruined sinners. 
" But ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, 
but ye are justified, in the name of the 
Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God," 
1 Cor. vi. 11. Ye are washed;" cleans- 
ed from the filth, and discharged from the 
guilt of all your iniquities. " Ye are sanc- 
tified ;" delivered from the death of sin, and 
endued with a living principle of holiness. 
" Ye are justified ;" restored to a state of 
acceptance with God, and invested with a 
title to eternal glory. All which inestima- 
ble prerogatives are conferred upon the 
true believer, " in the name of our Lord 
Jesus Christ," in consideration of his aton- 
ing blood and meritorious righteousness, 
" By the Spirit of our God ;" through the 
efficacy of his operation, revealing Christ, 
and working faith in the heart. 

Some gentlemen have talked of a new 
remedial law ; whereas the apostle declares, 
" that Christ is the end of the" old, the 
unalterable, the Mosaic '* law, for righte- 
ousness to every one that believeth," Rom. 
X. 4. Follow the course of a river, it will 
constantly lead you to the ocean. Trace 
the veins of the body, they invariably unite 
in the heart. Mark likewise the tendency 
of the law, it no less constantly and invaria- 
bly conducts you to Christ, as the centre 
of its views, and the consummation of its 
demands. The moral law aims at discov- 
ering our guilt, and demonstrating our in- 
expressible need of a Saviour. The cere- 
monial points him out as suffering in our 
stead, making reconciliation for iniquity, and 
purging away every defilement with his 
blood. They both direct the wretched 
transgressor to renounce himself, and fly to 
the Redeemer, who alone has paid that 
perfect obedience, and brought in that ever- 
lasting righteousness, which the sinner 
wants, and the law exacts ; who is there- 
fore the only proper accomplishment of the 
one, and the only suitable supply for the 
other. 

What is the grand design ^cf the whole 
scriptures ? St. Paul, displayrng their sub- 
lime origin, and enumerating the gracious 



LETTER V. 



347 



purposes they are intended to serve, writes 
thus : " All scripture is given by inspira- 
tion of God ; and is profitable for doctrine," 
to declare and establish religious truth ; 

for reproof," to convince of sin, and to 
refute error ; " for* correction," or renova- 
tion of the heart and reformation of the 
life ; " for instruction in righteousness," 
in that righteousness which could never 
have been learned from any other book, and 
in which alone sinful men may appear with 
comfort before their God. . /^ 

We have seen the principal scope of the 
law and the leading design of the scrip- 
tures ; let u-s add one inquiry more. What 
is the chief office of the Spirit ? If all these 
coincide, and uniformly terminate in the 
imputed righteousness of Christ, we have 
a confirmation of its reality and excellence, 
great as man can desire, I had almost said, 
great as God can impart. What says our 
Lord upon this point? *' When he, the 
Spirit of truth, is come, he shall convincet 
the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judg- 
ment. Of sin, because they believe not on 
me ; of righteousness, because I go to my 
Father, and ye see me no more ; of judg- 
ment, because the prince of this world is 
judged," John xvi. 8 — IL Is it possible 
for words to be more weighty and compre- 
hensive? Here is a summary of Christian 
faith, and of Christian holiness. Not that 
superficial holiness which is patched up of 
devotional forms, and goes no farther than 
external performances ; but that which is 
vital, and springs from the heart ; con- 
sists in power, not in mere profession ; 
whose praise, if not of men who are smit- 
ten with pompous outsides, is sure to be of 
God, who distinguishes the things which 
are excellent. 

He shall convince the world of sin/' ot 
original and actual sin, the sin of their na- 
ture, as well as the sin of their life, the sin 
of their best deeds, no less than the sin of 
their criminal commissions and blamable 
omissions. Above all, of their sinning 
against the sovereign, the only remedy, by 
unbelief, "because they believe not on me." 
He shall convince " of righteousness," of 
the divine Redeemer's righteousness, which 
the foregoing conviction must render pecu- 
liarly welcome ; convince them, that it was 
wrought out in behalf of disobedient and 
defective mortals ; that it is absolutely per- 
fect, and sufficient to justify even the most 
ungodly. Of all w^hich^ an incontestible 
proof is given, by his resurrection from the 
dead, his triumphant ascension into heaven, 

* 2 Tim. iii. 16. n^aj tTccM^Soamv. 

t " He shall convince,' seems to be the most pro- 
per translation of ^^-y^'-, as it implies the sure suc- 
cess which attends the operation of the divine Spirit. 
Man may reprove, and no conviction ensue ; where- 
as that Almighty Agent not only reproves, but reproves 
with power; so as to deterniins the judgment, and 
sway the affections. 



and sitting at the right hand of his Father : 
" Because I go to my Father, and ye 
see me no more."* He shall convince "of 
judgment." Those who are humbled under 
a sense of guilt, and justified through an im- 
puted righteousness, shall be taught by hap- 
py experience, that the prince of this world 
is condemned and dethroned in their hearts, 
that their souls are rescued from the tyran- 
ny of Satan, are made victorious over their 
corruptions, and restored to the liberty, the 
glorious liberty, of the children of God. 

You wonder, perhaps, that I have not 
strengthened my cause by any quotation 
from the Epistle to the Galatians. What 
I design, my dear Theron, is not to accu- 
mulate, but to select arguments. However, 
that I may not disappoint an expectation so 
reasonable, 1 proceed to lay before you a 
very nervous passage from that masterful 
piece of sacred controversy. Only let me 
just observe, thai the epistle was written to 
persons who had embraced Christianity, and 
professed an affiance in Christ ; but would 
fain have joined circumcision, would fain 
have superadded their own religious d\>- 
ties to the merits of their Saviour, in order 
to constitute, a: least, some part of their 
justifying righteousness. Against which 
error, the vigilant and indefatigable assertor 
of the truth as it is in Jesus," remon- 
strates : " We who are Jews by nature, and 
not sinners of the Gentiles, knowing that a 
man is not justified by the works of the 
law,+ but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even 
we huve believed in Jesus Christ, that we 
might be justified by the faith of Christ, 
and not by the works of the law ; for by 
the works of the law shall no flesh be justi- 
fied, Gal. ii. 15, 16. "We who are Jews 
by nature,'' the descendants of Abraham, 
and God's peculiar people, have the tables 
of his law, and the ordinances of his wor- 
ship ; we who in point of privileges are 
greatly superior to the Gentile nations, and 
have all possible advantages for establishing 
(if such a thing were practicable) a righte- 
ousness of our own, what have we done ? 
" We have believed on Jesus Christ ;" we 
have renounced ourselves, disclaimed what- 
ever is our own, and depended wholly on 
j the righteousness of Christ. For what end ? 
That by this " faith in Christ," which re- 
ceives his righteousness, pleads his righte- 



* For if the work had been imperfect in any de- 
gree, our Redeemer, instead of takiirg up his stated 
and final residence in the regions of glory, must have 
descended again into this inferior world, to complete 
what was deficient. 

j- Observable, very observable, is the zeal of our 
apostle in this determined stand against the most spe- 
cious, and therefore the most dangerous encroach- 
ments of error. To express his ardent concern for the 
truth and purity of the gospel, the works of the law 
are mentioTiednoless than three times, by the apostle, 
and as often excluded from the affair of justification. 
The faith of Christ likewise is thrice inculcated, and 
as often asserted to be the only method of becoming 
righteous before God. 



348 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



ousness, and presents nothing but his righte- 
ousness before the throne, " we might be 
justified." What motive has induced us to 
this practice ? A firm persuasion, that by 
" the works of the law," by sincere obe- 
<lience, or personal holiness, *' no man liv- 
ing has been, and no man living can be, 
justified before God." 

Are you tired, Theron ? have I fatigued 
your attention, instead of convincing your 
judgment? I will not harbour such a sus- 
picion. It is pleasing to converse with 
those who have travelled into foreign coun- 
tries, and seen the wonders of creation. 
We hearken to their narratives with de- 
light. Every new adventure whets our 
curiosity, rather than palls our appetite. 
Must it not then afford a more sublime sa- 
tisfaction to be entertained with the dis- 
courses of a person, who had not, indeed, 
sailed round the world, but made a journey 
to the third heavens? who had been admitted 
into the paradise of God, and heard things 
of infinite importance, and unutterable dig- 
nity ? This was the privilege of that in- 
comparable man, whose observations and 
discoveries I have been presenting to my 
friend. And I promise myself, he will not 
complain of weariness, if I enrich my epistle 
with one or two more of those glorious truths. 

" God hath made him to be sin for us who 
knew no sin, that we might," not be put into 
a capacity of acquiring a righteousness of our 
own, but *'be made the righteousness of God 
in him," 2 Cor. v. 21. In this text the double 
imputation of our sin to Christ, and of Christ's 
righteousness to us, is most emphatically 
taught and most charmingly contrasted. Most 
emphatically taught: For we are said, not 
barely to be righteous, but to be made right- 
eousness itself ; and not righteousness only, 
but (which is the utmost that language can 
reach) the righteousness of God. Most 
charmingly contrasted : For one cannot but 
ask, in what manner Christ was made sin ? 
In the very same manner we are made right- 
eousness. Christ knew no actual sin ; yet 
upon his mediatorial interposition on our be- 
half, he was treated by divine justice as a 
sinful person. We likewise are destitute of 
all legal righteousness, yet upon our receiv- 
ing Christ, and believing in his name, we are 
regarded by the divine Majesty as right- 
eous creatures. This, therefore, cannot, in 
either case, be intrinsically, but must be, in 
both instances, imputatively. Gracious, di- 
vinely-gracious exchange ! pregnant with 
amazing goodness, and rich with inestima- 
ble benefits^ The incessant triumph of the 
strong and sovereign consolation of the 
weak believer. 

Cease your exultation, cries one, and 
come down from your altitudes. The term 
used in this verse denotes, not so properly 
sin, as an offering for sin. — This is a mere 



supposal, which I may as reasonably deny 
as another affirm. Since the word occurs 
much more frequently in the former signifi- 
cation than in the latter ; and since, by 
giving it the latter signification in the passage 
before us, we very much impair, if not totally 
destroy, the apostle's beautiful antithesis. 

However, not to contend, but to allow 
the remark ; I borrow my reply from a 
brave old champion* for the truths of the 
gospel : " This text,'' says he, " invincibly 
proveth, that we are not justified in God'sf 
sight by righteousness inherent in us, but by 
the righteousness of Christ imputed to us 
through faith." After which he adds, what 
t make my answer to the objection, " that 
Christ was made sin for us, because he was a 
sacrifice for sin, we must confess; but there- 
fore was he a sacrifice for sin, because our sin 
was imputed to him, and punished in him," 
The poor delinquents under the Mosaic dis- 
pensation, who brought their sin-oftering to 
the altar of the Lord, were directed to lay 
their hand on the devoted beast ; signify- 
ing, by this usage, the transferring of guilt 
from the offerer to the sacrifice. Conforma- 
bly to the import of this ceremony, Christ 
assumed our demerit ; like a true piacular 
victim, suffered the punishment which we 
had deserved ; and which, without such 
a commutation, we must have undergone. 
So that our Lord's being made a sin-offer- 
ing for us, does by no means invalidate, but 
very much confirm our doctrine. It ne- 
cessarily implies the translation of our ini- 
quity to his person ; and, on the principles 
of analogy, must infer the imputation of his 
righteousness to our souls. 

One passage more permit me to trans- 
cribe into my paper, and, at the same time 
to wish that it may be written on both our 
hearts ; written not with ink and pen, no, 
nor with the point of a diamond, but with the 
finger ofthe living God. " Yea, doubtless, and 
I count all things but loss for the excellency 
of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord ; 
for whom 1 have suffered the loss of all 
things, and do count them but dung, that I 
may win Christ, and be found in him ; not 
having mine own righteousness, which is of 
the law, but that which is through the faith 
of Christ, the righteousness which is of God 
through faith." Phil. iii. 8. 9. 

Be pleased to observe, that in this con- 
fession of faith, and with reference to the 
case of justification, the apostle renounces all 

* See Dr. Fulk's annotation on the place, in that 
valuable piece of ancient controversy and criticism, 
"The Examination of the Rhemish Testament." 
Which, though not altogether so elegant and refined 
in the language, nor so delicate and genteel in the 
manner, as might bo wished, is nevertheless full of 
sound divinity, weighty arguments, and important 
observations. — Would the young student be taught 
to discover the very sinews of Popery, and be enabled 
to give an effectual blow to that complication of er- 
rors, I scarce know a treatise better calculated for 
the puri)ose. 



LETTER V. 



349 



tnose acts of supposed righteousness which 
were antecedent to his conversion. Nor does 
he repudiate them only, but all those more ex- 
cellent services by which he was so eminently 
distinguished, even after his attachment to 
Christ, and engagement in the Christian min- 
istry. As though he should say, " The privi- 
lege of being a Hebrew by birth ; the preroga- 
tive of being a Pharisee by profession ; to- 
gether with a behaviour exemplary, and a 
reputation unblamable ; all these, which 
were once reckoned my highest gain, as soon 
as I became acquainted with the glorious 
perfections of Christ, ' I counted* loss for 
him.' And now, though I have been a dis- 
ciple many years ; have walked in all holy 
conversation and godliness; have endured 
for my di\'ine Master's name tribulations 
above measure ; have laboured more abun- 
dantly, and more successfidly, than all the 
apostles ; yet even these, and all other at- 
tainments, of what kind or of what date so- 
ever, I countf but loss, for the transcendent 
excellency of Christ Jesus my Lord. ' Yea 
doubtless ;'i it is my deliberate and stead- 
fast resolution ; what I have most seriously 
adopted, and do publicly avow, that, speci- 
ous as all these acquirements may seem, and 
valuable as they may be in other respects, I 
reckon them but dung, that I may win 
Christ. § They fade into nothing, they 
dwindle into less than nothing, if set in com- 
petition with his matchless obedience ; avid 
were they to supersede my application to 
his merits, or weaken my reliance on his 
mediation, they would not be contemptible 
only, but injurious — irreparably injurious — 
lose itself." 

You will ask, If he rejects all his own 
righteousness, on what are his hopes fixed ? 
On a foundation, extensive as the obedience 
of the Redeemer's life and death, unshaken 

* Hyyifiui, " I have counted." 

•f Hyiiu.ai, relates to the present time, and com- 
prehends present attainments, "I do count."— Not 
some, or the greatest part, but " all things." What ? 
Is a course of sobriety, and the exercise of morality, 
to be reckoned as dung ? All things, says the apostle. 
What ? Is our most elevated devotion, and enlarged 
obedience to be degraded at this monstrous rate ? All 
things, savs the apostle. This is his invariable replv. 
And we niay venture to affirm, that he had the mind 
of Christ. 

t Perhaps eiXXix, uivovvys maybe translated, "but 
truly." As if he had said, " But why should I men- 
tion any mere particulars ? In truth, I count all 
things," &c. 

vov Ki^'^tfca — plainly imply this comparative or rela- 
tive sense. Virtues, which are the fruits of the Spirit, 
and labours, which are a blessing to mankind, must 
not be reckoned absolutely or in all respects despica- 
ble; but only in a limited and qualified acceptation : 
desnicable not in themselves, but as compared with 
the'divinely perfect righteousness of Christ, or as re- 
ferred to the infinitely important article of justifica- 
tion. 

That Aspasio, in this whole paragraph, speaks the 
sense of our church, will appear from the following 
extract :— " For the apostle, St. Paul, saith. He doth 
glory in what ? In the contempt of his o^vn righteous- 
ness.and that he looketh for the righteousness of God 
l?y faith."— Hom'7y of Salvation, part 2. 



as the dignity of his eternal power and God- 
head. They are fixed on " the righteous- 
ness which is of God the righteousness 
which God the Father, in unsearchable wis- 
dom, provided ; and which God the Son, in 
unutterable goodness wrought. Do you in- 
quire how he came to be invested with this 
righteousness ? The answer is ready and 
satisfactory. It was by the application of 
the divine Spirit, and the instrumentality of 
faith. Lest any should imagine that this 
faith might be substituted instead of his own 
obedience to the law, he puts an apparent 
difference between the righteousness which 
justifies, and the faith by which it is~ receiv- 
ed ; not the righteousness which consists in, 
but is " through the faith of Christ." To 
show the great importance of this distinc- 
tion, how earnestly he insisted upon it as a 
preacher, how much it tended to his conso- 
lation as a Christian, he repeats the senti^ 
ment, he reinculcates the doctrine, *' the 
righteousness which is of God by faith." • 

Will you now, Theron, or shall I, poor 
unprofitable creatures, presume to rely on 
any performances or a.ny accomplishments 
of our own, when that distinguished saint, — 
a perfect prodigy of gifts, of graces, and of 
zeal, — indefatigable in labom's, unconquera- 
ble by aftiictions, and of whose usefulness 
there is iieither measure nor end ; — when he 
denies himself in every view, depreciates 
all, disavows all, and makes mention of no- 
thing but the incomparable righteousness of 
his " obedient, dying, uiterceding Saviotir ?" 

What shall I say more ? Shall I attempt 
to play the rhetorician, and borrow the in- 
sinuating arts of persuasion ? This, after 
all the cogent testimonies produced, and all 
the great authorities urged, would be a need- 
less parade. When our pen is a sunbeam, 
there is but little occasion to dip it in oil. 

Instead of such an attempt, give me 
leave to make a frank and honest confes- 
sion. I would conceal nothing from my 
friend. He should have a sash to my breast : 
throw it up at his pleasure ; and see all that 
passes within. — Though I never had any 
temptation to that pernicious set of errors, 
which passes under the character of Socin- 
ianism, yet I had many searchings of heart, 
and much solicitous inquirv, how far vre 
are indebted to Christ's active righteousness. 
Thoroughly persuaded, that " other founda- 
tion can no man lay, save that w^hich is 
laid, even Jesus Christ," 1 Cor. iii, 11, and 
that " there is no other name give,n under 
heaven, whereby men can be saved " Acts 
iv. 12, yet, whether we were not to confine 
our believing regards to a dying Saviour, 
was matter of considerable doubt. At 
first, I was inclined to acquiesce in the af- 
firmative. After long consideration and 
many prayers, my faith fixed upon the whole 
of Christ's mediatorial undertaking ; which 



850 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



begun in his spontaneous submission to 
the law, was carried on through all his me- 
ritorious life, and issued in his atoning 
death. This is now the basis of my con- 
fidence, and the bulwark of my happiness. 
Hither I fly ; here I rest ; as the dove, af- 
ter her wearisome and fruitless rovings, re- 
turned to Noah, and rested in the ark. 

This scheme first recommended itself to 
my affections, as making the most ample 
provision for the security and repose of a 
guilty conscience ; which, when alarmed 
by the accusations of sin, is very appre- 
hensive of its condition ; and will not 
be comforted, till every scruple is satisfied, 
and all the obstructions to its peace are re- 
moved. Thus I reasoned with myself : 
" Though there is undoubtedly something 
to be said for the other side of the ques- 
tion, yet this is evidently the safest me- 
thod. And, in an affair of infinite conse- 
quence, who would not prefer the safest 
expedient? Should the righteousness of 
Jesus Christ be indispensably requisite as 
a wedding-garment, what will they do, 
when the great immortal King appears, 
who have refused to accept it? whereas, 
should it not prove so absolutely necessary, 
yet such a dependence can never obstruct 
our salvation. It can never be charged 
upon us as an article of contumacy or per- 
verseuess, that we thought too meanly of 
our own, too magnificently of our Lord's 
obedience. So that, let the die turn either 
way, we are exposed to no hazard. This 
scheme takes in all that the other systems 
com.prehend, and abundantly more. In 
this 1 find no defect, no flaw, no shadow 
of insufficiency. It is somewhat like the 
perfect cube, which, wherever it may be 
thrown, or however it may fall, is sure to 
settle upon its base. Supposing, therefore, 
the important beam should hang in equili- 
brium with respect to argument, these cir- 
cumstances cast into the scale may very 
justly be allowed to turn the balance." 

Upon a more attentive examination of 
the subject, I perceived, that this is the 
doctrine of our national church ; is en- 
forced by the attestation of our ablest di- 
vines ; and has been in all ages the conso- 
lation of the most eminent saints : That it 
is the genuine sense of scripture, and not 
some inferior or subordinate point, inciden- 
tally touched upon by the inspired writers, 
but the sum and substance* of their hea- 

* This doctrine runs through St. Paul's writings, 
like a golden warp. While privileges, blessings, and 
evangelical duties are like a woof, (if I may allude to 
the ornaments of the sanctuary,) of blue, of purple, 
of scarlet, and indeed of every pleasant colour. The 
righteousness of God, Rom i. I7. The righteousness 
from God, Phil. iii. 10. Righteousness by faith, 
Romiii. 22. Righteousness of faith, Rom. iv, 11. 
Righteousness without the law, Rom. iii. 21. Right- 
eousness without works, Rom. iv. 6. Righteousness 
in the blood of Christ, Rom. v. .9. Righteousness by 
the obedience of Christ, Rom. v. 19. Righteousne.ss 



venly message ; that which constitntes the 
vitals of their system, and is the very soul 
of their religion. On which account, the 
whole gospel is denominated from it, and 
styled " the ministration of righteousness." 
I was farther convinced, that this way of 
salvation magnifies, beyond compare, the 
divine law ; is no less honourable to all the 
divine attributes ; and exhibits the ever- 
blessed Mediator in the most illustrious and 
the most delightful view. All these con- 
siderations, under the influence of the eter- . 
nal Spirit, have determined my judgment, 
and established my faith. So that, I trust, 
neither the subtilties of wit, nor the sneers 
of ridicule, nor any other artifice, shall ever 
be able to separate me from the grace and 
righteousness which are in Jesus Christ. 

Let me now, by way of conclusion, re- 
view that awful subject which introduced 
the letter. Let me suppose the Judge, 
who " is at the door," actually come ; the 
great and terrible day, which is hasting for- 
ward, really commenced. — Hark ! the 
trumpet sounds the universal summons. 
The living are struck with a death-like as- 
tonishment ; the dead start from their silent 
abodes. See, the whole earth takes fire ; 
the sun is turned into darkness ; and the 
stars fall from their spheres ! Behold, 
the Lord Jesus comes with myriads of his 
angels ! The judgment is set, and the 
books are opened. 

Observe those exemplary Christians, 
whose sentiments I have been collecting. 
They renounce themselves, and rely on their 
glorious Surety. Methinks I hear them 
say, each as they quit their beds of dust : 
" I will go forth from the grave in thy 
strength, O blessed Jesus ; and at the de- 
cisive tribunal v/ill make mention of thy 
righteousness only." At the same time 
will you, Theron, or shall I, stand forth 
and declare, before the innumerable multi- 
tude of anxious sinners and adoring seraphs, 
" Let those i)usillanimous creatures fly for 
refuge to their Saviour's righteousness. We 
will confide in works, in accomplishmients of 
our own. We are the men who have per- 
sonally kept the divine law, and want no 
supposititious obedience from another. Let 
the eye that glances through immensity, and 
penetrates the recesses of the heart; let 
that holy and omniscient eye, examine our 
temper, and sift our conduct. We are bold 
to risk our souls, and all their immortal in- 
terests, on the issue of such a scrutiny." 

Perhaps, your mind is impressed with 
this solemn scene, and your thoughts recoil 
at such daring presumption. If so, it will 
be proper for me to withdraw, and leave 
you to your own meditations. At suchmo- 



not our own, Phil. iii. 9- Righteousness imputed bv 
God, Rom. iv. G, 10, 22. 



but accomplish and' bring in righteous- 
ness;"'' that it maybe presented both to 
God and naan : to God, for the reparation 
of his violated law ; to man, for the justifi- 
cation of his obnoxious person : — That this 
righteousness should be everlasting; not 
such as may be compared to the morning- 
cloud, which passeth away ; or to the early 
dew, which is soon dried up ; but such as 
will outlast the hills, on which the latter 
shines ; and outlast the skies through which 
the former sails : A righteousness, whose 
merits extend to every period, and every ac- 
tion of our lives ; and when once made ours 
by imputation, remains, and will remain our 
unalienable property. To this all the saints, 
who in ancient generations pleased God, 
owe their acceptance ; on this, all the chil- 
dren of men who in future ages hope for his 
mercy, must rely ; by this the whole assem- 
bly of the blessed will be invariably and 
eternally precious in his sight. Exalted 
character ! Can it be applicable to any thing 
less than the righteousness of the incarnate 
God? Surely none can imagine that Da- 
niel would speak in such a magnificent strain 
of any human righteousness, since, in this 
very chapter, he professedly depreciates him- 
self, his fellow-saints, and all human per- 
formances whatever. 

I forgot, in the proper place, to consult 
the prophet Jeremiah. Let us now refer 
ourselves to his determination. Celebrating 
the Saviour of Judah and Israel, he says, 
*' This is his name, whereby he shall be 
called, The Lord our Righteousness a 
determination so clear and satisfactory, as 
not to leave, one would almost conclude, any 
room for appeal. Should the sense of the 
passage be questioned, I think there cannot 
be a more authentic explication, than 
the preceding extracts from Isaiah and 
Daniel. And having the unanimous at- 
testation of two inspired penmen, we may 
venture to abide by such authority, even in 
opposition to some respectable names. In 
the verse immediately foregoing, the essen- 
tial holiness of the Redeemer is displayed, 
under the character of the righteous branch. 
The sanctity which he will impart to his 
subjects, is intimated by his "executing 
judgment and justice in the earth." In the 
clause we have quoted, his imputed righte- 
ousness is foretold and promised. Thus the 
several sentences are distinct ; the descrip- 
tion of the Saviour is complete ; and he ap- 
pears perfectly suited to the exigencies of 
a wretched world ; in their worst estate 



LETTER IV. 337 

enslaved to Satan, and in their best falling 
short of the glory of God. This, therefore, 
I take to be the grand and extensive mean- 
ing of the prophet : the righteous Lord ; 
not barely, the Lord who infuses righte- 
ousness into sinful souls ; but the incar- 
nate Jehovah,* Jer. xxiii. 5, 6, whose 
mediatorial righteousness is, by an act of 
gracious imputation, ours, to all the intfiiuts— ^ 
of justification and salvation ; ours, as much 
ours, for these blessed purposes, as if we had 
wrought it out each in his own person. 

Foreseeing and contemplating these bless- 
ings, the enraptured Zechariah cries out, 
"Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, 
O daughter of Jerusalem : behold, thy 
King Cometh unto thee ; he is just and hav- 
ing salvation, lowly and riding upon an ass, 
and upon a colt, the foal of an ass," Zech. 
ix. 9. He addresses him.self to Zion and Je- 
rusalem, to the ecclesiastical and civil com- 
munity. Persons of all ranks, and of every 
character, are exhorted to " rejoice ;" to re- 
joice "greatly;" nay, to express the joy of 
their heait, by loud hallelujahs, and tri- 
umphant exclamations. What is the cause 
of this general delight? what can fill both 
church and state with such high satisfac- 
tion ? " Thy King cometh unto thee even 
that glorious King who rules in heaven, and 
rules in the heart ; whose service is free- 
dom, and whose laws are love. " He is 
just," divinely righteous in his nature, and 
he cometh to fulfil all righteousness in thy 
stead. " Having salvation hereby pro- 
curing salvation for his people ; deliverance 
from sin, from death and hell ; from every 
evil thou deservest, and from every misery 
thou fearest. That none may be discour- 
aged, and none deterred, from applying to 
this Prince of Peace, he is, amidst all the 
honours of his sovereignty, " lowly ; does 
not abhor the basest, will not despise the 
meanest ; to the poor his gospel is preached, 
and for the guilty his benefits are intended. 
As an emblem, as a proof of this most 
amiable and condescending goodness, " he 
will ride ;" not like the conquerors of old, 
in a triumphal chariot, or on a richly ca- 
parisoned steed ; but upon the most mean 
and despicable of all animals, " an ass ;" 
nay, what is still more despicable, on a rude 
undisciplined "colt, the" wayward "foal oi 
an ass.""!* 



* Kl^n^, I think, must signify more than to publish 



In these golden, infinitely better than golden 
verses, are characterised the divine and human na- 
tures of Christ, together with his mediatorial office. 
The divine nature, in that he enjoys the honours of 
the Godhead, and possesses the incommunicable 
name Jehovah. The human nature, in that he 



to be raised up unto David, and spring as a branch 

TT J ..u- .,11 n,ot tv.-. 1 " I from his root. The mediatorial oifi 
or preach. Had this been all that the angel was com- I ♦i,„ _4„v* 



missioned to declare, *1 would probably ! sinners, 

have been used. The word implies such a bringing 
in, (the original is the same) as when Abel brought 
his sacrifice to the altar for the divine acceptance, and 



The mediatorial office, in that he is 
j the righteousness of his people, and the salvation of 



t Because profane scoffers have presumed to ri- 
dicule this very remarkable incident of our Lord's 
life, some interpreters of note have endeavoured to 



Esau brought his venison into the chamber, for his j rescue it from their abusive attempts, by observing, 



father's use. Gen. iv. 4, xxvii, 31. 



' ' That the eastern asses are imich larger and more 
Z 



338 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



And now, since my Theron confesses 
himself to be miserable, and poor and naked ; 
since the eyes of his understanding are en- 
lightened to see the impurity of his heart, 
the imperfection of his righteousness, and 
that he is in himself a lost undone sinner ; 
what advice, cheering and salutary, shall I 
stiggest ? O ! let him listen to an Adviser 
infinitely more able and compassionate ; 
hsten to Him who is the Ancient of days, 
and the wisdom of God : " I counsel thee," 
says the blessed Jesus, " to buy of me gold 
tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich : 
and white raiment, that thou mayest be 
clothed." Rev. iii. 18. Gold! what can 
this denote, but all those spiritual treasures 
which are hid in Christ ? which are in mea- 
sure unseai'chable, in value inestimable, in 
duration eternal. " White raiment !" Sure- 
ly this must signify the righteousness of our 
Redeemer, which is all purity, and all per- 
fection ; which clothes the soul, as a most 
suitable and commodious garment ; which 
covers every deformity and every sin ; and 
presents the believer, free from shame and 
free from blemish, before the throne of the 
Majesty in the heavens. 

This, to use the delicate language and 
amiable images of Isaiah — this doctrine, 
embraced by a realizing faith, is the only 
pillow of rest, " wherewith we may cause 
the weary and heavy laden soul to find re- 
pose and this is the sovereign cordial pre- 
pared by infinite mercy for the refreshment 
of anxious and desponding transgressors- 



graceful than ours ; that patriarchs and judges thought 
It no disgrace to ride upon them. This observation 
has, I fear, more of false delicacy, than of real truth, 
or Christian simplicity. In the patriarchal ages, I 
acknowledge, peisjns of high distinction thought it 
no dishonour in their journeys and processions, to 
appear on this animal. But I very much question, 
\vhether the same fashion subsisted, or the same way 
of thinking prevailed, in the reign of Tiberius Ca3sar. 
See James iii. 3. Nay, 1 am strongly inclined to sus- 
pect, that this plain primitive custom was superseded, 
even in the days of Zechariah. For long before this 
time I find, that Solomon had four thousand stalls of 
horges for his chariots, and tv»'eive thousand horse- 
men.; and- •that horses were brovight to him out of 
Egypt, and divers other countries, 1 Kings iv. 26, x. 
28, 29. From this period, it is probable, none but 
the poor and inferior sort of people rode upon asses. 
When Isaiah prophesied, the land was full of horses, 
Isaiah ,ii. 7. Under the Persian monarchy, when 
Zechariah flourished, horses were in still greater re- 
pute. ■ Well, therefore, might the prophet say, with 
wonder and delight, lowly, and riding upon an ass ! 

Was it a mean attitude ? exceedingly mean, mean 
even to contempt, I makeno scruple to grant it : nay. I 
make my boast of it ( It is for the honour of our Lord's 
condescension, it is for the utter confusion of all world- 
ly pomp and grandeur, and it is for the unspeakable 
comfort of my sinful soul. Most charming humility, 
most endearing gentleness ! "He v/ho rideth upon 
. he heavens as it were upon a horse, and maketh the 
clouds his chariot, to atone for my pride, and to en- 
courage my hope, disdained not in the days of his 
flesh, to ride upon an ass. 

They who would dignify this action, any otherwise 
than from its ever-to-be-admired abasement, seem to 
have forgotten the stable and the manger. They who 
are ofFended at this circumstance, and ashamed to 
own their Lord in his deep humiliation, have but 
very imperfectly learned the apostle's lesson, " God 
Ibrbid that I should glory, save in the cross of Christ 
Jesus, my Loid." 



\ let us not be in the number of those 
proud and refractory creatures, who, though 
they infinitely needed, " yet would not hear" 
the gracious news, Isaiah xxviii. 12, nor re- 
ceive the unspeakable benefit. In this re- 
spect, and in this most eminently, is that 
other saying of the sublime teacher true ; 
" The Lord of hosts shall be for a crown of 
glory, and for a diadem of beauty, to the 
residue of his people. Isa. xxviii. 5. Shall 
we tear from our temples, or reject with 
disdain, this unfading and heavenly orna- 
ment, in order to substitute a mean and 
tawdry chaplet of our own. 

Let me add a pertinent passage from one 
of our celebrated dramatic writers, which, 
if proper in his sense, will be incomparably 
more so, according to our manner of appli- 
cation : 

It were contemning, 

With impious self-sufficient arrogance. 
This bounty of our God, not to accept. 
With every mark of honour, such a gift. 

I might proceed to urge this expostulation 
of the poet, as I might easily have multiplied 
my quotations from holy writ, iiut, stu- 
dious of brevity, I leave both, without fur- 
ther enlargement, to your own meditation. 
Ytt, more studious of my friend's happiness, 

1 cannot conclude without wishing him an 
interest, a clear and established interest, in 
this everlasting righteousness of Christ. 
For so, and so only, can he have " everlast- 
ing consolation, and good hope through 
grace." — I am, my dear Theron, 

Inviolably yours, 

ASPASIO. 

P.S. — Opposite to the room in which 1 
vi^rite, is a most agreeable prospect of the 
gardens and the fields ; these, covered with 
herbage, and loaded with corn ; those, 
adorned with flowers and abounding with 
esculents ; all appearing with so florid and 
so beautiful an aspect, that they really seem, 
in conformity to the Psalmist's description, 
even to " laugh and sing." Let me just ob- 
serve, that all these fine scenes, all these 
rich productions, sprung — from what ? From 
the dissolution of the respective seeds. 
The seeds planted by the gardener, and the 
grain sowed by the husbandman, first pe- 
rished in the ground, and then the copious 
increase arose. 

Much in the same manner a true faith in 
Christ and his righteousness arises — from 
what? From the ruins of self-sufficiency, 
and the death of personal excellency. Let 
me therefore entreat my Theron still to 
take the diary for his counsellor ; still to 
keep an eye on the depravity of his nature, 
and the miscarriages of his life. The more 
clearly we see, the more deeply we feel our 
guilt and our misery, the more highly shall we 
value the obedience of our blessed Surety. 
In such a heart faith will flourish as a rose, 



LETTER VI. 



351 



ments to obtioide on your company, would 
render me the troublesome and oiRcious, 
rather than 

The respectful and affectionate 

Asp ASIC, 



LETTER VI. 

Theron to Aspasio. 

Dear Aspasio.- — The last evening was 
one of the finest I ever saw. According to 
my custom, I made an excursion into the 
open fields, and wanted nothing to complete 
the satisfaction, but my friend's company. 
I could not but observe how much your im- 
proving conversation heightened the charms 
of nature. When religion applied philoso- 
phy, every thing was instructive, as well as 
pleasing. Not a breeze swept over the 
plains, to clear the sky and cool the air, but 
it tended also to disperse our doubts, and 
enliven our faith in the supreme all-sufficient 
good. Not a cloud tinged the firmament 
with radiant colours, or amused the sight 
with romantic shapes, but we beheld a pic- 
ture of the present world — of its fading ac- 
quisitions and fantastic joys — in the mimic 
forms and the transitory scene. Even the 
weakest of the insect tribe, that skim the 
air in sportive silence, addressed us with the 
strongest incitements, and gave us the loud- 
est calls to be active in our day, and useful 
in our generation. They cried, at least 
when you lent them your tongue, 

Such is vain life, an idle flight of days, 
A still delusive round of siclcly joys ; 
A scene of little cares, and trifling passions. 
If not ennobled by the deeds of virtue. 

How often, at the approach of sober eve, 
have v.-e stole along the cloisters of a se- 
questered bower, attentive to the tale of 
some querulous current, that seemed to be 
struck with horror at the aAvful gloom, and 
complained with heavier murmurs, as it 
passed under the blackening shades, and 
along the root-obstructed channel ! Or else, 
far from the babbling brook, and softly tread- 
ing the grassy path, we listened to the 
nightingale's song; Avhile every gale held 
its breath, and all the leaves forbore their 
motion, that they might neither drown nor 
interrupt the melodious wo. From both 
which pensive strains, you endeavoured to 
temper and chastise the exuberant gaiety 
of my spirits. You convinced me, that true 
joy is a serious thing, is the child of sedate 
thought, not the spawn of intemperate 
mirth ; nursed, not by the sallies of disso- 
lute merriment, but by the exercise of serene 
contemplation. 

Sometimes, at the gladsome return of 
morn, we have ascended an airy eminence, 
and hailed the new-bom day ; and followed, 



with our delighted eye, the mazes of some 
glittering stream. Here, rushing with im- 
petuous fury from the mountain's side, 
foaming over the rifted rocks, and roaring 
down the craggy steep ; impatient, as it 
were, to get free from such rugged paths, 
and mingle with the beauties of the lower 
vale : There, slackening its headlong ca- 
reer, and smoothing its eddies into an even 
flow : While, deep embosomed in the ver- 
dant mead, it glides through the cherished 
and smiling herbage ; sometimes lost amidst 
closing willows ; sometimes emerging with 
fresh beauty from the leafy covert ; always 
roving with an air of amorous complacency, 
as though it would caress the fringed banks, 
and flowery glebe. Reminded by this wa- 
tery monitor, of that constancy and vigour 
with which the aflfections should move to- 
wards the great centre of happiness, Christ 
Jesus ; of that determined ardour with 
which we should break through the entan- 
glements of temptation, and obstacles of the 
world, in order to reach our everlasting 
rest ; and of the mighty difiTerence between 
the turbulent, the frothy, the precipitate 
gratifications of vice, and the calm, the sub- 
stantial, the permanent delights of religion. 

Or else, with eager \ie\v, we have sur- 
veyed the extensive prospect, and wandered 
over all the magnificence of things — an end- 
less variety of graceful objects arid delight- 
ful scenes ! each soliciting our chief regard ; 
every one worthy of our whole attention ; 
all conspiring to touch the heart with a min- 
gled transport of wonder, of gratitude, and 
of joy. So that we have returned from our 
rural expedition, not as the spendthrift from 
the gaming table, cursing his stars, and rav- 
ing at his ill luck, gulled out of his money, 
and the derided dupe of sharpers ; not as 
the libertine from the house of wantonness, 
surfeited with a rank debauch, dogged by 
shame, goaded by remorse, with a thousand 
recent poisons tingling in his A'cins. But we 
returned as ships ofcommerce from the gold- 
en continent, or the spicy islands, wth new 
accessions of sublime improvement and so- 
lid pleasure ; with a deeper veneration for 
the Almighty Creator ; with a warmer 
sense of his unspeakable favours ; and with 
a more inflamed desire " to know him now 
by faith, and after this life to have the 
fruition of his glorious Godhead." 

Sometimes, with an agreeable relaxation, 
we have transferred our cares from the wel- 
fare of the nation to the flourishing of the 
farm ; and instead of enacting regulations 
for the civil community, "vve have planned 
schemes for the cultivation of our ground 
and the prosperity of our cattle. Instead 
of attending to the course of fleets, and the 
destination of armies, we have directed the 
plough where to rend the grassy turf, or 
taught the honeysuckle to wind round the 



352 



TIIERON AND ASPASIO- 



arbour, and the jessamine to eliml) upon the 
wall. Instead of interposing our friendly 
oflices to reconcile contending kingdoms, we 
have formed a treaty of coalition between 
the stranger scion, and the adopting tree ; 
and, by the remarkable melioration of the 
ensuing fmit, demonstrated (would contend- 
ing empires regard the precedent !) what ad- 
vantages flow from pacific measures and an 
amicable union. Instead of unravelling the 
labyrinths of state, and tracing the finesses 
of foreign courts, we have made ourselves 
acquainted with the politics of nature, and 
observed how wonderfully, how mysterious - 
ly, that great projectress acts. In this place 
she rears a vast trunk, and unfolds a mul- 
tiplicity of branches from one small berry. 
She qualifies, by her amazing operations, a 
few contemptible acorns, that were former- 
ly carried in a child's lap, to bear the British 
thunder round the globe, and secure to our 
island the sovereignty of the ocean. In an- 
other place she produces, from a dry grain, 
" first the green blade ; then the turgid ear ; 
afterwards the full grown and ripened corn 
in the ear," Mark iv. 28 ; repaying, with 
exact punctuality, and with lavish usury, 
the husbandman's toil, and the husbandman's 
loan ; causing, by a most surprising resurrec- 
tion, the death of one seed to be fruitful 
in the birth of hundreds. 

But I forget your caution, Aspasio ; for- 
get how kindly you have checked me, when 
I have been haranguing upon, I know not 
what, powers and works of nature ; whereas 
it is God who " worketh hitherto," John 
V. 17, who to this day exerts, and to the 
end of time will exert, that secret but unre- 
mitted energy, which is the life of this ma- 
jestic system, and the cause of all its stu- 
pendous operations. Let this show you 
how much I want my guide, my philoso- 
pher, and friend. Without his prompting 
aid, my genius is dull, my reflections are 
awkward ; and my religious improvements 
jejune ; somev/hat like the bungling imita- 
tions of the tool, compared with the mas- 
terly eflfects of vegetation. However, I will 
proceed ; yet not from any view of inform- 
ing my Aspasio, but only to draw a bill 
upon his pen, and lay him under an obli- 
gation to enrich me with another letter 
upon the grand and excellent subject of 
his last. 

Art is dim-sighted in her plans, and de- 
fective even in her most elaborate essays. 
But Nature, or rather Nature's sublime Au- 
thor, is indeed a designer, and " a workman 
that need not be ashamed." 2 Tim. ii. 15. 
His eye strikes out ten thousand elegant 
models, and his touch executes all with in- 
imitable perfection. What an admirable 
specimen is here of the divine skill and of 
the divine goodness ! This terraqueous globe 
is intended not only for a place of habita- 



tion, but for a storehouse of conveniences. 
If we examiiie the several apartments of 
our great abode, if we take a general inven- 
tory of our common goods, we shall find 
the utmost. reason to be charmed with the 
displays, both of nice economy, and of 
boundless profusion. 

Observe the surface of this universal 
messuage. The ground, coarse as it may 
seem, and trodden by every foot, is never- 
theless the laboratory where the most exqui- 
site operations are performed ; the shop, if 
I may so speak, where the finest manufac- 
tures are wrought. Though a multitude of 
generations have always been accommodat- 
ed, and though a multitude of nations are 
daily supplied by its liberalities, it still con- 
tinues inexhausted — is a resource that never 
fails, a magazine never to be drained. 

The unevenness of the ground, far from 
being a blemish or a defect, heightens its 
beauty, and augments its usefulness. Here 
it is scooped into deep and sheltered vales, 
almost constantly covered with a spontane- 
ous growth of verdure, which, all tender and 
succulent, composes an easy couch, and 
yields the most agreeable fodder for the va- 
rious tribes of cattle. There it is extended 
into a wide, open, champaign country, which, 
annually replenished with the husbandman's 
seed, shoots into a copious harvest ; a har- 
vest, not only of that principal wheat Avhich 
is the stafif of our life, and strengthens our 
heart, but of the " appointed barley," Isaiah 
xxviii. 25, and various other sorts of grain, 
which yield an excellent food for our ani- 
mals, and either enable them to despatch 
our drudgery, or else fatten their flesh foi* 
our tables. 

The furrows, obedient to the will of man, 
vary their produce. They bring forth a 
crop of tall, flexile, slender plants,* whose 
thin filmy coat, dried, attenuated, and skill- 
fully manufactured, transforms itself into 
some of the most necessary accommodations 
of life, and genteelest embellishments of so- 
ciety. It is wove into ample volumes of 
cloth, which, fixed to the mast, gives wings 
to our ships, and wafts them to the extre- 
mities of the ocean. It is twisted into vast 
lengths of cordage, which add nerves to the 
crane, and lend sinews to the pulley ; or else, 
adhering to the anchor, they fasten the ves- 
sel even on the fluctuating element, and se- 
cure its station even amidst dri\nng tem- 
pests. It fiu-nishes the duchess with her 
costly head-dress, and delicately fine ruffies. 
No less strong than neat, it supplies the 
ploughman with his coarse frock, and the 
sailor with his clumsy trowsers. Its fibres, 
artfully arranged by the operations of the 
loom, cover om- tables with a graceful ele- 
gance, and surround om bodies with a cher- 



* Flax ana hemp. 



LETTER VI. 



353 



ishing W'armth. On this the painter spreads 
the colours which enchant the eye ; in this 
the merchant packs the wares which enrich 
the world. 

Yonder the hills, like a grand amphitheatre, 
arise. Amphitheatre ! All the pompous 
works of Roman magnificence are less than 
mole-banks, are mere cockle-shells, com- 
pared with those majestic elevations of the 
earth. Some clad with mantling vmes ; 
some crowned with towering cedars ; some 
ragged with misshapen rocks, or yaAvning 
with subterraneous dens, whose rough and 
inaccessible crags, whose hideous and gloomy 
cavities, are not only a continual refuge for 
the wild goats, but have often proved an 
asylum to persecuted merit,* and a safeguard 
to the most valuable lives. 

At a greater distance, the mountains lift 
their frozen brows, or penetrate the clouds 
with their aspiring peaks. Their frozen 
brows arrest the roving, and condense the 
rarified vapours. Their caverned bowels 
collect the dripping treasures, and send them 
abroad in gradual communications by trick- 
ling springs ; while their steep sides preci- 
pitate the watery stores, rolling them on 
with such a forcible impulse,! that they 
never intermit their unwearied course till 
they have swept through the most exten- 
sive climes, and regained their native seas. 

The Adneyard swells into a profusion of 
clusters, some tinged with the deepest pur- 
ple, and delicately clouded with azure ; som.e 
clad with a whitish transparent skin, which 
shows the tempting kernels, lodged in lus- 
cious nectar. The vine requires a strong 
reflection of the sunbeams, and a very large 
proportion of warmth. How commodiously 
do the hills and mountains minister to this 
purpose ! May we not caU those vast decli- 
vities the garden- walls of nature? which, 
far more effectually than the most costly 
glasses, or most artful green-houses, con- 
centrate the solar heat, and complete the ma- 
turity of the grape, distending it vwth liquor 



* To David from Saul's malice ; to Elijah from 
Jezebel's vengeance ; to many of the primitive Christ- 
ians from the rage of persecuting emperors ; ' ' They 
wandered in deserts and in mountains, in dens and 
caves of the earth." Heb. xi. 38. 

+ It is observed, that the largest rivers in the world, 
those which roll the heaviest burden of waters, and 
perform the most extensivecircuit through the nations, 
generally take their rise from the mountains. The 
Rhine, the Rhone, and the Po, all descend from the 
Alps. The Tigris derives its rapid flood from the 
everlasting snows and steep ridges of Niphat«s. And 
to mention no more instances, the river Amazones, 
which pours itself through a multitude of provinces, 
and waters near eighteen hundred leagues of land, has 
its urn in the caverns, and its impetus from the pre- 
cipices of that immense range of bills, the Andes. 

If the reader is inclined to see the origin and forma- 
tion of rivers described in all the sublimity of dic- 
tion, and with all the graces of poetry, he may find 
this entertainment in Mr. Thomson's autumn, line 
781, last edit. 

Amazing Scene ! behold the glooms disclose, 

I see the rivers in their infant beds I 

Deep, deep I hear them, lab'ring to get free, &c. 



of the finest scent, the most agreeable relish, 
and the most exalted qualities ! such as dis- 
sipate sadness, and inspire vivacity ; such as 
make glad the heart of man, and most 
sweetly prompt both his gratitude and his 
duty to the munificent Giver. I grieve and 
I blush for my fellow- creatures, that any 
should abuse this indulgence of heaven, that 
any should tiu-n so valuable a gift of God into 
an instrument of sin — turn the most exhilar- 
ating of cordials into poison, madness, and 
death. 

The kitchen- garden presents us with a 
new train of benefits. In its blooming or- 
naments, what unaffected beauty ! In its 
culinaiy productions, what diversified riches ! 
It ripens a multitudeof nutrimental esculents, 
and almost an equal abundance of medicinal 
herbs, distributing refreshments to the healthy 
and administering remedies to the sick. 
The orchard, all fair and ruddy, and bowing 
down beneath its own delicious burden, gives 
us a fresh demonstration of our Creator's kind- 
ness ; regales us first with all the delicacies 
of summer- fruits ; next, with the more last- 
ing succession of autumnal dainties. 

What is nature but a series of wonders, 
and a fund of delights ! That such a variety 
of fruits, so beautifully coloured, so elegant- 
ly shaped, and so charmingly flavoured, 
should arise from the earth, than which no- 
thing is more insipid, sordid, and despicable, 
I am struck with pleasing astonishment at 
the cause of tliese fine effects, and no less 
surprised at the manner of bringing them in- 
to existence. I take a walk in my garden, 
or a turn through my orchard, in the month 
of December : There stand several logs of 
wood fastened to the ground. They are 
erect, indeed, and shapely, but without either 
sense or motion : No human hand will touch 
them, no human aid will succour them ; yet, in 
a little time they are beautified with blossoms, 
they are covered with leaves, and at last are 
loaded with mellow treasures, with the 
downy peach and the polished plumb ; with 
the musky apicrot, and the juicy pear, with 
the cherry, and its coral pendents, glowing 
through lattices of green ; 

and dark 

Beneath her ample leaf, the luscious fig. 

I have wondered at the structure of my 
watch ; wondered more at the description of 
the silk-mills ; most of all at the account of 
those prodigious engines invented by Ar- 
chimedes. But what are all the inventions 
of all the geometricians and mechanics in 
the world, compared w^ith these inconceiv- 
ably nice automata* of nature ! These self- 
operating machines despatch their business 
with a punctuality that never mistakes, with 



» Automata, or self-operating machines ; not meant 
to set aside the superintendeney of Providence, but 
only to exclude the co-operation of man. 

2 A 



354 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



a dexterity that cannot be equalled. In 
spring they clothe themselves with such un- 
studied, but exquisite finery, as far exceeds 
the embroidery of the needle, or the labours 
of the loom. In autumn, they present us 
with such a collation of sweetmeats, and 
such blandishments of taste, as surpass all 
that the most critical luxury could prepare, 
or the most lavish fancy imagine. So that 
those coarse and senseless logs first decorate 
the divine creation, then perform the hon- 
ours of the table. 

If, amidst these ordinary productions of 
the earth, God appears so " great in coun- 
sel, and mighty in work," Jer. xxxii. 19, what 
may we expect to see in the palaces of 
heaven, in the hierarchies of angels, and in 
that wonderful Redeemer who is, beyond 
all other objects, beyond all other manifes- 
tations, the " wisdom of God, and the pow- 
er of God ?" 1 Cor. i. 24. 

The forest rears myriads of massy bodies, 
which, though neither gay with l^ossoms, 
, nor rich with fruit, supply us with timber of 
various kinds, and of every desirable quality. 
But who shair cultivate such huge trees, 
diflFused over so vast a space? The toil 
were endless. See, therefore, the all-wise 
and ever-gracious ordination of Providence. 
They are so constituted, that they have no 
need of the ^pade and the pruning-knife. 
Nay, the little cares of man would diminish, 
rather than augment their dignity and their 
usefulness. The more they are neglected, 
-the better they thrive, the more wildly grand 
and magnificent they grow. 

When felled by the axe, they are sawed 
into beams, and sustain the roofs of our 
houses ; they are fashioned into carriages, 
and serve for the conveyance of the heaviest 
loads. Their substance so pliant, that they 
yield to the chisel of the turner, and are 
smoothed by the plane of the joiner ; are 
wrought into the nicest diminutions of shape, 
and compose some of the finest branches of 
household furniture. Their texture so so- 
lid, that they form the most important parts 
of those mighty engines which, adapting 
themselves to the play of mechanic powers, 
despatch more work in a single hour than 
could other\vise be accomphshed in many 
days. At the same time, their pressure is 
so light that they float upon the waters, and 
glide along the surface, almost with as much 
agility as the finny fry glance through the 
deep. Thus, while they impart magnifi- 
cence to architecture, and bestow number- 
less conveniencies on the family, they con- 
stitute the very basis of navigation, and 
give expedition, give being, to commerce. 

Amidst the inaccessible depths of the 
forests, a habitation is assigned for those 
ravenous beasts, whose appearance would 
be frightful, and their neighbourhood dan- 
gerous to mankind. Here the sternly ma- 



jestic lion rouses himself from his den, 
stalks through the midnight shades, and 
awes the savage herd with his roar. Here 
the fiery tiger springs upon his prey, and 
the gloomy bear trains up her whelps. 
Here the swift leopard ranges, and the grim 
wolf prowls, and both in quest of murder 
and blood. Were these horrid animals to 
dwell in our fields, what havoc would they 
make ? what consternation would they 
spread ? But they voluntarily bury them- 
selves in the deepest recesses of the desert ; 
while the ox, the horse, and the serviceable 
quadrupeds, live under our inspection, and 
keep within our call ; profiting us as much 
by their presence, as the others oblige us by 
their absence. 

If at' any time those shaggy monsters 
make an excursion into the habitable world, 
it is when man retires to his chamber, and 
sleeps in security. The sun, which invites 
other creatures abroad, gives them the sig- 
nal to retreat. " The sun ariseth, and they 
get them away, and lay them down in their 
dens." Psalm civ. 22. Strange ! that the 
orient light, which is so pleasing to us, 
should strike such terror on them ! should, 
more effectually than a legion of guards, 
put them all to flight, and clear the country 
of those formidable enemies ! 

If we turn'"our thoughts to the atmos- 
phere, we find a most curious and exquisite 
apparatus of air, which, because no object 
of our sight, is seldom observed, and little 
regarded ; yet is a source of innmnerable 
advantages ; and all these advantages (which 
is almost incredible) are fetched from the 
very jaws of ruin. My meaning may be 
obscure, therefore I explain myself. 

We live plunged, if I may so speak, in 
an ocean of air, whose pressure, upon a per- 
son of moderate size, is equal to the weight 
of twenty thousand pounds. Tremendous 
consideration ! Should the ceiling of a room, 
or the roof of a house, fall upon us with half 
that force, what destructive effects must 
ensue ! Such a force would infallibly drive 
the breath from our lungs, or break every 
bone in our bodies- Yet so admirably has 
the divine wisdom contrived this aerial 
fluid, and so nicely counterpoised its dread- 
ful power, that we receive not the slightest 
hm*t — we sufl^er no manner of inconveni- 
ence — we even enjoy the load. Instead of 
being as a mountain on our loins, it is 
like vdngs to our feet, or like sinews to our 
limbs. Is not this common ordination of 
Providence, thus considered, somewhat like 
the miracle of the biu-ning bush, whose ten- 
der and combustible substance, though in 
the midst of flames, was neither consumed 
nor injured ? Exod. iii. 2. Is it not almost 
as marvellous as the prodigy of the three 
Hebrew youths, who walked in the fiery 
furnace without having a hair of their heads 



LETTER VI. 



355 



singed, or so much as the smell of fire pass- 
ing on their garments ? Dan. iii. 27. Sure- 
ly w€ have reason to say unto God, " O ! 
how terrible," yet how beneficent, " art thou 
in thy works." 

The air, though too weak to support our 
flight, is a thoroughfare for innumerable 
• wdngs. Here the whole commonwealth of 
bii-ds take up their abode. Here they lodge 
and expatiate beyond the reach of their ad- 
versaries. Were they to run upon the earth, 
they would be exposed to ten thousand dan- 
gers, Avithout proper strength to resist them, 
or sufficient speed to escape them ; whereas, 
by mounting the skies, and " lifting them- 
selves up on high, they are secure from 
peril ; they scorn the horse and his rider." 
Job xxxix. 18. Some of them perching 
upon the boughs, others soaring amidst the 
firmament, entertain us with their notes ; 
which are musical and agreeable when heard 
at this convenient distance, but would be 
noisy and importunate, if brought nearer to 
our ears. Here many of those feathered 
families reside, which yield us a delicious 
treat, yet give us no trouble, put us to no 
expense, and, till the moment we want them, 
are wholly out of our way. 

The air, commissioned by its all-bounti- 
ful Author, charges itself with the adminis- 
tration of several offices, which are perfectly 
obliging, and no less serviceable to mankind. 
Co-operating with our lungs, it ventilates 
the blood, and refines our fluids. It quali- 
fies and attempers the vital warmth, pro- 
motes and exalts the animal secretions. 
M^ny days we might live, or even whole 
months, without the light of the sun, or the 
glimmering of a star ; whereas, if we are 
deprived, only for a few minutes, of this 
aerial support, we sicken, we faint, we die. 
The same universal nurse has a considera- 
ble share in cherishing the several tribes of 
plants. It helps to transfuse vegetable 
vigour into the trunk of the oak, and a 
blooming gaiety into the spread of the rose. 

The air undertakes to convey to our nos- 
trils the extremely subtile efhuvia which 
transpire from odoriferous bodies. Those 
detached particles are so imperceptibly small, 
that they would elude the most careful hand, 
or escape the nicest eye. But this trusty 
depositary receives and escorts the invisible 
vagrants, without losing so much as a single 
atom : entertaining us, by this means, with 
the delightful sensations which arise from 
the fragrance of flowers ; and admonishing 
us, by the transmission of the offensive 
smells, to withdraw from an unwholesome 
situation, or beware of any pernicious food. 

The air, by its undulating motion, con- 
ducts to our ear all the diversities of sound, 
and thereby discharges the duty of a most 
seasonable and faithful monitor. As I 
walk across the streets of London, with my 



eye engaged on othef objects, a ' dray, per- 
haps, with all its load, is driving down di- 
rectly upon me; or, as I ride along the 
road, musing and unapprehensive, a chariot 
and six is whirling on, with a rapid career, at 
the heels of my horse. The air, like a vi- 
gilant friend in pain for my welfare, imme- 
diately takes the alarm ; and, while the dan- 
ger is at a considerable distance, despatches 
a cornier to advertise me of the approaching 
mischief. It even thunders in my ear ; and 
with a clamorous but kind importunity, 
urges to be upon my guard, and provide for 
my safety. 

The air wafts to our sense the modu- 
lations of music, and the more agreeable en- 
tertainments of refined conversation. When 
Myrtilla strikes the silver strings, and teaches 
the v,'illing harpsicord to warble with her 
Creator's praise ; when her sacred sonata 
warms the heart with devotion, and wings 
our desire to heaven : — when Cleora tunes 
her song, or the nightingale imitates her 
enchanting voice ; when she heightens 
every melodious note with her adored Re- 
deemer's , name ; and so smooths her 
charming tones, so breathes her rapturous 
soul, "that God's own ear listens delighted :" 
when wisdom takes its seat on Mitio's 
tongue, and flows in perspicuous periods 
and instructive truths, amidst the chosen 
circle of his acquaintance ; — when benevo- 
lence, associated with persuasion, dwell on 
Nicander's lips, and plead the cause of in- 
jured innocence or oppressed virtue : — when 
goodness, leagued with happiness, accom- 
pany Eusebius into the pulpit, and reclaim 
the liberthie from the slavery of his vices, 
disengage the infidel from the fascina- 
ation of his prejudices, and so affectionate- 
ly, so pathetically invite the whole audience 
to partake the unequalled joys of pure reli- 
gion ; — in all these cases, the air distributes 
every musical variation with the utmost ex- 
actness, and delivers the speaker's message 
with the most punctual fidelity ! Whereas 
without this internuncio, all would be sul- 
len and unmeaning silence. We should 
lose both the pleasure and the profit ; 
neither be charmed Avith the harmonious, 
nor improved by the articidate accents. 

The breezes of the air, when vague and 
unconfined, are so veiy gentle, tliat they 
sport with the most inoffensive wantonness 
amidst Ophelia's locks, and scarce disajust a 
single curl. But, when collected and ap- 
plied by the contrivance of man, they act 
with such prodigious force, as is sufficient 
to whirl I'ound the hugest wheels, though, 
clogged with the most encumbering loads ; 
They make the ponderous millstones move 
as swiftly as the dancer's heel, and the 
massy beams play as nimbly as the musi-;, 
clan's finger. ' ^'^^ 

If we climb in speculation the higher re«. 



S56 



THERON AND ASPASiO. 



gions, we find an endless succession of 
douds, fe d by evaporations from the ocean. 
The clouds themselves are a kind of ocean, 
suspended in the air with amazing skill, 
They travel in detached parties, and in the 
quality of itinerant cisterns, round all the 
terrestrial globe. They fructify, by proper 
comm.unications of moisture, the spacious 
pastures of the wealthy, and gladden, with 
no less liberal showers, the cottager's 
little spot. Nay, so condescending is the 
benignity of their great Proprietor, that they 
*' satisfy the desolate and waste ground ; 
and cause, even in the most uncultivated 
wilds, the bud of the tender herb to spring 
forth," Job xxxviii. 27, that the natives of 
the lonely desert, those savage herds which 
know no master's stall, may nevertheless ex- 
perience the care, and rejoice in the bounty 
of an all-supporting parent. 
' How wonderful ! that the water, which is 
much denser and far heavier than the air, 
should rise into it, make its way through it, 
and take a station in the very uppermost 
regions of it ! This, one would imagine, 
were almost as impossible as for the rivers 
to run back to their source. Yet Provi- 
dence has contrived a way to render it not 
only practicable, but matter of continual oc- 
currence. 

How wonderful ! that pendent lakes 
should be diffused, or fluent mountains heap- 
ed over our heads ; and both sustained in 
the thinnest parts of the atmosphere ? We 
little think of that surprising expedient, 
w^hich, without conduits of stone, or vessels 
of brass, keeps such loads of water in a 
buoyant state. Job and Elihu considered 
this, and were struck with holy admiration. 
"Dost thou know the balancings of the 
clouds ?" how such ponderous bodies are 
made to hang with an even poise, and hover 
like the lightest down ? " These are the 
wondrous works of him who is perfect in 
knowledge," Job xxxvii. 16. "Hebindeth 
up the waters in his thick clouds, and the 
cloud," though nothing is more loose and 
fluid, becomes, by his almighty order, strong 
and tenacious as casks of iron : it " is not 
rent," Job xxvi. 8, under all the weight. 

When the sluices are opened, and the wa- 
ters descend, we might reasonably suspect 
that they should burst forth in cataracts, or 
pour out themselves in torrents. Whereas, 
instead of such a disorderly and precipitate 
effusion, which would be infinitely perni- 
cious, they coalesce into globules, and are 
dispensed in gentle showers. They are of- 
ten attenuated into the smallness of a hair,* 
they spread themselves, as if they were 



* The Hebrew words, which convey the idea of 
gentle rain, signify a portion of water, made small 
as a hair, or divided into millions of parts, Deut. 
xxxii. 2. 



strained through the orifices of the finest 
watering-pot, and form those " small drops 
of rain, which the clouds distil upon man 
abundantly," Job xxxvi. 28. Thus, instead 
of drowning the earth, and sweeping away 
its fi"uits, they cherish universal nature, and 
in conformity to the practice of their great 
Master, distribute their humid stores to 
men, to animals and vegetables, *' as they 
are able to bear them," Mark iv. 33. 

Besides the reservoirs of water, here are 
cantoned various parts of winds, mild or 
fierce, gentle or boisterous, furnished with 
breezy wings, to fan the glowing firmament, 
and diffuse refreshment on a fainting world ; 
or else fitted to act as an universal besom, 
and, by sweeping the chambers of the at- 
mosphere, to preserve the fine aerial fluid 
free from feculencies. Without this whole- 
some agency of the winds, the air would 
stagnate, become putrid, and surround us, 
in the literal sense of the words, '-'with 
darkness that might be felt." Exod. x. 21. 
London, Paris, and all the great cities in 
the world, instead of being the seats of ele- 
gance, would degenerate into sinks of cor- 
ruption. 

At sea, the winds swell the mariner's 
sails, and speed his course along the watery 
way ; speed it far more effectually than a 
thousand rowers, bending to their strokes, 
and tugging at the oar. By land, they per- 
form the office of an immense seedman, and 
scatter abroad the reproductive principles 
of a multitude of plants, which, though the 
staff of life to many animals, are too small 
for the management, or too mean for the 
attention of man. " He briiigeth the winds 
out of his treasuries," Psalm cxxxv. 7, is 
a very just observation, whether it relate to 
God's absolute and uncontrollable dominion 
over this most potent meteor, or to its wel- 
come and salutary influence on all the face 
of nature. 

Here are lightnings stationed. Though 
dormant at present, they are in act to spring, 
and launch the livid flame, whenever their 
piercing flash is necessary to destroy the 
sulphureous vapours, or dislodge any other 
noxious matter which might be prejudicial 
to the delicate temperature of the ether, and 
obscure its more crystalline transparency. 

Above all is situate a radiant and majestic 
orb, which enlightens the tracts, cheers the 
inhabitants, and colours all the productions 
of this habitable globe. While the air, by 
a singular address in managing the rays, 
amplifies their usefulness, its reflecting pow- 
er* augments that heat, which is the life of 



* The air is a curious cover, which, vrithout op- 
pressing the inhabitants of the earth with any per- 
ceivable weight, confines, reflects, and thereby in- 
creases the vivifying heat of the sun. The air in- 
creases this kindly heat, much in the same manner as 
our garments by day, or bedclothes by night, give 



LETTER VL 



357 - 



nature, its refracting power proiongs fehat 
splendour whicu is the beauty of the crea- 
tion. These emanations of light, though 
formed of inactive matter, yet (astonishing 
apparatus of almighty wisdom !) are refined 
almost to the subtilty of spirit, and are 
scarce inferior even to thought in speed. 
By which means they spread themselves, 
with a kind of instantaneous swiftness, 
through the circumference of a whole hem- 
isphere ; and though they fill, wherever 
they pervade, yet they straiten no place, 
embarrass no one, encumber nothing. 

These give the diamond its brilliancy, 
and the velvet its gloss : to these, the cheer- 
-ful eye is obliged for its lively sparkle, and 
the modest cheek for its rosy blush. These, 
attending the judicious touches of the pen- 
cil, bid the drapery flow, and the embodied 
figure arise ; bid the countenance wear the 
calm serenity of thought, or be agitated with 
the wild transports of passion — Without 
this circumstance of colour, we should want 
all the entertiuninents of vision, and be at a 
loss to distinguish one thing from another. 
We should hesitate to pronounce, and must 
take a little journey to determine, whether 
yonder enclosure contains a piece of pastur- 
5ige, or a plot of arable land. We should 
question, and could not very expeditiously 
resolve, whether the next person we meet 
be a soldier in his regimentals, or a swain 
in his holiday-suit ; a bride in her ornaments, 
or a widow in her weeds. But colour, like 
a particular livery, characterises the class 
to which every individual belongs. It is the 
hibel which indicates, upon the first inspec- 
tion, its respective quality. It is the ticket 
which guides our choice, and directs our 
hand.* 



additional warmth to our bodies. Whereas, when 
the aerial vestment grows thin, or, to sj)eak more 
philosophically, when the air becomes less in quanti- 
ty, and more attenuated in quality, the solar warmth 
is very sensibly diminished. Travellers on the lofty 
mountains of America sometimes experience, to their 
terrible cost, the truth of this observation. Though 
the clime, at the foot of those prodigious hills, is 
hot and sultry, yet, on their summits, the cold rages 
with such excessive severity, that it is no unusual 
ralamity, for the horse and his rider to be frozen to 
death. W e have, therefore, great reason to bless the 
Supreme Disposer of things, for placing us in the 
commodious concavity, or rather, under the cherish- 
ing wings of an atmosphere. 

* This, I believe, suggests the true sense of those 
noble metaphors used by the divine speaker : " It is 
turned as clay to the seal, and they stand as a gar- 
ment ;" — It, the earth and all its productions, receive 
from the rising sun both colour and beauty; just as 
the soft clay and the melting wax receive an elegant 
impression from the seal. — "They (the morning and 
the day-spring, mentioned in a preceding verse,) 
stand as a garment ;" they act the part of a magnifi- 
cent and universal clothing : give all visible objects 
their comely aspect and graceful distinctions. Job 
xxxviii. 14. 

What bold and fine images are here. The sea had 
been described as an infant, changeable, froward, and 
impetuous, with thick darkness for its swaddling- 
band. The light is represented as an handmaid, at- 
tending to dress the creation; and executing the 
Creator's orders, with a punctuality that never fails, 
with a speed that caimot be equalled. 



We have cursorily surveyed the upper 
rooms of our great habitation, and taken a 
turn along the ground-floor ; if we descend 
into the subterraneous lodgments, the cellars 
of the stately structure, we shall there also 
find the most exquisite contrivance acting in 
concert wdth the most profuse goodness. 
Here are various minerals of sovereign ef- 
ficacy in medicine, which rectify the vitiat- 
ed blood, and quicken the languid spirits ; 
which often rekindle the fading bloom in 
the virgin's complexion, and re-invigorate 
the enfeebled arm of manhood. Here are 
beds fraught with metals of the richest va- 
lue : From hence come the golden treasures, 
from hence the silver ores, which are the 
very life of traffic, and circulate through the 
body politic as the vital fluid through the 
animal frame, which, in the refining hand of 
charity, are feet to the lame, and eyes to the 
blind, and make the widow's heart sing for 
joy. Here are mines, w^hich 'yield a metal 
of meaner aspect, but of a firmer cohesion, 
and of superior usefulness : A metal that 
constitutes almost all the implements with 
which art executes her various designs. 
Without the assistance of iron, trade would 
be reduced to the lowest ebb ; commerce 
would feel her wings clipped, and every spe- 
cies of mechanic skill either utterly fail, 
or be miserably baffled. Without the as- 
sistance of iron, it would be almost impos- 
sible to rear the steady mast, to display the 
daring canvass, or drop the faithful anchor. 
Destitute of this ever-needful commodity, 
we should have no plough to furrow the soil, 
no shuttle to traverse the loom, scarce any 
ornament for polite, or any utensil for ordin^ 
ary life. 

Here is an inexhaustible fund of combust- 
ible materials,* which supply the whole na- 
tion with fuel. These present their mini- 
strations in the kitchen ; and yielding them- 
selves as aliment to the flame, render our 
food both palatable and healthy. These oflfer 
their service at the forge, and with their ^ 
piercing heat molify the most stubborn bars, 
till they become pliant to the stroke of the = 
hammer. The coals pour themselves like- 
wise into the glass-houses : They rage, 
amidst those astonishing furnaces with ir- 
resistible but useful fierceness. They lique- 
fy even the obdurate flint, and make the 
most rigid substances far more ductile 
than the softest clay, or the melting wax ; 
make them obsequious, not only to the light- 
est touch, but to the impressions of our very 
breath. 

By this means we are furnished, and from 



« As for the earth, says Job, out of it cometh breads 
corn, vegetables, and whatever is good for food, spring 
from its surface. While under it is turned up as it 
were fire ; its lower parts, its deeper strata, yield com- 
bustible materials, which are easily enkindled into 
fire, and administer the most substantial fuel for the 
flame. Job xxviii. 5. 



353 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



the coarsest ingredients, with the most cu- 
rious, beautiful, and serviceable manufacture 
in the world : A manufacture which trans- 
mits the light and warmth of the sun into 
our houses ; yet excludes the annoyance of 
the rains, and violence of the winds. Which 
gives new eyes to decrepit age, and vastly 
more enlarged views to philosophy and 
science ; which leads up the astronomer's 
discernment even to the satelites of Saturn, 
and carries down the naturalist's observation 
as far as the animalcule race ; bringing near 
what is immensely remote, and making vis- 
ible what, to our 'unassisted sight, would be 
absolutely imperceptible. 

We have also, when the sun withdraws 
his shining, an expedient to supply bis place. 
We can create an artificial day in our rooms, 
and prolong our studies, or pursue our busi- 
ness, under its cheering influence. With 
beaming tapers and ruddy fires, we chase 
the darkness, and mitigate the cold ; we 
cherish conversation, and cultivate the so- 
cial spirit. We render those very intervals 
of time some of the most delightful por- 
tions of our life, which otherwise would be 
a joyless and unimproving void. 

These obscure caverns are the birth-place 
of the most sparkling gems ; which, when 
nicely polished, and prodigal of their lustre, 
stand candidates for a place on the royal 
crown, or a seat on the virtuous fair one's 
breast ; and, I will not with our men of 
gallantry say, emulate the living brilliancy 
of her eyes, but serve as a foil to set off the 
loveliness and excellency of her accom- 
plished mind, and amiable conversation ; 
" whose price," according to the unerring 
estimate of inspiration, is superior to sap- 
phires, "is far above rubies," Prov. xxxi. 10. 

Here are quarries stocked with stones, 
inferior in beauty to the jeweller's ware, 
but much more eminently beneficial ; which, 
when properly ranged, and cemented with 
a tenacious mortar, form the convenient 
abodes of peace, and build the strongest 
fortifications of war ; defending us from the 
inclemencies of the weather, and the more 
formidable assaults of our enemies. These 
constitute the arches of the bridge which 
convey the traveller, with perfect security, 
over the deep and rapid stream. These 
strengthen the arms, the stupendous arms, 
of the mole ; which stretch themselves far 
into the ocean, break the impetuosity of the 
surge, and screen the bark from tempestu- 
ous seas. These stony treasures are com- 
paratively soft, while they continue in the 
bowels of the earth, but acquire an increas- 
ing hardness when exposed to the open air. 
Was this remarkable peculiarity reversed, 
what difficulties would attend the labours 
of the mason? His materials could not 
be extracted from their bed, nor fashioned 
for his purpose, without infinite toil. Were 



his work completed, it could not long with- 
stand the fm-y of the elements ; but, insen- 
sibly mouldering, or incessantly decaying, 
would elude the expectations of the owner ; 
perhaps might prove an immature grave, 
instead of a durable dwelling. 

Here are various assortments or vast 
layers of clay ; which, however contempti- 
ble in its appearance, is abundantly more 
advantageous than the rocks of diamond, 
or the veins of gold. This is moulded, 
with great expedition and ease, into vessels 
of any shape, and of almost every size. 
Some so delicately fine, that they compose 
the most elegant and ornamental furniture 
for the tea-table of a princess. Others so 
remarkably cheap, that they are ranged on 
the shelves, and minister at the meals of 
the poorest peasant. All so perfectly neat, 
that no liquid takes the least taint, nor the 
nicest palate any disgust, from their cleanly 
services. 

A multiplicity of other valuable stores 
are locked up by Providence, in those am- 
ple vaults. The key of all is committed 
to the management of industry ; with free 
permission to produce each particular spe- 
cies, as necessity shall demand, or prudence 
direct. 

Which shall we most admire — the boun- 
tiful heart, the liberal hand, or the all-dis . 
cerning eye of our great Creator? How 
observable and admirable is his precaution, 
in removing these useful but cumbrous 
wares from the superficies ; and stowing 
them in proper repositories, beneath the 
ground? Were they scattered over the 
surface of the soil, the earth would be em- 
barrassed with the enormous load; our 
roads would be blocked up, and scarce any 
portion left free for the operations of hus- 
bandry. Were they buried extremely deep, 
or sunk to the centre of the globe, it would 
cost us immense pains to procure them ; 
or rather they would be quite inaccessible. 
Were they uniformly spread into a pave- 
ment for nature, the trees could not strike 
their roots, nor the herbs shoot their blades, 
but universal sterility must ensue. Where- 
as, by their present disposition, they furnish 
us with a magazine of metallic, without 
causing any diminution of our vegetable, 
treasures. Fossils of every splendid and 
serviceable kind enrich the bowels, while 
bloom and verdure embellish the face of 
the earth. 

So judicious is the arrangement of this 
grand edifice ; so beneficent the destination 
of its whole furniture !* in which all is re- 
gulated with consummate skill, and touch- 
ed into the highest perfection ! All most 



* No notice is taken of the ocean, in this little rent- 
roll of nature's wealth ; because a distinct sketch is 
given of that grand receptacle, and its principal ser- 
vices, in Letter IX. 



LETTER VII. 



exactly adapted to the various intentions of 
Providence, and the manifold exigencies of 
mankind ; to supply every want we can 
feel, and gratify every wish we can form. 

Insomuch that the whole system affords 
a favourite and exalted topic of praise, 
even to those distinguished beings who 
" stand on the sea of glass, and have [the 
harps of God in their hands." They lift 
up their voice and sing, " Great and mar- 
vellous are thy works, O Lord God Al- 
mighty,"* Rev. XV. 3. And is there not 
reason, my Aspasio would say, infinite rea- 
son for us to join this triumphant choir, and 
add gratitude to our wonder, love to our 
hallelujahs ; since all these things are to us, 
not merely objects of contemplation, but 
sources of accommodation ; not only a ma- 
jestic spectacle, bright with the display of 
our Creator's wisdom, but an inestimable 
gift, rich' with the emanations of his good- 
ness ? The earth hath he set before the in- 
habitants of glory, " but the earth halh he 
given to the children of men," Psal. cxv. 
16. Having given us ourselves, given us a 
world ; has he not a right, most un- 
questionable and unrivalled right, to make 
that tender demand, " My son, give me thy 
heart ? Prov. xxiii. 26. 

Shall I add another passage, which, view- 
ed with any but the last paragraph, will be 
like the head of gold, eminent and conspi- 
cuous, on feet of iron and clay ? It is taken 
from the finest philosophical oration that 
ever was made. I never read it but with a 
glow of delight, and with impressions of 
awe. It is, in shortj inimitably spirited and 
sublime. You think, perhaps, I act an im- 
politic part in being so lavish of my praise ; 
and that the quotation must suffer by such 
an aggrandizing introduction. But I am 
under no apprehensions of this kind : For- 
bear to be delighted, if you can ; cease to 
admire, if you can ; when you hear Omni- 
science itself declaring, that on the sight of 
this universal fabric emerging out of no- 
thing, " the morning stars sang together, 
and all the sons of God shouted for joy," 
Job xxxviii. 7. The system was so grace- 
ful, so magnificent, and in all respects so ex- 
quisitely finished, that the most exalted in- 
telligences were charmed, were transported. 
They knew not how to express themselves 
on the great occasion, but in shouts of ex- 
ultation and songs of praise. Is it possible 



* " Great and marvellous are thy works, O Lord 
God Almighty ! just and true are thy ways, thou King 
of saints !" — The first part seems to mean, what the 
inspired writer calls, The song of Moses. The second 
contains what he styles. The song of the Lamb. The 
first, I should imagine, relates to the stupendous works 
of creation. The second alludes to the far more won- 
derful scheme of redemption. The former, describ- 
ing the system of nature, is recorded by Moses ; the 
latter, comprehending the salvation of tho saints, is 
accomplished by Christ. 



359 

for imagination to conceive an encomium so 
just, so high, so beautifully noble ? — I am 
sure, after so much delicacy and majesty of 
sentiment, any thing of mine must be into- 
lerably flat ; unless you will except this one 
profession, that I am, with the most cor- 
dial sincerity, my dear Aspasio, inviolably 
yours, Theron. 



LETTER VIL 
Aspasio to Theron. 

My Dear Theron, — If you write with 
such a view, and from such a motive, as are 
mentioned in your last, expect no more free- 
will offerings from my pen. In this one in- 
stance I shall think it my duty to be covet- 
ous. I shall act the miser out of principle ; 
and hardly persuade myself to part with a 
single line, till it is become an ujideniable 
debt. I must turn your own artifice on 
yourself, and lay you under a necessity of 
obliging, entertaining, and edifying me by 
your correspondence. 

For, give me leave to assure you, that I 
am always delighted, and always improved 
by your epistles. They show me a multi- 
tude of beauties in the creation which I 
should not otherwise have discerned. They 
point out the infinite power, the unsearcha- 
ble wisdom, and the charmingly rich good- 
ness of the glorious Maker. Such a philo- 
sophy turns all nature into a school of in- 
struction, and is an excellent handmaid to 
true religion. It makes eveiy object a step, 
better than a golden step, to raise both our 
knowledge and our affections to the adora- 
ble and immortal Cause of all. 

While I am roving heedlessly along, your 
remarks often interpose, like some intelli- 
gent faithful monitor who claps his hand 
upon my breast, and says, Stand still, and 
consider the wondrous works of God," Job 
xxxvii. 14. Willingly I obey the admoni- 
tion : the Christian may, with peculiar com- 
placency, consider this grand magazine of 
wonders, this copious store-house of bless- 
ings, and, conscious of an interest in Jesus, 
has a right to call them all " his owti," 
1 Cor. iii. 2. He may ^ook round upon 
present things, look forward unto future 
things, and, trusting in his Saviour's merit, 
may confidently say—-" Not one only, but 
both these worlds are mine. By virtue of 
my Redeemer's righteousness, I possess the 
necessary accommodations of this life ; and, 
on the same unshaken footing, I stand en- 
titled to the inconceivable felicity of a 
better." 

Surely then, it will be as pleasing an em- 
ploy, and as important a search, to examine 
the validity of our title to future things, as 



360 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



to estimate the value of our present posses- 
sions : You have executed the one, let me 
attempt the other : You have surveyed ma- 
terial nature. It appears to be a fair and 
stately mansion, void of all defect ; and, for 
the^purposes which it is intended to answer, 
completely finished. Is not our Saviour's 
obedience, the provision made for indigent 
and guilty souls,* equally rich, and equally 
perfect ? Since this is everlasting and im- 
mutable ; since the other is transient and 
perishable ; doubtless we 'may argue with 
the judicious apostle ; If " that which is to 
be done away," which will soon be consign- 
ed over to dissolution, " is glorious ; much 
more that which remaineth," whose blessed 
effects continue to eternal ages, " is glor- 
ious," 2 Cor. iii. 11. 

We are every one " as an unclean thing," 
Isa. Ixiv. 6. Our very nature is contamin- 
ated. Even sanctification, though it de- 
stroys the reigning, does not wholly super- 
sede the polluting power of iniquity ; so 
that, whatever graces we exercise, whatever 
duties we perform (like the rays of light 
transmitted through coloured glass, or like 
generous wine streaming from a defiled cask,) 
they receive some improper tinge, or con- 
tract some debasing taint. But Christ was 
entirely free from this innate contagion. He 
had no erroneous apprehensions in his mind, 
no corrupt bias upon his will, nor any irre- 
gular concupiscence in his affections. 

Being thus perfectly undefiled, " he did 
no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth," 
1 Pet. ii. 22. All his thoughts were inno- 
cent, all his words were irreproachable, and 
every action blameless. The most accom- 
plished among the children of men, when 
surprised in some unguarded moment, or 
assaulted on some weak side, have been be- 
trayed into error, or hurried into sin. Even 
Moses spake unadvisedly with his lips, and 
Aaron, the saint of the Lord, warped to 
idolatrous practices. They were like some 
stagnating lake, in which, the dregs being 
subsided, the waters appear clean ; but 
when stirred by temptation, or agitated by 
affliction, the sediment rises, and the pool 
is discoloured. Whereas Christ may be 
compared to a fountain that is all transpar- 
ency, and pure to the very bottom ; which, 
however shaken, however disturbed, is no- 
thing but fluid crystal, permanently and in- 
variably clear. 

It was a small thing for the blessed Jesus 
to have no depraved propensity ; he was 
born in a state of consummate rectitude, 
and adorned with all the beauties of holi- 
ness. " Holiness to the Lord" was inscrib- 
ed, not on the mitre, but on the heart of 
our great High- Priest : Therefore he is 
styled, by the angelic harbinger of his birth, 
" That Holy Thing," Luke i. 35.* In the 

* Which is spoken in contradistinction to the state 



prophecy of Zechariah, the dignity of our 
Redeemer*s nature, and the perfection of 
his obedience, are displayed by the simili- 
tude of a stone,* adorned with exquisite 
engraving, wrought not by Bezaleel or Aho- 
liab, though divinely inspired artists, but by 
the finger of Jehovah himsfelf ; and more 
highly finished than it is possible for human 
skill to equal, or human thought to con- 
ceive. 

The whole tenor of our Lord's conduct 
was a living exemplification of piety and 
morality, in their most extensive branches 
and most amiable forms. Saints of the 
highest attainments have fallen short of the 
glory of God ; have been far from reaching 
the exalted standard of his precepts : But 
Christ failed in no point, came short in no 
degree. We formerly observed the great 
sublimity and vast extent of the divine law ; 
from whence appears the extreme difficulty, 
nay the utter impossibility of our justifica- 
tion on account of any duties performed by 
ourselves. How should we rejoice then to 
contemplate the vicarious righteousness of 
our condescending and adorable Surety ! 
As the mercy-seat was exactly commensur- 
ate to the dimensions of the ark, so did our 
Lord's obedience most fully quadrate with 
all and fevery demand of ihe divine law. 
It flowed from those best of principles- — su- 
preme love to God, and unfeigned affection 
to mankind. 

From these two capital sources, let us 
trace our Lord's obedience through some 
little part of its illustrious progress. His 
delight in God was conspicuous, even from 
his early years. The sacred solemnities of 
the sanctuary were more engaging to his 
youthful mind, than all the entertainments 
of a festival. When he entered upon his 
ministry, whole nights were not too long 
for his copious devotions. The lonely re- 
tirements of the desert, as affording oppor- 
tunity for undisturbed communion with 
God, were more desirable to Christ than 
the applauses of an admiring work). 

So ceaseless and transcendent was his 
love to God, that he never sought any se- 
parate pleasure of his own, but always did 
those things which were pleasing in his Fa- 
ther's sight. His own will was entirely ab- 
sorbed in the will of the Most High, and " it 
was his meat and drink," refreshing and de- 
lightful as the richest food, or as royal dain- 



of all other births, and implies the universal preva- 
lence of original corruption, this one instance only 
excepted. For, if other infants were holy at their 
first formation, and made after the image of God, 
this remark had been trivial and impertinent, if not 
droll and burlesque ; like saying with great solemni- 
ty " The child shall have a mouth and a head ; aye, 
and eyes in the one, and lips to the other." 

* Zech. iii. 9. Behold the stone that I have laid 
before Joshua ; upon one stone shall be seven eyes : 
behold, I will engrave the graving thereof, saith the 
Lord of Hosts, and 1 will remove the iniquity of that 
land in one day. 



LETTER VIL 



361 



ties, " to finish the work that was given him 
to do." John iv. 34 

So entirely devoted to the honour of God, 
that a zeal for his house, and for the purity 
of his ordinances, is represented by the 
evangelical historian, as " eating him up." 
John ii. 17. Like a heavenly flame glow- 
ing in his breast, it sometimes fired him 
with a graceful indignation, sometimes melt- 
ed him into godly sorrow, and, by exerting 
itself in a variety of vigorous efforts, con- 
sumed his vital spirits; 

So active and unremitted was the obe- 
dience of the blessed Jesus, that the sun 
did not enter upon his race with a more 
constant assiduity, nor despatch his business 
with greater expedition ; and sure I am, 
that radiant luminary never dispensed beams 
half so bright, or a thousandth part so bene- 
ficial. Short was his span, but how grand 
and extensive were his services ! So grand, 
that they bring more glory to God than all 
the administrations of Providence, and all 
the phenomena of nature. So extensive, 
that they spread, in their gracious efficacy, 
to the ends of the earth, and to the closing 
period of time. Nay, they will diffuse their 
blessed influence even to the celestial world, 
and have no other h'mits of their duration 
than the ages of eternity. 

Most affectionately concerned for the 
welfare of mankind, he spent his strength, 
not barely in relieving them when his aid 
was implored, but in seeking the afflicted, 
and offering his assistance. With great 
fatigue, John iv. 6, he travelled to remote 
cities ; and with no less condescension he 
visited the meanest villages, — that all might 
have the benefit and comfort of his presence. 
Though multitudes of miserable objects 
were brought to him from every quarter, 
yet he was pleased even to prevent the 
wishes of the distressed, and *' went about 
doing good." 

He gave sight, and all the agreeable scenes 
of nature, to the blind ; health, and all the 
choice comforts of life, to the diseased. He 
expelled malevolent raging demons, and 
restored, what is more precious than the 
light of the body, or the vigour of the con- 
stitution, the calm possession of the intellec- 
tual faculties. What greatly surpassed all 
the preceding blessings, he released the 
wretched soul from the dominion of dark- 
ness and from the tyranny of sin. He made 
his followers partakers of a divine nature, 
and prepared them for a state of never-end- 
ing bliss. 

Such priceless treasures of wisdom and 
beneficence flowed from his tongue, and 
were poured from his hands ! How different 
these triumphs of mercy, from the trophies 
erected by wild ambition in the bloody field! 
If heathens celebrated those mighty butchers 
who made cities their slaughter^ioiise, made 



half the globe their shambles, and measured 
their merit by the devastations they spread, 
how should Christians admire this heavenly 
Benefactor, who rose upon a wretched 
world " with healing under his wings !" who 
distributed far and near the unspeakably 
rich gifts of knowledge and holiness, of 
temporal happiness and eternal joy ! 

Nor were these righteous acts his strange 
work, but his repeated, his hourly, his al- 
most incessant employ. Sometimes we hear 
him preaching in the temple, or publishing 
his glad tidings in the synagogues. Some- 
times we see him teaching in private houses, 
or bringing forth the good things of his gos- 
pel on the deck of a ship. At other times 
he takes a mountain for his pulpit ; the hea- 
vens are his sounding-board ; and " all that 
have ears to hear" are invited to be his 
audience. Does he lay aside this solemn 
office, it is only to carry on the same design 
in a more condescending and familiar man- 
ner. — If he meets with the Pharisees, he 
discovers their errors and reproves their 
vices ; he confutes their objections, and (in 
case they are not absolutely inaccessible to 
wise counsel) rectifies their mistakes. If he 
vouchsafes to be present at a feast, he 
furnishes the richest, incomparably the 
richest part of the treat *' Honey and 
milk are under his tongue," Cant. iv. H. 
He inculcates lowliness of mind on the vain, 
Luke xiv. 8. he recommends disinterested 
charity to the selfish, Luke xiv, 12 ; and pro- 
mises pardon to the weeping penitent, Luke 
vii. 48- Is he retired from other company, 
and surrounded only by his chosen attend- 
ants? His conversation is a sermon. 
Whether he sit in the inner-chamber, or 
travel on the public road, or walk through 
the corn-fields, he is still prosecuting his 
great work, training up his disciples for their 
sacred function, and imparting to them what 
they may communicate to others. Is he re- 
tired from all company ? Even then he does 
not discontinue his labours of love, but adds 
the fervent intercessions of the night to the 
charitable toils of the day. Yes ; when all 
but himself lay sunk in soft repose, this Ad- 
vocate for a guilty world was engaged in an 
exercise of benevolence, which, though se- 
cret and unobserved as the falling dews, 
was far more beneficial to our best interests, 
than those pearly drops to the languishing 
herbs. 

Most charming and unparalleled benigni- 
ty ! He forgot his daily food, neglected his 
necessary rest, to spend and be spent for 
the salvation of mankind. Neither the 
hardships of continued self-denial, nor the 
calumnies of envenomed tongues, could di- 
vert him from pursuing this favourite busi- 
ness. He sought none of your honours, 
coveted none of your rewai ds, O ye children 
of men 1 What he sought, what he coveted 



862, 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



was to wear out his life in your service, and 
j;iy it down for your ransom. This was all 
hfs desire, and this, indeed, he desired 
earnestly. He longed (beneficent, blessed 
Being he longed, for the fatal hour. He 
severely rebuked one of his disciples who 
would have dissuaded him from going as a 
volunteer to the cross. He was even strait- 
ened,* under a kind of holy uneasiness, till 
the dreadful work was accomplished ; till he 
was baptized with the baptism of his suf- 
ferings, bathed in blood and plunged in 
death. 

By this most meritorious obedience and 
death, what did he not deserve ? what did 
ho not procure ? He procured those inesti- 
mable blessings, the ])ardon of sin and re- 
conciliation with God; procured them (O 
love unmerited and unmeasurable !) for 
prodigals, for traitors, for rebels ! To 
this it is owing that we, who were ene- 
mies against God, may call the king of 
heaven our father, may have free access 
to him in all our difficulties ; and may 
hope to reign with him in everlasting glory. 

Was ever goodness like this goodness ?f 
were ever blessings comparable to these 
blessings, or purchased with such a price ? 
Hide, hide your diminished heads, ye little 
transitory donations of silver and gold. The 
riches of a thousand mines, bestowed to feed 
the hungry and clothe the naked, are the 
most contemptible trifles, if mentioned with 
the charity of the teaching, the healing, the 
bleeding Jesus ! Kingdoms given away in 
alms, if viewed with this infinitely noble 
beneficence, would make just the same figure 
us a spark from the summer hearth, under 
the potent and boimdless blaze of noon. 
This is indeed "love that passeth know- 
ledge."t Eph. iii. 19. 

* Luke xii. 50. The original word o-wvs^s^sta/ 
seems to express the condition of a person wedged in 
on every side by a tumultuous throng of people. 

f Codrus, it'is true, devoted himself to death^for tlie 
Athenians ; and Curtius threw himself into the yawn- 
ing gulph for the preservation of the Romans. But 
these died being mere creatures, and guilty creatures ; 
whereas, the dying Jesus was perfectly imiocent, and 
supremely glorious. These died only a little before 
their time : but Christ died, though he had life in 
himself, and none could have taken it from him, had 
he not voluntarily resigned it. These died for their 
valuable friends, for their affectionate relations, for 
their native country; but Christ died for slaves, for 
enemies, for the ungodly. They died an honourable 
death, but Christ submitted to the most ignominious 
execution ; Christ died under the imputation of hor- 
rid crimes, and in the form of an execrable malefac- 
tor. In all these instances, as the heavens are higher 
than the earth, so is Christ's love greater than their 
love, his philanthropy than their patriotism. 

X This expression, as also the principal circum- 
stance of superiority hinted in the preceding note, 
are founded on the divinity of our Lord ; and indeed 
the expression is scarce justifiable, the assertion is 
hardly true, upon any other supposition. A creature 
dying for a creature, is, though great, yet not|incom- 
prehensible goodness. But, when we view the suffer- 
ings of Christ, and the blessings of redemption, sur- 
rounded with all the splendour of the Deity, they 
dazzle our understanding, and fill us with holy aston- 
ishment. They appear to be the effects of a love ne- 
ver to be spoke of but in the language of wonder, ne- 
ver to be tnought of but with an ecstacy of delight. 



Amidst all, these miracles of power and 
of love, (any one of which would have en- 
titled him to universal admiration and ever- 
lasting honotur), how humble was our Savi- 
our ! O humility — virtue dear to the most 
high God, and peculiarly amiable in men— . 
never didst thou appear in so charming a 
dress, or so striking a light ! 

At his birth, not accommodated with a 
magnificent palace, but lodged in a stable, 
and laid in a manger. As he. advanced in 
years, not attended with a royal equipage, 
or supplied from a royal revenue, but labour- 
ing with his own hands, and earning his 
bread by the sweat of his brow. When he 
entered upon his ministerial office, not the 
least ostentatious parade appeared in the 
performance of all his wonderful works. So 
far, so very far from affecting the acclama- 
tions of the popidace, that he often imposed 
silence on those unspeakably indebted lips 
which were ready to overflow with praise, 
and would fain have been the trumpets of 
his fame. 

Though a voice from heaven proclaimed 
him the Beloved of his Almighty Father, he 
disdained not to own the ignoble character 
of the carpenter's son. Matth. xiii. 55. 
Though Prince of the kings of the earth, 
he condescended to wash the feet of mean 
fishermen and vile sinners. John xiii. 14. 
Though proprietor and lord of the whole 
world, he was content to be more destitute 
than the fowls of the air, or the foxes of 
the desert ; Matth. viii. 20 ; more destitute 
(astonishing abasement !) than the most in- 
significant and most hated animals. 

Grandeur, we find, is apt to beget expec- 
tations of superior regard; consequently 
gives a keener edge to every affront, and 
renders the mind more tenderly sensible of 
every disrespect. But our Lord's meekness 
was as great as his dignity; and that through- 
out a series of such unsufferable provoca- 
tions, as were equalled by nothing but the 
sweetness of his forgiving grace. 

When rudely affronted, he calmly bore, 
and kindly overlooked the insult. When 
contradicted by petulant and presumptuous 
sinners, he endured, with the utmost sereni- 
ty of temper, their unreasonable cavUs and 
their obstinate perverseness. When his 
invitations, his most endearing invitations, 
were ungratefully and stubbornly rejected, 
instead of remitting, he renewed them ; and, ^ 
with still warmer affection, importuned his . 
hearers not to forsake their 'own mercies, 
not to forego their own felicity. When all 
the winning arts of persuasion were inef- 
fectual, he added his tears to his slighted 
entreaties, and lamented as a brother when 
scornfully repulsed as a teacher. 

Though his disciples slept, stupidly slept, 
when his bitter cries pierced the clouds, and 
were enough to awaken the very stones into 



LETTER VII. 



363 



compassion, did tbeir divine but slighted 
Master resent the unkindness ? Did he 
refuse to admit an excuse for their neglect ? 
yea, lie made their excuse, and that the most 
tender and gracious imaginable : " The 
spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." 
Matth. xxvi. 41. "When his enemies had 
nailed him to the cross, as the basest slave 
and most flagitious malefactor ; when they 
were glutting their malice with his torments 
and blood, and spared not to revile him even 
in his last expiring agonies ; far, very far 
from being exasperated, this Hero of heaven 
repaid all their contempt and barbarity with 
the most fervent and effectual supplications 
in theii- behalf: " Father, forgive them," 
was his prayer ; " for they know not what 
they do," was his plea. Luke xxiii. 34. 

Nor was his resignation less exemplary 
than his meekness. He Avent out to meet 
aftlictions, when they came in his Father's 
name, and commissioned from his leather's 
hand. He gave, without the least reluct- 
ance, his back to the smiters, " and hid not 
his face from shame and spitting." Though 
his soul, his very soul, was penetrated with 
the keenest sensations of anguish, yet no 
impatient thought discomposed his mind, 
no miurmuring word forced its way from his 
lips. " Father, not my wiU, but thine be 
done," Luke xxii. 42, was his language, 
when the sorrows of death compassed him, 
and pains inexpressibly severer than the 
pains of dissolution, came upon him. 
" When they gaped upon him with their 
mouth, and smote him upon the cheek re- 
proachfully : When his face was fold with 
spitting, and on his eyelids was the shadow 
of death : When God delivered him to the 
imgodly, and turned him over into the hands 
of the wicked : Yea, when the Almighty 
set him for the mark of his arrows, and 
brake him with breach upon breach : When 
the weapons of his wrath cleft his very reins 
asunder, and poured his gall upon the 
earth :"* — Amidst all this exquisite dis- 
tress, he sinned not by the least irregular 
perturbation ; but bowed his head, and du- 
tifully Idssed the divine rod, and cordially 
blessed his very murderers. 

Thus did the whole choir of active and 
passive virtues abound and shine in our 
Lord ; abound with the richest variety, and 
shine with the highest lustre, infinitely sur- 
passing that curious assemblage of costly 
gems which studded the Aaronic breast- 
plate, Exod. xxviii. IT— 20. and, as far as 



* These tragical images are borrowed from the 
book of Job, who was an eminent type of a suffering 
Saviour ; and though they are the very eloquence of 
wo, they do not exaggerate, they cannot express that 
mconceivable anguish which wrung a bloody sweat 
from our blessed Master's body, and forced from his 
lips that melancholy exclamation—" My soul is 
sorrowful— exceeding sorrowful— sorrowful e\'eii unto 
death." See Job xvi. 



earthly things can represent heavenly, typi- 
fied the splendour and perfection of our Re- 
deemer's righteousness. 

In all this, he acted and suffered as God's 
righteous servant, and as his people's right- 
eous surety. By all this, he fulfilled every 
jot and tittle of the divine law ; nay, he 
more than fulfilled, he magnified it. He gave 
it (if I may apply the most beautiful allusion 
that ever was used, to the most momentous 
subject that ever was discussed) " good mea- 
sure pressed down, and shaken together, and 
running over." Luke vi. 38. 

He defied the most vigilant of his ene- 
mies to convince him of sin. A more ma- 
lignant, a far more sagacious adversary than 
the Scribes and Pharisees, could detect no 
blemish in our Lord Jesus. " The prince 
of this vi'orld," that infernal tyrant who had 
deceived and enslaved all the nations of the 
earth, " came and found nothing in him,'* 
John xiv. 30, not the least corruption in 
his nature, not the least defect in his obe- 
dience. 

" He hath done all things well," Maik 
vii. 37. was the general acclamation of all 
mankind ; or, as the words may be render- 
ed, " he hath done all things finely and 
gracefully («aX<wj,) with every circumstance 
that can constitute the propriety and digni- 
ty, the utility and beauty of action. 

" 1 have glorified thee on earth," John 
xvii. 4, was his own profession before the 
most high God. I have glorified thee in all 
that I acted, in all that I uttered, in all that 
I suffered. I have displayed the magnifi- 
cence of thy Majesty, the riches of thy grace, 
and the honour of all thy attributes. Inso- 
much, that " whoso seeth me, seeth the Fa- 
ther," John xii. 45 : whoever is properly 
acquainted with my person and my work of 
redemption, sees the invisible, and knows the 
incomprehensible Deity ; sees his venerable, 
his amiable, his adorable perfections, in the 
clearest mirror, and in the brightest light. 

God also, who is the supreme standard, 
and unerring judge of excellency, bore his 
testimony to our blessed Mediator. He 
spoke it once, yea twice, and with a voice 
from heaven. In the constitution of the ma- 
terial world, when it came forth from the 
Creator's hand. Omniscience itself could 
discern no flaw. Neither could Justice itself, 
upon the strictest inquiry, discover any fail- 
ure in the obedience of our Surety. As, 
therefore, it was said concerning the works 
of creation, " They are all very good," Gen. 
i. 31, so it was said concerning our Saviour, 
and by the same Almighty Majesty, In him 
I am well pleased." Matth. iii. I?. 

You took notice, and very justly, how 
much the productions of nature exceed and 
eclipse the attempts of human skill. We 
are pleased with the performances of the 
I painter ; but do they equal the native blush 



364 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



of the rose, or the artless glow of a pea- 
blossom ? We are charmed with a fine piece 
of enammelling ; but is it fit to be compar- 
ed with the natural polish of a thousand 
shells which are formed in the ocean, or a 
thousand seeds which spring from the earth ? 
We admire the virtues of the ancient saints, 
men " that were honoured in their genera- 
tions and the glory of their times, Eccles. 
xlv. 7. We admire the meekness of Moses, 
and the magnanimity of Elijah ; the exalted 
piety of Isaiah, and the enlarged wisdom of 
Daniel ; the active spirit of Joshua, and the 
passive graces of Jeremiah. But what pro- 
portion, put them all together — what propor- 
tion do they all bear to his obedience, " who 
is gone into heaven, angels and authorities 
and powers being made subject unto him," 
1 Pet. iii. 22. " who is called the Holy One 
and the Just," Acts iii. 14. not only by way 
of emphasis, but by way of exclusion ; be- 
cause no person is worthy of the character, 
no duties deserve to be mentioned, when 
Christ and his merits are under considera- 
tion. 

If then we talk of merit, what merit mufet 
there be in such immaculate sanctity of soul, 
and such exemplary holiness of conduct ; 
such ardent zeal for God, and such com- 
passionate good-will to men ; such consum- 
mate worthiness and extensive usefulness ; 
•such as were utterly unknown before, have 
been absolutely unequalled since, and never 
will, nor can be paralleled throughout all 
ages ! — O my Theron ! what is the drop of 
a bucket to the unfathomable waves of the 
ocean ? W^hat is a grain of sand to the un- 
measurable dimensions of the universe ? 
What is an hour or a mornent to the end- 
less revolutions of eternity ? Such are all 
human endowments, and all human attain- 
ments, compared with his righteousness, 
who is " fairer than the children of men," 
Psal. xlv. 2. " the chiefest among ten thou- 
sand, Cant. V. 10.; "and who receiveth 
not the Spirit by measure," John iii. 34. 

Think not, that what I have written is 
the language of rant. It is a paraphrase, 
though, I must confess, but a scanty para- 
phrase, on David's practice and David's 
faith. " My mouth shall show forth thy 
righteousness and thy salvation all the day, 
for I know not the numbers thereof," Psal. 
ixxi. 15.* The glorious righteousness of 



• I cannot but observe, that righteousness and sal- 
vation are frequently connected by the author of the 
psalms, and by the prophet Isaiah, in order to in- 
timate that the one is foimded on the other ; the latter 
derives its origin from the former. There can be no 
salvation without a righteousness, a real, proper, law- 
fulfilling righteousness. At the same time, I am sen- 
sible, that the word righteousness may signify God's 
goodness in making, and faithfulness in performnig 
his promises unto David, Salvation may likewise 
denote the delivery of that afflicted hero from all his 
persecutors, and his establishment on the throne of 
Israel. 

But, if we should coufiQe the sense to these narrow 



Christ, and the great salvation obtained 
thereby, he declares shall be the chosen, 
the principal subject of his discourse. And 
not on a Sabbath only, but on every day of 
the week, of the year of his life. And not 
barely at the stated returns of solemn de- 
votion, but in every social interview, and 
"all the day long-" Why will he thus 
dwell, perpetually and invariably dwell on 
this darling theme ? Because " he knew 
no end thereof. It is impossible to mea- 
sure the value, or exhaust the fulness of 
these blessings. The righteousness is un- 
speakable, the salvation is everlasting. To 
compute the duration of the one, numbers 
fail ; to describe the excellency of the other, 
words are at a loss. 

And is this righteousness designed for us ? 
Is this to be our wedding-dress, this our beau- 
tiful array, when we enter the regions of 
eternity ? Unspeakable privilege ! Is this 
what God has provided to supply, more than 
supply, our loss in Adam? Boundless benig- 
nity ! Shall we be treated by the Judge of the 
world as if we had performed all this un- 
sinning and perfect obedience ? Well might 
the prophet cry out, like one lost in aston- 
ishment " How great is his goodness ? Is 
not your heart enamoured, my dear Theron, 
with a view of this incomprehessibly rich 
grace ? What so excellent, what so comfort- 
able, what so desirable, as this gift of a Sa- 
viours righteousness ! Though delineated 
by this feeble pen, methinks it has dignity 
and glory enough to capti\'ate our hearts, 
and fire our affections ; fire them with ar- 
dent and inextinguishable desires after a 
personal interest and property in it. O ! 
may the eternal Spirit reveal our Redeemer's 
righteousness, in all its heavenly beauty and 
divine lustre ! Then, I am sure, we shall 
esteem it above every thing ; we shall re- 
gard it as the " one thing needful :" we shall 
count all things, in comparison of it, worth- 
less as chaff and empty as the wind. 



limits, how comfortless the favour even to David 
himself, considered as aii immortal being ! How much 
more insignificant to us and others, on whom the 
ends of the world are come ! And how very unworthy 
of that infinite God, who is the Father of the spirits 
of all flesh ; who sees at one view whatever is or has 
been, or shall exist; who therefore, when he speaks, 
speaks to all his children in every period of time, and 
in every nation under heaven. As much as a tutor, 
when delivering his lectures, addresses himself to all 
his pupils, whether they sit at his right hand or his 
left, before him or on every side. 

Whereas, if righteousness signifies the meritorious 
obedience of Christ, and salvation implies the bene- 
fits of his redemption, the sense is no longer shrivel- 
led, impoverished, and mean; but rich, august, and 
magnificent. 1 1 pours consolation among all peoplf* 
kindreds and tongues. It is worthy of that God, who 
seeth the things, and regardeth the persons, which 
are not as though they were. It comports exactly 
with that revelation in which Christ is the Alpha and 
Omega, the beginning and the ending, the sum total. 

This note is already too long, otherwise I should 
take leave to gratify my inclination, and give a sanc- 
tion to my sentiment, by transcribing Vitrmgas ex- 
position of Isa. xlv. 8. 



LETTER VII r. 



365 



To an immortal and fallen soul every 
thing else is empty as the wind ; but here 
sinners may " suck and be satisfied with this 
breast of consolation ;" yea, thousands and 
thousands of millions may " milk out, and 
be delighted with the abundance of its glo- 
ry." Isa. Ixvi. 11. Here we shall find the 
doctrine of supererogation no longer a chi- 
mera, but a delightful reality. Here in- 
deed is an immense surplusage, an inexhaus- 
tible fund of merit,* sufficient to enrich a 
whole world of indigent a.xid miserable crea- 
tures ; sufficient to make their cup run over 
with a superabundant fulness of peace and 
joy, so long as time shall last, and when 
time shall be no more. For, to use the apos- 
tle's weighty argument, *' if, by one man's 
offence death reigned by one ; much more 
they which receive abundance of grace, and 
of the gift of righteousness, shall reign in 
life by one, Jesus Christ." Rom. v. 17. If, 
one offence, committed by one mere man, 
made all his posterity chargeable with guilt, 
and liable to death ; how much more shall 
the manifold instances of our divine Re- 
deemer's obedience ; of his long, uninter- 
rupted, consummate righteousness ; — how 
much more shall they absolve all his people 
from condemnation and punishment, and 
entitle them to the honours and joys of 
immortality ! 

Which will appear in a clearer light, if, 
to the perfection of his obedience, we add 
the majesty of his person. A proper sub- 
ject this for some future letter. — In the 
mean time, let me desire my friend, the 
friend of my bosom, to contemplate our 
Lord Jesus under that lovely and august 
character, " Glorious in holiness." Exod. 
XV. 11. And, for my part, I will notecase 
to pray, that a sense of this supereminently 
grand and precious righteousness may be 
written on my Theron's heart. On those 
living tables, may it be like figures cut on a 
rock of solid marble, or inscribed on the bark 
of a growing tree ; be lasting in its duration 
as the former, and spreading in its influence 
as the latter. It will then be a sure proof, 
that his name is written in the book of life ; 
and it shall then be a pleasing pattern for 
the affection, the gratitude, and the friend 
ship of his AsPASio, 

P. S — You give a most astonishing ac- 
count of the pressure of the atmosphere 
Astonishing, indeed! that we should be 



* Yet here is no rich fund, (as a learned writer as- 
serts) no fund at all, for the Pope's treasury of meri- 
torious supererogating actions ; unless Christ and the 
Pope are to be placed upon the same footing ; unless 
the ineffably excellent obedience of a divine'Redeem 
er, and the miserably defective duties of sinful men, 
are to be deemed equally valuable. Since this will 
hardly be admitted by Protestants, I believe, Aspa- 
sio may safely call the obedience of Christ, " the true 
'" Ambrosehas called the blood 

of Christ, "the true purgatory." 



continually surrounded, continually over- 
whelmed, with such a tremendous load, and 
not be crushed to death ; no, nor be sen- 
sible of the least weight. This, I think, 
may serve to represent the state of a sinner 
unawakened from carnal security. Loads, 
more than mountainous loads of guilt, are 
upon his soul, and he perceives not the bur- 
den. For this reason, he is under no ap- 
prehensions of the vengeance and fiery in- 
dignation which he deserves : he has no 
superlative esteem for the atonement and 
merits of the Redeemer, which alone can 
deliver him from the wrath to come. But 
if once his conscience feels, what his lips, 
perhaps, have often repeated, " We do ear- 
nestly repent us of these our misdoings, the 
remembrance of them is grievous unto us, 
the burden of them is intolerable ; then 
how will he prize such a text, " The Lord 
laid on Christ the iniquity of us all !" How 
will he long for an interest in the Lamb of 
God, " which taketh away the sin of the 
world !" Then that Jesus who has " finish, 
ed the transgression, and brought in everlast- 
ing righteousness," will be all his salvation, 
and all his desire. 



LETTER VIII. 

ASPASIO TO TilEROy. 

Dear Theron, — I have just been read- 
ing that exquisitely fine piece of sacred his- 
tory, the life of Joseph: a history filled 
with surprising incidents and unexpected 
revolutions ; adorned with the most heroic 
instances of triumphant virtue, both amidst 
all the allurements of temptation and under 
the pressures of affliction ; animated with 
such tender and pathetic, such melting and 
alarming touches of natural eloquence, as 
every reader must feel, and every true critic 
will admire. 

When I came to that remarkable injunc- 
tion with which the generous viceroy dis- 
missed his brethren, " Ye shall tell my 
Father of all my glory in Egypt," Gen. 
xlv. 13; — I paused — I pondered — I was 
struck. Certainly this was enjoined, not 
byway of ostentation, but on account of 
the pleasure, which he knew it would yield 
the good old patriarch. Was it some kind 
prompting angel, or the voice of gratitude 
and devotion, that whispered in my ear, 
" Should not the children of men likewise 
tell one another of all the glory,* which 



* To see the glory of Christ, is the grand blessin? 
which our Lord solicits and demands for his disciples, 
in his last solemn intercession, John xvii. 24. It is 
that which will complete the blessedness of heaven, 
and fill Its inhabitants with joy unspealtable and (Glo- 
rious. Surely then we should endeavour to antici- 
pate, in some degree, that celestial bliss, and habitu. 



366 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



their Redeemer possesses m heaven and on 
earth ? Will not this afford them the su- 
blimest pleasure here, and be a source of 
the most refined satisfaction for ever and 
ev^er ?" 

Though I had almost determined to write 
no more, till you could make a demand upon 
the foot of value received, willingly I re- 
cede from ray intended resolution, and obey 
this pleasing hint. But "who can declare 
the noble acts of the Lord Jesus Christ, or 
show forth all his praise ?" — However, if I 
may but lisp out his adorable name, and 
present my friend with a glimpse, or a 
broken view of his divine perfections, even 
this Avill be desirable and delightful ; far 
more desirable and delightful than to be- 
hold Rome in its magnificence, St. Paul in 
the pulpit, or King Solomon on his throne.* 
Let me take the lark for my pattern ; 
which, as I was lately returning from an 
evening ramble, attracted my observation. 
Warbling her Creator's praise, she mounted 
in the serene sky. Still she warbled, and 
still she mounted, as though she meant to 
carry her tribute of harmony unto the very 
gates of heaven. Having reached at last 
her highest elevation, and perceiving her- 
self at an immense distance from the starry 
mansions, she dropped on a sudden to the 
earth, and discontinued at once both to sing 
and to soar. Now the morning appears, 
and is awakening the world, our little song- 
ster retunes her throat, and re-exerts her 
wings. As I have endeavoured, very im- 
perfectly endeavoured, to strike out a sha- 
dowy draught of our Lord's complete obe- 
dience ; I would, though unequal to the 
task, once more resume my pen, and attempt 
-—nothing like a display, but only a faint 
sketch of his essential dignity. 

First let me observe, that for some time 
past we have been visited with the most 
uncomfortable weather, dewless nights and 
sultry days. The firmament was more like 
a glowing furnace than the region of refresh- 
ing rain. The earth lay parched with thirst, 
and chapped with heat. The meadows 
were drained of their humidity, and all the 
flowers hung their fading heads. The 
streams, which used to flow parallel with 
the verdant margin, abandoned their banks, 
and sunk diminished and discoloured, to 
the bottom of their oozy channels. Nature 
in general seemed to be resigning the " robe 
of beauty for the garment of heaviness." 
Drought was in all our borders, and famine 
we feared was not far behind. Though 
clouds of dust obscured the air, tarnished 
the hedges, and almost smothered the tra- 



ate our souls to this sacred exercise, which will be 
OUT business and our reward to endless ages. 

* These, if I remember right, are the three things 
which St. Augustine declared, would, of all others, 
most eminently gratify his curiosity. 



veller, yet not one cloud of fleecy white ap- 
peared, to variegate the blue expanse, or 
give us hopes of a reviving shower.* 

It reminded me of that awful threatening, 
denounced by Moses on a wicked people : 
" The heaven, that is over thy head, shall 
be brass ; and the earth, that is under thee, 
shall be iron." Deut. xxviii- 23. It made 
me apprehensive of that terrible state which 
the prophet so emphatically describes : 
" The field is wasted, and the land mourn- 
eth. The seed is rotten under the clods, 
and the harvest perisheth. The garners are 
laid desolate, and the barns are broken 
down. The new wine is dried up, the oil 
languisheth, and all the trees of the field are 
withered. How do the beasts groan ! The 
herds of cattle are perplexed ; yea, the flocks 
of sheep are made desolate : Because the riv- 
ers of waters are dried up, and the fire hath 
devoured the pastures of the wilderness." 
Joel i. 10, &c. But, blessed be the divine 
Providence, our fears are vanished, and a 
most joyful change has taken place. The 
Lord hath " sent a gracious rain upon his 
inheritance, and refreshed it when it was 
weary." Psalm Ixviii. 9. 

Yesterday, in the afternoon, the wind, 
shifting to the south, roused the dormant 
clouds, and brought some of those agreea- 
able strangers on its wings. At first they 
came sailing in small, and thin, and scatter- 
ed parties. Anon, the flying squadrons ad- 
vanced in larger detachments, more closely 
wedged, and more deeply laden ; till at last, 
the great rendezvous completed, they form- 
ed into a body of such depth, and extended 
their wings with such a sweep, as darkened 
the sun, and overspread the whole hemis- 
phere. 

Just at the close of day, the gales which 
escorted the spongy treasures retired, and 
consigned their charge to the disposal of a 
profound calm. Not a breeze shook the 
most tremulous leaf : Not a curl ruffled the 
smooth expansive lake : All things were 
still, as in attentive expectation. The earth 
seemed to gasp after the hovering moisture. 
Nature, with her suppliant tribes, in express- 
ive pleading silence, soHcited the falling 
fruitfulness, nor pleaded long, nor solicited 
in vain. 

The showers, gentle, soft and balmy, de- 
scend. The vessels of heaven unload their 
precious freight, and enrich the penurious 
glebe. Through all the night, the liquid 
sweetness, incomparably more beneficial than 
trickling silver, distils ; shedding herbs, and 

* At such ajuncture, how pertinent is the question 
proposed by the Almighty Majesty ? Job xx:j(.viii. 
37, 38. Who can number, muster, or aiTange the 
clouds in wisdom, so as to have them ready at hand 
on any emergency ? And who can empty those bot- 
tles of heaven, in copious but seasonable effusions 
upon the earth ! when, as in the case described above, 
the dust of the roads is attenuated into ptwder, and 
the clods of the valley are glued fast together i 



LETTER VIII. 



S67 



fruits, and flowers, — Now the sun, mild and 
refulgent, issues through the portals of the 
east. Pleased, as it were, to have emerged 
from the late aggravated darkness, he looks 
abroad with peculiar gaiety and the most en- 
gaging splendours. He looks through the 
disburdened air, and finds a gladdened world, 
that wants nothing but his all-cheering 
beams, to render its satisfaction complete. 
The glory comes !— Hail to thy rising ray. 
Great lamp of light, and second source of day ! 
Who robe the world, each nipping gale remove. 
Treat every sense, and beam creating love. — 

KiRKPATRlCK. 

At his auspicious approach, the freshened 
mountains lift their heads, and smile. The 
garden opens its aromatic stores and breathes, 
as from a fuming altar, balm to the smell, 
and incense to the skies. The little hills, 
crowned with springing plenty, clap their 
hands on every side. The moistened plains, 
and irriguous valleys, "laugh and sing:" 
"While their waters, lately exhausted, again 
"are made deep, and their rivers run like 
oil," Ezek. xxxii. 14. 

The whole earth, saturated with the 
bounty of heaven, and flushed with humid 
life, wears a thousand marks.of gratitude and 
complacency. Washed by the copious rain, 
how bright and vivid is the universal ver- 
dure ! The green carpet below may almost 
vie with the blue canopy above. The forest, 
and every tree, burnish their colours, and 
array themselves in their finest apparel ; 
which, as on a day of general festivity, is 
delicately decked with gems — gems of un- 
sullied lustre, and of genial moisture. From 
every pasture, and from all the grove, the 
voice of pleasure and of melody resounds ; 
while the officious zephyrs waft the floating 
harmony, blended with native perfumes — 
gently waft them to the senses, and touch 
the very soul with transport. 

Could there be a more brilliant appear- 
ance, or more exuberant demonstrations of 
joy, even to celebrate the anniversary of na- 
ture's birtli ? With what admirable pro- 
priety has the Psalmist compared yonder 
orient sun, in all his sparkling grandeur, to 
a young exulting "bridegroom," Psal. xix. 5, 
who comes forth, with every heightened or- 
nament, from his chamber, to show himself 
in the most distinguished period of his life, 
and to receive the blessing which consum- 
mates his happiness ! 

This most charming and equally ma- 
jestic scene recalls to my memory that fine 
description of the Messiah, extant in the 
last lovely strains of the Israelitish swan :* 
—He shall be welcome and salutary, "as 



* laraelitish Swan— In allusion to those well known 
lines of the poet, 

" Multa Dircasum levat aura cygnum." 
And not without a reference to the popular notion, 
that the swan sings the most melodious notes in its 
last moments. " Fuit ha^c facundigenis quasi cyfmea 

vox." TllTTV 



the light of the morning ; v/hen the sun 
ariseth," to chase the malignant shades, and 
pour day through the reviving world. He 
shall be as the light of a morning that is 
most serenely fair, without either storms to 
disturb, or clouds to obscure the glorious, 
the delightful dawn. Yea, his appearance 
shall be " more beautiful," and his influence 
"more beneficial,* than the clear shining" 
of that grand luminary, after a night of set- 
tled gloom, and showers of incessant rain ; 
when his beams shed animating warmth, 
and vital lustre, on the tender grass impearl- 
ed with dews, and on all the green treasures 
of the teeming earth. 

As we have already contemplated the 
blessed Jesus under the amiable character 
of the Just One, the foregoing passage of 
Scripture represents him to our faith, in the 
more majestic quality of the Lord of Glory ; 
or rather unites the two grand^' peculiarities 
which render him unparalleled in his per- 
sonal, and all-sufficient in his mediatorial 
capacity. 

Great, unspeakably great and glorious, 
would our Saviour appear, if we had no 
other manifestations of his excellency, than 
those which preceded his mysterious incar- 
nation. In the ancient scriptures, he stands 
characterised as the supreme object of God's 
ineffable complacency ; vested with a glory, 
prior to the birth of time, or the existence 
of things ; even " the glory which he had 
with the Father before the world was." 
John xvii. 5. He is everywhere exhibited 
as the ultimate desire of all nations, the sole 
hope of all the ends of the earth, the seed 
of inestimable and universal importance, in 
whom all people, nations, and languages, 
should be blessed. In those royal, or ra- 
ther divine acts and monuments, he is pub- 
licly recognised as the Ruler of God"s peo- 
ple ; whose dominion is an everlasting do- 
minion, and his kingdom from generation to 
generation. And how august, how venera- 
ble, is this sovereign ! since it was the 
highest honour of the most eminent saints, 
and renowned monarchs,"}" to act as harbin- 

* More beautiful, more beneficial, than the clear 
shining, 2 Sam. xxiii. 4. — Thus we have ventured to 
translate, or rather to paraphrase the words fTa^jQ. 
That the prefix often occurs in the acceptation of 
comparative pre-eminence, is plain from a very re- 
markable passage in Psalm xix. 10. Where our in- 
spired author, quite ravished with the love of the sa- 
cred oracles, declares, " They are desirable beyond 
gold, even beyond the droppings of the honey-comb." 

If this sense is admitted, we shall have a rine com- 
parison, and a grand advance upon it ; acknowledging 
the insufficiency even of the strongest and brightest 
images, to represent the glory of Christ's kingdom, 
and the benignity of his administration. Perhaps the 
translation may be too free and daring, and not ap- 
prove itself to the exact critic. The sense, however, 
is unquestionably just; agreeable to the whole tenor 
of scripture; ana can want no recommendation to the 
intelligent Christian. 

t Moses, for instance, and Joshua, David, and So- 
lomon, were types, strongly marked types, of our 
great Lawgiver and Deliverer, of our divine Ruler 
and Preacher. 



368 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



gers. The splendour of the temple, tlie 
richness of its ornaments, and the solemnity 
of its services, were the ensigns of his gran- 
deur — were his sacred regalia, intended to 
Usher him into the world with becoming 
state. 

Every inspired prophet was his herald ; 
deputed to blazon his perfections, or foretell 

' his coming. Let us hear one speaking the 
sentiments of all : — " God the Saviour came 
from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount 
Paron. [His glory covered the heavens, 
and the earth was full of his praise."* 
Thunders sounded his trumpet, and light- 
nings waved his banners. " Before him 

' went the pestilence," for the destruction of 
his enemies ; but, for the deliverance of Is- 
rael, " he rode upon his horses and chariots 
of salvation. The miountains saw him, and 
they trembled ; the everlasting hills, and 
they bowed their heads. The abyss uttered 
her voice," and acknowledged his sover- 
eignty through her deepest, caverns, "the 
towering surges hfted up their hands," and 
remained in a suspended posture while his 
people passed through the opening lines. 
Indeed, both depth, and height, and every 
creature, have paid him homage, and done 
him service. And shall not we, my dear 
Theron, "submit to his righteousness?" 
Submit ! Shall we not embrace it ; rely on 
it ; and, with joyful hearts, with triumphing 
tongues, say, " There is none, there is no- 
thmglike it!" 1 Sam. xxi. 9. 

Does not all mankind agi'ee to estimate 
the merit of the practice according to the 
dignity of the person ? If a neighbour of in- 
ferior rank visit some poor afflicted wretch 
in a coarse garret, and on a tattered bed, it 

is no very extraordinary favour; but if a 

lady of the first distinction, or a nobleman 
of the highest order, perform the same of- 

iice, it is a much more remarkable, a much 
more admired instance of self-denying cha- 
rity. On the foot of this calculation, to 
what a supereminent height will the worth- 
iness of our Lord's obedience rise ? It will 

* See Hab. iii. The greatest part of which sublime 
ode refers to the wonderful works recorded by Moses 
and Joshua. It seems, especially in the oxordium, to 
be an imitation of that grand and majestic descrip- 
tion, with which the Jewish legislator introduces his 
'last solemn benediction. Deut. xxxiii. — These works 
are, by Aspasio, ascribed to Christ, and I think it is 
demonstrably certain, that Jesus Christ is the Jeho- 
vah celebratedin the books of Moses, and in the writ- 
ings of the prophets. It is Christ, who dwelt in the 
burning bush, and walked in the burning fiery fur- 
nace. It is Christ, who wrought the miracles in 
Egypt, and the wonders in the field of Zoan. The 
temporal deliverer, and the eternal Redeemer of Is- 
rael, are one and the same. He is that Captain of the 
hosts of the Lord, who gave the nations as dust to 
their sword, and as driven stubble to their bow. Josh. 
V. 14. He is that Mighty One who punished the stout 
heart of the King of Assyria, who cut down the thick- 
est of his forest, and lopped his bough with terror. 
Isa. X. 34. He gave Moses his commission; gave 
Moses his law ; and was both the Lord, and the end, 
of that sacred, significant, mysterious economy. 
Compare 1 Cor. x. 9, with Numb. xxi. 6, 7. See Dan. 
iii. 25 ; Keb. iii, 3, 4. 



rise, like some magnificent edifice, whose 
basis rests upon the centre, whose dimensions 
fill the hemisphere, and whose turrets glitter 
iutlie sky: or rather, it will extend itself 
to immensity; where length, and breadth, 
and all dimensions are lost. Especially if 
we consider the names he bears, and the ho- 
nourshe receives; the works he has done, and 
those mightier works he is appointed to do. 

The names he bears.-— The title by which 
Jesus of Nazareth is distinguished in the 
heavenly world ; the name written on his 
vesture, and on his thigh, is " King of kings, 
and Lord of lords." Rev- xix. 16. The de- 
scription which the incomprehensible Jeho- 
vah gives of the Surety fur sinful men, runs in 
this exalted strain: " The Man that is my 
fellow,"* Zech. xiii. 7, which the apostle 
explains in that memorable and majestic 
clause : " He thought it no robbery to be 
equal with God."t Phil. Mi. 6. The Holy 
Ghost speaking, by the great prophet Isaiah, 
of the virgin's son, enumerates several grand 
distinctions, both of his person and his 
office. He styles the child that should be 
born, « the Wonderful Counsellor, the 
Everlasting Father, the Mighty God, the 
Prince of Peace," Isaiah ix. 6. The same 
inspired writer, though eloquent above all 
orators, and more sublime than the loftiest 
poet, cries out in rapturous astonishment, 
" Who can declare his generation ?" Isaiah 
liii. 8. What pencil can portray, what 
language can express, his matchless excel- 
lencies.? And may we not with equal pro- 
priety demand. Who can declare the m<;ri- 
torious perfection of his righteousness ? It 
is precious beyond comparison-; beyond 
imagination precious. 

The honours which our Lord receives are 
proportioned to the illustrious characters 
which he sustains. John the Baptist, than 
whom a greater prophet or a better judge 
was not born of woman, professes hunself 
unworthy " to stoop down and unloose the 
latchet of his shoes," Mark i. 7 ; unworthy, 
though a burning and shining light Jn his 
generation, to perform the meanest service 
to this prince of heaven. Stephen, who 
leads the van in the noble army of Christian 
martyrs, beheld such a representation of his 
crucified Master's glory, as enabled him to 
exult with divine delight, even amidst the 

: ujai> 

* inP^O " Contribulis vel coequal is," my fellow, 
or my equal. The original expression occurs no- 
where but in this verse of Zechariah, and in the book 
of Leviticus. In one text, it is explained by brother, 
or partaker of the same nature. In every other place, 
I believe it would be found to signify not barely a 
neighbour, but an equal ; one who stands upon the 
same level with regard to the claims of equity, arid 
the common rights of life. In either sense, it mili- 
tates strongly for the divinity of our Lord Jesus 
Christ. ■ 

t Some writers, I am aware, have endeavoured tOs i 
interpret away this evidence of our Lord's divine nar* , 
ture : but I think with great injury to the context^ ' 

and no less violence to the phrase. 



LETTER VIII. 



569 



furious assaults of his porsecutors, and under 
the violent blows of his murderers, Acts vii. 
56. Assured that Jesus has all power in 
heaven and earth, by an act of the most solemn 
worship, he commits his departing soul, that 
most importatJt of all trusts, to his Redeem- 
er's hand. Acts vii. 59. Nor by the first 
martyr alone, but in all churches of the 
saints, and in every age of Christianity, has 
the Lord Jesus been addressed as the con- 
stant object of his people's adoration, and 
acknowledged as the ever-faithful depository 
of their eternal interests. 

When Isaiah beheld a visionary manifes- 
tation of Christ,* the first-born sons of light 
were waiting around him in postures of duti- 
ful submission. These celestial beings, whose 
very feet are too bright for mortals to view, 
veil their faces before his infinitely superior ef- 
fulgence. The seraphs, who are all zeal and 
all love, celebrate his perfections, and cry 
one to another, " The whole earth is full of 
his glor}'." And is not heaven also filled 
with his glory ? does not heaven likewise 
resound with his praise ? The beloved dis- 
ciple, in a vision no less clear, and far more 
magnificent, beholds the Lamb that was slain, 
standing in the midst of a resplendent throne, 
most beautifully adorned with a circling rain- 
bow, and terribly dignified by the blaze of 
ligiitnings, and the sound of thunders. Re- 
fore this august throne, and at the disposal 
of the once slaughtered Saviour, are " seven 
1 imps of burning fire," expressive of the Di- 
vine Spirit in all the variety of his miracu- 
lous gifts and sanctifying graces, Rev. iv. 5. 
Four-and-twenty elders, clothed iu white 
raiment, vrith crowns on tlieir heads, and the 
Iiarps of God in their hands, fall prostrate in 
deepest homage before the Lamb. They 
strike the golden strings, and sing that su- 
blime eucharistic hymn, " Thou art worthy 
to take the book, and to open the seals there- 
of ; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed 
us to God by thy blood, out of every kind- 
red, and tongue, and people, and nation ; 
and hast made us, unto our God, kings and 
priests. Rev. v. 9, 10. 

Behold the hierarchies of angels : they are 
in number ten thousand times ten thousand. 
—Hark ! they raise their voice, and awaken 
all the powers of harmony. Who is the sub- 
ject, and what is the burden of their song ? 
" Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to re- 
ceive power, and riches, and wisdom, and 
strength, and honour, and blessing." Nor 
these alone, but every creature which is in 
heaven, and on the earth, and under the earth, 
and such as are in the sea, join the immense 
chorus. They cry, in loud responsive strains 
of melody and devotion, " Blessing, and ho- 
nour, and glory, and power, be unto him 
that sitteth uj)ou the throne, and unto the 



♦ Isa. vi. 1, 2, &c. ocmpared with John xii. 41. 



Lamb for ever and ever-" Rev. v. IJ, 12, 
13. 

Thi?, you observe, is the c'evout acknow- 
ledgment, not only of the cl enibim, the se- 
raphim, and the spirits of just men made 
perfect, but of every creatui e. The sun, the 
moon, and the stars, which garnish the hea- 
vens ; — beasts and creeping things, moun- 
tains and hills, fruitful trees and all cedars, 
which replenish the earth ;•— metals and mi- 
nerals, gems and fossils, the subterraneous 
riches of nature, or things which are under the 
earth; — even all those objects which my The- 
ron lately contemplated, do, in their way, mag- 
nify the Lord Jesus. They bear witness to 
his power, as their Creator ; they are subser- 
vient to his interests, as our Mediator ; and 
in this manner they glorify his sacred name. 

Under such views of the blessed Redeem- 
er, enlarged and elevated even to astonish- 
ment, is it possible to overrate the worth of 
his mediatorial obedience ? Is it possible to 
lay too much stress on his expiatory sacri- 
fice, or ascribe too much efficacy to his vica- 
rious righteousness. 

To the honours which he receives, let us 
add the works which he has done. By these, 
in the days of his flesh, were displayed the 
greatness of his glory, and the might of his 
JMajesty. 

"Behold!" says the Almighty Father, 
'* my servant," — he who condescends to be- 
come my servant in the matchless work of 
redemption — shall deal prudently," shall 
conduct himself with all the dignity and all 
the sanctity of wisdom. In consequence of 
which, " he shall be exalted, be extolled, and 
be very high." Isa. lii. 13. The paraphrase 
of the Jewish commentators on this beauti- 
ful chmax is, though inadequate, not con- 
temptible. " The Messiah," they say, " shall 
be higher than Abraham, more illustrious 
than Moses, and exalted above the angels 
of light, even above the prime ministers* of 
heaven." What follows, is an attempt to 
render this exposition somewhat less defec- 
tive. 

Here, could you open my chamber-door, 
and peep upon your friend, you would find 
hiin in the same attitude, and under the saine 
perplexity which were formerly observed in 
Phocion. Sitting one day amidst an assem- 
bly of the people, and preparing to make a 
public oiation, he appeared uncommonly 
thoughtful. Being asked the reason, " £ 
am considering," said he, " how I may 
shorten what I shall have occasion to speak." 
The compass of my subject would demand 
many volumes ; whereas the limits of my 
letter will allow but a few paragraphs. 

Our Lord gave sight to the blind. He 
poured day upon those hopeless and be- 



* Prime ministers; this is ahnost a literal transla- 
tion of the ori .;uial u'urJs. 



2 B 



m 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



iiit'lifod' oy&s vvhich had never been visited 
with the least dawning ray — The dunab, at 
his command, found a ready tongue, and 
burst into songs of praise — The deaf were 
all ear, and listened to the joyful sound of 
salvation — The lame, lame from their very 
birth, threw aside their crutches, and full 
of transport and exultation leaped like the 
bounding roe.* He restored floridity and 
beauty to the flesh emaciated by consuming 
sickness, or incrusted with a loathsome le- 
prosy. All manner of diseases, though 
blended with the earliest seeds of life, and 
rivetted in the constitution by a long invet- 
erate predominancy — diseases that baffled 
the skill of the physician, and mocked the 
force of medicine — these he cured, not by 
tedious applications, but in the twinkling of 
an eye ; not by csotly prescriptions or pain- 
ful operations, but by a word from his mouth 
or a touch from his hand : nay, by the fringe 
of his garment, or the bare act of his will. 

Any one of these miracles had been 
enough to endear the character, and eter- 
nize the memory of another person : But 
they were common things, matters of daily 
occurence with our divine Master. The 
years of his public ministry were an uninter 
mitted series of such healing wonders ; or if 
any intermission took place, it was only to 
make way for more invaluable miracles of 
spiritual beneficence. 

Behold him exercising his dominion over 
the vegetable creation. A fig-tree, adorned 
with the most promising spread of leaves, 
but unproductive of the expected fruit, 
withers away at his rebuke. It is not on- 
ly stripped of its verdant honours, but dried 
up from the very roots, Mfirk xi. 20, and 
perishes for ever : A fearful, yet signifi- 
cant intimation of that final ruin which will 
overtake the specious hypocrite, who, while 
lavish in outward profession, is destitute of 
inward piety. 

His eye pierced through the whole woi-ld 
of waters, discerned the fish that had just 
swallowed a piece of silver coin, and guided 



* We have the finest representation of this event, giv- 
en us by theinspired historian, Acts iii . 8. And he leap- 
ing up, stood, and walked, and entered with them into 
the temple ; walking, and leaping, and praising God. 
The veryJanguage seems to exult, in a redundant flow 
of expressive phrases; just as a poor cripple, who ne- 
,ver knew either the comfort of bodily vigour, or the 
pleasure of local motion, may be supposed to do, when 
suddenly and unexpectedly blessed with both. He 
would exert his new acquired powers again and again, 
first in one attitude, then in another ; sometimes to 
try whether he was really healed, and not under the 
pleasing delusion of a dream, sometimes from a trans- 
port of conscious dehght, and to express the sallies of 
joy that sprung up in'his heart. 

Though I acknowledge Mr. Pope's description to 
be extremely beautiful, 

" The lame their crutch forego. 

And leap, exulting, like the bounding roe;" 
yet 1 cannot persuade myself, that it is to he compar- 
ed with St. Luke's draught, either in the variety of 
Egures, in the richness of colouring, or in that exhu- 
berancoof style, which, on this occasion, is so h.appi- 
ly significant, and so perfectly picturesque. 



its course to Peter's hook.* -"' It is frnc*> 
when the gatherers of the sacred tax came 
to collect his share for the reparation of the 
temple, he had not a sufficiency of money 
to satisfy so small a demand ;f yet he takes 
occasion, from this most abiect poverty, to 
manifest the immensity of his riches. He 
makes the great deep his revenue, and bids 
the scaly nations bring him their tribute. 
Never was such indigence associated with 
such magnificence ! And never, never let us 
forcret, that the indigence was ours, the mag* 
nificence all his own ! v 

The waters themselves, it may be said, 
are far more unmanageable than their inha- 
bitants. Who can control that outrageous 
element, which has destroyed so many gal- 
lant fleets, with the armies they bore ; and 
which would laugh at the opposition of the 
united world ? The Lord Jesus walks upon 
its rolling surges, j: and speaks its most tem- 
pestuous agitations into a calm. " The 
waves of the sea are mighty and rage terri- 
bly ;" but " yet the Lord," who loved us, 
and washed us from our sins in his own 
blood, "is mightier," Psalm xciii. 5. 

The winds are yet more ungovernable 
than the maddening ocean. When these are 
hurled abroad § to shatter the forests, 
and shake the shores, M'ho can curb their 
rage ? what can withstand their impetnosi - 
ty ? Even the boisterous winds hear the 
Saviour's voice ; and as soon as they hear, 
obey. His voice, more powerful to restrain 
than brazen dungeons to confine, chides the 
furious whirlwind. The furious whirlwind 
is awed into immediate || silence. That 



1* Matth. xvii.27. How wonderful is this seeming- 
ly little miracle ! or rather, what a cluster of wonders 
is comprised in this single act ! That any fish with 
money in its, mouth, should be catched — with monev 
just of such a value, — and in the very first fish that of- 
fered itself! What a pregnant display of omniscience 
to know, of omnipotence to overrule, all these for7 
tuitous incidents! 
t About fourteen-pence. 

t Hetreadeth upon the waves of the sea, is one of the 
prerogatives ascribed to the most high God, Job. ix. G. 
The original word *n''D^ signifies " a sea that 
rolls mountain high ;" and such, we have reason to 
suppose, were the waves on which our Lord walked, 
since the vessel to which he bent his course, waa 
(iatruvi^cfiivav, " lashed, battered, tormented," ly 
their vehement concussions,. Matth. xiv. 24. 

§ This is a literal translation of that beautiful He- 
brew phrase which occurs Jonah i. 4. The sacred 
writer,describing the stormy messenger, which was des- 
patched to arrest a fugitive servant, says. 

The Lord hurled forth a great wind." Tlie same 
expression is applied to SauU 1 Sam. xviii. 11. when 
he darted his javelin at David, with a desigu to trans- 
fix and nail him to the Avail. What an elegant, and 
how awful an image ! Storms and tempests, with all 
their irresistible fury, and dreadful ravages, are like 
missive weapons in the hands of Jehovah, which he 
launches with greater ease, and surer aim, than the 
most expert warrior emits the pointed steel. 

Immediate — This circumstance, as very much ag- 
grandizing the miracle, is with great historical proprie- 
ty, remarked by the evangelist. The sea is known to 
have a prodigious swell, and very tremendous agita- 
tions, for a consid/^rable time after the tempestuous 
wind ceases. On tliis occasion, and in obedience to its 
Maker's will, it departs from the established law? of 



LETTER VIII. 



871 



trVich a moment ago heaved the billows to 
the clouds, and filled with outrage the howl- 
ing firmament, now gently whispers among 
the shrouds, and scarcely qurls the smooth 
expanse. 

Something there is, even within the nar- 
row compass of our own breasts, which af- 
fords room for more signal exertions of 
Deity, than the turbulent billows or the re- 
sistless storm. Agreeably to the suggestion 
of a prophet, " For lo ! he that formeth the 
mountains, and createth the wind and 
as a more pregnant proof of divine perfec- 
tion, '^declareth unto man what is his 
thought, the God of hosts is his name," 
Amos. iv. 13; the possessor of such sur- 
passing power and wisdom, must unques- 
tionably be the supreme l^ord. And who 
IS this, but Jesus Christ ? " He knew 
what was in man,"* John. ii. 25, He dis- 
cerned the secrets of the heart ; discerned 
-the latent purpose before it disclosed itself 
in action ; even before it M'as uttered in 
speech ; nay, while it lay yet an unformed 
embryo in the mind. 

His glan^;e pierced into futurity ; espied 
events in all their circumstances,-)- and with 
die greatest perspicuity, before they came 
into being. The hidden things of darkness 
were open, and the contingencies of to- 
.morrow were present, to his all-pervading 
eye. Nay, the unthought of revolutions 
-even of distant ages, the astonishing catas- 
trophe of dissolving nature, and the awful 
process of everlasting judgment, he clear- 
ly foresaw, and particularly foretold. 

Nor does he only penetrate the recesses, 
but over-rule the operations of the soul. 
He so intimidated a multitude of sacrile- 
^:gious wretches, that they fled, not before 
■Tiis drawn sword or bent bow, but at the 
shaking of his scourge, ^ ^ohn ii. 14. 



motion- No sooner is the word spoken, but there is 
a ihn; not an advancing, but an instantaneous 
«alm ; not a partial, but a perfect cahn, Matth. viii. 
26; Markiv. :P.). 

* This all-discerning intelligence of the Deity is 
very emphatically expressed by the psalmist, Psal. 
cxxxix. 1, 2. (kc. though the sentiment in one clause 
seems tobc somewhat weakened by our version. There 
is not a word in my tongue would have a nobler turn, 
and more extensive meaning, if rendered, "Before 
the word is on my tongue, thou, O Lord, knowest it 
altogether." 

+ In all their circumstances. — See a very remarka- 
ble exemplification of this particular, Mark xiv. 13. 
There shall meet you— not barely a person, but the 
sex and age are both specified— not two, or several, 
but one man : — not witnin any given space of time, 
but at the vei-y instant of your arrival ; — not empty- 
handed, but bearing a vessel; — not of wood or metal, 
i)ut an earthen pitcher; — filled, not with wine or 
milk, but with water; — carrying, it into that very 
house, where the preparation was made, and the pass- 
tjver was to be celebrated. What a multitude of con- 
tingencies ! all minutely foretold by our Lord. 

X St. Jerome looks upon thit, miracle as one of the 
■greatest which our Saviour wrought. And indeed, 
the circumstances are very extraordinary. That one 
«*an should undertake to hold and execute so hazard- 
ous a task; — one man, without a commission from 
Cassar, without any countenance from the Jewish 
Tulers, without any arms, either to terrify the multi- 
tade or defend liimaoif. That he shviild cast out the 



He so awed, by one short remonstrance^ 
John viii. 7, an assembly of conceited and 
ostentatious Pharisees, that they could 
neither gainsay, nor endure the energy of his 
discourse ; though not to endure, was a tacit 
acknowledgment of guilt, and must cover 
them with public confusion. With a word 
the most mild and gentle imaginable, John 
xviii. 6, he flung such terror into a band 
of armed men, as blasted all their courage, 
and laid them stunned and prostrate on the 
ground. 

" All hearts are in his hand. He turn- 
eth them as the rivers of water, whitherso- 
ever he will," Prov. xxi. 1 ; with as much 
ease, and with the same efficacious sway, 
as the current of the rivers is turned by 
every inflection of the channel- "Follow me," 
was his call to James and John ; " Follow 
me,"* Mark ii. 14, was all he said to Levi 
the publican. Though the first were en- 
gaged in all the ardour of business ; though 
the last was sitting at the very receipt of 
custom, yet both he and they, without any 
demur, or the least delay, left their employ, 
left their nearest relations, and resigned 
their earthly all, to attend a poor and des- 
pised master. Their acquaintance, no 
doubt, would remonstrate a thousand incon'- 
veniences, their enemies would not fail to 
censure them as rash enthusiasts -. but all 
these considerations were lighter than dust, 
were less than nothing, when set in com- 
petition with two words only from Jesus 
of Nazareth. Impressed, deeply impressed 
by his powerful summons, such loss they 
counted gain, and such obloquy glory. 

He planted bowels of compassion in the 
unfeeling avaricious wretch, and elevated, 
beyond the height of the stars, desires that 
lay grovelling even below the mire of the 
swine. The slaves of sin he restored to the 
liberty of righteousness ; and unhappy crea- 
tures who were degenerated into the like- 
ness of the devil, he renewed after the image 
of the blessed God. These were the effects 



wholetribe of mercenary traffickers, wrest from thosi 
worshippers of wealth their darling idol, and trample 
under foot their great Diana. And all, without tu- 
mult or opposition; not one of the sacrilegious rabb'e 
daring to " move the hand^ or open the mouth, or 
peep." Whoever reflects on the fierce and ungovern- 
able nature of an incensed populace, or considers the 
bitter and outrageous zeal of Demetrius and the 
craftsmen, on a less irritating occasion, may possib'y 
find himself almos I, if not altogether, of the Latin 
father's opinion. 

* He said in the beginning, " Let there be light;" 
there was light: Let there be a firmament;" it was 
spread abroad: " Let there be a world;" it arose ot' 
nothing. In the days of his flesh, likewise, he speaks, 
and it is done. His word is a work. He says to the 
disciples, '« Follow me;" they come: To the leper, 
"Be dean;" he is cleansed; To the paralytjr: 
" Arise, take up thy bed and walk ;" It is all perform- 
ed as soon as commanded. Surely then we must con- 
fess, this i5 the voice of a God, not of a man ! Fsv*?- 
^r,TM is our Lord's usual word, when he grants a mir 
aculous cure, which exactly correspond, with that ad- 
mired and magnificent expression la the origiual. 
Gen. i. 3. 



372 



THERON AND ASPASIO- 



of his personal preaching ; these are still the 
conquests of his glorious gospel : And do 
not these declare his dominion over the in- 
tellectual economy ? that the world of 
minds, as well as of material nature, is open 
to his inspection, and subject to his con- 
trol ? 

The dead seem to be more remote from 
human cognizance than the secrets of the 
breast ; less liable to any human jurisdiction 
than the warring elements. What potentate 
can issue a writ of release to the grave ? or 
cite the dislodged soul to re-enter the 
breathless corpse ? Yet this, even this, our 
mighty Mediator executed. He opened 
the eyes which were smik in their sockets, 
and sealed in the tomb. He bid the heart 
that had forgot its vital motion, spring 
into renewed and vigorous life- The crim- 
son flood, long congealed by the icy hand of 
death ; which had not only lost its pulse by 
stagnation, but likewise changed its very 
texture by " putrefaction," John xi. 39, cir- 
culates at his order, all florid and mantling 
with health, through the wondering veins. 
The spirit, which had taken its flight into 
the invisible state, had taken its place in 
eternal habitations, returns at our Redeem- 
er's signal to the tenement of mouldering 
clay : and, by the amazing visit, proclaims 
his sovereignty over those unknown realms 
and their mysterious inhabitants. 

As he recalls from, so he admits into the 
abodes of future happiness. In the very 
lowest depths of his humiliation, he' dispos- 
ed of the seats of bliss, and the thrones of 
glory. His hands, when swollen with 
wounds, and nailed to the tree, evidently 
sustained " the keys of hell and of death," 
Rev. i. 18. Then, even then, he opened 
and he shut either the gates of the grave or 
the portals of paradise. What he speaks 
to the penitent thief is the language of su- 
preme authority : " To-day shalt thou be 
With me in paradise," Luke xxiii. 43. It is 
a royal mandamus, not a humble petition. 

Does our Lord's superiority extend to 
those malignant beings, the devil and his 
angels? Even these, in spite of all their 
formidable strength,* and inextinguishable 
rage, he makes his footstool. He brake the 
teeth of those infernal lions, and rescued 
the helpless prey on which their bloody jaws 
were closing. At his command they aban- 
don their conquests, and relinquish, however 
indignant, however reluctant, their long ac- 
customed habitations. His single command, 
more forcible than ten thousand thunder- 
bolts, dispossesses a whole legion, Mark v. 
9, of those fierce and haughty spirits ; drives 



^ Milton, describing the power of the apostate an- 
gels, says, 

The least of whom could wield 

These elements : and arm him with the force 
Of all their regions. — Book vi. 1. 221. 



them, all terrified and deprecating severer 
vengeance, to seek rest in solitary deserts, 
or to herd with the most sordid brutes. 

As the blessed Jesus treads upon the 
necks of those powers of darkness, he re- 
ceives the willing services of the angels of 
light. They that excel* in strength, and 
are active as flames of fire, even they fulfil 
his commandment, and heaiken unto the 
voice of his words. They graced the so- 
lemnity of his birth ; they attended him af- 
ter his temptation in the wilderness; they 
were the first joyful preachers of his tri- 
umphant resurrection ; and, now be is seat- 
ed on the right hand of the Majesty in the 
highest, — 

They stand with wings outspread. 

Listening to catch their Master's least command. 
And fly through nature, ere the moment end. 

Behold him now doing according to his 
will in the armies of heaven, and among the 
inhabitants of the earth ; swaying the scep- 
tre over the legions of hell, and the powers 
of nature ; exercising dominion in the hearts 
of men, in the territories of the grave, and 
mansions of disembodied spirits. Then let 
my Theron determine — under such views of 
our Saviour's unequalled majesty and un- 
bounded sovereignty, let him determine — 
whether it be safer to rest our infinite and 
eternal interests on our own righteousness 
rather than on his. 

We have selected some few manifesta- 
tions of our Redeemer's excellent greatness. 
Even the evangelical historians give us no 
larger a proportion of his astonishing deeds, 
than the first fruits bear to a copious har- 
vest. Yet, were they all particularly enu- 
merated, and circumstantially displayed, they 
would appear inconsiderable, compared with 
those far more distinguished trophies of al- 
mighty power which he has decreed in some 
future period to erect.t 



* Would any one see a sketch of the glory and excel- 
lence of the angelic nature? Let him see it in that 
inimitably fine stroke of the sacred pencil : I saw an- 
other angel come down from heaven, having great 
power, and the earth was lightened with his glory. 
Rev. xviii. 1. The last clause is, I think, one of the 
most masterly touches of descriptive painting extant 
in history, poetry, or oratory. Milton gives us a stric- 
ture of the same kind, and on the same subject. But 
the poetic flight, though very sublime, is absolutely 
inferior to the apocalyptic vision. 

On he led 

His radiant files, dazzling the moon. 
In this case, we have a whole brigade of celestial 
warriors ; in the former, ordy a single angelic being. 
Those are represented as irradiating the night, and 
outshining the moon ; this, as exceeding the bright- 
ness of the sun ; diffusing additional splendours on 
the day ; and illuminating, not a vast plain, not a 
vaster kingdom, but the whole face of the globe. If 
such be the lustre of the servant, what images can dia- 
play the majesty of the Lord ? who has thousand 
thousands of these glorious attendants mmistermg 
unto him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stand- 
ing before him ? Dan. iii. 10. 

t The dignity of our Lord, considered as the Cre- 
ator and Preserver of all things, is not mentioned 
here ; because sometWng of this kind is proiessedly 
attempted in the " Descant upon Creation, '. su'o- 
joined to the " Meditations among the Tonni)s>f 



LETTER Vlir. 



373 



"Hfe Will gather to his sacred fold the peo- 
ple of his ancient chiu-ch, though they are 
dispersed into all lands, and most inveter- 
ately prejudiced against the truth of his gos- 
pel. How mighty was his hand, how 
illustriously outstretched his arm, when he 
made a path through the surges of the ocean, 
drove the torrent of Jordan backwards, and 
fetched rivers of water from the flinty rock ! 
Far more mighty will be its operations, when 
he shall remove the seemingly insurmount- 
able obstructions to the general restoration of 
the Jews ; shall throw all their religious ap- 
prehensions into a new channel ; and cause 
tears of penitential sorrow to start from their 
stony eyes, confessions of unfeigned faith 
to issue from their blaspheming lips — Yet 
thus it will assuredly be. In the volume of 
the divine book it is written, '* They shall 
look on him whom they have pierced, and 
mourn." Zech. xii. 10. They shall adore 
as the Messiah the once despised Galilean, 
and fix all their hopes of final felicity on 
that very person whom tLeir fathers slew 
and hanged on a tree. 

Amazing revolution in the religious world ! 
Yet this, together with the destruction of 
Antichrist, and the illumination of the be- 
nighted Gentiles, may pass for small inci- 
dents, compared with those stupendous 
events, which will dignify and signalize the 
closing scene of affairs. 

Then shall the Lord Jesus be manifested 
in unspeakable glory, and exert such acts 
of omnipotence as will be the terror of hell, 
the joy of heaven, the wonder of eternity. 
Then will he put an end to time, and bid 
the springs of nature cease to operate. 
Then shall his tremendous trumpet rend 
the universal vault, and pierce the dormi- 
tories of the dead. Then will he " shake 
the earth out of its place," Job ix. 6, and 
before his majestic presence the " heavens 
shall flee away."* Then shall, not a nation 



&c. To which I heg leave to refer my readers ; and 
shall more than make amends for the present omission, 
by transcribing a passage from, the " Night Thoughts," 
which presents us with a magnificent display of this 
great truth. 

Thou, by whom all worlds 

Were made, and one redeem'd ; whose regal power 

On more than adamantine basis fix'd. 

O'er more, far more than diadems and thrones 

Inviolably reigns ; beneath whose foot. 

And by the mandate of whose awful nod, 

All regions, revolutions, fortunes, fates, 

Of high, of low, of mind and matter, roll 

Through the short channels of expiring time. 

Or shoreless ocean of eternity. 

Night Thoughts, No. 9. 

* How grand is the idea, when David pravs, '* Bow 
thy heav ens, O Lord, and come down : touch the 
mountains, and they shall smoke." Much grander is 
the image, when he says, " The springs of waters 
were seen, and the foundations of the world were dis- 
covered, at thy chiding, O Lord, at the blast of the 
breath of thy displeasure." Transcendently and ini- 
mitably grand is this description, though given us by 
the most plain and artless writer in the world: " I 
saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, 
ifrom whose face the heavens and the earth fled away, | 



only, but multitudes, multitudes of nations^ 
" be born in a day," Isa. Ix. 8, yea, rather, in 
an hour, in a moment, in the twinkling of an 
eye. All that are asleep in the beds of 
death ; even those who, perishing in tem- 
pests, are sunk to the bottom of the ocean, 
or, swallowed up by earthquakes, are bu- 
ried at the centre of the globe — ail shall 
hear his voice ; and hearing, shall awake ; 
and awaking, shall come forth. Every hu- 
man body, though ages have revolved since 
it gave up the ghost ; though worms have 
devom-ed the flesh, and dissolution moulder- 
ed the bones ; though its parts have been 
grinded by the teeth of beasts, or consum- 
ed by the rage of fire ; dissipated in view- 
less winds, or scattered over the boundless 
globe ; lost to our senses, and lost even to 
our imagination — yet will every human 
body then be I'estorcd ; its limbs re-as- 
sembled, and not an atom wanting ; its 
frame rebuilt, and never be demolished 
more. 

Then sluill the unntimbercd myriads of 
departed spirits return from their separate 
abodes ; and, commissioned by him " who 
is the resurrection and the life," reanimate 
each his organized system. Then shall 
Satan and his accomplices, those execrable 
and horrid criminals, be dragged from their 
dungeons of darkness, and receive their 
doom at the Redeemer's tiibunal. Then 
will misery and happiness, both consum- 
mate, and both everlasting, be awarded by 
the Saviour's sentence. Then will he coti- 
sign over the ungodly world, and the rebel- 
lious angels, to the flames of hell, and to 
agonies of despair. Then will he invest 
the righteous with the inheritance of hea^ 
ven, and instate them in the fidness of joy. 
His word is fate ; immutability seals, and 
eternity executes, whatever he decrees. 

And has this Jesus, so glorious so ma- 
jestic, so adorable — has he vouchsafed to 
take our nature, and become our righteous- 



and there was no place found for them." Rev. xx. 
11. 

In Virgil's admired representation, Jupiter hurls 
his thunder, and a mountain falls at the stroke : — 

'* Ille flagranti 

Aut Atho, aut Rhodopen, aut alta Ceraunia telo 
Dejicit." Georg. I. 331. 

In Homer's more terror-striking piece, Neptune 
shakes the wide extended earth. The mountains 
tremble to their centre ; the ocean heaves its billows 
and cities reel on their foundations ; — 

Iliad Y. 57. 

Here the son of the eternal God appears only, and 
all nature is alarmed ; nor heaven nor earth can keep 
their standing ; they flee away, like the frighted roe. 
How grovellirig are the loftiest flights of the Grecian 
and Roman muse, compared with this magnificence 
and elevation of the prophetic spirit ! 



374 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



ness ? was he made under the law ? did he 
fulfil all ifs demands ? give perfect satisfec- 
tion to the penal, and yield perfect obedi- 
ence to the preceptive? on purpose that 
the merit of all might be made over to us? 
Astonishing condescension ! ineffable grace ! 
What thanks are due to such infinitely rich 
goodness ! What a remedy is here, for 
the impotence and guilt of fallen man ! 
What a sure foundation of hope, and what 
an abundant source of joy, to every one that 
Deli eve th ! 

It is declared by the Oracle of God, 
" That such an high Priest became us," was 
al^solutely necessary for our obnoxious and 
ruined condition, " who is holy, harmless, 
tlndefiled, separate from sinners — and made 
higher than the heavens/' Heb. vii. 26. It 
appeai-s, I flatter myself, from the letter al- 
ready in your hand, that Christ fully answer- 
ed the former character ; and from this epis- 
tle I hope it will appear that he is the very 
person described in the latter clause. 

Estimate now, my dear friend, estimate 
if you can, the glory and excellency of this 
sublime Person. Then may you learn how 
to state the worth of his righteousnesss, and 
the degree of affiance suited to his merits. 
Rather you will perceive, that his spotless 
birth, his perfectly obedient life, his exqui 
sitely bitter death, are a satisfaction of un 
known dignity; precious,* far beyond all the 
graces of men, and all the duties of angels ; 
able to save to the uttermost all that rely on 
them, and come unto God through them 

Consonant to this are the sentiments of 
that penetrating critic and profound scholar. 
Dr. Lightfoot, who, treating of our Saviour's 
obedience, says — Add to all this, the dig 
nity of his person who performed this obe 
dience ; that he was God as well as man 
and his obedience is infinite ; such as in its 
validity subdued Satan, and in its all-suf- 
ficiency satisfied the justice of God. After 
which, our celebrated author makes this im- 
portant and delightful improvement : " Think 
Christian, what a stock of obedience and 
righteousness here is for thee, to answer and 
satisfy for thy disobedience and unrighteous 
iiess,if thou become a child of the covenant. 
Here is enough for every soul that comes to 
him, be they never so many. Like the wi- 
dow's oil in the book of Kings, there is 
enough and enough again, and as long as any 
vessel is brought to receive it."f 

We need not v/onder that Gentiles, who 
are ignorant of the Redeemer; that Jews 
who treat him with contemptuous scorn 
that professors of religion, who deny his eter 



»• This is expressed by the sacred historian with an 
energy which no translation can equal, r/jv r/^^jy 
TiS TiTifir,jU.ivii, ov in y^r,(Tu,VTO a.'KO nvaiv 

panX. Matth. xxvii. <). 

\ Lightfool's Woiks, vol. ii. p. 1253. 



nal Godhead ; place little, if any confidence 
in his righteousness. But it is strange that. 
Christians, who know the Saviour, who 
acknowledge his divinity ; and believe hinaj , 
to be exalted above all blessing and praise—- 
it is exceedingly strange, that they do not 
rejoice in him, make their boast of him^ and 
say, with a becoming disdain, of every other 
dependence, " Get ye hence !" Isaiah xxx. 
2-2. 

Such an assemblage of divine perfections 
must warrant, must demand, the most un- 

ivided, and the most unbounded coiifidence.// 
There never was, no, not in all ages, nor in 
all worlds, any thing greater or richer, more 
dignified or exalted, than the obedience .of 
our Lord. Nay, it is impossible to ima- 
gine what could be so suited to our wants^ 
so proper for our reliance, or so sure to an- 
swer, more than answer, all our expecta- 
tions. 

Remember what the apostle affirms, and 
you will not wonder at my assertion ; " Ju 
Him dvvelleth all the fulness of the Goda 
head bodily." How comprehensive and ex^p 
alced is this description ! It collects iiito*D 
a point all the rays of majesty and honourif^s 
It expresses in a sentence, I say, not what- 
ever this pen has written, but whatever of 
dignity and excellence the Bible itself con- 
tains, — " The Godhead," the nature and 
essence of the Deity : "■■ the fulness of the 
Godhead," unerring v^'isdom, almighty p owe r,"iii 
and whatever the great Jehovah challengcsfO 
as his own : '• all the fulness ;" every ador -1? 
able attribute, in the most ample meusure|o 
and in the highest degree : All this " dwellsjul 
not visits occasionally, but statedly, invalid 
ably, eternally resides ; " dwells in Chris* ■ 
Jesus bodily," with an union inconceivably 
close and intimate ; insomuch that the God- 
head inhabiting, and the manhood inhabitedt'^ 
make but one and the same Person. >^ 

Therefore, adds the sacred disputant, " Ye 
are complete in Him," Col. ii - 9, 10. Never 
was any conclusion more weighty in itself, 
or founded on more solid principles. Ye 
are not only pardoned, but reconciled ; and 
not only reconciled, but justified ; nay, y^T 
are — and what can be said or desired more 
— " ye are complete :" And not barely be-*" 
fore men or angels, but before infinite puri'-i>^ 
ty, and omniscience itself, " Ye are madei"?s 
(amazing and charming truth !) " the right-i£S 
eousness of God," 2 Cor. v. 21. in this won- 
derful Saviour. What a fountain is this, or 
rather what a sea of fathomless depth, to 
obliterate all sins, aud supply all wants? 
What a mirror of God's stupendous grace, 
and ever to be adored loving kindness. 

Here let our m.editations fix, and hen^'^ 
let all our expectations centre. From this^Ki 
not fi'om any thing of our own, let us deriv^^ 
supreme coaipla-4G 



jour peacej our y>y. 



ccncy. Into tins subject we can never dive 
too deeply. Of this subject we can never 
think too magnificently. The righteousness 
of Ghrist is the master-pillar, on which our 
eternal welfare rests. Nay, it is the only 
support which preserves us from sinking in- 
to endless perdition. 

There hangs all human hope ; that nail supports 
Our falling universe. 

This renders his intercession prevalent. 
He is an advocate, a successful advocate 
with the Father. Why? Because he is 
"Jesus Christ the righteous." 1 John ii. 
1. — From hence results his ability to justify. 
" He shall justify many," saith the Lord 
Jehovah. On what consideration ? Be- 
cause he "is my righteous servant." Isaiah 
liii. 11. This, and no other, is the merito- 
rious cause of our salvation. " Judah shall 
be saved ;" shall escape damnation, and in- 
herit glory. On what account? On account 
of " the righteous Branch raised up unto 
David."* Jer. xxiii. 5, 6. — Since, then, our 
acceptance, justification, and salvation ; since 
our comfort in- time, and our happiness to 
eternity, all depend upon the righteousness 
of Christ ; how should we delight in con- 
templating its faultless, its matchless, its 
transcendent excellency? — Grand ! all-suf- 
Ikient ! in every respect perfect! Nothing 
equal to it, on earth, in heaven, throughout 
the universe ! sxnpassing the enormity of 
our guilt ! surpassing the reach of our ima- 
gination ! surpassing all that we can express 
or conceive ! being truly, properly, abso- 
lutely divine ! 

And is this righteousness mine? is this 
righteousness yours, Theron ? is this right- 
eousness free for every sinner ? Pleasing, 
captivating, rapturous thought? Who can 
forbear exulting and triumphing in this 
boundless, this infinite blessing? On such 
an occasion, methinks, some sallies of en- 
thusiasm, or even starts of tautology, are 
the language of sensibility, of propriety, of 
nature. " Sing, O ye heavens ; for the 
Lord, the Lord himself hath done it." Our 
justifying righteousness is finished ; finished 
by Jehovah, sojourning in human clay. 
** Shout, ye lower parts of the earth ; break 
forth into singing, ye mountains ; O forest, 
and every tree therein. For the Lord hath 
most marvellously redeemed Jacob, and no 
less illustriously glorified himself in the re- 
covery of Israel." Isaiah xliv. 23. O for 
the tongue of a seraph ! But even this would 
be defective ; such ardour cold, and such 
energy languid. 



♦ I believe it will be needless to observe, that the salva- 
tion mentioned in this and other passages of like im- 
port, is not limited to a temporal deliverance, hut 
extends to a state of spiritual and eternal happiness. 
The temporal is only a subordinate blessing ; a kind 
of appendage to the' other ; somewhat like the halo 
round the globe of the moon, or that faint and secon- 
dary range of colours which freauently attends the 
glowing rainbow. 



I VIII. ' •jsbni; abi?f« ori 8K7/ ^.^^'^ 

I have done ; I add ho more ; T leave it 
— to some future letter ? to some more la- 
boured essay? No; but to the hymns of 
heaven, and the adorations of eternity, to 
supply the deficiency of my acknowledg- 
ments. In the mean time, let me entreat 
my Theron to contemplate our Lord Jesus 
Christ under that most illustrious character 
described by the prophet, " a Priest upon 
his throne," Zech. vi. 13, dignifying the sa- 
cerdotal censer by the regal diadem ; adding 
all the honours of his eternal divinity to the 
sacrifice of his bleeding humanity. Then, 
I promise myself, you will find it almost im- 
possible not to adopt the emphatical and 
ardent protestation of the apostle, " God 
forbid that I should glory," that I should 
confide, " save only in the obedience and 
the cross of Christ Jesus my Lord !" 

When you made the tour of France 
and Italy, and, crossing the Alps, gained 
the summit of some commanding ridge ; 
when you looked round with astonishment 
and delight on the ample plains, which, 
crowded with cities, and adorned with pa- 
laces, stretch their beauteous tracts below ; 
when you surveyed the famous rivers that 
roll in silent but shining dignity, stating the 
boundaries of kingdoms, and wafting plenty 
through the gladdened nations ; when you 
shot your transported view to the ocean, 
whose unmeasurable flood meets the arch 
of heaven, and terminates the landscape 
with inconceivable grandeur; did you then 
choose to forego the pleasure resulting from 
such a prospect, in order to gaze upon the 
naked crag of some adjacent rock ; or could 
you turn your eyes from those magnificent 
objects, and fasten them with pleased atten- 
tion upon a shallow puddle that lay stagnat- 
ing at your feet ? 

You who have beheld the scene, can ac- 
commodate the simile with peculiar advan- 
tage. For which reason, I shall wave the 
application, and only beg leave to transcribe 
a wish that is now warm on my heart, and 
is often breathed in supplication from my 
lips : May the Father of our spirits, and 
the Fountain of wisdom, give us an en- 
lightened "understanding to know him that 
is true!" grant us the inestimable blessing, 
" that we may be in him that is true, even 
in his Son Jesus Christ : For this Saviour 
is the true God, and that privilege is life 
eternal." 1 John v. 20- 

My Theron needs no argument to con- 
vince him, that such a prayer is an act of 
rational and real friendship — is the most ge- 
nuine and substantial proof, that I am 
His truly affectionate 

AsPAsm. 

iodll/fg'ij. i: 



37G TIIERON AX 

LETTER IX. 
Theron to Aspasio. 

Dear Aspasio, — Your two letters have 
reached my hand, and I hope they have not 
missed my heai t. I might inform you what 
pleasure they gave me, and how highly I 
esteem them. But you desire no such com- 
pliments ; you desire to see me impressed 
with the sentiments, and living under their 
influence. This would be the most accept- 
able acknowledgment to my Aspasio, be- 
cause it would be the most happy effect to 
his Theron. May every day, therefore, 
bring a fresh accession of such gratitude to 
me, and of such satisfaction to you ! 

To watch for my soul, and pray for my 
salvation, I am thoroughly convinced, is the 
truest instance of rational and exalted friend- 
ship. Every claim to that amiable charac- 
ter is defective and vain, if it does not ex- 
tend to our spiritual interests and our ever- 
lasting welfare. For which reason I need 
not entreat you to continue and perpetuate 
this best expression of social kindness. Or, 
if I do, it is rather to testify how much I 
prize the favour, than to prompt your affec- 
tionate and ready mind. 

Your last found me at a friend's house, 
which lies pretty near the western ocean. 
Yesterday, waked by the lark, and rising 
with the dawn, I strolled into the fragrant 
air and dewy fields ; while, as Shakespeare, 
with his usual sprightliness expresses him- 
self, 

Jocund day, 

Stood tip-toe on the misty mountain's top. 

Sweet was the breath of morn, and sweet 
the exhalations of the freshened flowers ; 
gi'ateful were the soft salutes of the cooling 
zephyrs, attended with the charm of earliest 
birds ; delightful the sun, painting with his 
orient beams the chambers of the firmament, 
and unveiling the face of universal nature. 

My mind, but little affected with these 
inferior entertainments, was engaged in con- 
templating an object of infinitely superior 
dignity ; in contemplating that adorable 
Being, who raised, from nothing raised, this 
stupendous system of things, and supports, 
with his word supports, the magnificent 
frame ; who (to speak in the language of 
his own Spirit) " openeth the eyelids of the 
morning, and commandeth the day-spring 
to know its place;" Job xxxviii. 12 ; com- 
mandeth the light, by its punctual and pleas- 
ing ministrations, to draw aside the curtain 
of darkness, and discover the skies shining 
with glories, and disclose the earth bloom- 
ing;^ with beauties. 

" Father of light and life," said my trans- 
ported mind, 



ASPASIO. 

-—-Thou Good' SupreiYil^P ' 
O teach me what is good ! teach me Thyself. 
Save me from t'oily, vanity, and vice, 
From every low pursuit ! and feed my soul 
With faith, with conscious peace, and virtue pure» 
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bhss. 

Thomson's Winter. ' 

Wrapt in wonder, and lost in thought, I 
rambled carelessly along, till I was insensi - 
bly brought to the shore, which, in these 
parts is prodigiously high and strong, per- 
fectly weU fitted to stand as an everlasting 
barrier* against the impetuous stroke of con- 
flicting winds, and the ponderous sweep of 
dashhig surges. Not that the omnipotent 
Engineer has any need of these impregna-, 
ble ramparts. Here it is true, they inter- 
vene, an^ not only repress the rolling in- 
vader, but speak the amazing majesty of 
their Maker. In other places, all such la- 
boured methods of fortification are laid 
aside. The Creator shows the astonished 
world that he is confined to no expedients, 
but orders all things " according to the plea- 
sure of his own will." He bids a low bank 
of despicable sand receive and repel the 
most furious shocks of assaidting seas ; and 
" though the waves thereof toss themselves" 
with incredible fierceness, yet can they not 
prevail ; though " they roar," and seem to 
menace universal destruction, " yet can 
they not pass over,'' Jer. v. 22, this slight- 
est of mounds. 

A winding passage broke the declivity of 
the descent, and led me by a gradual slope 
to the bottom. The moon being in her 
last quarter, and the tide at its greatest re- 
cess, I walked for a while, where briny 
waves were wont to flow. The ebbing wa- 
ters had left a vacant space several furlongs 
broad, equal in length to a very extended 
vista, smooth on its surface as the most le- 
vel bowding-green, and almost as firm as the 
best compacted causeway. Insomuch that 
the tread of a horse scarce impresses it, and 
the waters of the sea never penetrate it. Ex- 
clusive of this wise contrivance, the search- 
ing waves would insinuate themselves into 
the heart of the earth : the earth itself 
would be hollow as a honey-comb, or bibu- . 
lous as a sponge ; and the sea, soaking by 
degrees through all its cavities, woidd in 
process of time forsake its bed, and mingle 
with the plains and mountains. But this 
closely cemented or glutinous kind of pave- 
ment, is like claying the bottom of the uni- 
versal canal; so that the returning tides 
consolidate, rather than perforate its sub- 
stance, and prevent the sun from cleaving it 



* These, doubtless, " are the doors and the bars," 
which the Almighty mentions in the course of his, 
awful interrogatories to Job : the massy doors, which 
can never be forced : the solid bars, which can never 
bebrol^e; and, I may add, the conspicuous columns 
on which his Providence has inscribed that sovereign 
mandate, " No plus ultra." Or, as the prohibition 
runs in his o\vn majestic v/ords, " Hitherto shalt thou 
go, but no farther." Job xxxviii. 10. 



witb cliinks. Such, I hope, -will be the 
case with this soul of muie, amid the temp- 
tations that beset me. Beset me they do, 
they will ; but may they never win upon 
my affections, nor gain admittance into my 
heart ! Let them make me humble, and 
keep me vigilant ; teach me to walk closely 
with my God, and urge me to an incessant 
dependance on Christ- Then, instead of 
being ruinous, tiiey may become advanta- 
geous ; and instead of shattering, will only 
cleanse the rock on which they dash. 

The mighty waters, restless even in their 
utmost tranquillity, with a'solemn but placid 
murmur struck my ear. The billows some- 
times advancing to kiss the sand, sometimes 
drawing back their curly heads jnto the 
deep, whitened at their extremities into an 
agreeable foam ; which, with the reflexive 
representation of the azure canopy, foi-med 
the appearance of a most spacious floating 
mantle, tinged with a beautiful blue, and 
edged with fringes of silver. Dignity and 
elegance, I find, are the inseparable charac- 
teristics of the Creator's workmanship ; as 
comfort and happiness, I sometimes per- 
ceive, are the very spirit of his gospel, and 
the genuine produce of its commands. 

On one side, the Atlantic main rolled its 
surges from world to world — Immense, im- 
mense diffusion of waters ! Y/hat a spectacle 
of magnificence and terror ! What an irri- 
sistible incitement to reverence and awe ! 
How it fills the mind and amazes the ima- 
gination ! It is the grandest and most august 
object under the Avhole heavens. It reminds 
me of that apocalyptic vision which .John, 
the enraptured seer, beheld ! " As it were 
a great mountain burning with fire, was cast 
into the sea, and the third part of the sea 
became blood, and the third part of the crea- 
tures which were in the sea, and had life, 
"died ; and the third part of the ships were 
destroyed," Rev. viii. 8, 9. I have not pe- 
netration enough to discover the spiritual 
meaning of this passage ; but I discern a 
most dreadful grandeur in its plain and liter- 
al sense. If we consider the wonderful com- 
pass aiid the terrible force of such an enor- 
mous mass of fire : if we consider its hor- 
rible and desti-uctive effects on such a vast 
botiy of waters as the third part of the 
ocean ; how tremendous and astonishing is 
the idea ! Surely nothing but divine inspir- 
ation coidd suggest these images ; as none 
but an almighty Being can execute this ven- 
geance ! Who would not fear an eternal 
King, that has such weapons, and such ar- 
tillery reserved against the day of battle and 
war? Job xxxviii. 23. 

Spacious as the sea is, God has provided 
a garment to cover it. Profound as the sea 
is, God has prepared swaddling-bands to in- 
\vrap it. Ungovernable as it may seem to 
usj= ■he overrules it with as muck euse as the 



nui'se manages a new born infant. Job 
xxxviii. 8,9. An infant it is before al- 
mighty power, and to an infant it is com- 
pared by Jehovah himself: though, to our 
apprehension, it raves like a stupendous 
madman. But if he command, it opens, a 
peaceful bosom, and receives his -peapie. 
It smooths the way for their passage, and 
stands as a bulwark for their defence. They 
march " through the midst of the sea upon 
dry groimd, and the waters are a wall unto 
them on their i-ight hand and on their left," 
Exod. xiv, 22. If he reverses his mandate, 
they drive down with an irresistible sweep, 
upon the hosts of Pharaoh, and ovenvhelm 
the chariots and horses of Egypt. They 
pour confusion upon arrogance,* and disap- 
point the designs of persecution and cruel- 
ty. If he says " Be still," the bellowing 
surges are hushed, and the gentlest lamb is 
not so quiet. If he says, " Destroy," even 
the quiescent -waters kindle into rage ; 
they rise in their Maker's cause, and ten 
thousand lions, stung with hunger and rush- 
ing upon their prey, are not so fierce. 
When he bids them execute any other com- 
mission, the horse broke to the bit, the 
spaniel disciplined to the signal, are not half 
so dutiful and obsequious. And shall our 
passions be more wild than the winds, more 
turbulent than the billows? Forbid it, al- 
mighty Lord ! " Thou that rulest the rag- 
ing of the sea, and the noise of his waves, 
restrain, subdue, and calm the madness of 
the people." 

The eye travels hard : It wanders over a 
vast, vast length of fluctuating plains. It 
reaches the limits of the hemisphere where 
skies and waves seem to mingle. Yet it 
has scarce made an entiy upon the world of 
waters. What I here disceni, is no more 
than the skirts of the great and wide sea. 
Tracts incomparably broader are still behind ; 
and tracts of unbounded extent are behind 
even those. Great then, O my soul, incon- 
ceivably great, is that adored and glorious 
sovereign, who sitteth upon this flood as 
upon a throne ! Psal. xxix. 10 ; nay, who 
holds it, diffused as it is from pole to pole, in 
the hollow of his hand ; and before whom, 



* Arrogance — This is described with exquisite de- 
licacy, in the ETrtviy-^ov, or triumphant song of Mo- 
ses. " The enemy said, 1 will pursue, I will overtake, 
I will divide the spoil, my lust shall be satisfied upon 
them, I will drawrav sword, mine hand shall destroy 
them." What swelling words of vanity are here !— 
The very spirit of a Thraso breathes in every syllable 
of this beautiful prosopopa-ia. Never was the lan- 
guage of bluster, ferocity, andrhodomontade, so fine- 
ly mimicked. How noble is the turn, and how exalt- 
ed the sentiment which follows ! " Thoxi didst blow 
with thy wind, the sea covered them, they sank as 
lead in the mighty waters." The God of Israel need 
not summon all his po-ver, or level the right-aimin;* 
thunderbolts : he only l^lows with his wintls, and tlie 
great mountain breaks like a bubble. All this inso- 
lent and formidable parade is qvuishcd : sinks into no- 
thing, expires ■ ' 



n shame and ruin. Excd. xv.9. 10. 



S78 



THERON AND i\SPASIO. 



in b1\ its prodigious dimensions, it is but as 
the drop of a bucket. How shall reptiles 
of the ground sink low enough in their own 
apprehensions ? What humiliation can be 
sufficiently deep for sinful mortals before 
this high and holy One ! Yet how may they 
rise on the wings of hope ! how may they 
soar on the pinions of faith ! when, in the 
language of his prophet, and in his own 
Son's name, they thus address the everlast- 
ing God. " Awake ! Awake ! put on strength, 
O arm of the Lord ! awake for our succour 
and security, as in the ancient days, in the 
generations of old. Art thou not it that hath 
cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon ? Art 
thou not it which hath dried the sea, the 
waters of the great deep ? that hath made 
the depths of the sea a way for the ransom- 
ed to pass over? Isa. li. 9, 10. 

How grand, surprisingly grand and majes- 
tic are the works as well as the attributes of 
an omnipotent Being ! What are all the ca- 
nals in all the countries of the earth com- 
pared with this immense reservatory ! What 
are all the superb edifices erected by royal 
munificence, compared with yonder concave 
of the skies ! And what are the most pom- 
pous illuminations of theatres and triumph- 
ant cities, compared with the resplendent 
source of day ! They are a spark, an ato-n, 
a drop. — Nay, in every spark, and atom, and 
drop, which proceeds from the hand of the 
Almighty, there is the manifestation of a wis- 
dom and a power absolutely incomprehen- 
sible. 

Let us examine a single drop of water, the 
very least quantity that the eye can discern ; 
only so much as will just adhere to the point 
of a needle. In this almost imperceptible 
speck, a famous philosopher computes no 
less than thirteen thousand globules. Amaz- 
ing to conceive ! impossible to explicate ! — 
If, then, in so small a speck, abundantly 
more than ten thousand globules exist, what 
myriads of myriads must float in the unmea- 
sured extent of the ocean ! — Let the ablest 
arithmetician try to comprehend in his mind, 
not the internal constitution, but only the 
number of these fluid particles. As well 
may he grasp the winds in his fist, or mete 
out the universe with his span, as execute 
the task. If, then, we are utterly unable to 
number (which is the most superficial of 
all researches) even the most common 
works of the great Jehovah ; how can we 
pretend to lay open the secrets, and pene- 
trate the recesses of his infinite mind ! How 
can we pretend to investigate the whole pro- 
cess, and solve all the difiiculties of that 
highest and deepest of the divine schemes, 
redemption ! 

I have sometimes been offended, I must 
confess, when you have enlarged upon the 
mysterious truths of Christiatjity. But I 
perceive the beam was in my own eye, when 



I fancied the mote was in my friend's. Is 
there, in every ray of light, and in every par- 
ticle of matter, a depth of contrivance un- 
fathomable by the line of any human under- 
standing? And shall there be nothing abstruse 
or profound, nothing but what is level to 
our scanty apprehensions, in the "great 
things," Hos. viii. 12, of God's law, and the 
" glorious things" Acts. ii. 11, of his gospel? 
To expect this is just as wise in itself, and 
just as congruous to nature, as to expect a 
sea, whose cavities might have been digged 
by our spade; — a sky, whose arches are mea- 
surable by our compass ; — a sun, whose orb 
may be included in our lanterns. 

When, therefore, I read of One uncreat- 
ed and eternal Being, subsisting in Three 
divine Persons ; when I hear of an infinite- 
ly pure and perfect God, made flesh for the 
redemption of sinful men; when I meditate 
upon the righteous and universal Judge, recon- 
ciling the world unto himself by the death 
of his own Son ; when a thousand curious 
and inquisitive thoughts are ready to arise 
on the occasion : I will bid them first sound 
the deptljs of a single drop, and then apply 
their plummet to the boundless ocean. This 
I am very sure, is not weak credulity, nor 
wild enthusiasm ; but the maturest dictate 
of reason, and the very precision of truth. 
Let then the Great Creator make that su- 
blime declaration : " As the heavens are 
higher than the earth, so are my ways than 
your ways, and my thoughts than your 
thoughts," Isa. Iv. 9. Let every human crea- 
ture add that humble acknowledgment, " O 
the depths of the riches, both of the Vv'is- 
dom and knowledge of God ! Howunsearch- 
able are his judgments, and his ways past 
finding out !" Rom. xi. 33; and not devotion 
ordy, but reason and truth will say " Amen" 
to both. 

You see, Aspasio, how I am trying to 
adopt your spirit. You will observe the 
willing scholar, though not the great profi- 
cient. But stay ! Is this right ? to divert 
from such commanding subjects, and take 
notice of mere punctilios ? My friend may 
spare his frowns : I am surprised and angry 
at myself. Away with the little arts of 
self-recommendation. Self should be for- 
got, should be swallowed up and lost in 
devout astonishment, when we are viewing 
the magnificence, and meditating on the 
wonders of creation. 

Behind me, and far ofi" to the north, Cam- 
bria's dusky coasts just, and but just emerg- 
ed. Lost were all her woods and moim- 
tains. Instead of ornamented towns and 
cultivated plains, a confused mist, or a low- 
hung cloud, seemed to hover on the ocean's 
remotest brim. Behind me ! Remembrance 
is roused at the expression, and conscience 
sharpens her sting. Ah! how often, and 
I how long have I treated in this very man- 



LETTER ixmimi: 



ev, the- noblest scenes, and the sublimest 
loys ! have turned my back — ungrateful 
and besotted creature ! — upon the heavenly 
country, and wandered from the regions of 
infinite deliglit ! Therefore now they ap- 
jiear dim. I have scarcely a glimpse of 
their transcendent excellencies. Or if I 
see them by faith, it is with frequent inter- 
missions, and much obscurity. Turn me, 
O thou God of my salvation, turn me from 
pursuing phantoms, and attach me to thy 
l)]essed self. Let me henceforth steer an 
invariable course to Emmanuel's kingdom. 
May its treasures, as I advance, open to 
my view, and its glories brighten in my eye. 

! may some odours, better, far better, 
thnn Sabaean spicy odours,* exhale from the 
delectable hilis and the celestial shores ! — 
But chiefly, thou eternal Spirit, breathe 
upon my soul, both by thy convincing and 
comforting influences ! nor ever cease to 
swell my sails, and speed my progress, till 

1 firrive at " the land that is very far ofi, 
and see the Knig," the King of grace and 
of glory, " hi all his ineffable beauty." Isa. 
xxxiii. 17. 

On my left hand, a range of mountain- 
ous cliffs rose in a perpendicular direction. 
The huge pile extended, as far as the sight 
could discern, its black boundaries. Here 
bending inwards to the land ; there bellying 
out into the deep ; eveiywhere projecting a 
shade several leagues across the ocean. 

The height of these cliffs so prodigious, 
that every human creature who comes near 
the summit starts back terrified and aghast. 
Only a few straggling goats venture to graze 
on the top ; and these, to a person walking 
below, appear but as specks of moving 
white ; while the sea-mews, that winnow 
the air about the middle steep, look like 
M'inged animalcules pursuing their little 
sports in a different region. The aspect 
of these cliffs, so wild and horrid, it is im- 
possible to behold them without a shivering 
dread. The spectator is apt to imagine, 
thiit nature had formerly suffered some vio- 
lent convulsions, or been shattered by the 
flaming bolts, and that these are the dis- 
membered remains of the dreadful stroke ; 
the ruins, not of Persepolis or Palmyra, 
but of the world ! 

Amazing ! What adventurous daring 
creature is yonder gathering samphire from 
the cavities of the rocks ! He has let him- 
self down several fathoms beneath the 
black and dizzy summit. He gleans a 



* Alluding to these lines m Milton ! 

As when to them who sail 

Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past 
Mosambic, off at sea north-east winds blow 
Saba-an odour from the spicy shore 
^Ol'Araby f^e Hlrss'd. and many a league 
Cheei'd with tlie •/raicful smell old ocean smiles. 

iiuuk iV. 1. io'J. 



37<> 

poor livelihood, from the edges of danp^t, 
shall 1 say ? rather, from the jaws of death.; 
1 cannot discern the rope to which he 
clings. He seems to be suspended over 
the tremendous precipice by a thread, by a 

hair, by nothing I will look no longer. 

The very sight chills my veins. While I 
view his perilous elevation, I can think of 
nothing but a headlong downfall and fi-ac- 
tured bones ; of brains left to reek on the 
pointed crags, and blood streaming on the 
discolom-ed beach. 

Suppose (if the mind can bear so shock- 
ing a supposition) some poor wretch, ex- 
posed on the brow of this stupendous pro- 
montory; without any support for bis feet; 
and cleaving only to a weak slender shrub, 
which but just adheres to the inteistices 
of the rock -. what tumultuous throbbings 
seize his breast ! what a dying paleness in- 
vades his cheeks ! and what agonies of fear 
rend his heart, as he hangs projecting over 
the ragged precipice ; and surveys the ocean^ 
deep, wondrous deep, below ! The bough 
gives way. His only hope fails. It yields 
more and more to his weight. Good hea- 
vens ! he sinks! he sinks ! — O! for some 
friendly hand, to snatch him from perishing! 
Millions, millions of gold, were the cheap 
purchase of such a mercy. There was a 
time, my soul, when thou wast in a situa- 
tion, equally, shall I say ? infinitely more 
dangerous ; tottering, not only on the verge 
of life, but on the very brink of hell. Re- 
member that compassionate arm, which was 
stretched out, in the very article of need, 
to rescue thee from imminent and everlast- 
ing perdition. Never forget that gracious 
voice which said, in accents sweeter than 
the music of the seraphic choir, " Deliver 
him from going down into the pit. Let 
his health be restored, and his day of grace 
be prolonged." 

In some places, the hideous ruins not 
only tower to the skies, but lean over the 
strand. Prominent and frightfully pendu- 
lous, they nod horror, and threaten destruc- 
tion on all below. A person congratulates 
himself when he has got clear of the bend- 
ing precipice, and can hardly forbear think- 
ing that the enormous load is withheld by 
some unseen hand, till the execrable wretch, 
doomed to a most astonishing vengeance, is 
come within reach of the blow. And truly, 
if he had the strength of the elephant, or 
the firmness of the behemoth, this must 
grind him to powder, or even crush him into 
atoms. 

How awful to consider, that there is a 
day coming, when wicked potentates ana 
haughty monarchs will beg of yonder seas 
to yawn compassionately deep, and hide 
them in their darkest abysses — hide them 
from the piercing eye antl avenging sword 
of inflexible justice : That there is a day 



380 



THEIiON AND ASPASIO. 



coming, when the soft voluptuary, the wan - 
ton beauty, and all the ungodly of the earth, 
will beseech these tremendous ridges, with 
all their unsupportable burden of craggy 
rocks, to rush down upon their guilty heads ! 
Rev. iv. 15, 16, if by this means they may 
be screened from the infinitely more dreaded 
weight of divine indignation. 

Vain are their cries ; and vainer still 
would be their refuge, should their passion- 
ate requests be granted. Can floods con- 
ceal the impious wretches, when the caverns 
of the ocean shall be laid bare, and the 
foundations of the world be discovered ? 
Can rocks secrete an obnoxious rebel, when 
rocks, with all their marble quarries and 
adamantine entrails, shall dissolve like melt- 
ing wax? when hills, that plunge their roots 
to the centre, and lose their towering heads 
in air, shall start from their affrighted base,* 
and flee away like a withered leaf? Good 
God !f what racking anguish must they feel ! 
what inexpressibly severer torment must 
they fear ! who can implore, ardently im- 
plore as a most desirable favour, what ima- 
gination itself shudders to conceive. 

In some places, these mountainous decli- 
vities lift their brow aloft, plant their basis 
deep, and, instead of portending a fall, defy 
the fury of the most impetuous elements. 



* This brings to our remembrance a most sublime 
description of the divine power, which arises in a 
beautiful climax, and terminates in this grand idea: 
*' The voice of the Lord is mighty in operation, the 
voice of the Lord is a glorious voice. The voice of 
the Lord breaketh the cedars; yea the Lordbreaketh 
the cedars of Lebanon. He maketh them also to skip 
like a calf ; Lebanon and Sirion like a young unicorn." 
Psalm xxix. 4 — 6. 

The voice of the Lordismi^hty in operation. This 
js the general proposition, which, in the following 
sentences, we see most magnificently illustrated. The 
voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars, when he speaKs 
in thunder, and bids the lightning execute his orders, 
the trees, the cedar trees, those sturdiest productions 
of the earth, are shivered to pieces. Yea, the Lord 
breaketh the cedars of Lebanon, which forstateliness 
and strength, surpass the oaks of the forest, surpass 
every tree of the field, almost as much as the oak ex- 
ceeds a shrub. It is a small thing with Jehovah, to 
rend the trunks, to tear up the roots, and make those 
massy bodies skip like a calf, even Lebanon and 
Sirion, the mountains on which they grow, tremble 
before their God. They are tlirovvn into strange 
commotions; they are ready to spring from their 
foundations ; and with all their load of woods and 
rocks, appear like some affrighted or some sportive 
animal, th^it starts with horror, or leaps with exulta- 
tion. 

t Good God! — This exclamation is introduced on 
a vory serious occasion, and used with an apparent 
air of reverence. Under which circumstances, per- 
haps, it may be sometimes allowable, and not dishon- 
ouralsle to the divine Majesty. But when it is ad- 
mitted into ordinary conversation, on trifling occur- 
rences, and with a levity of temper, it is itself a very 
great offence, and discovers a very irreligious spirit. 
It is so great an offence, that the God of heaven and 
earth declares himself the avenger of all such trans- 
gressors. He will not hold them guiltless, or he will 
assuredly punish them. And if God condemn, who 
shallacquit? If he will punish, who can deliver from his 
hand ? It discovers a very irreligious spirit ; is a most 
dangerous symptom, somewhat like a plague spot on 
the conversation. It shows thai there is no saving 
health, no life of God in thesoul. Was there any sen- 
sibility in the conscience, any grace in. the heart, it 
would be impossible to treat so wantonly and so pre- 
sumptuously that glorious and fearful name, the Lord 
thy liod,' Deuti xxviii. 5{l. 



Firmly consolidated, and steadifeslly" esta- 
blished, they have withstood the united, the 
repeated assaidts of winds and waves, 
through a long series of revolving ages. 
The sacred writers, I observe, select almost 
all the striking images which the whole crea- 
tion affoj-ds, in order to communicate their 
heavenly ideas with the greatest advantage. 
Isaiah, describing the security of the right- 
eous, takes his comparison from the grand 
spectacle before my eyes : "He shall dv\'^ell 
on high ; his place of defence shall be the 
munitions of rocks," Isaiah xxxiii. 16, inac- 
cessible as those lofty ridges, immoveable 
as their everlasting foundations. 

Should it be asked, what these munitions 
of rocks may signify ? I find two places 
of refuge and safeguard pointed out in sciip- 
ture ; to either of which, I believe, the me- 
taphor is applicable. " He had horns," 
says one of the divine pindarics, "coming 
out of his hand; there was the hiding of his 
power,* Hab. iii. 5. Uncontrollable and 
omnipotent power was lodged in the great 
Jehovah's hand ; and this was the sure de- 
fence, this the impregnable garrison, for all 
his people. The church of Christ is said 
to be "in the clefts of the rock,f Cant. ii. 
14 ; that " spiritual rock," of which the Is- 
raelites drank in the wilderness ; whose sa« 
cred clefts v/ere opened when the bloody 
spear tore up the Redeemer's side, and cut 
a wide and deadly passage to his heart. 
Surely, " the inhabitants of this Eock have 
reason to sing, Isa. xlii. 11. What should 
disquiet them ? Who can destroy them ? 
Why should not the voice of joy be in their 
dwellings, and that hymn of holy triumph 
in their mouths, " We have a strong city. 
Salvation hath God appointed, salvation 



* Horns were an emblem of strength. A horn of 
salvation is put for a mighty and effectual salvation, 
Luke ii. 69. Thou hast heard me from among the 
horns of the unicorns ; thou hast rescued me from the 
most potent and formidable enemies, Psal. xxii. 21. 
Here the word seems to denote thatpower of Jehovah, 
to which nothing is impossible, and more than seems, 
if we consult the next clause. There was tlie hiding 
of his power ; or, as it may be rendered, " his powei-- 
ful hiding," a most secure refuge, a sanctuary abso- 
lutely inviolable. I have accommodated this passage 
to a different sense. See Meditations. But the true sig- 
nification, most suitable to the context, and most sub- 
servient to the prophet's design, is, I apprehend, given 
by Theron. It is something like an exalted sentiment 
in the Night Thoughts, which, with a small altera- 
tion, may serve as a paraphrase on the text : 
.And nature's shield the hollow of his hand. 
A Christian's shield the hollow of his hand. 

} Should the reader have an inclination to see this 
sacred, but mysterious book explained, I would refer 
him to Dr Gill's Exposition of the Canticles: which 
has such a copious vein of sanctified invention run- 
ning through it, and is interspersed with such a variety 
of delicate and briUiant images, as cannot but highly 
entertain a curious mind; which presents us also with 
such rich and charming displays of the glory of Christ's 
person, the freeness of his grace to sinners, and the 
tenderness of his love to the church, as cannot but ad- 
minister the most exquisite delight to the believing 
soul. Considered in both these views, I think the 
work resembles the paradisaical garden described by 
Milton, in which 

Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue. 
Aiipear'd with gay eiiamell'd colours mix'd. 



LETTER rX^^§¥'^ 



SSI 



itself "*^fort\'!iIlsandl>nl\yarks," Isa. xxvi. \. 
Happy slioiild I think myself, if I was in- 
terested in this Saviour, and established on 
this Rock, 

Yonder, on the summit of the most con- 
spicious cliff, is erected a grand and stately 
pile. At the top, my glass discovers a su- 
perb lantern ; at the foot, are the huts of 
fishermen, surrounded with various sorts of 
nets. It is, I suppose, alight-house; in- 
tended to apprise the sailor of devouring 
gulfs, and destructive shoals ; or else to 
conduct him into a safe road, and secure 
harbour. 

Both the situation and design of the 
building read me a lesson ; the one of awful 
admonition, the other of comfortable in- 
struction — Comfortable instruction : How 
massy and ponderous is the edifice ! yet 
there is not the least reason to be appre- 
hensive of a failure in the foundation. Was 
the structure ten thousand times larger, the 
solid rock would support it with the utmost 
ease, and the utmost steadiness. Such is 
Christ, such are his merits, such his glorious 
righteousness, to those wise and blessed souls, 
who rest all the weight of their everlasting 
interests on him alone. Such, did I say ? 
Much surer. For " the mountains may de- 
part, and the hills may be removed, Isa. 
liv. 10 ; but this divine basis can never 
sink, can never be shaken. — Awful admo- 
nition ; For it rectils to niy memory that 
alarming yet welcome text,* whicli you styled 
the spiritual light-house ; which has been 
as serviceable to my distressed mind and be- 
wildered thoughts, as such an illuminated 
watch-tower to the wandering and benight- 
ed mariner. May I often view it ; ever at- 
tend to its faithful direction ; and be led, 
by its influences, into the haven, the de- 
sired haven of peace and salvation ! 

Let me once again survey those vast but 
noble deformities ; those rude but majestic 
elevations of stone. Fortifications, reared 
by an almighty hand, to protect us at once 
from warring elements, and invading ene- 
mies. Ramparts, which overlook and com- 
mand the ocean ; which, viewed by distant 
mariners, seem to touch and prop the sky ; 
which have siUTOunded our isle ever since 
the universal deluge, and will be her never- 
failing defence even to the general confla- 
gration. If some opinionated engineer 
should take it into his head to suspect the 
stability of these unshaken and everlasting 
bulwarks ; if he should make proposals for 
strengthening them with buttresses, or gird- 
ing them round with cramping-irons, how 
would his project be received ? with appro- 
bation and applause, or with contempt and 
indignation ? " Fool that he is, to think of 
enlarging, corroborating, or improving the 



* See Rom. ix. 30—32. and above, Letter V. 



finished and magnificent works of nature, 
by the puny piddlings of art 1" Such, so 
foolish and preposterous, was my once fa- 
vourite conceit, of adding my own perform- 
ances, in order to increase the justifying ef- 
ficacy of Christ's obedience. What a dis- 
paragement was this to the great, the divine 
foundation ! which, for the support and se- 
curity of burdened and endangered sinners, 
is suflicient — is self-sufficient — is all-suffi- 
cient. 

How changeable is the face of this liquid 
element ! Not long ago, there was nothing, 
from this stony boundary to the horizon's 
utmost verge, but the wildest tumult and 
most horrible confusion. Now the stormy 
flood has smoothed its rugged brow, and 
the watery uproar is lulled into a profound 
trajiquillity. Where rolling mountains 
rushed and raged, threatening to dash the 
clouds and deluge the earth ; there the gen- 
tlest undulations play, and only just wrinkle 
the surface of the mighty bason. Where 
the dreadfid abyss opened its wide and un- 
fathomable jaws, to swallow up the tvemb- 
ling sailor and his shattered vessel ; there a 
calm and clear expanse diffuses its ample 
bosom, alluring the lish to bask in the sim, 
and inviting the sea-fowl to watch for their 
prey. 

In this fair-floating mirror, I see the 
picture of every cloud which passes through 
the regions of the sky. But in its uncer- 
tain and treacherous temperature, I see 
more plainly the unconstant and ever-vaiia- 
ble condition of human affairs. I dm'st not 
be surety to the mariner for peaceful seas 
and soothing gales. I cotild not ascertain 
the continuance of this halcyon weather so 
much as a single day, or even to the next 
hour. And let me not fondly promise my- 
self an uninterrupted tenor of serenity in 
my mind, or of prosperity in my circum- 
stances. Sometimes, indeed, my heart ex- 
ults under the smile of heaven and the fa- 
vour of God : But soon, ah ! too soon, I 
am cloiided with fear, and oppressed with 
corruption. I sigh out that passionate ac- 
knowledgment, " Y/retchedman that I am!" 
and add that Avishful inquiry, " Who shall 
deliver me ?" For this disordered state of 
things, the afflicted patriarch's complaint is 
the most apposite motto, and the most 
wholesome memento : " Changes and war 
are around me." Job x. 17. But there is 
a world, where disastrous revolutions will 
be known no more ; where our enjoyments 
will no longer fluctuate like the ocean, but 
be more steadfast than the rocks, and more 
immoveable than the shores. 

Here I see an immense collection of wa- 
ters in a state of deep repose. Could I ex- 
tend my view to some remoter tracts, I 
should behold every thing smoother and 
calmer still. Not a furrow sinks, nor a 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



ridge swells the surface of the ocean ; It is 
all like a glassy plain. The waves are 
asleep ? Echo is hushed : Not a gale stirs : 
1'he sea stagnates j the mariner is becalm- 
ed, and the vessel scarcely creeps. Where- 
as, could I survey the straits of Magellan, 
or the gut of Gibraltar, I should find a very 
sti-iking difference. There the waters press 
in with vehemence, and rush forwards with 
impetuosity. All is there in strong agita- 
tion and rapid progress. The ship is whirl- 
ed through the narrow passage, and rides, 
as it were, on the wheels of the surge, or 
on the wings of the wind. This, my dear 
Aspasio, is a true image of what I have 
been, and of what I am. Some months 
ago, when I was insensible of guilt, all my 
prayers were listless, and all my religion 
was a spiritual lethargy. I felt not in my 
/leart what I uttered with my tongue. Ho- 
sannahs were but an empty ceremony, and 
confessions froze on my formal lips. But 
since the Spirit of God has awakened me 
from my dream, and convinced me of my 
sinfulness, I can no longer be satisfied with 
indolent and yawning devotions. Trials 
and temptations put strong cries into my 
mouth. My soul mourns before the Lord ; 
my desires plead with the blessed God ; and 
I am ready to say, as the patriarch of old, 
" I cannot, I must not, I will not let thee 
go, unless thou bless me." Gen. xxxii. 26. 

I see no flocks of sheep, with sober assi- 
duity, nibbling the grassy plains. No spor- 
tive lambs, with innocent gaiety, frisking 
along the sunny banks. Here are no stables 
for the generous steed, nor pastures for the 
lusty heifer. Nevertheless these watery re- 
gions are stocked with colonies of proper 
and peculiar inhabitants, who are clothed 
and accoutred in exact conformity to the 
clime ; not in swelling wool or buoyant fea- 
thers, not in a flowing robe or a full-trim- 
med suit, but with as much compactness, 
and with as little superfluity as possible. 
They are clad, or rather sheathed in scales ; 
which adhere closely to their bodies, and 
.are always laid in a kind of natural oil ; 
than which apparel, nothing can be more 
light, and at the same time, nothing more 
solid. It hinders the fluid from penetrat- 
ing their flesh, it prevents the cold from 
coagiflating their blood, and enables them 
to make their way through the waters with 
the utmost facility. They have each a 
Curious instrument,* by which they increase 
or diminish their specific gravity ; sink like 
lead, or float like a cork ; rise to what 
height, or descend to what depth they 
please. 

This is the abode of leviathan, hugest of' 
living creatures. Before whom the broad- 
limbed elephant and the tali-necked camel, 



* The air-bladder. 



are mere shrimps ; a stretched out promon- 
tory when he sleeps ; a moving island when 
he swims ; " making the sea to boil like a 
pot," when, unwieldily wallowing, he takes 
his prodigious pastime. Here the voraci- 
ous sharkj that tyrant of the fluid kingdoms, 
and assassin of the finny nations, roams and 
commits his ravages, imbrues his horrid 
fangs, and marks his rapid path with blood. 
Here dwelt that great, and greatly surpris- 
ing fish, whose fierceness and avidity the 
almighty Sovereign employed, as his pur- 
suivant, to arrest a fugitive prophet : whose 
ample jaws, or capacious entrails were the 
dungeon to confine a rebellious subject, and 
the cabin to lodge a penitent offender; 
whose bulk, and strength, and speed were a 
kind of vessel, transporting this convict to 
" the bottom of the mountains, and the bars 
of the earth." Jonah ii. 6. After the cri- 
minal was sufficiently chastised, and pro- 
perly humbled, they served as a galley with 
oars to convey him safe to land. 

In the same element resides (at least 
takes up part of his residence) that formid- 
able monster, who is made without fear, 
and " has not his like upon earth." He 
esteemeth the pointed iron as stmw, and 
ponderous brass as rotten wood. His 
heart is as hard as a piece of the nether- 
millstone, and his scales are a coat of im- 
penetrable mail. Strength not to be re- 
sisted, much less to be subdued, lies en- 
trenched in his sine\^'y neck. His eyes are 
like the eyelids of the opening day ; and 
when he rolls those glaring orbs, there 
seems to be another morn risen on mid- 
noon. His teeth are terrible ; jagged for 
rapine and edged with death. His throat 
is as a burning furnace ; clouds of smoke 
are poured from his nostrils, and flakes of 
fire issue from his mouth. None, no not 
the most resolute, dares provoke him to the 
combat, or even stir him up from his slum- 
bers. He laugheth at the shaking of the 
spear, " and sorrow marcheth in triumph 
before him,"* Job. xli. 22. V/henever he 
raiseth himself, the mighty are afraid ; 
wherever he advanceth, ruin is there. If a 
mere creature is capable of spreading such 
alarm and dread, how greatly is the Crea- 



• nSK"l ifnn 113b*5- « Mceror," says 
Bochart, " prascedit tanquam metator et comes, tu- 
midique ante ambulo regis." Terror and anguish are 
a kind of advanced guard to this monarch among the 
reptiles ; or, they go before the monster, as the man 
bearing a shield went before the Philistine giant. — 
The original word occurs in no other part of the di- 
vine book. I cannot recollect any expression, which 
so fully represents its meaning, as Homer's ftohoav, 
or Xenophon's yuv^iatrB-cti ; both which are intend- 
ed to describe the ardour and action of a high-mettled 
prancing steed.-— The whole paragraph is a sketch of 
the crocodile'.s picture. It exhibits a few circum- 
stances, bulled fr©m that inimitable description, ex- 
tant in the book of Job, which are given either :a 
the sncred writer's own words, or else in a para.pliLras- 
tic explanation of their sense. 



LETTER IX. 



^ : ilo* hhtiself to be feared ! who can turn the 
rfojinost harmless in])abitant of the ocean into 
js ;a ravenous alligator, or a horrid crocodile ! 
g£? !\vho can arm CA^ery reptile of the ground 
=j;'.with all the force and rage of a lion ! 
^gti It is impossible to enter on the muster- 
btiroll those scaly herds, and that minuter 
bf^ry, which graze the sea-weed, or stray 
f)'lhrough the coral groves. They are in- 
numerable as the sands which lie under 
them ; countless as the waves which cover 
them. Here are uncouth animals, of mon- 
strous shapes,* and amazing qualities. -|- 
Some that have been discovered by the in- 
quisitive eye of man ; and many more, that 
remain among the secrets of the hoary deep. 
Here are shoals and shoals, of various cha- 
racters, and of the most diversified sizes ; 
. from the cumbrous whale, whose iiouncings 
tempest the ocean, to the evajiescent an- 
chovy, whose substance dissolves in the 
smallest fricassee. Some, lodged in their 
pearly shells, and fattening on their rocky 
beds, seem attentive to no higher employ 
than that of imbibing moist nutriment. 
. These, but a small remove from vegetable 
i.|Mfe, are almost rooted to the rocks on 
biwhich they lie re]wsed ; while others, ac- 
f-\tive as the winged creation, and SAA-ift as an 
.arrow from the Indian bow, shoot along 
the yielding flood, and range at large the 
f^pacious regions of the deep. 



* Monstrous shapes. — .Such as the sword-fish, whoso 
u;^))ierjaw is lengthened into a strong and sharp sword, 
"with which he sometimes ventures to attack ships, 

■ and is capable of piercin.<T their sides, though ribbed 
with oak. This may be called the champion of the 
waters; who, though never exceeding sixteen feet in 
length, yet, confiding in a weajion at once so trusty 
and so tremendous, scruples not to give battle, even 
to the whale himself. The sun-fish has no tail, seems 

■ to be all head ; and was it not for two fins, which act 
the part of oars, would be one entire round mass of 
flesh. The polypus, remarkable for its numerous 
feet, and as many claws, bv v/hich it has the appear- 
ance of a mere insect, and seems fitted only to crawl. 
At the same time an excrescence, arising on the back, 
enables it to steer and pursue a steady course in the 
waves; so that it may pass under the twofold cha- 
racter of a sailor and a reptile. 

t Amazing (jntiJlties.— Among these mav be reck- 
oned the torj-.edo, which benumbs on a sudden, and 
renders impotent, whatever fish it assaults ; and, 
v/hich IS a more extraordinp.ry property, strikes even 
the fisherman's arm, when he offers to'lay hold on it, 
with a temporary deadness. By this means, it pos- 
sesses the double advantage of arresting its urey, and 
-securing itself.— The cuttle fish, furnished with a li- 
quid magazine of a colour and consistence like ink, 
winch, when pursued by an enemy, the creature 
.^niits rnd blackens the water. Bv this artifice, the 
foe IS bewildered in the chase . and while the one 
-vainly gropes m the daik, the other seizes the oppor- 
.tutiity, and makes his escape.— The nautilu>, whose 
shell tomis a natural boat. The dexterous inhabitant 
unfurls a membrane to the wnd, which serves him 
instead of a sail. He extends also a couple of arms, 
with which, as with two slender oars, he rows himself 
along. When he is disposed to dive, he strikes sail, 
and, without any apprehension of being drowned, 
|rnks to the boitom. . When the weather is calm, and 
he has an inclination to see the world, or take his 
pleasure, he mounts to the surface; and, self-taught 
in the art of navigation, performs his voyage without 
either cluirt or compass; is himself the vessel, the 
I'.'SHi'iS. «nd the jiilot.— For a more cojiious illustra- 
tion ot this amusing and wondv'iful subject, see Na- 
ture Displayed, vol. iii. 



Here is the tortoise, vvho never moves 
but imder her own portable pent-house : 
The lobster, Avhich, whether he sleeps or 
wakes, is still in a state of defence, and clad 
in jointed armour : The oyster, a sort of 
living jelly, engarrisoned in the bulwark of 
native stone ; Avith many other kind of sea- 
reptiles, or, as the Psalmist speaks, " things 
creeping innumerable," Psal. civ. 25. I 
am surprised at the variety of their figure, 
and charmed Avith the splendour of their 
colours. Unsearchable is the Avisdom, and 
endless the contriA'ance, of the all-creating 
God ! Some are rugged in their form, and 
little better than hideous in their aspect* 
Their shells seem to be the rude production 
of a disorderly jumble, rather than the re- 
gular effects of skill and design. Yet Ave 
shall find, even in these seeming irregulari- 
ties, the nicest dispositions. These abodes, 
uncouth as they may appear, are adapted to 
the genius of their respective tenants, and 
exactly suited to their particular exigences. 
Neither the Ionic delicacy, nor the Corinth- 
ian richness, nor any other order of archi- 
tecture, Avould have served their purposes 
half so Avell as this coai'se and homely fa- 
bric. 

Some, on the other hand, are extremely 
neat Their stnicttire is all symmetry and ele- 
gance. No enamel in the AA'orld is comparable 
to their polish. There is not a room of state^ 
in all the palaces of Europe, so brilliantlj 
adorned as the dining-room and the bed- 
chamber of the little fish that dwells ir. 
mother of pearl. Such a lovely mixture o: 
red, blue, and green, so delightfully staining 
the most clear and glittering ground, is^no. 
AA'here else to be seen. The royal poAvei 
may covet it, and human art may mimic it ; 
but neither the one nor the other, nor both 
united, Avill ever be able to equal it. 

But Avhat I admire more than all thei: 
streaks, their spots, and their embroidery, 
is, the extraordinary provision made for 
their safety. Nothing is more relishing and 
palatable than their flesh ; nothing more 
heavy and sluggish than their motions. As 
they have no speed to escape, neither have 
they any dexterity to elude the foe. Were 
they naked or unguarded, they must be an 
easy prey to every freebooter that roams the 
ocean. To prevent this fatal consequence, 
what is only clothing to other animals, is 
to them a clothing, a house and a castle. 
They have a fortification, that grows Avith 
their groAvth, and is a part of themselves. 
By this means, they live secure amidst mil- 
lions and millions of ravenous jaAvs : by this 
means, they ai'c embarked, as it Avere, in their 
own shell ; and, screened from every other 
assault, are reserved for the use and plea- 
sure of mankind. 

This is the birth-place of cod, the stand- 
ing rcp£ist of Lent. This is the nurser}' of 



384 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



turbot, for its exquisite relish justly styled 
tlie pheasant of the waters. Hence conies 
the sturgeon, delicious even in pickle, and 
a regale for royal luxury; hence the tiounders, 
dappled with reddish spots, and a supply for 
vulgar wants. Here dwell the mackerel, 
decked, when haled from their native ele- 
ment, richly decked with the most glossy 
dyes ; the herring, whose back is mottled 
with azure, and his belly sleek with silver ; 
the salmon, in plainer habit, but of larger 
substance, and higher esteem, than either or 
both the preceding. These, when shotten 
and lean, wander wildly up and down the 
vast abyss ; when plump and delicate, they 
throng our creeks, and swarm in our bays 
— they repair to the shallows, or haunt the 
running streams. "Who bids these creatures 
evacuate the shores, and disperse themselves 
into all quarters, when they become worth- 
less and unfit for our service ? Who rallies 
and recals the undisciplined vagrants, as 
soon as they are improved into desirable 
food ? Who appoints the very scene of our 
ambushes to be the place of their rendez- 
vous, so that they come like volunteers to 
our nets ? Surely the furlough is signed, 
the summons issued, and the point of re- 
union settled, by a Providence ever indul- 
gent to mankind, ever studious to treat us 
with dainties, and "load us with benefits," 
Psal. ixviii. 19. 

We have wondered at* our Saviour's 
penetration and power: — his penetration, 
which, though the sea was at a distance, and 
walls intervened, discerned the fish that had 
just swallowed a piece of money; — his 
])ower, M'hich, without any delay, brought 
the lawless rambler, charged wath the silver 
spoil, to Peter's hook. But is it not equally 
wonderful, to observe such innumerable 
multitudes of finny visitants annually ap- 
proaching our shores and crowding our 
banks ? which furnish our tables with a 
wholesome and delicate repast, at the same 
time that they yield to our nation a revenue'j' 
more certain, and no less considerable, than 
the mines of Peru ? 

These approach, while those of enormous 
size and tremendous appearance abandon 
the shores. The latter might endanger the 
fisherman's safety, and would certainly scar^ 
away the valuable fish from our coasts. 
They are therefore restrained by an invisi- 
ble hand, and abscond in the abysses of the 
ocean. Just as the wild beasts of the earth, 
impelled by the same overruling power. 



* See Letter VI n. 

t We are tokl by the after-mentioned author, that 
the banks of Newfoundland alone bring into the -pro- 
prietors of that fishery a revenue of several millions 
every year. And they will, in all probability, bean 
unimpaired resource of treasure, when the richest 
mines now wrought in the world are choaked up or ex- 
hausted. 



I hide tltemselves in the recesses of the for- 
est. A ship infected with a pestilential 
distemper is obliged to keep off at sea, 
and not permitted to enter the port till she 
has performed her quarantine. In like man- 
ner, these monsters of the deep, Avhose very 
business is destruction, are laid luider a 
providential interdict ; only with this very 
desirable difference, that as their presence 
would always be pernicious, they are never 
suffered to come near, their quarantine is 
perpetual. 

" Ask now the beasts, and they shall 
teach thee ; and the fowls of the air, and they 
shall tell thee ; or speak to the earth,* and 
it shall teach thee ; and the fishes of the sea 
shall declare unto thee," Job. xii. 7, 8, that 
the Lord is gracious ; that his tender mer- 
cies are over all his works ; that to us he 
is superabundantly and profusely good, hav- 
ing ordered all things in the surges of the 
ocean, as well as on the surface of the 
ground, for our rich accommodation, and for 
our greatest advantage. 

One circumstance relating to the natives 
of the deep is very peculiar, and no less as- 
tonishing. As they neither sow nor reap, 
have neither the produce of the hedges nor 
the gleanings of the field, they are obliged 
to pltuider and devour one another for ne- 
cessary subsistence. They are a kind of 
authorized banditti, that make violence and 
murder their professed trade. f By this 
means prodigious devastations ensue ; and 
without proper, without very extraordin- 
ary recruits, the whole race must contin- 
ually dwindle, and at length be totally ex- 
tinct. Were they to bring forth, like the 
most prolific of our terrestrial animals, a 
dozen only, or a score at each birth, the in- 
crease would be unspeakably too small for 
the consumption ; the weaker species would 
be destroyed by the stronger; and, in time, 
the stronger must perish, even by their suc- 
cessful endeavours to maintain themselves. 
Therefore, to supply millions of assassins 
with their prey, and millions of tables with 
their food, yet not to depopulate the watery 
realms ; the issue produced by every breed- 
er is almost incredible. They spawn, not 
by scores or hundreds, but by thousands and 
by millions.:}: A single mother is pregnant 



* The earth is represented as bearing witness to the 
immense benignity of theblessed God. Some minutes, 
or a short abstract of her testimony on this occasion, 

may be seen in Letter VL 

t To this, I believe, the prophet alludes, in that 
remarkable expression. Thou makest men as the 
fishes of the sea. Thou sutferest men to commit, with- 
out restraint or control, all manner of outrages. What 
should be a civil community, is ascengof oppression. 
Tlie v/eakest are a pr;y to "the strongest; and every 
one seeks the destruction of his neighbour, I lab. i.-t- 

± Mr. Petit found ;i42,U4 eggs in the hard roc of 
a carp, sixteen inches long. Mr. Lowenhoeck counted 
in a cod of an ordinary size, 9,,f U.OOO eggs.— A fecun- 
dity perfectly amazing ! but admirably adapted to the 



LETT 

with a niition. By which amazing, but 
most needhil expytlient, a periodical repar- 
ation is made, proportionable to the im- 
mense havoc. 

As the sea is peopled with animated in- 
habitants, it is also variegated with vegeta- 
ble productions. Some soft as wool, others 
hard as stone. Some rise like a leafless 
shrub ; some are expanded in the form of a 
net, some grow with their heads downward, 
and seem rathei hanging on, than springing 
from the juttings of the rocks. These may, 
with much greater pi'opriety than the famous 
plantations of Semiramis, be called pensile 
gardens. But as my walk reached no farther 
tlian the purlieus of the ocean; as neither 
you nor I have ever taken a single turn 
among thpse submarine groves ; as Moses, 
Josliua, and Jonah, the only writers that 
ever made the wonderful tour, intent upon 
more important themes, have left us no me- 
moirs relating to this curious point ; I shall 
not venture to advance any thing particular 
on the subject. Only one remark I would 
offer in general : — 

The herbs and trees which flourish on 
the dry land, are maintained by the juices, 
that permeate the soil, and fluctuate in the 
air. For this purpose they are furnished 
with leaves to collect the one, and with 
roots to attract the other. Whereas, the 
sea-plants, finding sufficient nourishment in 
the circumambient waters, have no occasion 
to detach a party of roots into the ground, 
and forage the earth for sustenance. In- 
stead, therefore, of penetrating, they are but 
just tacked to the bottom ; and adhere to some 
solid substance, only with such a degree of 
tenacity as may secure them from being 
tossed to and fro by the random agitation 
of the waves. 

We see from this, and numberless other 
instances, what a diversity there is in the 
operations of the great Creator's hand. Yet 
every alteration is an improvement, and 
each new pattern has a peculiar fitness of 
,its own. The same economy takes place, 
such a difference of administration, — I mean, 
in, his government of the rational world. In 
" choosing an heritage for his people,'' and 
assigning a condition to each of his servants, 
there is a great variety with respect to indi- 
viduals, yet a perfect uniformity and com- 
]5lete harmony with respect to the whole. 
Some he calls out to a course of distinguish- 
ed labours : They make an illustrious figure 
in life, and appear " as a city set on an hill." 
Matth. V. 14. Others he consigns over to 



pressing exigencies of the watery world ; admirably 
contrived for the benefit and delight of mankind ! If 
we advert to this peculiarity, it will give the utmost 
emphasis to the patriarch's metaphorical expression, 
and an inimitable beauty to his prophetic wish. Let 
these my grandsons grow into a multitude ; or, which 
is more exactly answerable to the original, " let them 
multiply abundantly, even like the fishes of the 
ocean," Gen. xlviii. 1(5. 



ER IX. , 385. 

obscurity : They are like the prophets whom 
good Obadiah hid in a cave, and are styled 
"his secret ones." Psalmlxxxiii. 3. Those, 
the cedars, which stand conspicuous on the 
top of Lebanon ; these, the violets which 
lie concealed at the foot of a brier. 

St. Paul was eminently qualified for busy 
scenes, and the most extensive services. 
He is introduced, therefore, into places of 
concourse. His ministry lies amidst the 
most renowned and populous cities. Even 
his imprisonment at Rome seems to have 
been a providential expedient for fixing him, 
as it were, on the stage of public observa- 
tion, and in the very centre of universal in-^ 
telligence ; where his preaching was like 
plunging a stone into the midst of a smooth 
canal, which affects not only the neighbour- 
ing parts of the surface, but spreads the 
floating circles over all the wide expanse. 
Whereas, the beloved John, being less fitted 
to bustle among a crowd, is sent into the 
unfrequented solitary island, there to in- 
dulge the flights of heavenly contemplation, 
and receive, with uninterrupted attention, 
the mysterious visions of God. — Job shall 
have thorns in his path ; have the dunghill 
for his seat ; and be exposed, as a mark, to 
all the arrows of tribiflation. Solomon shall 
dip his foot in oil ; shall be elevated on th.e 
throne of royalty, and surrounded with the 
most lavish caresses of heaven. 

In all this seeming, this more than seeming 
contrariety, there is a display, not only of 
sovereign authority, but of consummate 
propriety. The great head of the church 
acts like a judicious general, and appoints 
such a station to each of his soldiers as cor- 
responds with the ability he gives. He 
acts like the most skilful physician, and 
prescribes such a remedy for all his pa- 
tients, as is most nicely suited to their 
respective cases. He knows the precise 
point of time, the particular place of abode, 
the peculiar circumstances of condition, 
which are most proper for^ each and every 
of his children ; and, like a tender as well 
as unerring father, what he knows to be 
best, that he constantly allots. I said, like 
a general, like a physician, like a father. 
But the comparison is low ; the language 
is inexpressive, Christ is all that is ini- 
plied in these relations, and unspeakably 
more. O that we may rejoice in the super- 
intendency of such a Saviour ! and not only 
resign ourselves to his will, but thank him 
for managing the helm ; thank him for 
steering our course, through the changes of 
time and tTie uncertainties of futurity ; since, 
whatever om* forward and petulant passions 
may suggest, the Lord's ways are so far 
from being unequal, that they have all the 
possible fitness and propriety — they are or- 
dered " in number, weight, and measure." 

All this is so very different from the 
2 c 



33G 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



prospects which lately presented themselves, 
that 1 can hardly forbear asking, Whether 
I am not translated into a new world ? 
Where are the waving hillocks, covered 
with the Creator's bounty? where are the 
fruitful valleys, made vocal with his praise ? 
No cultured field, no opening blossom, not 
so much as a green leaf appears. None of 
my late entertainments remain, but only the 
cooling zephyrs ; which are no longer per- 
fumed with the breath of flowers, but im- 
pregnated with the freshness of the ocean. 
Yet though all those lovely landscapes are 
withdrawn — though the gurgling fountain 
is silenced, and the blooming garden lost — 
I am not far from the origin, both of the 
odours which exhale from the one, and of 
the crystal which flows from the other. I 
am now upon the margin of that grand re- 
servoir which supplies the country with its 
fertility, and the parterre with its beauty. 
The sea is the inexhaustible cistern'of the 
universe : The air and sun constitute the 
mighty engine, which works without inter- 
mission to raise the liquid treasure ; while 
the clouds serve as so many aqueducts, to 
convey the genial stores along the atmos- 
phere, and distribute them at seasonable 
periods, and in regular proportions, through 
all the regions of the globe. 

I question whether the united application 
of mankind could, with their utmost skill, 
and with all possible percolations, fetch a 
single drop of perfectly sweet water* from 
this unmeasurable pit of brine. Yet the 
action of the solar heat draws off, every hour, 
every minute, millions and millions of tons, 
in vaporous exhalations,which being skilfully 
parcelled out, and securely lodged in " the 
bottles of heaven,"-]- are sent abroad, sweet- 
ened and refined, without any brackish tinc- 
ture, or the least bituminous sediment, sent 
abroad upon the wings of the wind, to dis- 
til in dews, or pour themselves in rain, to 
ooze from the orifices of fountains ; to 
trickle along the veins of rivulets ; to rise 
in the cavities of wells ; to roll in many a 
headlong torrent, from the sides of moun- 
tains ; to flow in copious streams, amidst 
the bosom of burning deserts, and through 
the heart of populous kingdoms, in order to 



» I have not forgotten what was lately affirmed in 
our public papers, that a certain ingenious gentleman, 
I think, in the city of Durham, had found out the art 
of sweetening sea-water. — What he produced might 
probably approve itself to the taste, and not be with- 
out its usefulness. Yet I cannot but query, whether 
it will be found to have all those fine, balmy, salutifer- 
ous qualities, which distinguish and recommend the 
rain-water, which has been exhaled by the kindly 
warmth of the sun ; has been filtrated by passing and 
repassing through the regions of the air ; has been 
clarified in the highest and purest tracts of the atmos- 
phere—has been further refined and perfected by the 
searching agency of the winds. I should very much 
wonder, if the puny alembic could equal this grand 
apparatus of nature. 

t So the clouds are elegr^ntly styled in sacred writ. 
Job xxxviii. 37- 



refresh and fertilize, to beautify and enrich, 
every soil, in every clime. 

How amiable is the goodness, and how 
amazing is the power of the world's ador- 
able Maker ! How amiable his goodness, in 
distributing so largely what is so absolutely 
necessary, and so extensively beneficial ! 
That water, without which we can scarce 
perform any business, or enjoy any comfort, 
should be every one's property; should spring 
up from the soil ; should drop down from 
the clouds ; should stream by our houses ; 
should take a journey from the ends of the 
earth, and the extremities of the ocean, on 
purpose to serve us. How amazing his 
power ! that this boundless mass of fluid 
salt, so intolerably nauseous to the human 
taste, should be the original spring which 
deals out every palatable draught to inan- 
kind, and quenches the thirst of every ani- 
mal ! Doubtless the power by which this is 
eff'ected can extract comfort from our afliic- 
tions, advantage from our calamities, and 
" make all things work together for our 
good." Rom. viii. 28. 

Vast and various are the advantages* 
which we receive from the liquid element j 
vast, as its unbounded extent ; various, as 
its ever-mutable surface. The sweet waters 
glide along the earth in spacious currents, 
which not only exhilarate the adjacent coun- 
try by their humid train and exhaling mois- 
ture, but, by giving a brisk impulse to the 
air, prevent the unwholesome stagnation of 
their own vapours. They pass by opulent 
cities, and, receiving all their filth, rid them 
of a thousand nuisances, which, when once 
committed to these fluid scavengers, are as 
efljectually secreted as if they were buried 
ever so deep in the earth. Yet, though they 
condescend to so mean an employ, they are 
fitted for more honourable services. They 
enter the gardens of a prince, and compose 
some of the most delightfid ornaments of 
the place. They glitter upon the eye, as 
they float in the ample canal. They amuse 
the imaghiation as they ascend in curious 
jets d'eau- They yield a nobler entertain- 
ment, as, forming themselves into sheets of 
sloping silver, they fall in graceful or in grand 
cascades. If, instead of beautifiers, we think 
proper to make use of them as drudges, they 
ply at our mills ; they toil incessantly at the 
wheel, and, by working the hugest engines, 
take upon themselves an unknown share of 
our fatigue, and save us a proportionable de- 
gree of expense. 

So forcibly they act when collected, and 
most sm-prisingly they insinuate when de- 



»- The high value which mankind set upon this ele- 
ment, and the many benefits they receive from its 
ministration, both these particulars are very strongly 
expressed bv the Hebrews, v/ho callapool or reservoir 
of water, in'its primary signification, a blessing, Cantv 
vii= 4. Is?-, 3. 



LETTER IX. 



387 



tached» They throw themselves into the 
body of a plant, they penetrate the minutest 
of its organized tubes, and find a passage 
through meanders, too small for the eye to 
discern, too numerous and intricate even for 
imagination to follow. How difficultly does 
a labourer that serves the mason push his 
way up the rounds of a ladder, bending un- 
der the burden of mortar on his head ! 
while these servants in the employ of nature 
carry their load to a much greater height, 
and climb with the utmost ease, even with- 
out the assistance of steps or stairs. They 
convey the nutrimental stores of vegetation, 
from the lowest fibres that are plunged into 
the soil, to the very topmost twigs that 
wave amidst the clouds. They are the ca- 
terers for the vegetable world, or (if I may 
be allowed the expression) the suttlers 
which attend the whole host of plants, to 
furnish them with seasonable refreshment 
and necessary provision. By means of 
which " the trees of the Lord are full of 
sap, even the cedars of Lebanon which he 
hath planted." Psalm civ. 16. And not- 
withstanding their vast elevation and pro- 
digious diffusion — though they are abandon- 
ed by man, and deprived of all cultivation — 
yet not a single branch is destitute of leaves, 
nor a single leaf of moisture. 

Besides the salutary, cleanly, and service- 
able circulation of the rivers, the sea has a 
libration no less advantageous, and much 
more remarkable. Every day this immense 
collection of waters, for the space of five or 
six hours, flows towards the land, and after 
a short pause, retires again to its inmost ca- 
verns, taking up nearly the same time in its 
retreat, as it required for its access. How 
great is the power which sets the whole 
fluid world in motion ! which protrudes to 
the shores such an inconceivable weight of 
waters, without any concurrence from the 
winds, frequently in direct opposition to all 
their force ! How gracious also is the Pro- 
vidence which bids the mighty element per- 
form its tumbling revolutions with the most 
exact punctuality ! Was it suffered to ad- 
vance with a lawless and unlimited swell, 
it might sweep over kingdoms, and deluge 
whole continents. Was it irregular and 
uncertain in its approaches, navigation would 
be at a stand, and trade become precarious. 
But, being constant at its stated periods, 
and never exceeding its appointed bounds, 
it creates no alarm to the country, and af- 
fords very considerable aids to traffic. 

The tide, at its flow, rushing up our 
large rivers, clears and deepens the passage, 
in many pla(;es spreads a copious flood, 
where a dry and empty waste lay before- 
Is the sailor returned from his voyage, and 
waiting at the mouth of the channel? The 
flux is ready to convey his vessel to the 



very doors of the owner, and without any 
hazard of striking on the rocks or being fas- 
tened in the sands. Has the merchant 
freighted his ship ? would he have it trans- 
ferred to the ocean ? The reflux tenders its 
service, and bears away the load, with the 
utmost expedition, and with equal safety* 
Behold, O man ! how greatly thou art be- 
loved, how highly favoured by thy Maker ! 
In what part of his works has he forgotten 
or overlooked thy welfare ? Show me a crea- 
ture, point out a spot, in the formation or 
disposition of which he has not been mind- 
ful of thy interests ? *' He has made thee 
to have dominion over the works of his 
hands and has put all things in subjection 
under thy feet. All sheep and oxen, the 
fowls of the air, and the fishes yea and 
the surges " of the sea," Psalm viii. G — 8, 
are subservient to thy benefit. Even these, 
wild and impetuous as they are, yield their 
willing backs to receive thy load and, like 
an indefatigable beast of burden, carry it to 
the place which thou shalt nominate. 

What preserves this vast flood in a state 
of perpetual purity? It is the universal 
sewers, into which are discharged, the refuse 
and filth of the whole world. That which 
would defile the land, and pollute the air, 
is transmitted to the ocean, and neither 
mischief nor inconvenience ensue. Those 
swarms of locusts, which, while living, were 
a plague to Pharaoh, by their loathed intru- 
sion, and, when dead, might have caused a 
more dreadful plague, by their noisome 
stench, swept into the sea, were neither 
pestilential nor offensive. How then is this 
receptacle of every nuisance kept clean? Why 
does it not contract a noxious taint, and dif- 
fuse a destructive contagion ? such as would 
render it a grave to the aquatic, and bane 
to the terrestrial animals ? It is owing partly 
to its incessant motion, partly to its saline 
quality. By the one, it is secured from any 
internal principle of corruption ; by the 
other, it works itself clear from every adven- 
titious defilement. 

A directory this, and a pattern for me ! 
Thus may divine grace, like the penetrat- 
ing power of salt, cure the depravity of niy 
heart, and i-ectify the disorders of my tem- 
per ! season my words, and make all my 
conversation savoury ! Thus may a con- 
tinual course of activity, in my secular and 
my sacred vocation, prevent the pernicious 
effects of indolence ! Let me daily exer- 
cise, or be attempting to exercise, the graces 
of Christianity, lest faith become feeble, 
lest hope contract dimness, and charity wax 
cold. 

Now the tide begins to flow. Wave 
rises upon wave, and billow rolls over bil- 
low. Nothing can divert, nothing retard 
its progress, no, not for a moment. Though 



388 THE RON A 

Canutus be in the way,* though his royal 
authority and strict prohibition, nay, though 
all the forces of his kingdom oppose, it will 
never discontinue the advancing swell, till 
it has reached the destined point. So may 
1 always abound in communion with God, 
or in beneficence to men, resigning one re- 
ligious or charitable employ only to enter 
upon another, and be thus pressing forward, 
still pressing forward, to the prize of my 
high calling in Christ Jesus ; differing from 
these regular vicissitudes of the ocean only 
in one particular, that my endeavours never 
ebb, my soul never draws back : since this 
would be, if temporary, to my grievous loss; 
if final, to my aggravated perdition. 

Consider the sea in another capacity, and 
it connects the remotest realms of the uni- 
verse, by facilitating an intercourse between 
the respective inhabitants. What short- 
sighted beings are mankind ! how extremely 
superficial their views ! how unavoidable, 
therefore, their frequent mistakes ! The 
ancients looked upon this bottomless deep, 
as an impassable gulf. If our forefathers 
were so egregiously mistaken in this in- 
stance, let us not too peremptorily pro- 
nounce upon any diflficult or mysterious 
point, lest succeeding generations, or a more 
enlightened state, should cover us with the 
double confusion of childish ignorance and 
foolish conceit. 

We have clearly demonstrated, and hap., 
pily experienced, the very reverse of that 
grey-headed surmise to be true. The 
ocean, instead of being a bar of separation, 
is the great bond of union. For this pur- 
pose, it is never exhausted, though it sup- 
plies the whole firmament with clouds, and 
the whole earth with rains ; nor ever over- 
flows, though all the rivers in the universe 
are perpetually augmenting its stores, and 
pouring in their tributary floods. By 



* Alluding to a memorable and instructive story re- 
xorded of king Canutus, who, probably without hav- 
ing read, had nevertheless thoroughly learned, that 
excellent lesson of Horace : 

Regum timendorum in propvios greges, 
Reges in ipsos imperium est Jovis. 

Some of his abject and designing flatterers had the 
impious assurance to tell him, '« his power was more 
than human." To convince them of their folly, and 
rebuke them for their falsehood, he ordered his chair 
of state to be placed on the extremity of the shore, 
just as the tide began to flow. Here he took his seat 
in the presence of the parasites, and many other at- 
tendants. Then, with all that dignity of air, and 
severity of accent, v^hich sovereign authority knows 
how to assume, he said, " Thou 'sea, the land on 
which I sit is mine : nor has any one dared to invade 
my rights, or disobey my commands, without sufter- 
ing the deserved punishment. I charge thee, there- 
fore, on pain of my highest displeasure, not to enter 
these territories, nor touch the feet of England's 
monarch." When the rude waves made bold to en- 
ter on the forbidden ground ; nay, when those un- 
courtly things presumed to rush upon the royal seat, 
and ev'en to dash his Majesty's person, he started 
from his throne, and bid every beholder observe the 
impotence of earthly kings; bid them remember, 
that He alone is worthy of the name, whom winds, 
and waves, and universal nature obey. 



ND AS-PASIO. 

means of this element we travel ferthet 
than birds of the strongest pinion fly, and 
discover tracts which the " vulture's eye 
has never seen," Job xxviii, 7. We make, 
a visit to nations that lie drowned in their 
midnight slumbers, when every industrious 
person on this part of the globe is bestir- 
ring himself in all the hurry of business.. 
We cultivate an acquaintance with the 
sun-burnt negro and the shivering Icelander^ 
We cross the flaming line, we penetrate 
the frozen pole, and wing our way even 
round the world. 

This is the great vehicle of commerce 1 

Not to mention the floating castles, which 
contain whole armies, which bear the thuur 
der, the fiery tempests, and all the dreadful 
artillery^of war ; what a multitude of ships, 
of the largest dimensions and most prodigi- 
ous burden, are continually passing and rcr 
passing this xmiversal thoroughfare ! ships 
that are freighted, not with sacks, but with 
harvests of corn ; that carry not pipes, but 
vintages of wine ; that are laden, not with 
bars of iron, blocks of marble, or wedges of 
gold, but with whole quarries of massy stone, 
and whole mines of ponderous metal ! All 
which, lodged in these volatile storehouses^ 
and actuated by the breath of heaven, are 
wafted to the very ends of the earth; waft- 
ed, enormous and unwieldy as they are, more 
expeditiously than the light Berlin bowls 
along the road ; almost as speedily as the 
nimble-footed roe bounds over the hills.* 

Astonishing ordination of eternal wisdom! 
yet most graciously contrived for the bencr 
fit of mankind ! — I can hardly' satisfy my 
view in beholding this rolling chaos ; I can 
never cease my admiration, in contemplat- 
ing its amazing properties. — That an ele- 
ment, so unstable and fugitive, should bear 
up such an immense weight, as woidd bend 
the firmest floors, or burst the strongest 
beams ! That the thin and yielding air 
should drive on, with so much facility and 
speed, bodies of such excessive bulk as the 
strength of a legion would be un.ible to 
m.ove ! That the an- and the water, acting 
in conjunction, shoidd carry to the distance 
of many thousand miles, vrhat the united 
force of men and machines coidd scarcely 
drag a single yard ! — Puny and despicable 
are our attempts ; but great and marvellous 
are thy works, O Lord God Almighty ! 
" If thou wilt work," says the prophet, who 
or what " shall let it?" Isa. xliii. 13. Neither 
the meanness of the instrument, nor the 
greatness of the event. A sling and a stone 
shall lay the gigantic bravo in the dust, I 
Sam. xvii. 50. An ox-goad shall do more 

* A ship, under a brisk and steady gale, will sa^l at 
the rate of 216 miles in 24 hours; persevering, if the 
wind continues favourable, in the same rapid career 
for several days together: A course , which, consider- 
ing both its swiftness and duration, cannot be equal- 
led by the ablest horse, perhaps not by the nimblest 
creature that treads the ground. 



LETTER TX. 



execution than a battery of cannon, Judg. iii. 
31. Even " a worm shall thresh the moun- 
tains and beat them small, and make the 
hills as chaff," Isa. xli. 14, 15. God AU- 
Sufficient is his name, and out of weak- 
ness he makethhis strength perfect. O that 
we, my dear Aspasio, that 1 especially, may 
be strong in the Lord, and in the power of 
his might ! Then, as the light air is made 
to act with a more forcible impulse than 
tlie most vigorous engines ; as the fluid wa- 
ter is made to sustain more ponderous loads 
than the most substantial works of masonry ; 
so we, who in ourselves are nothing but 
impotence, shall be enabled to triumph over 
the legions of hell, and tread down all the 
temptations of the world. 

How are the mariners conducted throug'h 
this fluid common, than which nothing is 
more wide, and nothing more wild ? Here 
is no tract to be followed, no posts of di- 
rection to be consulted, nor any shepherd's 
hut where the wandering traveller may ask 
his way. — Are they guided by a pillar of fire 
in the night, or a moveable cloud in the day, 
as the sons of Jacob and Joseph were es- 
corted through the eastern deserts? — No, 
but by a mean, contemptible, and otherwise 
Vvorthless fossil. — The apostle James men- 
tions it as a very observable fact, that the 
" ships, which are so great, and driven of 
fierce winds, yet are turned about with a 
Very small helm whithersoever the gover- 
nor listeth, Jam. iii. 4. Is it not equally 
wonderful, that they should be led through 
such a pathless and unmeasurable waste by 
so small an expedient as the intervention 
of the loadstone?* Till this surprising mi- 
neral was discovered, and its properties 
were improved, navigation lay in its cradle ; 
was at best a mere infant that crept timor- 
ously along the coasts ; was obliged to keep 
within sight of the shores, and, if driven 
but beyond the narrow sphere of her land- 
marks, could neither ascertain her situation 
nor pursue her voyage. But this guide, when 
every beacon on the top of the hills is va- 
nished from the acutest ken ; where no- 
thing but skies are seen above, and seas 
alone appear below — ^this guide points out 
the proper passage. This communicates an 
intelligence which shines clear in the thickest 
darkness, and remains steady in the mosttem- 
pestuous agitations. This has^given, not in- 
deed birth, but maturity to navigation, and 
turned her swaddling-bands into wings. This 
has emboldened her to launch into the heart 
of the ocean, and enabled her to range from 
pole to pole. 

* 1 am aware that other expedients are used for 
.shaping a proper course on the ocean, such as making 
observations trom the sun by mathematical instru- 1 
ments. But these, I believe, are only subordinate aids 
to the needle. The grand regulator is the magnet. 
1 have heard an experienced sailor declare, he would 
jrather be without his quadrant, th^n without his com- 
pass. - I 



Thus does God, both in the operations 
of nature and the administrations of provi- 
dence, accomplish the most important ends 
by the most inconsiderable means. When 
the formidable Sisera is to be cut oflT, the 
blow shall be given, not by some puissant 
champion, but by the hand of a woman, 
Judg. iv. 9. When Jericho is to be demo- 
lished, those impregnable fortifications shall 
fall, not beneath the stroke of battering en- 
gines, but before the sound of rams' horns. 
Josh. vi. 3. When a hundred thousand, 
Midianites are to be routed, the Lord of 
Hosts will gain this signal victory, not by 
numerous legions completely armed, but by 
a handful of Israelites, accoutred only with 
trumpets, lamps, and pitchers. Judges vii. 
19. Who would have thought, that from 
the root of Jesse, a root out of a dry ground, 
shoidd arise that great tree, which 
" stretches her boughs unto the sea, and 
herheight unto the heavens, and her branches 
unto the ends of the earth?" That the 
despised Galilean and the carpenter's son 
should be the Saviour of the world, and the 
Heir of all things ? Nay, that a person 
humbled like the meanest of slaves, and ex- 
ecuted like the vilest of malefactors ; nail- 
ed to a cross, and laid prostrate among the 
dead ; that he should restore life and im- 
mortality to ruined sinners ; should open 
the gates of grace and glory on lost man- 
kind? That a few illiterate creatures, ta- 
ken from the barge, the oar, and the net, 
shoidd confute philosophers, and convert 
kings ; should overthrow the strong-holds ot 
idolatry, and plant Christianity on its ruins ! 
This is a circumstance which, though a 
stumbling-block to some people, has consi- 
derably strengthened my faith. It is per- 
fectly agreeable to the Almighty's manner. 
It is (if I may so speak) the distinguishing 
turn of his hand, and the peculiar style 
of his works. Whence does he raise the 
charmingly-beauteous flowers ? whence the 
magnificent myriads of forest-oaks ? whence 
the boundless and inestimable stores of har- 
vest ? From principles which bear not the 
least proportion to their effects — Besides, 
this most emphatically speaks the God. It 
" shows the lightmg down of his arm," 
Isa. XXX. 30, and absolutely precludes all 
the pretensions of human arrogance, or fin- 
ite power. It appropriates the honour to 
that supreme agent, before whom the easy 
and the arduous are both alike. All men 
that see it must confess, This hath God 
done. 

Through this channel, are imported to 
our island the choice productions, and the 
peculiar treasures, of every nation under 
heaven. So that we can breakfast upon a 
dissolution of the American kernel,* and 



» Called tlie cocoa, which affords the principal io-. 



390 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



see the rich nutrimerital liquor froth in our 
cups, without ever tempting the foaming 
brine. W e can steep the delicately-flavour- 
ed Chinese leaf in the waters of our own 
well ; or spend the afternoon in our own 
parlour, and be regaled with an infusion of 
the finely-scented Arabian berry. We can 
season the friendly bowl with the juices of 
the orange, or refresh our clammy palate 
with the pulp of the tamarind, without feel- 
ing that fervent heat which imparts such a 
poignant relish to the former, without suf- 
fering those scorching beams which give a 
fever-cooling virtue to the latter. We can 
pile upon our salvers a pyramid of Italian 
figs ; fill the interstices with the sky-dried 
raisins of Malaga ; and form a summit for 
the inviting structure with the pistacia nut 
of Aleppo. By this means, the eastern 
spices exhale their odours on our table, and 
the western canes transfuse their sweetness 
into our viands. We clothe our bodies 
with the vegetable fleeces of the south,* and 
line our apparel with warm furry spoils from 
the north. We can wear the pearl, polish- 
ed in the abysses of the^ Persian gulf ; and 
walk on the carpets manufactured in the do- 
minions of the Great Mogul ; yet neither 
expose ourselves to the rage of boisterous 
seas, nor the more dreaded treachery of a 
barbarous people. In short, by this grand 
and beneficial expedient of navigation, every 
tide conveys into our ports the wealth of the 
remotest climes, and brings the abundance 
of the universe to be unladen on our quays ; 
London becomes a mart of nations ; and 
almost every private house in the kingdom 
is embellished or accommodated from the 
fom: quarters of the globe. 

Almost every private house — Is not this 
more like rhetorical flourish, than real truth ? 
Axe not all the advantages I have mention- 
ed the peculiar portion of the rich ? Is not 
the sea, like high life and the gay world, 
somewhat capricious and partial ? bestow- 
ing lavishly her favours on the wealthy, at 
the same time that she neglects the needy ? 
Quite the reverse. Like her most exalted 
yet most condescending Creator, she is no 
respecter of persons. She deals out her 
liberalities to all ; to the wealthy, such as 
are suitable to their circumstances ; to the 
indigent, such as are best adapted to their 
condition. If she ornaments the bodies 
of the first, she employs the hands of the 
last ; furnishes these with useful labour, 
those with elegant accommodations. What 
a multitude of industrious people acquire a 



gredient of chocolate, and grows on a small tree in 
America. 

* Cotton, which is a sort of wool encompassing the 
seed of a tree. Its fruit is of an oval form, about the 
size of a nut. As it ripens, it grows black on the out- 
side; and, by the heat of the sun, opens in several 
places, discovering the cotton through the clefts, 
which is of an admirable whiteness. See Chamb, 
Diet. 



livelihood by preparing the commodities in- 
tended for exportation ! and what a multi- 
tude of dexterous artificers maintain their 
families by manufacturing the wares im- 
ported from abroad ! 

It is reckoned a valuable species of bene- 
ficence to provide proper work for the poor. 
This withdraws them from many tempta- 
tions, and preserves them from much wick- 
edness. It hinders them from being a bur- 
den to themselves, and a nuisance to the 
public. They might otherwise be idle, and 
as vermin on the body politic ; or even mu- 
tinous, and as vipers in the bowels of the 
nation : whereas, by exerting themselves in 
a due subordination, and with becoming 
diligence, they are the very sinews of the 
community ; or like the grand wheel in the 
machine of state, whose incessant activity 
distributes plenty, and pours innumemble 
conveniences through the whole. What a 
master then, or rather what a mistresp, is 
the sea ! how extensive her correspondence, 
and how large her demand for workmen ! 
Into what branch of trade does she not en- 
ter? What kind of ingenious science, or 
useful toil, does she not befriend ? How 
many millions of honest but needy persons 
are engaged in her service ? and how amply 
are they repaid for their pains ? " They 
that go down to the sea in ships, and occu- 
py their business in great waters, these men 
see the works of the Lord, and his wonders 
in the deep." They also that dwell among 
their own people, and abide in the villages, 
even they enjoy the bounty, and share the 
advantages of the ocean. For, though it is 
false philosophy to suppose the waters them- 
selves strained through subterranean pas- 
sages into the inland countries ; yet it is 
an undeniable truth, that their beneficial 
effects are transfused into every town, every 
hamlet, and every cottage. 

Surely the inhabitants of our isle have 
reason to turn the prediction of Moses, con- 
cerning the tribe of Joseph, into a devout 
and grateful acknowledgment : — " Blessed 
of the Lord is* our land. Blessed with the 
precious things of heaven, with the dew, and 
with the deep that coucheth beneath. With 
the precious things brought forth by the sun, 
and with the precious things thrust forth 
by the moon. With the chief things of the 
ancient mountains, and with the precious 
things of the everlasting hills, and with the 
precious things of the earth, and the fulness 
thereof."! Deut. xxxiii. 13 — 16. May wc 



* Is, (so I would translate the original,) not be; in 
the predictive, not precatory form. This implies a 
fulness of faith, and distinguishes prophecy fro.n 
prayer ; best suits the extraordinary illumination of 
Moses ; and does most honour to che omniscient Spi- 
rit. 

t Here seems to be an exact summary, and a poeti- 
cal description of the riches of nature. The precious 
things of heaven : or rain, which descends from the 
upper ; and dew, which is formed in the lower re- 



LETTER IX. 



391 



also enjoy the good will of him who dwelt 
in the i3ush," Deut. xxxiii. 16, and the grace 
of him who hung on the tree ! May the 
eternal God be our refuge, and his ever- 
lasting arms underneath both us and our 
interests ! happy then wilt thou be, thrice 
happy, O England ! Thy temporal advan- 
tages, and thy spiritual privileges considered, 
it may be truly said, " Who," or what na- 
tion, " is like unto thee?" 

This for my country ; now let me wish 
for myself : 

God of all worlds 1 source and supreme of things ! 
From whom all life, from whom duration springs! 
Intense, O ! let me for thy glory bum, 
Nor fruitless view my days and months retum. 
Give me with wonder at thy works to glow. 
To grasp thy vision, and thy truths to know 
O'er time's tempestuous sea to reach thy shore. 
And live, and sing, where time shall be no more. 

You see, Aspasio, I have been studying 
the volume of nature ; endeavouring to read 
its capital characters, and learn some of its 
instructive lessons. The sea has been the 
page ; but how superficial is my perusal, and 
no less scanty my knowledge. Little, very 
little have I seen or conceived, relating to 
those works of wonder which the vast un- 
fathomable deep contains; the plants it 
produces, and the creatures it nourishes ; 
its stupendous rocks and subterranean caves ; 
the heaps of pearl, which are its native 
growth ; and the loads of gold, which it 
has gained by shipwreck. So superficial 
are my views of Christ ; so scanty is my 
acquaintance with the gospel- 

You, I presume, are sitting at the feet of 
that sublime Teacher, and attending to the 
dictates of his mouth, in " whom are hid all 
the treasures of wisdom and knowledge," 
Col. ii. 3. Let me promise myself a com- 
munication of your thoughts, as I have free- 
ly transmitted a specimen of mine. And 
I will make no scruple to acknowledge the 
superiority of the exchange that I receive. 



gions of the firmament. The deeji that couclieth be- 
neath ; seas, idvers, fountains, wells, which lie in the 
bosom of the soil ; and are sources of fertility and 
plenty. The precious things brought forth by the 
sun, must certainly denote the herbs, plants,, trees, 
and all manner of vegetables, with their respective 
fruits. The precious things thrust forth by the 
moon, may probably refer to the mineral kingdoms; 
in the formation of which that ruler of the night may 
have a considerable influence. The moonjs confess- 
edly the parent of tides: and may put in motion those 
bituminous and saline fluids, which, circulating 
through the pores of the earth, and fixing in beds of 
homogeneous matter, are supposed to connnence mi- 
nerals. As our sacred philosopher has already specifi- 
ed the vegetable tribes, and (if I mistake not) the beds 
of fossils ; the principal things of the mountains and 
hills, should signify the sheep, goats, and other valu- 
able animals, which feed upon those vast declivities. 
Then the precious things of the earth may express 
those herds of larger cattle, which have their pastur- 
age in the plains, valleys, and lower grounds. A 
sense, which recommends itself from this considera- 
tion, that the wealth of the ancients consisted chiefl.y 
in cattle. The fulness thereof may be a kind of re- 
capitulation : a comprehensive term, including the 
whole produce of the terraqueous globe ; the magni- 
ficent liberality of Jehovah io his people. 



Or, eloquent Isaiah speaks : " For 

brass you will bring gold, and for iron you 
will bring silver, Isa. Ix. 17. rendering me, 
by this intercourse, you more obliged, though 
it is scarce possible for me to be more than 
I already am. 

Your affectionate 

Theron. 

P. S. M. Paschal, who was remarkably 
fond of brevity, makes an odd excuse for 
transgressing, on a particular occasion, his 
favourite rule. He entreats his friend to 
pardon the unusual length of his epistle, by 
assuring him, " that he had not time to 
make it shorter." I cannot, it must be con- 
fessed, adopt this philosopher's apology. 
For I have purposely lengthened my letter, 
with a view of setting, in this one circum- 
stance, a pattern for my Aspasio. 



LETTER X. 
Aspasio to Thi-ron. 

Dear Theron, — I thank you for your 
letter, because it entertains and improves 
me : I thank you for yoiu' postscript, because 
it is my encouragement and apology. I am 
set down to write, with a copious stock of 
materials. It will be far more difficult to 
contract, than to enlarge. I must there- 
fore acknowledge myself obliged to your 
candour for assigning me the easier task. 
That prolixity which, in others might be 
ungenteel and faulty, is in me an act of 
complaisance, and matter of duty. 

Though absent from you, I went with you 
in your late ramble. Your descriptive pen 
has made me partaker of the ideal delight ; 
may divine grace enable me to share in the 
spiritual improvement ! When you display- 
ed the beauties of the morn, breaking forth 
from the obscurity of night ; when you adopt- 
ed that noble aspiration from our philosophic 
poet, I could not forbear adding: " Thus may 
the gracious God, who commands thelight to 
shine out of the midnight darkness, shine into 
our hearts ; and give that incomparably glo- 
rious knowledge, the knowledge of his blessed 
Self ! which, though discernible through all 
the tracts of creation, and derivable from 
every work of his almighty hand, yet no- 
where beams forth with such complete and 
such amiable lustre as in the person of Jesus 
Christ." 2 Cor. iv. 6. Here we behold all 
the sublime perfections of the Deity, not 
only manifestetl with inimitable splendour, 
but operating for our own advantage. We 
behold them, as Job speaks, "for ourselves," 
Job xix. 27; and cannot but receive inex- 
pressible refreshment and joy from the view. 

When 3'ou walked beneath the shade of 



S92 



TH E R ON AND AgPASIO. 



those huge, horrid, and enormous cliffs, both 
amused and alarmed at their stupendous 
magnitude and frightful irregularity ; when 
you cast your eye upon the wide expanded 
surface of the ocean; when you surveyed 
the far more unmeasurable arches of the sky, 
and meditated, in that awful solitude, on the 
wildest and most magnificent appearances of 
nature — I felt the same kind of devout aston- 
ishmentwith yourself. While the soul was 
wrapt in "pensive stillness and pleasing dread, 
methought I heard a voice, or something like 
a voice, from the silent spheres, as well as from 
the sounding seas. It seemed to echo back, 
what the mighty angel whom John saw fly- 
ing in the midst of heaven once proclaim- 
ed, " Worship him who made heaven and 
earth, and the sea, and the fountains of wa- 
ter," Rev- xiv. 7. " Worship him, who 
stretched out that azure pavilion with such 
amazing grandeur who measured yonder 
world of waters in the hollow of his hand ; 
and before whom this immense range of 
mountainous cliffs is but as dust upon the 
scale." 

When you described the dismal situation 
of a wretch exposed on the edges of the 
tremendous precipice ; hanging over the 
ragged rocks and the unfathomable gulf, 
and cleaving only to a slender treacherous 
breaking bough ; how heartily did 1 join in 
youradoring acknowledgments to that kind, 
interposing, blessed hand, which rescued us 
both from an infinitely more threatening and 
dreadful danger ! rescued us as slaves from 
the dominion of the devil ; snatched us as 
brands from the inextinguishable burnings ; 
and bid us (O marvellous superabundant 
goodness !) bid us possess the liberty of 
righteousness, bid us inherit the kingdom 
of heaven. 

When you mention the past indolence, 
and the present fervour of your prayers, 1 
could not forbear reiterating my praises to 
God on your behalf. This is a proof, 
my dear Theron, that you are going in the 
way everlasting ; for it is written, " They 
shall come with weeping, and with suppli- 
cations will I lead thern." Jer. xxxi. 9 — 
This is the work of the Holy Ghost, dwell- 
ing ill 3'our heart ; for what saiththe Scrip- 
ture ? " 1 will pour upon them the spirit of 
grace and of supplication." Zeph- xii, 10. 
And our Lord himself mentions this as the 
indication of a true conversion : " Behold 
he prayeth." Acts ix. 11. Had not Saul 
prayed before ? Yes ; and made long pray- 
ers too. But he never, till that instant, 
■was sensible of his undone and damnable 
condition ; never cried to God from the 
depths of his distress, or from the depths of 
his heart ; nor ever solicited the throne of 
^race, in the all-prevailing name of Jesus 
Christ. His prayers, till then, were some- 
>vhat like the motes, which fluctuate to and 



fro in the air, without any vigorous impulse, 
or any certain aim ; but, in that hour, they 
were like the anow, which springs from the 
strained bow, and, quick as lightning, flies 
to the mark. 

I was pleased to find you, in the process 
of your letter, insensibly forgetting the nar- 
rative, and so engaged by the subject, that 
you spoke not as the relator, but as the be- 
holder. Thus may we always be affected, 
when we study the oracles of truth — study 
them, not as cold unconcerned critics, who 
are only to judge of their meaning, but as 
persons deeply interested in all they contain ; 
who are particularly addressed in every ex- 
hortation, and directed by every precept ; 
whose are the promises, and to whom be- 
long the precious privileges. When we are 
enabled thus to realize and appropriate the 
contents of that invaluable book, then we 
shall taste the sweetness, and feel the pow- 
er of the Scriptures. Then we shall know, 
by happy experience, that our divine Mas- 
ter's words are not barely sounds and syU 
lables, but " they are spirit, and they are 
life." John vi. 63. 

I was still more agreeably entertained 
with your picture of commerce, and of the 
advantages we receive from navigation. One 
advantage, however, I can specify, which is 
greater than any, greater than all you have 
celebrated ; an advantage, which will en- 
dear and ennoble navigation, so long as the 
sun and moon endure. The gospel, my 
dear friend, the glorious gospel came to our 
island through this channel. The volume 
that comprises it, and the preacher that pub- 
lished it, both were imported by shipping. 
And may we not say with the enraptured 
Isaiah, " How beautiful are the feet of them 
that bring good tidings ; that publish peace ; 
that bring good tidings of good ; that publish 
salvation ; that say unto Zion, thy God reign- 
eth ?* Isa. Hi. 7. It is pleasant to hear their 
voice, pleasant to contemplate their message, 
and pleasant even to behold the ground on 
which they trod, or the very waves over 
which they sailed. This made the holy 
prophet rejoice in spirit, when he foresaw 



» Never did language bespeak an enraptured soul 
niore significantly than this sacred exclamation. The 
prophet is aU wonder and all joy. He is so enamour- 
ed with his subject, and so captivated with the glory 
of the gospel, that he pan never say enough of its ex- 
cellencies. Good tidings; the very best that earth 
could receive, or heaven proclaim. Good tidings of 
good ; a most comprehensive good ; a collection of 
every blsssing; or all good things in one. Publish 
peace; peace with God, the everlasting King; and 
that sweet peace of conscience which the world can- 
not give. Publish salvation ; or that gift of righte- 
ousness which is the meritorious cause, together with 
thespirit of liberty and spirit of adoption, which are 
the rich and grand constituents of salvation. That 
say unto Zion, thy God yeigneth ; not sin apd Satan, 
not lust and appetite, oppressive tyrants, and worse 
than Egyptian task-masters : but the all-wige and in- 
tinitely gracious Jehovah : he, even he setteth up his 
pure, his peaceful, his spiritual kingdom, in the be- 
lievei's heart, in the Gentile nations, and in all lands. 



LETTER X. 



393 



the extensive spread of his Master's glory, 
and the certain commencement of our hap- 
piness. This put into his mouth that af- 
fectionate and congratulatory address, which, 
in a very particular manner, is directed to 
us and our countrymen : " Sing unto the 
Lord a new song, and his praise from the 
ends of the earth ; ye that go down to the 
sea, and all that is therein ; ye isles, and the 
inhabitants thereof. Let the wilderness 
and the cities thereof lift up their voice ; let 
the inhabitants of the rock sing, let them 
shout from the top of the mountains ! Let 
tliem give glory unto the Lord ; and declare 
his praise in the islands !" Isa. xlii. 10 — 12- 

We read, in Ezekiel, of the most magni- 
ficent fieet that ever ploughed the seas. The 
masts were of cedar, Ezek. xxvii. 5, &c. and 
the benches of ivory. Fine linen, beautified 
with embroidery floated to the winds, and 
formed the sai-ls. Blue and purple rigged 
the vessel, and clothed the meanest mariner. 
Let us suppose, that the freight of this 
splendid navy was proportioned in value to 
its sumptuous tackling. Yet how poor, how 
despicable were either, were both, if esti- 
mated with the treasures of the gospel ; 
those divine treasures, which spring from 
the imputation of our Redeemer's righteous- 
ness, and which have much the same kind- 
ly influence on religious practice, as naviga- 
tion, with all her improvements, has upon 
traflSc ! Give me leave to confirm this 
assertion, by selecting a few instances, and 
applying them in a few interrogatories. 

One of the benefits proceeding from the 
imputation of Christ's righteousness, is par- 
don : pardon, not partial, but complete ; 
a pardon of each sin, be it ever so heinous ; 
a pardon of all sins, be they ever so numer- 
ous. For thus saith God the Lord, who 
sent both his prophets and apostles, preach- 
ing peace by " Jesus Christ, I will pardon 
all their iniquities, whereby they have sin- 
ned and whereby they have transgressed 
against me, Jer. xxxiii. 8. To learn the de- 
sirable nature of this blessing, let us step 
back into the annals of history, and attend a 
traitorous unhappy nobleman to his vindic- 
tive exit. His body is demanded by the 
ministers of justice. Reluctant and trem- 
bling he is conducted to the scaffold. There 
the alarmed criminal sees the mourning 
block, sees the glittering axe, sees the cof- 
fin prepared for his corpse, sees thousands 
of anxious spectators, waiting with eager 
looks and throbbing hearts, the fearful catas- 
trophe. In a word, he sees death advancing 
with all the solemnities of horror and wo. 
Time elapses. The preparatory ceremonies 
are despatched- The fatal moment is ar- 
rived. No longer respite can be allowed. 
He must submit to immediate execution. 
Accordingly he prostrates himself to receive 
the stroke ; but, seized with new terrors at 



the poised axe and approaching blow, he 
starts from the dangerous posture. Again 
he bends, and again snatches his neck from 
the impending edge. A third time he lifts 
his pale countenance to the pitying crowds 
and departing light. Once more he bows 
to the block and once more raises his head, 
in wishful expectation of the royal cle- 
mency. Had a messenger appeared, at the 
critical instant, with a shout of joy upon his 
tongue, and a sealed pardon in his hand, 
O ! how transporting the news ! inexpressi- 
bly welcome the favour ! — What was denied 
to his passionate desires, denied to the im- 
portunate solicitations of his friends, is free- 
ly ofi'ered to us in the gospel of Christ ; a 
pardon of infinitely higher consequence, 
which obliterates millions and millions of 
rebellious acts ; which extends its blessed 
effects not merely through the little span of 
life, but beyond the gates of the grave — be- 
yond the boundaries of time — through all 
the ages of eternity. 

How unfathomable is that immense flood, 
on which my Theron lately exercised his 
contemplation ! The toiling plummets, with 
all their length of cordage, are unable to find 
a bottom. Were the hugest millstones, or 
the highest towers, or the most spacious ci- 
ties, cast into that prodigious gulf, they 
would be totally overwhelmed, and irrecover- 
ably lost. Therefore the inspired prophet, 
to show the boundless extent of the divine 
mercies in Jesus Christ, and to denote the 
fulness of their pardon who are cleansed in 
the Redeemer's blood, hath illustrated both 
by this grand similitude : " Thou wilt cast 
all their sins into the depths of the sea,'* 
Mic. vii. 19 ; not one, or a few, but all 
their sins ; not barely behind thy back, but 
into the sea; and not into the shallow parts, 
but in the very depths of the ocean ; so that 
they shall never rise up in judgment — ne- 
ver be taken notice of, no, nor ever be re- 
membered any more. 

With an act of total indemnity, let us 
join a thorough restoration to favour. If 
the wrath of an earthly king be as " the roar- 
ing of a lion," Prov. xix. 12, how much 
more tremendous is his indignation who is 
able to cast both body and soul into hell I 
If the favour of an earthly sovereign be " as 
dew upon the grass," how much more de- 
sirable and delightful his loving-kindness, 
whom all things in heaven and earth obey ! 
By the righteousness of Jesus Christ, we 
are freed from all foreboding apprehensions 
of the former, and established in the com- 
fortable possession of the latter. The gos- 
pel renews and ratifies that joyful proclama- 
tion of the angelic host, " Peace on earth, 
and good-will to men," Luke ii. 14. God 
is not only pacified toward believers, but 
well pleased with them in his dear Son. 
They are the objects of his complacential 



S94 



THERON AND ASPASIO- 



delight, and he rejoices over them to do them 
good. 

Nay, they are made children, " sons and 
daughters of the Lord Almighty," 2 Cor. 
vi. 18. and if sons, " then heirs of God, and 
joint heirs with Christ," Rom. viii. 17. The 
chief captain mentioned in the Acts pur- 
chased his freedom of the imperial city Rome 
with a great sum of money, Acts xxii. 28. 
If such a little transient immunity was so 
valuable in his esteem, who can express the 
worth, who can conceive the dignity, of this 
divine adoption ? Yet it belongs to those 
who receive the gospel, and are interested 
in Christ They have access to the Omni- 
potent Being, such free and welcome access 
as a beloved child to an indulgent father. 
To him they may fly for aid in every diffi- 
culty ; and from him obtain a supply in all 
their wants. God, as the sacred charter 
runs, " is their God," All his lovely, all 
his adorable perfections, are their glorious 
inheritance, and exceeding great reward. 
That eternal power, to which nothing is im- 
possible, exerts itself as their guard ; and 
that unerring wisdom, from which nothing 
is concealed, acts as their guide. His very 
justice is no longer an incensed adversary, 
demanding vengeance or meditating des- 
truction ; but a faithful guarantee, to pro- 
vide for the punctual execution of the Re- 
deemer's treaty, and their complete enjoy- 
ment of its various blessings. What a pri- 
vilege is this ! Rather, what a cluster of 
privileges is here ! Weigh the kingdoms of 
the world, cast all the glories of them into 
the scale ; and they will be found, when 
compared with these divine prerogatives, 
emptier than the bubble that bursts, lighter 
than the spark that expires. 

In the gospel are given exceeding great 
and precious promises ; Of such value, that 
they were procured by the blood of Christ ; 
of such certainty, that they are ratified by 
the oath of Jehovah, Heb. vi. 17. So dur- 
able, that though " all flesh is grass, and all 
the goodliness thereof as the flower of the 
grass, this word of our God abideth for ever," 
1 Pet. i. 23 ; so efficacious, that there are 
no such cordials to revive our fainting, and 
no such bulwarks to secure our endangered 
souls. With these the Bible is as richly 
replenished as the clear midnight sky is 
bespangled with stars. They " are all yea 
and amen," consigned over as a sure unalien- 
able portion, "to them that are in Jesus 
Christ." 2 Cor. i. 20. 

Another benefit, given in consequence of 
the Redeemer's righteousness, is the sanc- 
tifying Spirit. A most comprehensive bless- 
ing this ! Our Saviour intimates, that it 
mcludes every heavenly gift, is an assem- 
blage of all good things.* How singular a 



* Compare Matth. 11. with Luke xi. 13. 



comfort must it be to blind Bartimeus to 
have his eyes opened, and behold the all- 
cheering light of the sun, Mark X. 52, So, and 
far more comfortable, are the enlightening 
influences of the blessed Spirit, when they 
shine upon the wretched creature who sits 
in darkness and the shadow of death. How 
peculiar a mercy for the impure and abhor- 
red leper, to be healed of his inveterate dis- 
ease ! to feel the soothing sensations of ease, 
where sores rankled and pain raged ! In- 
stead of enfeebhng languors and loathsome 
deformity, vigour braces his limbs, and come- 
liness blooms in his countenance, Matth. 
viii, 3. Equally benign, and equally salubri- 
ous, is the ageney of the divine Spirit on 
our depraved, polluted, sensual minds. How 
signal was the recovery, and how welcome 
the change ; when that unhappy creature, 
so wildly agitated by a mischievous demon, 
was reinstated in the peaceful possession of 
himself and his faculties ! when, instead of 
unnaturally cutting his own flesh, or com- 
mitting barbarous outrages on innocent tra- 
vellers, he sat composed and attentive at 
the feet of Jesus, Mark v. 15, receiving 
heavenly instruction from his lips, and learn- 
ing the meekness of wisdom from his ex- 
ample. So salutary and beneficial is the 
transforming power of the Holy Ghost the 
Comforter ; softening the rugged, sweeten- 
ing the morose, and calming the passionate 
temper. It is undoubtedly the utmost im- 
provement, and the highest happiness of our 
nature, to have the image of the blessed 
God reinstamped on our hearts. This is 
an earnest, and an anticipation also of end- 
less felicity ; a bud which will open in hea- 
ven, and spread into immortal glory; a dawn, 
which will shine more and more, till the 
Sun of Righteousness arises, and brightens 
it into everlasting day. This bud the sanc- 
tifying Spirit ingrafts, this dawn the grace 
of our Lord Jesus Christ difi"uses in the bar- 
ren and benighted soul. 

In a word, receive this righteousness, and 
you have a title to all blessings, whether 
they be present or future, bodily or spiri- 
tual, temporal or eternal. From the ne- 
cessary conveniences of bread to eat and 
raiment to put on, even to the crowns of 
glory and the fuhiess of joy, all, all are 
owing to our Redeemer's righteousness. 
You see now, Theron, that our scheme has 
no tendency to impoverish your spiritual 
condition, or diminish your true riches, any 
more than those tracts of water which sur- 
round our island are detrimental to the wealth 
of its inhabitants. Detrimental ! No ; they 
are an inexhaustible source of treasure. 
They convey to our use the choicest accom- 
modations, and the most elegant delights ; 
such as would in vain be expected, if the 
whole ocean was converted into the finest 
meads and most fertile pastures. So — but 



LETTER X. 



395 



to apply this comparison, would forestall 
your principal question. 

Do not these favours, though unspeak- 
ably precious in themselves, tend to the in- 
troduction or support of ungodliness ?" — 
Quite the reverse. Have we redemption 
through our Saviour's blood, even the forgive- 
ness of our sins ? We are redeemed, not 
that we may sink in supineness, or launch 
into licentiousness, but that we may be a 
" peculiar people zealous of good works." 
Tit. ii. 14. Are we made the children of 
God ? Then " let our light so shine before 
men, that others, seeing our good works, 
may glorify our Father which is in heaven." 
Matt. V- 16. This is the genuine conse- 
quence of such a doctrine, and the proper 
eflfect of such a benefit. Are we vested 
with sacred privileges ? These admonish us, 
these urge us, to walk worthy of him " who 
hath called us to his kingdom and glory." 
1 Thess. ii. 12. Shall the citizens of hea- 
ven be animated with no higher views than 
the slaves of appetite and drudges of the 
world ? Are we constituted heirs of the 
promises ? The grace which they ascertain 
is intended to make us partakers of a divine 
nature, 2 Pet. i. 4, and the encouragement 
which they administer incites us to cleanse 
ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and 
spirit, incites us to perfect holiness in the 
fear of God. 2 Cor vii. 1. Such high im- 
munities are a most endearing persuasive, 
not to disgrace, but magnify — not to pro- 
voke, but please — their unspeakably benefi- 
cent author. 

I might farther observe, that holi- 
ness is one of the most distinguished bless- 
ings in our system ; nay, is the very central 
blessing, to which all the others verge, in 
which they all terminate. Were we chosen 
from eternity ? It was for this purpose, 
that we may " be holy and unblamable in 
love." Eph. i. 4. Are we called in time ? 
It is to this intent, that we may " show forth 
the praises of Him who hath called us out 
of darkness into his marvellous light." I Pet. 
ii. 9. Are we " created again in Christ 
Jesus ?" It is, to capacitate us for acceptable 
service, and to furnish us unto every good 
work, Eph. ii. 10. " I will put my spirit 
within you, saith the Lord." For what 
end ? " That ye may walk in my statutes , 
and keep my judgments, and do them." 
Ezek. xxxvi. 27. Here comes in my The- 
ron's favourite endowment — sincere obedi- 
ence. Far, very far from discarding sincere 
obedience, we v»^ould only introduce it under 
its due character, and in its proper order. 
Under its due character ; as the fruit, not 
the cause, of our interest in Christ's right- 
eousness : In its due order ; as following, 
not preceding the gift of justification. 

These privileges, my dear friend, are sa- 
lutary as the pool of Bethesda. John v. 4. 



They are restorative as the waters of Siloam. 
John ix. 7, or like that sacred stream flow- 
ing from the sanctuary, which healed the 
rivers, healed the sea, and made even the 
desert flourish. Ezek. xlvii. 8, 9. If jus- 
tification by the righteousness of Christ had 
a tendency to subvert the foundation of ho- 
liness, to confirm the hypocritical professor 
in his neglect of moral duties, or discourage 
the sincere convert from the pursuit of real 
virtue ; it would, doubtless, be unworthy of 
any acceptation, or rather, worthy of uni- 
versal abhorrence. But I dare appeal, not 
only to the nature of the doctrine, and the 
reason of things, but to the experience of 
all ; — yes, of all who " have tasted that the 
Lord is gracious." 1 Pet. ii. 3. " Speak, 
ye who are enabled to believe, that God is 
reconciled ; has received the all-satisfying 
atonement, and placed his Son's righteous- 
ness to your account ! that he regards you 
as his children, and will receive you to his 
glory ! Have you not, under such convictions, 
felt your hearts exulting with conscious joy ; 
and every power of your souls springing 
forward to glorify your heavenly Father — 
glorify him by every instance of obedience, 
fidelity, and zeal ?" 

Can such invaluable benefits have a pre- 
judicial influence on our practice, if to the 
consideration of their superlative worth, we 
add that unequalled price by which they 
were purchased ? He who is high above 
all height, humbled himself to be made of 
a woman, and born in a stable ; that we 
might be admitted into the family of God, 
and exalted to the mansions of heaven. 
And will this great humiliation, which is 
the basis of our happiness, prompt us to 
look down with contempt on others, or en- 
tertain arrogant thoughts of ourselves ? 

The Only Begotten and the supreme de- 
light of the Father, was numbered with 
transgressors and ranked with felons, that 
we might be joined to the innumerable com- 
pany of angels, and associated with saints 
in glory everlasting. And will any one 
make this a precedent or a plea for "walk- 
ing in the counsel of the ungodly ; for stand- 
ing in the way of siiniers ; or sitting in the 
seat of the scornful?" Psalm i. 1. 

All manner of evil was spoken of the 
faultless Jesus ; his blessed name was vili- 
fied by blasj)beniing tongues, and his un- 
blamable conduct blackened with the foul- 
est aspersions ; on purpose that we may be 
applauded when we are judged, and each 
hear those transporting words, " Well done 
thou good and faithful servant!" Matt. xxv. 
21. Will this embolden us to dishonour 
our Lord and stain our holy profession ? 
Shall we from hence be induced to open 
the mouths of his enemies, and furnish them 
with occasion to speak reproachfully ? 

He went, galled with the lashes of the 



396 



THERON AND ASt^ASIO. 



scourge, and penetrated with the pungent 
thorns ; he went, loaded with the execra- 
ble cross, and marking the way with his 
precious blood ; thus he went to his igno- 
minious and tormenting exit, that we may 
enter into Zion with songs of triumph on 
our lips, and with everlasting joy on our 
heads. Does this invite us to go, crowned 
with rosebuds, to the house of riot ; or go, 
muffled in disguise, to the midnight revel ? 
Will it not rather incline us to sit down at 
his pierced feet, and bathe them with our 
tears, and take delight* in mourning for 
our crucified Lord ? 

Behold ! he hangs on the cursed tree. 
There, there he hangs ; rent with wounds, 
and racked with pain. He pours his groans, 
and spills his blood. He bows his head, 
his patient, princely head, and dies — aston- 
ishing, ravishing consideration ! he dies for 
you and me. And will this harden our 
hearts, or arm our hands, to crucify him 
afresh by any allowed iniquity? Does not 
reason suggest, and Christianity dictate, and 
all that is ingenious enforce the apostle's 
important inference ? " If one died for all, 
then they which live should not henceforth 
live unto themselves, but unto him which 
died for them," 2 Cor. v. 15, 16. 

He thought upon us long before the 
foundations of the world were laid ; he re- 
members us, now he is exalted to the right 
hand of the majesty in the heavens ; and 
will never, never forget us, through all the 
revolutions of eternity. And is this a mo- 
tive to forget his name, to disregard his 
word, or to imitate the shameful neutrality 
and indifference of Gallio ? Impressed with 
a sense of this invariable and everlasting 
kindness, surely we shall declare ourselves 
as those captives in Babylon concerning 
their dear native city Jerusalem ; " If I 
forget thee," O blessed Jesus, "let my 
light hand forget her curming; if 1 do not 
remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the 
roof of my mouth," Psalm cxxxvii. 5, 6. 



Remember thee ! 



Ay, my dear Lord, while memory holds a seat 
In this devoted breast — Remember thee ! 
Yes, from the table of ray memory 
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, 
Which youth and observation copied there. 
And thy remembrance all alone shall live 
' ' Within the book and volume of my brain. 

Shakspeark. 

Is it possible, Theron, for the contem- 
plation of such goodness to weaken the 
motives, or relax the springs of obedi- 
ence ? As soon may lenient balms kill, and 



* The sorrow arising from such tender and grate- 
ful views of the crucified Jesus, is that evangelical 
godly sorrow, which " worketh repentance unto sal- 
vation not to be repented of," 2 Cor. vii. 10. And is 
there not reason, — when we consider the pains he felt, 
the curse he bore, and thebloodhe shed— is there not 
Ebundant reason to say with Homer's afflicted hero. 



rankest poisons cure. Is such a belief cal- 
culated to discourage duty, and patronize 
licentiousness ? Just as much as vernal 
showers are fitted to cleave the earth with 
chinks, or summer suns to glaze the waters 
with ice. When Antony made an oration 
to the soldiers on occasion of Cresar's death ; 
when he showed them their honoured mas- 
ter's robe, transfixed with so many daggers ; 
when he reminded them of the victories 
they had won under their assassinated com- 
mander ; when he farther informed them, 
that their murdered general had remembered 
them in his will, had bequeathed all his fine 
gardens and beautiful walks to their use and 
delight ;— heavens ! how they took fire! 
Revenge sparkled in their eyes ; revenge 
flamed in their boso ns ; revenge Was all 
their cry. They flew to the houses of the 
conspirators ; laid them even with the 
ground ; and, had they met the owners, 
would have torn them limb from limb. Some 
such resentment against sin will a sense of 
our adored Redeemer's sufl'erings excite; 
especially when set home by his blessed 
Spirit, and considered in connexion with 
those detestable iniquities which caused 
them, and with those invaluable blessings 
which were procured by them. Nothing, 
nothing is so effectual to beget the most ir- 
reconcilable abhorrence of all ungodliness, 
to make the remembrance of it bitter as 
v/ormwood, the temptations to it horrible as 
hell. 

Let me remind you of an incident related 
by your favourite historian Xenophon. Cy- 
rus had taken captive the young prince of 
Armenia, together with his beautiful and 
blooming princess, whom he had lately mar- 
ried, and of whom he was passionately fond. 
When both were brought to the tribunal, 
Cyrus asked the prince, what he would give 
to be reinstated in his kingdom ? He an- 
swered, with an air of indifference, " That 
as for his crown, and his own liberty, he 
valued them at a very low rate : But, if 
Cyrus would restore his beloved princess to 
her native dignityand hereditary possessions, 
he should infinitely rejoice ; and would pay, 
(this he uttered with tenderness and ardour), 
would willingly pay his life for the purchase." 
Could such a declaration, so highly endear- 
ing, alienate the affections of the princess, 
or induce her to violate her fidelity ? Let 
her own conduct answer the query. When 
all the prisoners were dismissed with free- 
dom, it is impossible to express how they 
were charmed with their royal benefactor. 
Some celebrated his martial accomplish^ 
ments ; some applauded his social virtues j 
all were prodigal of their praises, and lavish 
in grateful acknowledgments. And you, 
said the prince, (addressing himself to his 
bride), what think you of Cyrus ? I did not 
observe him, replied the princess. Not ob« 



LETTER X 



397 



^feVve him ! Upon what then was your at- 
tention fixed ? Upon that dear and ge- 
nerous man who declared, " he would 
purchase my liberty at the expense of his 
very life."* Was her heart impressed, were 
all her thoughts engrossed by that benevo- 
lent offer ? And shall ours be less affected 
with the incomparably more tender and en- 
dearing love of Christ ? He was not only 
willing, but actually laid down his life for 
us ; a life immensely precious, and of higher 
dignity than all heavens. He laid down his 
life, not for amiable persons or worthy crea- 
tures, but for vile earth, and miserable sin- 
ners ; purchasing thereby for us and our 
children, privileges of inestimable worth and 
of everlasting duration. 

Will not such beneficence, so unmerited, 
so unequalled, win the most reluctant, and 
melt the most obdurate heart ? The heart 
which is not wrought upon by this miracle 
of divine compassion, must be steel, must 
be adamant — quite impenetrable, and abso- 
lutely incorrigible. " O thou evcr-blessed, 
thou all-gracious Redeemer, ' thy love to us 
is wonderful ; passing,' 1 will not say, ' the 
love of women,' 2 Sam. i. 26, but the power 
of language and the reach of thought ! Who 
can hold out against such charming attrac- 
tives? who can resist such heavenly good- 
ness ? Only let a sense of thy love be 
always warm, always operative on our minds. 
This shall be instead of a thousand argu- 
ments to engage, instead of ten thousand 
motives to quicken our obedience.'' Other 
motives may produce external services, or 
hypocritical performances ; terrors may ex- 
tort the drudgery of the hand, bribes may 
purchase the adulation of the tongue ; but 
this conciliates the will, this proselytes the 
affections, this captivates the soul, and makes 
all its powers " like the chariots of Amina- 
dab," Cant. vi. 12, ready, expedite, and ac- 
tive in duty. 

Hear the holy apostle giving an account 
of himself and his spiritual state- He speaks 
in language somewhat similar, though great- 
ly suj)erior, to the profession of the Arme- 
nian princess : *' so great is the glory, so 
rich is the grace, so superabundant are the 
merits of my Redeemer, that I am deter- 
mined to know nothing but Christ Jesus, 
and him crucified." 1 Cor. ii, 2. Ask the 
same zealous apostle, what prompted him 
to such indefatigable diligence, and animated 
him with such invincible fortitude? Why 
did he decline no toil, and dread no danger ; 
rejoice in tribulation, and glory in reproach jf 



* JLyea f4.':V Kotv rr,? '4^u;^yii •TT^tctiy.'Av ucTi 

XfiNOPH. de Cyn In.itit. lib. iii. 
t That supreme affection to the blessed Jesus., 
which reigned in the hearts of his primitive disciples, 
could never have been so emphatically displayed by 
any strokes of eloquence, as by their own cheerful 



welcome persecution, and defy death? This 
is his reply, " The love of Christ constrain- 
eth me ; beareth me on, with much the 
same strong, steady, prevailing influence, 
which winds and tide exert when they waft 
the vessel to its destined harbour." 

Shall we hear what another disciple, one 
of the most advanced proficients in divine 
love, says upon the subject ? one who 
learned his knowledge, not in the school of 
philosophy, but on his Saviour's bosom ? 

This is the love of God, that we walk 
after his commandments." 2 John, ver. 6. 
This is the natural fruit, this the certain evi- 
dence, of love to that glorious, transcendent, 
and adorable Being. What ? Not that we 
supinely neglect, much less that we profane- 
ly violate his sacred precepts, but that, with 
assiduity and delight, we make them the rule 
of our conduct. "Charity edifieth I Cor. 
viii. 1 ; this divine love, far from raising the 
foundations, far from demolishing the struc- 
ture, buildeth up," (OiKohafin) the fair 
fabric of universal godliness. 

Let me borrow an illustration from yom- 
own letter. When a pebble is cast into tlie 
smooth canal, it moves the centre and forms 
a circle. The first creates a second, the 
second breaks into a third; they continue 
to multiply and expand themselves, till the 
whole surface is covered with circular ur>- 
dnlations. Thus, the love of an all-grac>oiKs 
Redeemer, when " shed abroad in the soul 
by the Holy Ghost," Rom. v. 5, will diffuse 
itself through every intellectual faculty, and 
extend to every species of duty, till the 
whole heart is filled with the image, and 
the whole behaviour regulated by the law 
of the blessed God. So that I am persuad- 
ed there is a great deal of truth and solidi- 
ty, as every one must acknowledge there is 
a peculiar spirit and beauty, in the apos- 
trophe of our poet ; 

Talk they of morals ? O thou bleeding love ! 
Thou maker of new morals to mankind. 
The grand morality is love of Thee. 

Night Tlioughts, No. iv. 

You mentioned the loadstone, as most 
signally and most extensively serviceable iii 
the sea-faring business. Such is faith, so 
efficacious in practical Christianity. This, 
perhaps, you think a scanty and defective 
principle. The property of showing the 
northern part of the world may seem equally 



and heroic manner of expressing themselves, with re 
lation to their sufferings. Far from ref^retting, " I 
take pleasure (says the apostle) in afflictions." 2 Cor. 
xii. ly. " To you," adds the same apostle, " it is 
given i^X'^i^"'^'^'^ a desirable privilege, to suffer 
for the adorable Jesus." Phil. i. 29. St. Luke, re- 
cording the outrages committed on two disciples, for 
preaching boldly in the name of Christ, uses a phrase 
remarkably gallant and spirited : " They departed 
from the council rejoicing, on }cx.Tr,^Ml'>i rav a. n- 
f/.ua-6r,vCii, that they were counted worthy to suffer 
I shame," in so venerableand gloiioas a causa. 



398 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



mean and inconsiderable- But as the one is 
the very soul of navigation, the other is the 
very life of holiness. It is somewhat like 
the stone, which the Babylonian monarch 
saw in his dream, " cut from the rock with- 
out hands," Dan. ii, 34, which, though des- 
picable to human appearance, was mighty in 
operation ; destroyed the superb statue ; 
became a great mountain, and filled the' 
whole earth. Thus will faith exert and dif- 
fuse its kindly yet triumphant energy, to 
every corruption, that it may be subdued ; 
to every virtue, that it may be cherished. 

Faith is a real persuasion, that the bless- 
ed Jesus has shed his blood for me, and ful- 
filled all righteousness in my stead ; that, 
through this great atonement and meritori- 
ous obedience he has purchased, even for 
my sinful soul, reconciliation with God, 
sanctifying grace, and every spiritual bless- 
ing.* 

When the Almighty sunk the cavities of 
the ocean, and replenished them with the 
liquid element, he provided an inexhaust- 
ible source of moisture, for the refreshment 
of every animal, and the nutriment of every 
vegetable. In like manner, wherever he 
works this true faith, he plants the seed of 
universal holiness, and provides for the pro- 
pagation of every virtue. This persuasion 
of the divine good-will overcomes our na 
tural reluctance, and excites a ferv^ent de- 
sire to please our most merciful Father. 
This experience of the abundant grace of 
Christ attracts and assimilates the soul ; 
turning it into his amiable likeness, " as the 
wax is turned to the imprinted seal." What 
will be the language of such a person ? 

" Did my exalted Master empty himself 
and become poor, that his most unworthy 
servant might be filled with all the fulness 
of God? Eph. iii. 19. And shall not I 
cheerfully deny myself the expensive plea- 
sures of the world, that I may have some- 
what to bestow on his needy children ? Has 
the death of Christ, as a punishment, satis- 
fied the most rigorous justice for my sins ; 
as a price, has it redeemed me from every 
evil ; and as a sacrifice, made my peace with 
God most high ? And shall I not, by these 
mercies of my dying Lord, be induced to 
present all the members of my body, and all 
the faculties of my soul, as a living sacrifice to 
his honour, Rom. xii. 1, to be employed in 
his service, and resigned to his will ? Do I 
believe that my Saviour has not only rescued 



* This definition of faith may possibly, at the first 
view, dissatisfy and alarm even some pious people, 
including, as they apprehend, too great a degree of 
assurance. But i if they please to take it in connexion 
with the explanation and adjustment delivered in the 
sixteenth Dialogue, I hope all cause of disapprobation 
or surprise v/ill vanish. I flatter myself that the sen- 
timent will be found, not only comfortable for the 
sinner, but agreeable to Scripture; and truly unex- 
ceptionable, as well as highly desirable. 



me from hell, but established my title to 
all the blessings included in the promises, 
and all the felicity laid up in heaven ? And 
can I neglect to seek those invaluable bless- 
ings, or forbear to aspire after this immense 
felicity ? Can I be so ungrateful as to af- 
front, so insensible as to forget, the infinite- 
ly beneficent Author of both ? Am I per- 
suaded that the Prince of Peace is entered 
into glory, as my forerunner, Heb. vi. 20, 
and has prepared mansions of bliss for my 
final reception ? And shall I not follow him 
thither in my hopes and my affections ; be 
as a pilgrim below, and have my conversa- 
tion above ? Is not this a most sweet and 
eflfectual method of gaining my heart, and 
if my heart, then all my powers, to his bless- 
ed self?" 

Such, my dear Theron, will be the ef- 
fects of faith. Therefore, it is not in vain, 
much less to the discouragement of real 
virtue, that the scripture lays such a stress 
upon faith : so frequently urges the impor- 
tance and necessity of faith ; represents faith 
as the principal work of the divine Spirit, 
and the great instrument of receiving salva- 
tion : because it is a sure, a sovereign means 
of " purifying the heart," Acts xv. 9 ; and 
never fails to " work by love," Gal. v. 6. 
Was faith, as some people are apt to ima- 
gine, like a candle put under a bushel, or 
like the lamps which burn in sepulchres ; 
it would then be an insignificant labour to 
inculcate it, and no better than an empty 
flourish of words to celebrate it. But no- 
thing is more certain than that faith is a 
vital, an operative, a victorious principle. 

Christ is a store-house of all good. 
Whatever is necessary to remove our guilt, 
whatever is expedient for renewing our na- 
ture, whatever is proper to fit us for the 
eternal fruition of God, all this is laid up 
in Christ ; and all this is received by faith, 
for application, use, and enjoyment. Ac- 
cordingly, when Zaccheus believed, he com- 
menced a new man ; his bowels yearned 
with compassion ; the rapacious publican 
became a friend to the needy, and a fa- 
ther to the poor, Luke xix. 8. — When the 
Macedonians believed, how eminently was 
their spirit ennobled and their practice im- 
proved. Though pressed with aflflictions, 
their souls oveiflowed with joy ; and, even 
in the deepest poverty, they signalized 
themselves by the abundance of their liber- 
ality.* When the first converts believed, 
the change of their behaviour was so re- 



* 2 Cor. viii. 2. Here is, especially in the original, 
as fine an antithesis, perhaps, as ever was penned. 
Since my last notes were so copious, I shall forego 
the pleasure of particularizing the beauties of* this 
clause. I leave it to the lover of the sacred litera- 
ture to admire the apostle's expression, to be charm- 
ed witli the spirit of the Macedonian believers, and 
to derive edification from both. 



LETTER XL 



899 



markable, the holiness of their lives so ex- 
emplary, that they won the favour and com- 
manded the respect of all the people, Acts 
ii. 47. In short, it is as impossible for the 
sun to be in his meridian sphere, and not 
to dissipate darkness or diflfuse light, as for 
faith to exist in the soul, and not to exalt the 
temper and meliorate the conduct. That 
my dear Theron maybe established in faith, 
may increase in faith, may abound in faith, 
is the most affectionate wish that thought 
can suggest or friendship adopt. May his 
faith therefore be established like the moun- 
tain-oaks, increase like the progressive 
stream, till it spreads and abounds like the 
overflowing flood ! 

I intended to have closed my letter, 
and confirmed my point, by a very memora- 
ble story. But however your patience may 
persevere, my time fails, and my hand is 
weary. The next post, if nothing unex- 
pected intervenes, shall bring you the se- 
quel. May it, when brought to my friend, 
be as " a nail fastened in a sure place " 
and give the rivet of conviction to all these 
important truths ! In the mean time, or 
rather at all times, I remain cordiallyand 
invariably yours, 

AsPASIO. 



LETTER XL 

AsPASio TO Theron. 

Dear Theron, — Faith in the imputed 
righteousness of Jesus Christ, is a funda- 
mental principle in that invaluable sys- 
tem of sacred and divine philosophy — the 
gospel ; by which the heavenly Teacher 
is continually training up millions of ration- 
al and immortal creatures, for the true per- 
fection of their nature, for the final fruition 
of their God ; or, in -other words, for a 
state of consummate happiness and ever- 
lasting exaltation. In this school, may 
you and I be humble students and daily 
proficients ! While others are ambitious 
of glittering distinctions and sounding titles, 
may it be our highest aim, our greatest 
glory, to answer the character of believers ! 
By this character, the supreme Lord dis- 
tinguishes his chosen people, and denomi- 
nates the heirs of salvation. This cha- 
racter stands fairest in the book of life, 
and brightest in the annals of eternity. 
This character, however neglected or dis- 
esteemed among men, will be remembered 
and had in honour when the pompous 
names of statesman and generalissimo are 
known no more. 

As faith is of such singular and extensive 
efiicacy in genuine Christianity, methinks I 
would have all our meditations terminate on 



its glorious object, and be calculated to in- 
vigorate so benefical a principle. When 
we reflect on that stupendous act, the crea- 
tion of the world out of nothing ; let us re- 
member, it was his act, who " obtained eter- 
nal redemption for us." When we contem- 
plate that immense theatre of wonders, the 
heavens and their shining hosts ; let us not 
forget that they are all his works, who 
" brought in everlasting righteousness" for 
us. Do we turn our thoughts to the ocean, 
that spacious and magnificent canal which 
covers more than half the globe ? It was 
formed by his word, and is obedient to his 
will, who "loved us and washed us from 
our sins in his own blood." Do we take a 
view of the earth, that grand and inexhaust- 
ible magazine, vi'hich furnishes such a mul- 
tiplicity of conveniences for so many millions 
of creatures ? It is all his property, and 
wholly at his disposal, who " emptied him- 
self " ((nivuKT V sai/7-av,) for our sake, and " had 
not where to lay his head." Phil. ii. 7. For 
thus saith the inspired philosojjher, thus 
saith the oracle of revelation, "All things 
were made by him, and for him. Col. i. 16. 

The great Creator has enriched this ha- 
bitable globe with a profusion of good. He 
has adorned it with a variety, an order, and 
a beauty, which are perfectly charming. 
He has ennobled it with a dignity, a sub- 
limity, and a grandeur, which are at once 
delightful and astonishing. In all this, rea- 
son cannot but discern a clear manifestation 
of power, a bright display of wisdom, and a 
rich demonstration of benignity. But will 
the Creator himself vouchsafe to be made 
flesh, on purpose that he may obey and die 
for his guilty creatures ? This is what neither 
the utmost penetration of men, nor the very 
superior intelligence of angels, could ever 
have demonstrated, discovered, or conceiv- 
ed. This exceeds whatever the elemients 
have produced, whatever the sun has beheld, 
as much as the extent and magnificence of 
the planetary system exceed the dimensions 
and the furniture of a shepherd's hut. To 
reveal this, is the blessed peculiarity of the 
gospel. To know and believe this, is the 
distinguishing prerogative cf a Christian. 
To apply this, to dwell upon this, to con- 
nect this with all our observations of the 
universe, should be our favourite and ha- 
bitual employ. This wiil improve wonder 
into devotion, and raise the entertainments 
of science into the joy of salvation. This 
will render every philosophical speculation 
a strengthener of our faith, and make the 
various scenes of nature a guide to grace, 
and a step to glory. When this is done, 
then all things attain their proper end ; and 
as they are by Christ, so they are for 
Christ. 

But I forget myself, my business, and 
my promise. I am to establish the point 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



by incontestible fact, not to embellish it by 
loose harangue. With pleasure I address 
myself to discharge the obligation ; and ex- 
emplify, in a very memorabie instance, the 
power of faith on religious practice. From 
whence shall I fetch my exemplification ? 
From the memoirs of the indefatigable apos- 
tle of the Gentiles ? Here 1 find one, most 
concisely, and at the same time most forci- 
bly displayed. 

" After these things were ended," says 
the sacred historian, Paul purposed in the 
spirit, when he had passed through Mace- 
donia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem, say- 
ing, after I iiave been there, 1 must also 
see Rome." Acts xix. 21. Who can ob- 
serve, and not admire, this plain unambi- 
tious manner of relating a series of labours, 
the most signally successful, and most ex- 
tensively useful Nothing in human conduct 
ever surpassed the greatness of the one, 
and perhaps nothing in historical composi- 
tion ever equalled the simplicity of the 
other. 

St. Paul had already reduced Ephesus 
and Asia to the obedience of Christ- He 
had already brought Macedonia and Achaia 
into subjection to the gospel. He had long 
ago erected the standard and spread the 
triumphs of Christianity in the regions of 
Arabia. Yet, as if he had hitherto achieved 
nothing, he bends his forces towards Jeru- 
salem. Then he marks out Rome for the 
seat of his spiritual warfare. After this he 
forms the same beneficent design upon 
Spain ; including in his comprehensiv^e plan 
the metropolis and the boundaries* of the 
known world. The universe is but just 
large enough to be the scene of his action ; 
he never discontinues the charitable cam- 
paign but Vv-ith the last breath of his life ; 
and he speaks of this unintermitted couri-e 
of arduous and dangerous services, as if he 
was only going to make some friendly visit, 
or join in a party of innocent pleasure : 
" After 1 have been at Jerusalem, I must 
also see Rome."f 



* Spain was then supposed to be the boundary of 
the western, as the Ganges was reckoned the extremity 
of the eastern world. ^ 
Omnibus in terris quaj sunt a Gadibus usque 
Auroram et Gangen. — Juv. Sat.x. 

t I am quite charmed, I must confess, with this 
very simple, but incomparably gallant manner of the 
apostle's speaking. Far beyond all the pomp of pa- 
negyric, it displays the hero. 

When a handful of Spartans undertook to defend 
the pass of Thermopyla; against the ^hole army of 
Persia, so prodigious, it was reported, were the mul- 
titudes of the Persians, that the very fiiglit of their 
arrows would intercept the shining of the sun. Then, 
said Dieneces, one of the Spartan leaders, "we shall 
have the advantage of fighting in the shade." Just 
before the battle of Agincourt, news were brought to 
King Henry's camp that the French were exceeding- 
h' numerous, and would take the field with more than 
SIX times the number of the English troops. To 
jvhich the brave Captain Gam immediately replied. 
Is it so ? *' Then there are enough to be cut in pieces, 
enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to run 



Which of your Alexanders, which of youf 
Caesars, which of all the heroes renowned in 
Grecian or Roman story, can vie with the 
zeal and magnanimity of this poor despised 
tent-maker? so poor, that he was constrained 
to work with his own hands for a morsel or 
bread ; so despised, that he was frequently 
treated as the offscouring of all things. 
Notwithstanding all these discouragements, 
what did he not attempt, what did he not 
accomplish, for the honour of his Master 
and the good of his fellow-creatures ? — He 
embarks in a shallop ; he has neither shield 
nor spear : yet he purposes to command the 
ocean, and conquer the globe. What great- 
ness of soul was here ! he expects (Acts 
XX. 23,) nothing but poverty, contempt, and 
death ; yet his heart is big with the hopes of 
enriching, ennobling, and saving ages and 
generations. What benevolence of temper 
was this ! Should you inquire concerning 
this illustrious champion of the cross, who 
were his potent auxiliaries ? None but the 
divine Spirit. What were his mighty wea- 
pons ? Nothing but the word of truth and 
grace. Whence proceeded his intrepid, his 
enterprising, his all-conquerii>g resolution ? 
Only from faith, a lively faith in Jesus 
Christ. 

This, I think, is a sufficient confij'mation 
of my doctrine. Nevertheless, 1 iiave an- 
other instance to produce : one that was ex- 
hibited in an age when the glorious object 
of our faith shone with dim lustre, and with 
distant beams ; yet it may justly be admired, 
and will hardly be eclipsed, by the most en- 
lightened among the Christian saints. To 
keep you no longer in suspense, the case I 
mean is that which Moses records, and the 
apostle celebrates: "By faith Abraham, 
when he was tried, offered up Isaac ; and he 
that had received the promises, olfered 
up his only begotten son." Heb. xi. 17. 

As this is so singular an example of the 
efficacious and triumphant operation of faith, 
unequalled in any nation of the world or un- 
der any dispensation of religion, you will 
give me leave to dwell a little on some of itss 
marvellous circumstances. 



away." A commanding officer, I think, among the 
royalists, being besieged by the parliament forces, 
was summoned to surrender the castle. The sum- 
mons he rejected, and treated with contempt. {Jpon 
this the enemy threatened, that, if he persisted in his 
resolution, the walls should, without farther delay, 
be battered to the ground. " Wliat if they are ?" was 
his answer, ' I am not obliged to rebuild them." 

Such calm and undaunted sentiments, amidst cir- 
cumstances of the most imminent danger, argue as 
uncommon fortitude and superiority f f mind. But, 
if we consider the nature of the apostle's enterprise; 
that it was nothing less than an open attack on the 
empire of Satan, a declared war against the whole 
idolatrous world, all which was to be attended with 
persecution and im])risonment, was to end in martyr- 
dom and death ; if we consider this, I believe, no- 
thing will appear at once so humble and so exalted, 
so modest vet so m.agnanimous, as the turn and air 
of his expression; "After I have been at Jerusalem, 
I must also see Rome." 



LETTER XI. 



401 



Abraham Was an eminent and distinguish- 
ed servant of the most high God, favoured 
with peculiar manifestations of the divine 
will, and dignified with the honourable title 
of his Maker's friend, 2 Chron. xx. 7, Isa. 
Ixi- 8. Yet even this man is harassed with a 
long succession of troubles; and, which was 
reckoned in those ages the most deplorable 
calamity, "goes childless."* 

Long he waits, worshipping God v/ith the 
most patient resignation. At length an ora- 
cle from the Lord gives him hope, gives him 
assurance of a son. Joyfully he receives the 
promise, and rests in humble expectation of 
its accomplishment. Several years run their 
rounds, but no pleasing infant prattles in his 
arms, or is dandled upon his knees. At 
last the handmaid becomes pregnant. But 
what a disappointment was here : This is 
the son of the bond-woman, not of the free. 

How afflicting the case of this excellent 
person ! His kinsfolk and acquaintance see 
their olive-branches flourishing round about 
their tables. Even his ungodly neighbours 
have children at their desire, ai;d leave the 
residue of their substance for their babes. 
But Abraham, the worshipper of the Al- 
mighty, the favourite of heaven ; this Abra- 
ham is destitute of an heir to support his 
r^uxie, to propagate his family, and inherit 
the blessing. O the straits to which the 
believer is sometimes reduced ! How does 
a sovereign Providence try his faith, as it 
were in a furnace of fire ! not that it may 
be consumed, but refined, and come forth 
with augmented lustre, to the praise of ever- 
faithful, all-sufficient grace. 

God is pleased to renew the grant, and 
assure him more explicitly, that Sarah shall 
have a son. But this notice comes at a 
very late period in life, when Sarah is ad- 
vanced in years, and too old, according to 
the course of nature, to conceive. However, 
the pious patriarch " staggers not through 
unbelief; but hopes even against hope," 
-Rom. iv. 18—20. Is 't improbable? is it 
difficult? nay, is it to all human appearance 
impossible? So much the fitter for the ex- 
ertion, and so much the more proper for the 
display of almighty power. 

At last the gift so earnestly desired is 
vouchsafed. Sarah has a child— a son — an 
Isaac; one who should be a source of con- 
solaticn and delight to his parents, should 
" lill their mouth with laughter, and their 



* There was so much gall in this calamity, that it 
imbittered every other species of happiness. Visited 
by this affliction, the patriarch could taste no joy in 
his late signal victory; all his worldly prosperitv 
was insipid, and he seems to have been incapable of 
relisliing any oth^r comfort, " what wilt thou give me, 
seeing I go childless?" Gen. xv. 2. I would entreat the 
reader to take particular notice of this circumstance. 
It will have the same effect upon the representation of 
Abraham's obedience, and the whole series of hisdil- 
ficulties, as a magidfying glass ha? upon the objects to 
winch It IS applied. 



tongue with joy."* Psalm cxxvi. 2. With 
tender care, doubtless, this pleasant plant is 
reared. Many prayers are put up for his 
long life, and great happiness. The fond 
parents watch over him as over the apple of 
their own eye. Their life is bound up in 
the life of the lad. Gen. xliv. 30. He grows 
in grace as he grows in stature. So amia- 
ble is his temper, and so engaging his beha- 
viour, as could not fail of endearing him 
even to a stranger; how much more to such 
indulgent parents, after so long a state of 
barrenness, and so many expectations so 
frequently frustrated. 

Now, methinks, we are ready to congra- 
tulate the happy sire, and flatter om'selves, 
that his tribulations have an end, that the 
storms which ruffied the noon of life are 
blown over, and the evening of his age is 
becoming calm and serene. But let " not 
him that girdeth on his harness, boast him- 
self as he that putteih it off," 1 Kings xx. 
11. Our warfare on earth is never accom- 
plished, till we bow oiu" head and give up 
the ghost. The sharpest, the severest trial 
is still behind. God, the supreme and un- 
controllable God, demands the child. It is 
the will of heaven, that he make his exit, 
just as he arrives at maidiood. " Where 
now, Abraham, are all thy pleasing ])ros- 
pects ? How often did^t thou say in thy 
fond delighted heart, " This same shtiU 
comfort us concerning our trouble?" Gen. 
V. 29. Many have been my sorrows, but 
this child shall dry up my tears, and bring 
me to my grave in peace. Alas : this love»- 
ly flower is to be cut down in its fairest, 
fullest bloom. All thy shining hopes are 
overcast in a moment." 

" Abraham says God — Abraham 
knows the voice. It is the voice of conde- 
scending goodness. He had often heard it 
with a rapture of delight. Instantly he re- 
phes, " Here I am, speak. Lord ! for thy 
servant is all attention ;" hoping, no doubt, 
to receive some fresh manifestation of the 
divine good-will to himself and his fauaily ; 
or some new discovery of the method in 
which the divine wisdom would accomplish 
the promises, " I will multiply thy seed ; I 
will make thy seed as the dust of the earth, 
and in thy seed shall all the families of the 
earth be blessed ! " 



* This is the import of the Hebrew name Isaac, 
t The sentence with which the inspired liistorian 
introduces this affecting narrative, is unhappily tran- 
slated in our Bibles, tS^'liK/li^T^S^) 

did tempt Abraham. This expression seems, more 
than seems to clash with ttie doctrine of St. James, 
chap. i. 13, and cannot but sound harsh to those ears, 
which have been accustomed to understand, by temp- 
ter and tempting, persons utterly odious and practices 
extremely pernicious. Whereas the true and natural 
signiucation oi the original is, "lie tried or explored." 
God sounded the depth, and measured the height of 
his servant's faith, in order to erect an everlasting 
monunient of the victorious efficacy of this sacred 
principle, and exhibit an illustrious pattern to &U 
them WHO should hereafter believe. 

2 i> 



402 



THERON AND ASPASIO 



" Take thy son," adds God. And might 
not Abraham reasonably expect, that, since 
his son was advanced to years of matur- 
ity, he should be directed how to settle him 
in the world with honour and advantage ; 
where to find a virtuous and fruitful partner 
of his bed ? He is commanded, not barely 
to take his son, but his only son, his son 
Isaac, whom he loved. How must these 
affecting images awaken all that soft com- 
placency, and all that tender triumph, which 
are known only to the fondly feeling heart 
of a parent ! Must not such an introduction, 
60 remarkably endearing, heighten his ex- 
pectation of some signal mercy; to be con- 
ferred on the beloved youth, and would it 
not render the blessing peculiarly accepta- 
ble, more than doubly welcome ? 

Was he not then startled, was he not 
horribly amazed, when, instead of some re- 
newed expression of the divine favour, he 
received the following orders ? " Take now 
thy son — thy only son Isaac — whom thou 
lovest, and get thee into the land of Mor- 
iah, and offer him there for a burnt-offering 
upon one of the mountains which I will tell 
thee of," Gen. xxii. 2. 

Was ever message so alarming ? eacli 
word more piercing to parental ears, than 
the keenest dagger to the heart. Every 
clause brings an additional load of misery ; 
till the whole command swells into the 
most accumulated and aggravated wo- 

"Abraham, take thy son." Who but 
Abraham could have forebore remonstrating 
and pleading on such an occasion ? — Ana- 
nias, being charged with a commission to 
Saul the persecutor, takes upon him to ar- 
gue the case with his almighty Sovereign ; 
*' Lord, I have heard by many concerning 
this man, how much evil he hath done to 
thy saints at Jerusalem ; and here he hath 
authority from the chief priests to bind all 
that call upon thy name," Acts ix, 13, 14, 
Sure, it can never be safe or expedient to 
present myself voluntarily before him, who 
came hither breathing out threatenings and 
slaughter against me ! What is this but to 
court danger, and run with open eyes into 
ruin ? Thus Ananias ; and with how much 
greater appearance of reason might Abra- 
ham have replied, " Lord, shall I lose my 
child ? lose him, almost as soon as I have 
received him? Didst thou give him only 
to tantalize thy servant ? Remember, gra- 
cious God, the name he bears. How shall 
he answer its cheering import, how shall he 
be a source of satisfaction to his parents, or 
the father of many nations, if thou takest 
him away in his unmarried state, and in the 
very prime of his years? 

" if sin lies at the door, let me expiate 
the guilt. Let thousands of rams, let every 
bullock in my stalls bleed at thy altar. My 
wealth, blessed Lord, and all ray goods, are 



nothing in comparison of my Isaac. Com- 
mand me to be stript of my possessions ; 
command me to roam as a fugitive and a 
vagabond on the eanh, and I will magnify 
thy holy name. Only let my child, my dear 
child, be spared. 

" Or, if nothing will appease thy indigna- 
tion but human blood, let my death be the 
sacrifice. Upon me be the vengeance. I 
am old and gray-headed, the best of my 
days are past, and the best of my services 
done. If this tottering wall tiunbles, (here 
will be little or no cause for regret. But if 
the pillar of my house, and the foundation 
of my hopes, — if he be snatched from me, 
what good will my life do me ? " O my son, 
my son, would God I might die for thee!" 
2 Sam. xviii. 33- 

" If it must be a blooming youth, in the 
flower of his days, be pleased, most merciful 
God, to select the victim from some fruit- 
ful family. There are those who abound in 
children. Children are multiplied unto 
them ; and though many were removed, yet 
would their table be full. There are those 
who have flocks and herds, whereas I have 
only this one little lamb, 2 Sam. xii, 3, the 
very solace of my soul, and the stay of my 
declining years ; aad shall this be taken 
away, while all those are left ?"' 

Yes, Abraham, it is thy son, and not an- 
other's, that is marked for the victim. 
What distress, had he not been supported 
by faith, what exquisite distress, must have 
overwhelmed this affectionate parent ! How 
could he refrain from crying out, and with 
a flood of tears ? — *' If the decree cannot be 
reversed, if it must be the fruit of my own 
body, O ! that Ishmael, the son of the 
handmaid — How shall I speak it? my heart 
bleeds at the thought ; at the thought even 
of his expiring agonies, and untimely death. 
But as for Isaac, the son of my beloved 
spouse, the son of my old age, the crown of 
all my labours ; how, how shall I survive such 
a loss ? The blow that goes to his heart, 
must be fatal to us both. 

" Yet if he must die, and there is no reme- 
dy ; may he not at least expire by a natural 
dissolution ? May not some common dis- 
temper unloose the cords of life, and lay him 
down gently in the tomb ? May not his fond 
mother and myself seal his closing eyes, and 
soften his dying pangs by our tender offices?" 

No, Abraham. Thy son must be slaugh- 
tered on the altar. He shall have no other 
bed of death than the pile of hewn wood ; 
no other winding sheet, than his own clot- 
ted gore. The sacrificing-knife, and not 
any common disease, shall bring him to his 
end. And think not to satisfy thy sorrow- 
ing fondness, by paying him the last hon- 
ours of a decent interment. It is the Lord's 
will that he be cut in pieces, consumed to 
ashes, and made a burnt-offering ; so that 



LETTER XI. 



403 



.notliing shall remain to be preserved or em- 
balmed. It shall not be in thy power to 
soothe thy grief, by resorting to his grave, 
and weeping at his sepulchre, and saying — 
*' Here lies Isaac !" 

" But if all must be executed, God grant 
these eyes may never behold the dismal tra- 
gedy ! If my Isaac must be bound hand and 
foot for the slaughter, if he must receive the 
steel into his bosom, and welter in his own 
innocent blood, heaven forbid that I should 
behold so killing a spectacle !" 

Even this mitigation cannot be granted. 
Thou must not only be an eye-witness of 
his agony, but be the executioner of thy 
Isaac. Thy hands must lift the deadly 
weapon ; thy hands must point it to the 
beloved breast ; thine own hands must urge 
its way through the gushing veins and shiv- 
ering flesh, till it be plunged in the throb- 
bing heart. God will not permit the work 
to be done by another. The father, the 
father must be the butcher. 

Is not the wretched father stunned and 
thunder-struck ! Does he not stand fixed 
in horror, and speechless with grief ? What 
words can be mournful enough to express 
his sorrows ? Unheard of, shocking affair ! 
Nature recoils at the very thought ! How 
then can the best of fathers perform the 
deed ? How shall he answer it to the wife 
of his bosom, the mother of the lovely 
youth ? How can he justify it to the world ? 
They will never be persuaded that the God 
of goodness can delight in cruelty, or au- 
thorize so horrid an action. Will they not 
take up a taunting proverb, and say at 
every turn, " There goes the man, the 
monster rather, that has imbrued his hands 
in his own son's blood ! This is he that 
pretends to piety, and yet could be so sav- 
age as to assassinate, coolly and deliberately 
assassinate an only child !" — Might not 
thousands of such reflections crowd into his 
thoughts, and rack his very soul ? 

But God is unchangeable. Positive is 
his word, and must be obeyed ; obeyed 
immediately too. Take now thy son. The 
Lord's commandment requireth speed. No 
time is to be lost in bidding adieu to his 
relations, or in fruitless supplications for re- 
voking the doom. Nay, cheerfully, as well 
as instantly, must this command be fulfill- 
ed. The great Jehovah expects alacrity in 
his service.—- Prodigious trial indeed ! Yet 
not too great for a faith which the divine 
Spirit infuses and the divine Spirit sus- 
tains. 

The patriarch knew full well that obedi- 
ence is no obedience, unless it be willing 
and cheerful. Therefore he consults not 
with flesh and blood. He is deaf to the 
arguings of carnal reason, and regards not 
the yearnings of paternal affection. With- 
out a murmuring word, without a moment's 



delay,* he sets forward on his journey; not 
so much as betraying the least uneasiness, 
to alarm his wife ; nor heaving the least 
sigh, to surprise his attendants. An i 
canst thou, Abraham, canst thou persist in 
thy purpose ? can thy heart firmly resolve, 
can thy hand steadily execute, this inex- 
pressibly severe task ? Most triumphant 
faith indeed ! Deservedly art thou styled 
" the father of the faithful 1" Rom. iv. 18. 
Thy faith is stronger than all the ties of 
affection ; stronger than all the pleas cf na- 
ture, or all the terrors of death, — even of a 
death far more dreadful than thy own. 

And now must he travel during three 
tedious, and one would think, most melan- 
choly df^s, with his Isaac constantly before 
his eyes ; with the bloody scene continually 
in his apprehensions ; and nothing to di. 
vert his mind from dwelling on every bitter 
circumstance, and all the grievous conse- 
quences. " On the third day, Abraham 
lifted up his eyes and beheld afar off the 
appointed place. His servants are ordered 
to keep their distance ; while himself, with 
the fire and the knife in his hands ; and his 
son, with the burden of wood on his shoul- 
ders, " went both of them together." Who 
does not pity the sweet youth, toiling under 
that load which must soon reek with his 
blood, and soon reduce him to ashes ? 
Meanwhile the intended victim, wondering 
to see all those preparations made, and n6 
proper animal near, asks this pertinent 
question, " My father, behold the fire and 
the wood ; but where is the lamb for a 
burnt offering?" Sure, this endearing 
speech, which discovered such a knowledge 
of religion, and such a concern for its duties, 
must rouse the father's anguish, and shake 
his determination. How can he be the 
death of so much innocence, and so much 
piety? 

Faith overcomes all difiiculties. Un- 
moved, and inflexible, the patriarch replies, 
" God will provide himself a lamb for a 
burnt- ofl^ering, my son,"f After this he 
discloses the strange, the startling secret : 
" Thou thyself, my dear child, are destined 
to this purpose. The God who bestowed 
thee on my longing desii'es is pleased to re- 
quire thee again at my hand. The Ijord 



* For it is written. He rose early in the morning, 
ver. 3. 

t Abraham, in this answer, like many of the other 
prophets in their predictions, seems not to have tho- 
roughly iraderstood the import of his own words. 
What he himself meant, I apprehend, i;: represented 
in the paraphrase of his speech. Yet God so over- 
ruled his tongue, that it more fully expressed the di- 
vine decree, than the paternal idea. 

"God will providehimselfalamb for aburnt-offerinp, 
my son." Thus the words are placed in the Mebrev/, 
My son comes last, and closes the reply ; that the ten- 
der accents may be left to vibrate on the father's ear, 
and the dear distressing im.age continue playing be- 
fore his mind, Tliis, 1 think, is a delicacy not to. he 
overlooked, and increases the pathos of the narra- 
tive. 



404 



TIIERON AND ASPASIO 



gave, and the Lord T;aketli away, let us both 
adore the name of the Lord. Let us con- 
fide in his promised goodness, and unani- 
mously profess, " Though he slay me, yet 
will 1 trust in him." It does not appear 
that the amiable youth resisted or gainsaid. 
He had strength to oppose, and speed enough 
to escape,* the attempts of an aged father. 
Either or both of which, the law of self- 
preservation might seem to dictate, and the 
light of reason to justify. But Isaac knew 
that his father was a prophet. In this pro- 
phetical character, he sees and acknov/ledges 
the warrant of heaven. And since his 
Creator calls, he is content to go. Excel- 
lent Isaac ! who does not admire thy courage? 
who is not charmed with thy resignation ? 
and must we, in a few minutes, must we see 
thee a pale, a bloody, a breathless corpse ? 

Methinks, I shudder as we draw near 
the direful catastrophe. The altar is built ; 
the wood laid in order ; all things are ready 
for the solemn service ; and Isaac offers his 
willing throat to the knife. Nevertheless, 
that the work of destiny may be sure, and 
no one particular relating to a sacrifice omit- 
ted, " Abraham binds his son." I have 
known a stubborn malefactor quite unalarm- 
ed when sentenced to the ignominious tree ; 
not at all impressed with the most awful re- 
presentations of eternal judgment; yet, when 
a person came to measure him for his coffin, 
the hardened wretch was hard no longer. 
He started, turned pale, and trembled in 
every joint. Even such a circumstance 
makes no impression on Abraham ; neither 
alters his purpose, nor changes his counte- 
nance. He measures his Isaac ; measures 
those limbs, which he had so frequently 
and so tenderly caressed ; and if not for the 
coffin, yet for immediate slaughter. 

Having bound him — surprising resolu- 
tion ! — bound him for the sword and for the 
flame, he " lays him upon the altar, on the 
wood." There now lies Isaac; the dear, 
the dutiful, the religious Isaac ! Abraham's 
joy ; Sarah's delight ; the heir of the pro- 
mises ! there he lies, all meek and resigned ; 
expecting every moment the stroke of death 
to fall. O parents ! parents ! do not your 
bowels yearn ? is not humanity itself dis- 
tressed at the scene? Say, thou who art a 
father, what thinkest thou of Abraham's 
obedience ? couldst thou, to such a son, have 
acted such a part ? 

See ! the father, resolute to the very last, 
unsheathes the murdering blade ; makes 
bare the innocent bosom ; and marks the 
place where life may find the speediest 

* Accordingto Josephus, Isaac was, whenhesabmit- 
ted himself to the slaughter, about twenty-five years 
old. Others think his age was thirty-three, which 
makes hmi more exactly resemble his suffering Lord. 
1 hen his lather must be above a hundred and thirty 
xjcars old. Either account will justify Aspasio's sup- 
position. • ^ 



exit. " His heart is fixed !" he stretches his 
arm, and now, even now is aiming the mor- 
tal blow ; when, — rejoice, ye worshippers 
of a gracious God ! break forth into singing, 
ye that are in pain for the tried parent ! the 
Lord Almighty interposes in this article of 
extreme need.* The Angel of the cove- 
nant speaks from heaven, and withholds the 
lifted hand, in the very act to strike. God, 
who only intended to manifest his faitli, 
and make it honourable, bids him desist. 
God applauds his obedience ; substitutes 
another sacrifice in Isaac's stead ; renews 
his covenant with the father ; and not only 
reprieves the life of the son, but promises 
him a numerous and illustrious issue ; pro- 
mises to make him the progenitor of the 
Messiah, and thereby a public blessing to 
all the nations of the earth. 

Tell me now, Theron, was there eve^- 
such an astonishing effort of obedience? such 
a perfect prodigy of resignation ? " Yet this 
hath faith done."t If you should ask, how 
was it possible for Abraham to perform all 
this, in the manner described ? The answer 
is obvious : Because Abraham believed : 
or, in other words, was fully persuaded, th;rt 
the God who had given him this son from the 
barren womb, was able to raise him again 
from the smoking ashes. | As the same 
God who required this sacrifice, had ex- 
pressly declared, " In Isaac shall thy seed 

* Upon this most seasonable interposition, the in- 
spired historian makes a very judicious and edifyin;^ 
remark, which seems to be greatly obscured, if not en- 
tirely spoiled, by our translation : " In the mountof the 
Lord it shall be seen." I must confess, I have always 
been puzzled to find, not only a pertinent sense, but 
any sense at all, in these words. Whereas the original 
is as clear in its signification, as it is apposite to the 
purpose. " In the mount, the Lord will be seen :" 
or, " In the mount, the Lord will provide." q. d. 
" This memorable event gave rise to, at least is an emi- 
nent exemplification, of that proverbial expression, 
which is commonly used at this day. In the mount of 
difficulty, or in the very crisis of need, when matters 
seem to be Irretrievable and desperate, then the Lora 
appears as a present help. Man's extremity is God's 
opportunity." See Gen. xxii. 14. 

t Heb. XI. 17. "By faith, Abraham, when he w;is 
tried, offered up his son Isaac." The faith of which 
such glorious things are spoken, to which such ad- 
mirable achievements are ascribed, through this whole 
chapter, was a faith in the " seed of the woman," the 
promised Messiah. Or, could it be dem.onstrated, 
(which, I will venture to conclude, is impossible,) 
that, in all these heroic instances of obedience, there 
was no believing regard to Christ ; no apprehension 
of his unspeakable love ; no application of his transr 
cendent merits! our argument would not lose its 
force, but strike with redoubled energy. For, if a 
belief in vet y inferior manifestations of the divine 
goodness, faithfulness and pov/er, wrought so efficaci- 
ously on those ancient worthires; how much more 
victoriously must the same principle act, under far 
brighter displays of all the supreme perfections, in the 
person of Jesus Christ ! I would only add, that so 
long as this chapter remains in the Bible, it will fur- 
nish an unanswerable confutation of those objections, 
which suppose the doctrine of faith to have an un- 
kindly influence on religious or virtuous practice. 
Against all such cavils, it will stand fast for evermore 
as the moon, and as the faithful witness in heaven. 
> i He seems to have expected not only the certain, 
but the immediate restoration of his slain son ; that 
he should be revived on the verv spot, before he left 
the place, so as to accompany his return. For hesays 
to his servants. Not I, but wc will go, and worship, 
1 and return, ver. 5. 



LETTER XIL 



406 



l^e called," the patmrdi doubted not but 
the promise woiild, in a way known to in- 
finite wisdom, be punctually accomplished. 
Hence he made no dispute, and felt no re- 
luctance. His faith banished every uneasy 
apprehension ; and neither fear nor sorrow 
had place in his breast. By faith he was 
enabled, speedily and cheerfully, without so 
much as a parting tear,* to obey this un- 
paralleled precept. 

And if all this, which would otherwise 
have been utterly impracticable, was wrought 
by faith, you need not suspect of weakness 
and insufficiency so approved a principle. 
Far from enervating, it will invigorate every 
good disposition ; and instead of damping, 
will give life to every religious duty. Cher- 
ish faith, and you. will of course cultivate 
obedience. Water this root, and the 
branches of universal godliness will assur- 
edly partake the beneficial effects ; will 
spread their honours, and bring forth their 
fruits. Through the power of faith, the 
Siiints have wrought righteousness in all its 
magnanimous and heroic acts. The doc- 
trine of faith is called by St. Paul " a doc- 
trine according to godliness," 1 Tim. vi. 3, 
exquisitely contrived to answer all the ends, 
and secure every interest of real piety. The 
grace of faith St. Jude styles our most 
holy faith," Jude ver. 20, intimating, that 
it is not only productive of holiness, but 
that the most retined and exalted holiness 
arises from this stock. 

Let us then be diligent to exercise, and 
careful to increase, faith in Jesus Christ. 
Let us maintain the same zealous solicitude 



* This account is so very extraordinary, that I 
shall not be surprised if the reader finds some diffi- 
culty in giving his assent to it; especially, as he may 
have accustomed himself lo form very different con- 
ceptions of this remarkable affair ; and may possibly 
be confirmed in a different train of ideas, by seeing a 
representation of the story in a celebrated print, where 
the father appears clasping his son in a tender em- 
brace; bedewmq him with tears, and suffering as 
much through grief, as the devoted yovith is going to 
suffer by the knife. But the engraver, I apprehend, 
had not so attentively examined the circumstances of 
the sacred narrative, not so carefully compared them 
with other passages of scripture, as a judicious and 
Avorthy friend of mine ; from whom I learned to con- 
sider this wonderful transaction in the above-repre- 
sented view. And I must confess, the more I revolve 
it in my mind, the more I am convinced of its pro- 
priety. 

I flatter myself, the reader will be of the same opi- 
nion, if he pleases to consult the tenth chapter of Le^ 
viticus, where Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, 
are devoured by fire from before the Lord. V'et 
Aaron is not allowed to mourn, even at such a terri- 
ble and afflictive visitation. And when, through the 
frailty of human nature, he could not wholly refrain, 
he durst not presume to eat of the sin-offering, « ' Such 
things," says he, " have befallen me ; if I had eaten of 
the sm-offering, should it have been accepted in the 
sight of the Lord ?"' Let me add, that we find not the 
least indication of such agonizing sorrow, nor indeed 
of any sorrow at all, in the history as related by Mo- 
ses. Neither could Abraham have been a proper 
type of the eternal Father, making his only begotten 
Son a sacrifice for sin, if he had not wilhngly offered 
up Isaac. Indeed to offer willingly, seems to have 
been absolutely necessary, in every acceptable obla- 
tion, and every reUgious sei-vice. See 2 Cor. ix. 7; 1 
Chron. xxviii, 9. 



for this leadii^ capital grace, as the renown- 
ed Epaminondas expressed for his shield. 
When that gallant general was, in an en- 
gagement with the enemy, struck to the 
ground ; his soldiers carried him off, breath- 
less and fainting, to his tent. The very mo- 
ment he opened his eyes, and recovered the 
use of speech, he asked — not whether his 
wound was mortal, not whether his troops 
were routed, but whether his shield was 
safe ? — May we be enabled, my dear friend, 
to keep our shield safe ! May we be strong, 
be steady, be lively in faith ! Then I doubt 
not we shall give gloiy to God, receive com- 
fort to ourselves, and abound in the works - 
of the Lord. 

Nothing can be more pertinent to my 
purpose than the apostle's prayer, " That 
we may know what is the hope of our call- 
ing in Christ Jesus, and what is the exceed- 
ing greatness of his power to themward who 
believe." And nothing can be more expres- 
sive of the very soul of your affectionate 

ASPASIO. 



LETTER XIL 

AsPASio TO Theron. 

Ujear Theron, — It is very probable while 
I am reading yours, you are perusing mine. 
But how unlike is my friend to the repre- 
sentation he receives ! How unlike the sa- 
tistied, unsuspecting, cheerful Abraham ! 
Why this dejected air in your temper ? Why 
those pensive strokes in your letter ? Let 
me aTiticipate your reply, and make answer 
to myself. This gloom, I trust, is a sign 
of approaching day. Just before the morn- 
ing dav^^l, the nocturnal darkness is black- 
est : And just before the appearance of the 
Sun of Righteousness, the penitent's dis- 
tress is frequently the deepest I promise 
myself the hour is at hand which will 
" put off your sackcloth, and gird you with 
gladness." 

Another favourable presage is, that you 
take the direct and certain way to obtain 
substantial comfort. The righteousness of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, after which you in- 
quire, about which you are solicitous, is a nevei 
failing spniig of consolation : because it acquits 
from all sin ; secures from all condemnation 
and renders the believer unblamable and 
unreprovable in the sight of God. There, 
fore says the holy Ghost, " His name is as 
ointment poured forth," Cant. i. 3 ; even 
that divinely-precious name, by which he 
has been celebrated in the preceding epistles ; 
by which he is distinguished in the scrip- 
tures of truth ; by which, I hope, he will be 
more and more revealed in my Theron's 
mind} — " The Lord our righteoUvSness," 



406 



THERON AND A6PA6IO. 



The discovery of him under this most ami- 
able and glorious capacity, will indeed be 
like breaking open a vial of the richest un- 
guents ; which not only fill the room, and 
regale the sense with their delightful fra- 
grance, but refresh the spirits, and " rejoice 
the very heart." Might my writing, or my 
discourse, be as the alabaster box, to con- 
tain, to convey, and present these reviving 
odours ; how highly should I think myself 
honoured, and how signally my endeavours 
blessed ! 

You ask, " How this' '"righteousness of 
the divine Redeemer becomes ours ?" It is 
a question which I receive with the utmost 
pleasure ; and, with equal pleasure, shall at 
tempt an answer. Or rather, as the Spirit 
of our God prompted the fu-st, may the same 
unerring Guide suggest the last ! This he 
has abundantly done by his prophets and 
apostles; so that I need only have recourse 
to their writings, and collect some^ of the 
hints which lie treasured up in those store- 
houses of wisdom. 

There we are often to. d of union with 
Christ. Believers are said to be "in Christ," 
Col. i. 2 ; and to be " one with Christ," 
Heb. ii. 11- What is still higher, and im- 
plies a greater degree of nearness, they are 
" members of his body, of his flesh, and of 
his bones," Eph. v. 30. And, which de- 
notes the most intimate connexion imagin- 
able," They that are joined to the Lord Jesus, 
are one Spirit, 1 Cor. vi. 17, with him ! 
As these expressions appear dark, and their 
sense lies deep, it has pleased our all-con- 
descending Instructor to illustrate them by 
a variety of significant types and lively si- 
militudes. This remark very opportunely 
reminds me of an engagement which, some 
time ago, I undertook to execute, but have 
hitherto omitted — to make it evident that 
the blessed doctrine for which we have been 
pleading, " is deducible from several scrip- 
ture images." A short descant upon some 
of the principal, will, I hope, at once dis- 
charge my former obligation, and satisfy your 
present inquiry. 

This was shadowed forth by the costly, 
odoriferous, flowing unguent, poured upon 
Aaron's head ; " which ran down upon his 
beard, and descended to the skirts* of his 
clothing." Psalm cxxxiii. 2. So the merits 
of our great High Priest are derived down 
to all the faithful ; even those of the mean- 
est station in life, and the lowest attain- 
ments in religion. 

Was it not typified by that instructive 
vision which the prophet Zechariali saw ? 
" I have looked, and behold ! a candlestick 
all of gold, with a bowl upon the top of it. 



« What we render skirts, is, in the original, the 
tnoitfh, or, as the word is translated, Job xxx. Jft, the 

wiYtf of his garnaents. . 



and his seven lamps thereon, and seven pipes 
to the seven lamps, which were upon the 
top thereof ; and two olive-trees by it, one 
upon the right side of the bowl, and the 
other upon the left side thereof ; which, 
through two golden pipes, empty the golden 
oil out of themselves." Zech. iv. 2, 3, 12. 
The bowl and the lamps were a proper em- 
blem of believers who are, by nature, dry 
vessels, and destitute of all good ; yet should 
shine as lights in the midst of a crooked 
and perverse generation. The olive-trees, 
arrayed in verdure, and abounding with sap ; 
always emptying themselves, yet ever full; 
are a very just representation of Christ, of 
his unchangeable love, and his inexhaustible 
grace. The golden pipes, through which 
the olive branches transmit their oil, seem 
to be figurative of faith, in its various and 
repeated actings. By these channels of 
conveyance, the unspeakable benefits of 
a Redeemer are communicated to om: souls, 
and replenish those empty basins. 

Another type the apostle mentions : 
" The first Adam," he says, "was a figure 
of him that was to come." Rom. v. 14. 
So eminent a figure, and corresponding in 
so many instances, that he styles our " Lord 
Jesus the last Adam." 1 Cor. xv. 45. And 
why ? Because, like the first, he was a co- 
venant head to his people, and transacted in 
their stead. Insomuch that what he did, 
and what he suff'ered, both are placed to 
their account. Is Adam's sin imputed to 
all his natural offspring? So is Christ's 
righteousness to all his spiritual seed. The 
consequences of both render the doctrine 
niore intelligible, and the truth more unde - 
niable. All men are "judged, condemnpH, 
dead," Rom. v. 15, 16, doomed inevitably 
to the death of the body, and justly liable 
to the death of the soul, on the score of 
Adam's transgression. All believers are 
" acquitted, justified, saved ;" Rom. v. 19, 
21, saved from the first death, and made 
heirs of the resurrection ; saved from the 
second death, and entitled to life eternal, 
by virtue of Christ's obedience. 

This union with Christ was not only pre- 
figured by types, but is displayed by a va- 
riety of similitudes taken from the most fa- 
miliar occurrences of life ; by which it ap- 
pears to be our divine Master's will, that 
we should live under the habitual belief ol 
this momentous truth, and in the constant 

enjoyment of this distinguished privilege 

You cannot visit a friend, or view your 
children ; you cannot enter your garden, 
discoiu'se with your spouse, or contemplate 
your own body, without a representation and 
a remembrancer of this precious blessing. 

Christ says to his disciples, " Henceforth 
I call you not servants, but friends." John 
XV. 15. Friends are a second self. St, 
Paul, speaking of Onesimus, uses this re- 



LETTER XIL 



407 



markable phrase. " Receive liim as my- 
self," and, which is still more emphatical, 
" Receive him, that is mine own bowels." 
Philem. 12, 17. Is not Christ's friendship 
of the most tender and exalted kind ? Doubt- 
less it must be equal, doubtless it must be 
.superior to Jonathan's — Jonathan loved 
David as his own soul : But Christ loved 
sinners with a love stronger than death. 
They were dearer to him than his own in- 
estimable life. — Jonathan exposed himself 
to imminent danger, in vindicating David's 
conduct. Jesus surrendered himself to cer-. 
tain death in making reconciliation for our 
offences. — Jonathan interceded once and 
again with his father in David's behalf. 
Christ ever liveth, to plead his blood, and 
make intercession for transgressors. " Jo- 
nathan stripped himself of the robe that 
was upon him to give it to David, and his 
garment, even to his sv^'ord, and his bow, 
and his girdle." 1 Sam. xviii. 4. Our Re- 
deemer, without stripping himself, has cloth- 
ed us (such is the prerogative of a divine 
person !) with the robe of his righteousness, 
and with the garment of liis salvation. He 
has consigned over to us all the merit of 
bis holy life and propitiatory death. 

Christ stands related to his people, not 
as a friend only, but as a parent. He is 
called by a prophet, The everlasting Fa- 
ther," Isa. 6. 9 ; and we are said by an 
apostle to be his " children," Heb. ii. 13. 
Children look upon themselves as interest- 
ed in the wealth of their parents. They 
expect, and not without reasonable ground, 
to reap benefit from it while the parents 
live, and to become possessors of it, when 
they die. Accordingly, the father says in 
the gospel, " Son, all that I have is thine," 
Luke XV. 31. Since the high and holy 
Emmanuel vouchsafes to be our Father, can 
we suppose him less generous than an earth- 
ly parent? or can we imagine that his children 
shall have less to hope than the heirs of an 
earthly progenitor ? May we not, ought we 
not, to regard all his communicable goods, 
all the benefi.ts resulting from his merito- 
rious sufferings and perfect obedience, as our 
portion ? Especially since he is the testator 
also, Heb. ix. 17 ; has bequeathed them 
to us by will, and having submitted to death, 
they become legally ours. 

" I am the Vine," says our Lord, " ye are 
the branches," John xv. 5- They who be- 
lieve, are ingi-afted into Christ. Take no- 
tice of a cyon. What are the consequences 
of its ingrafture ? It is embodied with the 
substance of the tree, and partakes of its 
fatness. The sap, imbibed by the root, 
circulates into it, gives it vegetable life, fills 
it with buds, decks it with blossoms, and 
loads it with fruit. If then we are one 
with Christ, as much as the branch is one 
with the stock, it must follow, even upon 



the principles of common experience, that 
his wisdom is ours, to enlighten us ; his 
righteousness is ours, to justify us ; his 
Spirit is ours, to sanctify us ; his I'edemp- 
tion is ours, to make us completely and 
eternally happy. 

Christ is united to his people by a tie 
closer and dearer than the parental. They 
are not only his children, but his spouse. 
He is often called their bridegroom, and is 
not ashamed to avow the tender engage- 
ment ; " I will betroth thee unto m^e for ever. 
Yea, I will betroth thee unto me in righte- 
ousness, and in judgment, and in loving- 
kindness, and in mercies. I will even be- 
troth thee unto me in faithfulness," Hos. 
ii. 19, 20. The condescending God multi- 
plies, diversifies, accumulates his words ; 
and this with admirable propriety, as well 
as surpassing goodness. The honour ig sot 
high, and the favour so great, we should 
hardly know how to believe it, and hardly 
venture to apply it. Lest, therefore, by a 
single expression, it should not be sufficient- 
ly established, it stands ratified by repeated 
asseverations, and with all the energy ot 
language ; so that, be the grace ever so as- 
tonishing, we are assured the fact is equally 
certain, he that is our Maker, is all our 
Husband. Isa. liv. 5. 

Let us consider what follows upon such 
an union. We may take for an example, 
the case of Boaz and Ruth. Soon as their 
nuptials were solemnized, she that was poor 
became rich ; from a gleaner in the field she 
commenced mistress of the harvest; and 
from abiding by the maidens had a seat at 
the master's table. And if we are united 
to Christ by a marriage-contract, the same 
effects will take place. We that were poor, 
are rich in him ; we who had nothing, pos- 
sess all things in Christ ; we that dwell in 
dust, are made to sit together with our di- 
vine Husband in heavenly places, Eph. ii. 
6. 

If you choose some modern exemplifica- 
tion, what can be more pertinent than the 
remarkable instance of your neighbour Ari- 
etta ? She was lately left a widow, by the 
dissolute and extravagant Bellario ; her cir- 
cumstances miserably embarrassed, and the . 
little estate deeply mortgaged ; her friends 
looked shy, and her creditors became clam- 
orous ; scarce a day passed, but it made 
some new discovery of debts contracted by 
the deceased ; so that the affairs of the sur- 
vivor appeared with a more melancholy as- 
pect, and in a less retr-ievable condition. 
But having won, first the compassion, then 
the affection, of the wealthy and illustrious 
Philander, how happily is the face of things 
altered ! All her debts devolve upon him, 
and all his dignity is derived to her.* He 



The deinands of the law are perfect obedience :• 



408 



THERON AND A^PASIO. 



i^ands responsible for whatever she owes ; 
and she is a sharer in whatever he possesses. 
Though little less than ruined by her late 
husband, she is more than restored by her 
present; and has reason to rejoice in his 
affluence, and to glory in his honours. Have 
ijot we also reason to rejoice in our heavenly 
Bridegroom — since a far more glorious ex- 
change subsists between him and his mysti- 
cal spouse ? He has bore the curse, that we 
may inherit the blessing. Sin was charged 
on him, that righteousness might be imput- 
ed to us. In a word, he has sustained all 
our miseries, that he might impart to us all 
his benefits. Has the law any demand ? 
It must go to him for satisfaction. Have 
we any wants ? We may look to him for a 
supply ; to him, Theron, " in whom it has 
pleased the Father that all fulness should 
dwell." Col. i. 19. 

If any thing can express an union more 
intimate and inseparable than the conjugal, 
it is that of the members with the head. 
And this image is used by the Holy Ghost, 
to shadow forth the connexion between 
Christ and the faithful. He is the " head 
over all things," whh respect to rule and su- 
premacy, but a head of union and influence, 
with respect *• to the Church." Eph. i. '22. 
The head and the members constitute one 
natural, Christ and his church compose 
one mystical body. What kindness is 
done, what injury is offered to the mem- 
bers, the head regards them as done to 
itself. Accordingly, Christ says to the 
outrageous Saul, who made havoc of the 
church, " Saul, Saul, why pei'secutest thou 
me?" Acts ix. 4. He declares, concerning 
those indigent Christians to whose necessi- 
ties we administer relief ; " Inasmuch as ye 
have done it unto them, ye have done it unto 
me." Matth. xxv. 40. The animal spirits 
formed in the head, are formed for the be- 
nefit of the whole body, and designed for 
the use of all the members. So the righte- 
ousness wrought by Jesus Christ, is wrought 
out for his whole mystical body, and intend- 
ed for the advantage of all his people ; to 
be the cause of their justification, and the 
purchase of their salvation. 

Being then so nearly related, so closely 
united to the blessed Jesus, it is no wonder 
that believers are now loved with the same 
fatherly love, and will hereafter be partakers 
of the same heavenly glory. What might 
we not expect from the divine Redeemer, 
if he vouchsafed to acknowledge but one of 
those endearing names ? Since he has en- 
gaged himself to us by all the ties of affinity 
and affection, may we not promise ourselves, 



Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart. 
To which, in rase of disobedience, is superadded con- 
dign punishment, " Cursed is he that continueth not 
in jjll things," 



and with the assurance of hope, every good 
thing; " even all the fulness of God," Eph. 
iii. 19, our Saviour? Does not each of 
these tender relations, subsisting between 
Christ and his saints, imply an entire pror 
perty in one another, and a mutual partici- 
pation of all that belongs to either? — " My 
beloved is mine, and I am his, — I dare not 
say, is the posy of the mystical ring ; but it 
is the undoubted effect of this divine union. 

How pleasing, yet how amazing the 
thought ! Shall we, who say to corruption, 
" Thou art my Father ;" and to the worm, 
" Thou art my mother and my sister," Jol) 
xvii. 14, shall we be permitted to say, con- 
cerning the Head of all principality and 
power, " We are members of his body, of 
his flesh, and of his bones ?'' Eph. v. 30. 
What a mercy might we esteem it, not to 
be confounded before a Majesty so exalted 
and sublime ! What a favour, to obtain the 
least propitious regard from the King im- 
mortal and invisible ! What an honour, to 
be admitted into his family, and numbered 
among the meanest of his servants! But 
to be his adopted children; to be his es- 
poused bride ; to be the members of his 
sacred body ; to have him for our everlast- 
ing Father, him for the bridegroom of our 
souls, him for our heavenly head, who is the 
Maker of all worlds, and the Sovereign of 
all creatures ! What words can duly cele^ 
brate, what heart can sufficiently admire, 
the condescension and the love of our ador.. 
able Jesus ? or who can justly question the 
fruits of such a fellowship, and the conse- 
quences of such an union ? Question them I 
No, the fruits are infallibly sure, as the pri- 
vilege is inexpressibly great. 

Let me once again introduce a great and 
venerable witness of both these truths : 
" Laban spake high, when he said, ' These 
children are mine, and all these things thou 
seest are mine." But how high and glori- 
ous is that which may be said of a justified 
person : All thou hearest of Christ is thine ; 
his life is thine, his death is thine, his obe- 
dience, merit, spirit, all thine !"* Rich and 
important words ! than which nothing can 
give us a juster or fuller explanation of the 
apostle's assertion, " We are partakers of 
Christ." Heb, iii. 14. 

When some foreign ladies, of the first 
quality, paid a visit to Leonidas' queen, the 
talk turned upon their rich clothes, their 
costly jewels, and splendid equipage. After 
they had severally displayed each her own 
grandeur, they inquired after her majesty's 
finery— what she had to distinguish her 
frond the vulgar ? She replied, " My illus, 
trious husband." What else ? " My illus- 
trious husband." And as often as they re- 



* See Dr. Lightfoot's Works, vol. ii. p. 1077i 



DIALOGUE XV. 



409 



peated the same question, she returned the 
same answer. Could this queen speak in 
such admiring, rejoicing, self-gratulating 
terms of her royal consort ? And shall not 
vile sinners look upon their Redeemer — 
that all-glorious, yet all-condescending bride- 
groom ; who is full of grace and truth, full 
of merit and righteousness — shall not they 
much more look upon him as their honour 
and their joy; the object of their depend- 
ence, and the cause of their boasting ? 

I should find it difficult to refrain from 
the farther prosecution of so engaging a to- 
pic, did I not propose to wait upon my 
Theron very speedily. Then I shall have 
an opportunity of pouring into his bosom all 
the fulness of my heart, with regard to this 
delightful subject. In the mean time, let 
me exhort my dear friend to be of good com- 
ioTt. " Heaviness may endure for a night, 
but joy cometh in the morning," Psalm xxx. 
3. This sorrow of which you complain, may 
be the seed of spiritual and eternal consola- 
tion. 

WTiile I am writing, there'appears full in 
my view one of the finest rainbows I ever 
beheld. It compasseth the heavens with a 
glorious circle ; so glorious that it is no dis- 
paragement of the almighty Creator to say, 
" the hands of the Most High have bended 
it.'' Ecclus. xliii. 12. On what foundation 



would I ask is that stately and beautiful arch 
raised ? From what source do all its ra- 
diant and lovely colours spring ! It is raised 
on a gloomy assemblage of vapovu*s ; and all 
its rich tinctures spring from a louring cloud. 
Thus does the blessed God, on a conviction 
of guilt and a sense of ruin, spread faith, 
plant holiness, and diffuse gladness. May 
all these, ere long, arise in my Theron's 
breast ! and each be bright as that resplen- 
dent bow ; lasting as the sim that creates 
it! 

In the mean time, it is the ardent wish of 
my soul, and shall be my frequent prayer to 
God, " That both our hearts may be comfort- 
ed, being knit together in love, unto allriches 
of the full assurance of understanding," Col. 
ii. 1, in this great mystery of godliness. What 
yigouT of expression, what exuberance of 
ideas ; and, above all, what distinguished 
privileges are here? — Assurance — full assur- 
ance — riches of the fidl assiu-ance — all rich- 
es of the full assurance of understanding" — 
in reference to our union with Christ, and 
its unutterably-precious effects ! Can the 
orator express more ? Can the sinner de- 
sire more ? Can the saint, I had almost said, 
can the archangel enjoy more ? — May this 
be the portion of my dear Theron, and of 
His ever faithful 

ASPASIO. 



DIALOGUES. 



DIALOGUE XV. 



AsPAsro had taken leave of his friend 
Camillus, and was come to revisit Theron, 
whose thoughts seemed to be in a state of 
much fluctuation, and no small anxiety, hop- 
ing that some proper conversation on the 
grace and privileges of the everlasting gos- 
pel might compose and comfort his mind, 
might, while his heart was softened by 
humbling convictions, fix the stamp of ge- 
nuine Christianity, and deliver his whole 
soul into the mould* of evangelical reli- 
gion. 



* Deliver into the Mould. — This is the literal trans- 
lation, and exact sense of St. Paul's phrase, E;; £v 
Tci^s'^eo^nri rvTTov ?/^a;^;>i?, Rom. vi. 17, which, as it 
contains a beautiful ailusion, conveys also a very in- 
structive admonition ; intimating, that our minds, 
aJl pliant and ductile, should be conformed to the re- 
fined precepts of the gospel, as liquid metals take the 
figure of some elegant mould into which they are 
cast. 



When sorrows wound the breast, as ploughs the glebe. 
And hearts obdurate feel her soft'nmg shower. 
Her seed celestial then glad Wisdom sows; 
Her golden harvests triumph in the soul. 

Night Thoughts. 

He arrived pretty late in the evening, 
and, being somewhat wearied wath the jour- 
ney, soon withdrew to his repose. The 
next morning, as Theron walked abroad to 
taste the cool delights of the dawn, he was 
agreeably surprised by meeting Aspasio. 

Ther. So soon awake, my worthy fiiend 
and after so much fatigue on the preceding 
day ! I had not the least expectation of yom' 
company till breakfast. Then, indeed, I 
promised myself a double regale ; the re- 
freshments exhibited on the table, and those 
"wholesome words of our Lord Jesus 
Christ," 1 Tim. vi. 3, which, more preci- 
ous than manna, drop — 

Asp. How, Theron ! Have you alsoleam 
ed those soothing aits, which polish th 



410 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



speech, to deprave our sentiments ! Could 
I have suspected the enchanting wiles of 
flattery, from my sincere, my tried, my bo- 
som friend ? 

Tlier. Your friend is still sincere, and 
his M^ords are very remote from flattery. — 
How welcome to the wind-bound mariner, 
weary with expectation, and sick with disap- 
pointments, is the visit of a propitious gale ? 
How welcome to the fields, parched with 
drought and gasping for moisture, are copious 
showers of rain ! How acceptable to the Is- 
raelites, travelling through the inhospitable 
desert, and pining away for want of the 
fruits of the earth, was the miraculous 
supply of heavenly bread! Yet neither propi- 
tious gales to the wind-bound mariner, nor 
copious showers to the thirsty soil, nor 
heavenly bread to the famished Israelites, 
could be more welcome than your late con- 
versation, and later correspondence, to my 
anxious soul. 

Asp. Why, I thought you looked upon 
my notions as chimerical. Is Theron also 
become credulous ? Like one of us weak- 
headed believers, has he quitted the strong- 
holds of reason ? is he vanquished by the 
slingstone of faith ? or can he submit to this 
strange method of salvation, by embracing 
the righteousness and relying on the obe- 
dience of another? 

Ther, I find my reason was a feeble 
guide, or I myself not faithful to its genuine 
dictates. I was blinded with prejudice^ I was 
intoxicated with pride ; a vain conceit of 
my moral powers betrayed me, as I fear it 
has betrayed many, into a contempt of the 
evangelical righteousness. I held what I 
thought an honour to human nature. I now 
retract my opinion : I now perceive, that 
as my natural light could not discover the 
way, neither can my personal obedience put 
me in possession of life and salvation. My 
true glory, and real happiness, I would 
henceforth derive from the blessed Jesus. 
No more banter, Aspasio : — have done : I 
am serious, and very much in earnest ; so 
much in earnest, that if all my acquaintance 
of the Pharisaical turn, or if all my bro- 
thers of the smile, should rally me on the 
subject, I would frankly acknowledge my 
error, and as freely sign my recantation. 

Asp. My dear Theron, I applaud your re- 
solution. You have no more cause to be 
ashamed of such a practice, than Philip had 
to ^be ashamed of the imperfection in 
his limbs ; when, being observed to go 
lame with a wound received in battle, he 
had this consolation suggested by one of 
his courtiers : " Never blush, my Royal Sir, 
for a defect which puts you in mind of your 
valour every step you take." To sacrifice 
our prejudices in the search of truth, is no 
less honourable than to be marked with a 
scar in the defence of our country. | 



I beg pardon for my pleasantry. Sinc^ 

you are so very serious, a gay air was quite 
unseasonable. You cannot often complain 
that I am guilty of this fault. Nor can you 
easily imagine the satisfaction I shall en^ 
joy, if either my letters or my discourse 
have administered any advantage to my friend. 
I shall note it down among the distinguish- 
ed blessings of my life ; and have an addi- 
tional obligation to love the beneficent au- 
thor of all good. 

But as I cannot be a furtherer of your 
happiness without the greatest delight, so I 
cannot be a witness of your solicitude with- 
out a painful regret. You must therefore 
permit me to ask the cause of that unusual 
vehemence which I observe in your speech, 
and of that deep concern which I read in 
your countenance. 

Thcr. I have been 'considering very at- 
tentively, what is the present state, and 
what is likely to be the final condition of 
my soul. 

My hopes and fears 

Start up alarm'd; and o'er life's narrow verge 
Look down — on what ? A fathomless abyss. 
A \ ast eternity ! 

My sins, at the same time, like an armed 
host, are set in dreadful array, and surround 
me on every side. Justice, like an injured 
and incensed foe, unsheathes the sword, 
and makes a loud demand for. vengeance. 
No righteousness of my ovm presents itself, 
to which I may fly for refuge. The method 
of salvation, in which I formerly confided, 
is a bridge broken down ; and leaves me, 
without any possibility of escape, abandon- 
ed to the approaching enemy. 

To a person in such deplorable circum- 
stances, how reviving, how delightful, is the 
very thought of being interested in the great 
Redeemer's righteousness ! I do not wonder 
now at a saying of Luther's, which I have 
sometimes exploded as strangely extrava- 
gant : " That, upon the discovery of this 
glorious righteousness, the gates of Paradise 
seemed to fly open before him, and the dawn 
of heaven was all in view." 

Talking in this manner, they came to an 
elevated terrace ; which, about an hour be- 
fore, had been shaved by the scythe, and 
emitted all the freshness of new-mown 
herbage. On one side, a fine champaign 
country stretched its wide dimensions ; on 
the other, a flower-garden exhibited the last 
ornaments of the year. Here you might 
still see the tufted vermillion, and the full- 
blown ivory, glittering through spangles of 
liquid crystal. There you might trace the 
footsteps of the early cattle, by many a re- 
cent print on the dewy lawn. On the 
walls and espaliers autumn had spread her 
stores, and was beginning to beautify their 
rinds with many a ruddy streak, or to 
breathe over their glossy skhis her delicate 
and inimitable bloom. ■ ' 



DIALOGUE XV. 



411 



Asp. See, said Aspasvo, the wisdom and 
benignity which, in amiable and inseparable 
conjunction, display themselves through the 
whole economy of the universe : " God 
has made every thing beautiful in his time," 
Eccl. iii. 11, eveiy thing serviceable in its 
place. A little while ago, the flowery 
meads delighted our eyes, and the melodi- 
ous birds charmed our ears ; now, the 
tasteful fruits are preparing their dainties, 
and presenting us with a collation to regale 
our palate. The whole earth, and all the 
seasons, are rich with our Creator's good- 
ness. Yea, the whole earth, and all that 
replenishes it, all that surrounds it, are full 
of his presence. He it is who 

Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; 
Lives through all life, extends through all extent, 
Spreads undivided, operates unspent.* 

An habitual belief of this truth gives na- 
ture her loveliest aspect, and lends her the 
most consummate power to please. The 
breath of violets, and the blush of roses ; 
the music of the woods, and the meanders 
of the stream ; the aspiring hill, the ex- 
tended plain, and all the decorations of the 
landscape, then appear in their highest at- 
tractives, then touch the soul with the most 
refined satisfaction, when God is seen, 
when God is heard, and God enjoyed in 
all. Is Theron lost in thought, and de- 
prived of speech ? Is lie alone silent while 
all things speak their INIaker's praise ? 
Does faith throw a shade over the works 
of creation? Does it not heighten their 
beauties and enliven their graces ? The 
religious is the only true philosopher ; and 
the pleasures of imagination never acquire 
their proper relish, till they are ripened by 
the exercise of devotion. With this view 
then, since my friend forbears, let me at- 
tempt to speak ; not to increase his know- 
ledge, but to cherish faith, and cultivate 
devotion in us both. 

The spacious canopyf over our heads, is 
painted with blue ; and the ample carpet 
ui:der our feet, is tinged with green. These 
colours, by their soft and cheering qualities, 
yield a perpetual refreshment to the eye:| 
whereas, had the face of nature glistered 
with white, or glowed with scarlet, such 



* Pope's Ethic. Epist. 

I What Aspasio calls the canopy, Isaiah describes 
p'l^j which we translate "as a curtain;" but the 
exact signification is, " Sicut tenue, vel tenuissimum 
(juid ;" " Like some finely attenuated expanse." Not 
like the curtains of the covering of the tabernacle, 
which were goats' hair and barlgers' skins, shaggy and 
coarse; but like some very fine membrane, smooth 
B!ul elegant, nicely polished, and inimitably delicate. 
Than which comparison nothing can more perfectly 
correspond with the aspect of the sky. 

± Gay green. 

Thou smiling nature's universal robe ! 

United light and shade ! where the sight dwells. 

With growing strength, and ever new delight. 

Thomson's Spriiiff, 



ardent and dazzling hues would, instead of 
exhilarating, have fatigued the sight. Be- 
sides, as the several brighter colours are in- 
terspersed, and form the pictures in this 
magnificent piece ; the green and the blue 
constitute an admirable ground, which 
shows them all in their highest lustre, and 
to the utmost advantage.* 

Had the air been considerably grosser, it 
would have dimmed the rays of the sun, 
and darkened the cheerful day ; our lungs 
had been clogged in their vital functions ; 
men had been suflEbcated, without the 
strangling noose ; or drowned, without the 
overwhelming flood. Was it several de- 
grees more subtle, birds would not be able 
to wing their way through the firmament ; 
nor could the clouds be sustained in so at- 
tenuated an atmosphere. It would elude 
the organs of respiration ; we should gasp 
for breath, with as much difficulty, and with 
as little success, as fishes out of their na- 
tive element. 

The ground also is wTOUght into the most 
proper temperature. Was it of a firmer con- 
sistence, it woidd be impenetrable to the 
plough, and unmanageable by the spade. 
Was it of a laxer composition, it Avould be 
incapable of supporting its own furniture. 
The light mould woidd be swept away by 
the Avhirling winds ; or the oozy glebe 
soaked into sloughs by the descending rains. 
Because every situation suits not eveiy 
plant, but that which is a nurse to one often 
proves a stepmother to others ; therefore 
the qualities of the earth are so abundantly 
diversified, as properly to accommodate 
every species of vegetation. We have a va- 
riety of intermediate soils, from the loose 
disjointed sand, to the stiff cohesive clay ; 
from the rough projections of the craggy 
cliff, to the softly-swelling bed of the smooth 
parterre. 

The sea carries equal evidences of a most 
wise and gracious ordination. Was it larger, 
we should want land for the purposes of 
pasturage and the operations of husbandry. 
We should be destitute of sufficient room 
for mines and forests ; our subterranean 
warehouses, and our aerial timber-yards. — 
Was it smaller, it would not be capable of 
recruiting the sky with a proper quantity of 
vaporous exhalations, nor of supplying the 
earth with the necessary quota of fructify- 
ing showers. 

Do we not discern very apparent strokes 
of skill, and the most pregnant proofs of 
goodness, in each individual object? in the 



* If the reader has patience to go through the fol* 
lowing essay, he will find it, in the issue, not altoge- 
ther foreign to the main subject. If he pleases to 
consider it, as a kind of practical comment, in that 
lovely celebration of providential goodness. His ten- 
der mercies are over all his works; this may possibly 
alleviate the toil of perusing, and reccmciie him to 
the length of tke descant. 



THE RON AND ASPASIO. 



il'2 

various tenants of the globe, and the several 
appurtenances of this great dwelling? It 
is needless to expatiate upon the more 
eminent and conspicuous beauties— all that 
shines in the heavens, and all that smiles on 
the earth. These speak to every ear, these 
show to eveiy eye, the adorable munificence 
t)f their Maker. It is needless to launch 
into the praises of the valleys, delicately 
clothed with herbage ; or of the fields, rich- 
ly replenished with corn. Even the ragged 
locks, which frown over the flood ; the ca- 
verned quarries, which yawn amidst the land ; 
together with the mountains, those shape- 
less and enormous protuberances, which 
seem to load the ground and encumber the 
skiq^ ; even these contribute their share 
to increase the general pleasure, and aug- 
ment the general usefulness. They varie- 
gate the prospect ; raise an agreeable horror 
in the beholder ; and inspire his breast with 
a religious awe. They add new charms to 
the wide level of our plains ; and shelter, 
like a screen, the warm lap of our vales. 

We are delighted with the solemn gloom 
and magnificent aspect of the forest. One 
who saw the cedars of Lebanon, was tran- 
sported with admiration at their ample 
trunks and towering heads, their diffusive 
spread and verdant grandeur. Compared 
with v/hich the stately elm is but a reed, 
and the branching oak a mere shrub. Was 
our sight qualified for the search, we should 
discover a symmetry and a dignity altoge- 
ther as perfect, and far more wonderful, in 
those groves of moss* which adhere to the 
rude stone : we should contemplate with 
greater surprise, if not with gi-eater rapture, 
those diminutive plant:.tions, vi'hich strike 
their hasty roots in the mouldy confection, 
or wave their curious umbrage over the 
perished pickle.f 

Who is not charmed with the vine, and its 
generous wanning juices ? with the melon, 
and its delicious cooling pulp ? Yet, were 
all our trees to produce fruits of such ex. 
al ted qualities, or of such an agreeable relish, 
what would become of the birds ? How 



* See, for a proof of this remark, the explanation 
of the tenth plate, in that very curious, very enter- 
taining, and no less instructive piece entitled, " Mi- 
cographia Restaurata;" where our author compares 
the size of this little vegetable with the dimensions 
of those vast trees which grow in the vigorous cli- 
mates of Guinea and Brazil ; the trunks of which are, 
according to the report of travellers, twenty feet in 
diameter, whereas the body of this minute plant mea- 
sures no more than the sixtieth part of an inch. So 
that, upon a calculation, the thickness of the former 
exceeds that of the latter, 2,985,984 times. So prodi- 
giously various are the works of the Creator. 

t That whitish kind of down, which shags the pu- 
trefying pickle, which incrusts the surface of some 
corrupted liquors, and constitutes what we call moul- 
diness, is really a cluster of little plants. Each has a 
root and a stalk ; each spreads its branches, and pro- 
duces seed in abundance. 

Fadicesque suashabet, exilemqiie coronam, 
Frondestme, fructumque gefit, velut ardua quercus. 



small a scantling of such choice delicacies 
would voracious man resign to their enjoy- 
ment ? That provision may be made for 
the meanest vagrant of the air, as well 
as for the most renowned sovereign of a 
nation, there is, in all places, a large growth 
of shrubs, covered annually wnth a harvest 
of coarse and hardy berries ; so coarse in 
their taste, that they are unworthy of the 
acceptance of man ; so hardy in their make, 
that they endure the extreraest severities of 
the weather, and furnish the feathered tribe 
with a standing repast, amidst all the deso- 
lations of winter. 

The fir, with her silver bark, and shapely 
cone ; the beech,* with her quivering leaves 
and embowering shade, are stately decora- 
tions of our rural seats. But, if there were 
no entangling thickets, no prickly thorns, 
V. here would the farmer procure fences so 
closely wattled, or so strongly armed? How 
could he guard the scene of his labours, or 
secure his vegetable wealth from the flocks 
and the herds — those roving plunderers, 
which accede to no treaty, but that of forci- 
ble restraint, submit to no laws, but those 
of the coercive kind ? 

Most people are fond of the purslane's 
fleshy leaves, and the ramified fatness of the 
brocoli; the patato's mealy orbs, and the 
lentile's succulent pods. We spare no toil, 
we grudge no ex})ense, to have them flour- 
ish in our gardens, and served up at our ta- 
bles. But there are innumerable herbs, 
which pass under the contemptible charac- 
ter of weeds, and yet are altogether as de- 
sirable to many classes of creatures, as these 
culinary gifts to mankind. "Who shall be 
at the pains to plant, to water, to cultivate, 
such despicable productions ? Man would 
rather extirpate than propagate these incum- 
braiices of his acres. Therefore Provi- 
dence vouchsafes to be their gardener. Pro- 
vidence has wrought ofl^ their seeds into 
such a lightness of substance, that they 
are carried abroad with the undidations of 
the air ; or, if too heavy to be wafted by 
the breeze, they are fastened to wings of 
down, which facilitate their flight ; or else 
are enclosed in a springy case, which, forci- 
bly bursting, shoots and spreads them on 
every side. By some such means, the re- 
producing principle is disseminated, the uni- 
versal granary is filled, and the universal 
board furnished. The buzzhig insect, and 
the creeping worm, have each his bill of 
fare. Each enjoys a never-failing treat, 



» The fir, the beech, and such like treesjai-e called 
in Hebrew, Isa. vii. 19. Which word 

is rendered, but I think very improperly, bushes. It 
rather signifies the grand and most admired plants. 
It is intended as a contrast to the coarse and despica- 
ble thorns, mentioned in the preceding clause. And 
both taken together express all sorts of trees, from 
the towering cedar to the gro\*elling shrub. 



DIALOGUE XV. 



413 



equivalent to our finest venison, or to the 
" fat of kidneys of wheat."* 

As the seeds of some plants are most 
aitfiilly scattered abroad, when ripe, the 
seeds of others are most carefully guarded 
till they come to maturity ; and by both 
contrivances, every species is not barely 
preserved, but in a manner eternized. Some 
are lodged in the centre of a large pulp, 
which is at once their defence and their 
nourishment. This we find exemplified in 
the tasteful apple and the juicy pear. Some, 
besides the surrounding pulp, are enclosed 
in a thick shell, hard and impenetrable as 
stone. We cannot pluck and eat one of 
those downy peaches, or encrimsoned nec- 
tarines, which so beautifully emboss the 
wall, without finding a proof of this precau- 
tion. Cast your eye upon the walnuts, 
which stud the branches of that spreading 
tree. Before these are gathered, the increase 
of the cold, and the emptiness of the gar- 
dens, will sharpen the appetite of the birds. 
To secure the line kernel from the depre- 
dations of their busy assailing bills, it is 
fortified with a strong enclosure of wood, 
and with the addition of a disgustful bitter 
rind. 

If grass w^as as scarce as the Guernsey 
lily, or as difficultly raised as the delicate 
tuberose, how certainly and how speedily 
must many millions of quadrupeds perish 
with famine ! Since all the cattle ov.-e theii- 
chief subsistence to this vegetable, by a sin- 
gular beneficence in the divine economy, 
" it waiteth not," like the corn-field and the 
garden-bed, for the annual labours of n:ian, 
Micah V. 7. When once sown, though eve)- 
so frequently cropped, it revives with the 
returning season, and flourishes in a kind 
of perennial verdure. It covers our mea- 
dows, diffuses itself over the plains, springs 
up in every glade of the forest, and spreads 
a sideboard in the most sequestered nook. 

Since the nutriment of vegetables them- 
selves lies hid under the soil, or floats up 
and down in the air ; beneath, they plunge 
their roots-j- into the ground, and disperse 
every way their fibrous suckers, to explore 
the latent, and attract the proper nourish- 
ment ; above, they expand a nuiltitude of 
leaves, }- which, like so many open mouths. 



* The fat of kidneys of wheat, Deut. xxxii. 14. A 

sentencerich withelegance! suchas would haveshone 
in Pindar, or been adniired in Longinus. Yet, I be- 
lieve its principal beauty consists m an alhision to a 
remarkable Jewish lite. In every sacrifice, the fat 
of the kidneys was, as the most delicious part of the 
victim, set apart for God, and consumed on his altar. 
Here even the common people were treated like the 
Deity. They lay under no restraint, either from the 
divine prohibition, or the scarcity of the grain ; but 
were copiously supplied, and freely regaled them- 
selves with the choicest and finest part of this first 
and best of vegetables. 

■f Job most beautifully alludes to these two sources 
of vegetable fertility ; " My root was spiead out by 
the waters, and the dew "lay till night upon my 
branch.." Jab xxix. 19. 



catch the rains as tbey fall, imbibe the dews 
as they distil, and transmit them, through 
their nice orifices, to the heart of the plant, 
or the lobes of the fruit. 

I have touched upon the insensible crea- 
tion, and pointed out the care of a conde- 
scending Providence, exercised over these 
lowest formations of nature. The animal 
world, Theron, falls to your share. It is 
yours to descant upon those higher orders 
of existence ; and show us the goodness of 
God extending its indulgent regards to them 
and their interests, as tenderly, as officious.^ 
ly, as a hen spreadeth her wings over her 
infant brood. 

TJier. The subject is in good hands. 
Let part the second be of the same strain 
with part the first, and there wiW be no oc- 
casion to wish for a new speaker. As to 
myself, I have very little inclination to talk. 
But I have an ear open and attentive to 
yoiu- discourse. 

Asp. You put me in mind of the philo- 
sopher who presumed to read a lecture on 
the art of war in the presence of Hannibal. 
But his impertinence was voluntary, mine 
is constrained. Since you enjoin me this 
office, let us pass from the vegetable to the 
animal world. Here we shall find no tribe, 
no individual neglected. The superior 
clusses want no demonstration of their ex- 
cellent accomplishments. At the first 
glimpse, they challenge our approbation, 
they command our applause. Even the 
more ignoble forms of animated existence 
are most wisely circumstanced, and most 
liberally accommodated. 

They all generate in that particular sea- 
son which is sure to supply them with a 
stock of provision, sufficient both for them- 
selves and their increasing families. The 
sheep yean, when there is a profusion of 
nutriraental herbage on the soil, to fill their 
udders and create milk for their lambs. 
The birds lay their eggs, and hatch their 
young, when myriads of new-born tender 
insects swarm on eveiy side ; so that the 
caterer, whether it he the male or female 
parent, needs only to alight on the ground, 
or make a little excursion into the air, and 
they find a feast ready dressed, and all at 
free cost, for the clamant mouths at' home. 

Their love to their offspring, while they 
continue in a helpless state, is invincibly 
strong : whereas, the very moment they are 
able to shift for themselves ; when the pa- 
rental afi'ectioti would be attended with 
mvich solicitude, and productive of no ad- 
vantage ; it vanishes, as though it had never 
been. The hen which marches at the head 
of her little brood, would fly in the eyes of 
a mastiff", or even encounter a lion in their 
defence. Yet, within a few weeks, she 
abandons her chickens to the wide world, 
and not so much as kiiows them ar.y more. 



414 



THERON AND ASPASia 



If the tiod of Israel inspired Bezaleel 
and Aholiab with " wisdom, and understand- 
ing, and knowledge in all manner of work- 
manship," Exod. xxxi. 3, the God of nature 
has instructed the wild and warbling inha- 
bitants of the bough. The skill with which 
they erect their houses, and adjust their 
apartments, is inimitable. The caution 
with which they secrete their abodes from 
the searching eye, or intruding foot, is ad- 
mirable. No general, though fruitful in 
expedients, could plan a more artful con- 
cealment. No architect^ with his rule and 
line, could build so commodious a lodg- 
ment. 

Give the most celebrated artificer the 
same materials which these weak and inex- 
perienced creatures use ; let a Jones, or a 
De Moivre, have only some rude straws or 
ugly sticks ; a few bits of dirt, or scraps of 
hair ; a sorry lock of wool, or a coarse sprig 
of moss ; and what works, fair Avith deli- 
cacy, or fit for service, could they produce ? 

We extol the commander who knows 
how to take advantage of the ground ; who 
can make the sun and wind fight for him, 
as well as his troops ; and, by every circum- 
stance, embarrasses the forces of the enemy, 
but expedites the action and advances the 
success of his own. Does not this praise 
belong to our feathery leaders, who pitch 
their tent, or (if you please) fix their pen- 
sile camp, on the dangerous branches that 
wave aloft in the air, or dance over the eddies 
of the stream ? By which judicious disposi- 
tion, the vernal gales rock their cradle, and 
the murmuring waters lull their young ; 
while both concur to terrify the shejjherd, 
and keep the schoolboy at a trembling dis- 
tance. Some hide their little household 
from view, amidst the shelter of entangled 
furze : others remove it from reach, in the 
centre of a thorny thicket : And, by one 
stratagem or another, they are generally as 
secure and unmolested in their feeble habi- 
tations, as the foxes, which intrench^ them- 
selves deep in the earth, or as the conies, 
which retire to the rock for their citadel. 
Prov. XXX. 26. 

If the swan has large sweeping \\dngs, 
and a copious stock of feathers, to spread 
over her callow brood ; the wren makes up, 
by contrivance, what is deficient in her bulk. 
Small as she is, she intends* to bring forth. 



* Aspasio has ventured to say, she intends ; and 
one is almost tempted to think, from the preparation 
which the little creature makes, that she has really 
sat down, and counted the cost, and concerted her 
schem.e. As though she had delineated vvith herself : 
" I shall lay, not a couple of eggs, but near a score. 
From these I am to produce a house full of young, 
but how shall I have warmth (unless art supply what 
nature has denied) sufficient to hatch the embryos, or 
clierish the infants?" The truth, I believe is, that in 
all her seeming foresight and circumspect behaviour, 
eheacts she knows not what ; only she acts vv'hat eter- 
nal wisdom knows to be necessary, and what all-con- 
descending goodness prompts her to perform. 



and will be obliged to nurse up, a very ntf- 
merous issue. Therefore, with the cor- 
rectest judgment she designs, and with in- 
defatigable assiduity finishes, a nest proper 
for her purpose. It is a neat rotund, 
lengthened into an oval, bottomed and vault- 
ed with a regular concave. To preserve it 
from rain, it has several coatings of moss ; 
to defend it from cold, it has but one 
window, and only a single door ; to render 
it both elegant and comfortable, it has car- 
pets and hangings of the softest finest down. 
By the help of this curious mansion, our 
little lady becomes the mother of multitudes. 
The \ivyfying heat of her body is, during 
the time of incubation, exceedingly aug- 
mented. Her house is like an oven, and 
greatly assists in hatching her young. Which 
no sooner burst the shell, than they find 
themselves screened from the annoyance of 
the weather, and most agreeably reposed, 
amidst the ornaments of a palace, and the 
warmth of a bagnio. 

Perhaps we have been accustomed to 
look upon the insects as so many rude scraps 
of creation, and to rank them amongst the 
refuse of things ; svhereas, if we examine 
them without prejudice, and with a little 
attention, they will appear some of the most 
polished pieces of divine workmanship. 
Many of them are decked with a profusion 
of finery. Their eyes are an assemblage* 
of microscopes, whose mechanism is incon- 
ceivably nice, and finished in the highest 
perfection. Their dress has all the variety 
and lustre of colours ; it is set with an ar^ 
rangement of the most brilliant gems, 
and bordered with fringes richer far than 
the most costly silks. Their wangs are 
the finest expansions imaginable ; cambric 
is mere canvass, and lawn is coarse as sack- 
cloth, compared with those inimitable webs. 
The cases which enclose their wings, glitter 
with the most glossy varnish ; are scooped 
with ornamental flutings ; are studded with 
radiant spots ; or pinked with elegant holes. 
Not any among them but are equipped with 
weapons, or endued with dexterity, which 
qualify them to seize their prey, or escape 
their toe ; to dispatch the business of their 
respective station, and enjoy the pleasures 
of their particular condition. 



* The common fly. for instance, who is surrounded 
with a multitude of dangers, and has neither strength 
to resist her enemies, nor a place of retreat to secure 
herself ; for which reason she had need to be very % 
gilant and always upon her guard. Yet her head is 
so fixed, that it. is incapable of turning, in order to 
observe what passes, either behind or around her. 
Providence therefore, surprisingly wise in its con- 
trivances, and equally bountiful in its gifts, has fur- 
nished her, not barely with a retinue, but with more 
than a legion of eyes. Insomuch, that a single fly'is 
supposed to be mistress of no less than eight thou- 
sand ; every one of which is lined with a distinct optic 
nerve. By means of this costly and amazing appara- 
tus, the little creature sees on every side, with the ut- 
most ease, and with instantaneous speed ; even with- 
out any motion of the eye, or any flexion of the neck. 



Now I am in a talking liumour, give me 
leave to celebrate the endowments, and as- 
sert the honours of my puny clients ; yet 
not so much to support their credit, as to 
magnify their all-gracious Creator. What 
if the elephant is distinguished by a huge 
proboscis ? His meanest relations of the 
reptile line are furnished with curious an- 
tennae ; remarkable, if not for their enor- 
mous magnitude, yet for their ready flexibi- 
lity, and acute sensation ; by which they 
explore their way even in the darkest road ; 
they discover and avoid whatever might de- 
file their neat apparel, or endanger their 
tender lives. 

Every one admires that majestic crea- 
ture the horse ; his graceful head, and am - 
pie chest ; his arching neck, and flowing 
mane ; his cleanly-turned limbs, and finely 
adjusted motions. With extraordinary agi- 
lity he flings himself over the ditch ; and 
M'ith a rapid career pours himself through 
the plain. With unwearied application, he 
carries his rider from one end of the coun- 
try to another ; and, with undaunted bra- 
very, rushes into the fiercest rage, and 
amidst the thickest havoc of the battle. 
Yet the grasshopper springs with a bound 
altogether as brisk, if not more impetuous. 
The ant, in proportion to its size, is equally 
nimble, equally strong ; and will climb pre- 
cipices which the most courageous coui-ser 
dares not attempt to scale. If the snail is 
slower in her motions, she is under no ne- 
cessity of treading back the ground which 
he has passed — because her house is a part 
of her travelling equipage ; and whenever 
she departs, she is still under her own roof ; 
wherever she removes, is always at home. 

The eagle, it is true, is privileged with 
pinions that outstrip the wind ; elevated on 
which, she looks down on all that soars, 
and sees flying clouds, and straining wings 
far below ; her optic nerve so strong, that 
it meets and sustains the dazzling beams of 
noon ; her wide-surveying glance so keen, 
that, from those towering heights, it dis- 
cerns the smallest fish which skulks at the 
bottom of the river. Yet neither is that 
poor outcast, the grovelling and gloomy 
mole, disregarded by di\dne Providence. 
Because she is to dig a cell in the earth, 
and dwell, as it were, in a perpetual dim- 
geon, her paws serve her for a pickaxe and 
spade. Her eye, or rather her visual speck, 
is sunk deep into a socket, that it may suf- 
fer no injury from her rugged situation : 
it requires but a very scanty communica- 
tion of light, that she may have no reason 
to complain of her darkling abode. I call- 
ed her subterranean habitation a dungeon ; 
and some people, perhaps, may think it a 
grave, but I revoke the expression. It 
yields her all the safety of a fortified castle, 
and all the delight of a decorated grotto. 



:JUE XV. 415 

Even the spider, though abhorred by 
mankind, is e^ddently the care of all-sus- 
taining heaven. She is to live upon plun- 
der ; to support herself by trepanning the 
idle, insignificant, sauntering fly. Suitable 
to such an occupation, she possesses a bag 
of glutinous moisture. From this she spins 
a clammy thread, and weaves it into a tena- 
cious net. Expert as any practised sports- 
man, she always spreads it in the most op- 
portune places. Sensible that her appear- 
ance would create horror, and deter the 
prey from approaching the snare, when 
watching for sport she retires from sight ; 
but constantly keeps uithin distance, so as 
to receive the veiy first intelligence of 
what passes in the toils, and be ready to 
launch, without a moment's delay, upon 
the struggling captive. And what is very 
obseiTable, when winter chills the world, 
and no more insects ramble amidst the air, 
foreseeing that her labour would be vain, 
she discontinues her work, and abandons 
her stand. 

I must by no means forget the little mo- 
narchy which inhabits the hive. The bees 
are to subsist, not as a lawless banditti, 
but as a regular commimiLy. It is theirs 
to earn a decent livelihood by honest in- 
dustry; not to glut themselves with car- 
nage, or enrich themselves by rapine. For 
which reason they are actuated by an in- 
variable inclination to society. They pos- 
sess the truest notions of domestic econo- 
my, and have enacted the wisest laws for 
political government. Their indulgent 
Creator has made them a present of all ne- 
cessaiy implements, both for constructing 
their combs, and for composing their honey. 
They have each a portable vessel, with 
which they bring home their collected 
sweets ; and they have all the most com- 
modious storehouses, in which they deposit 
their delicious wares. Though made for 
peace, they know how to use the sword. 
They can take up arms with the utmost 
resolution and intrepidity, when arms are 
requisite to guard their wealth or repel 
their foes. Without going through a course 
of botany, they can readily distinguish every 
plant which is most likely to yield the rfia- 
terials proper for their business. Without 
semng an apprenticeship in the laboratory, 
they are complete practitioners in the art 
of separation and refinement. They are 
aware, without borrowing their information 
from an almanack, that the vernal gleams, 
and summer suns, continue but for a sea- 
son. Mindful of this admonition, they 
improve to the utmost every shining hour; 
and lay up a stock of balmy treasures, suf- 
ficient to supply the whole state, till the 
blossoms open afresh, and their flowery 
harvest returns. 

Let the peacock boast, if he pleases, his 



416 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



elegant top-knot and lofty mien ; his neck 
adorned with varying dyes ; and his train be- 
spangled v/ith a round of stars. Yet let him 
know, that the despised butterfly, and even 
the loathed caterpillar, display an attire no 
less sumptuous ; and wear ornaments alto- 
gether as genteel, if not quite so magnifi- 
cent. Does beauty sit in state on that lord- 
ly bird ? She shines in miniature on the 
vulgar insect. Is the master of this lower 
creation ennobled with the powers of reason? 
The meanest classes of sensitive existence 
are endued with the faculty of instinct ; 
which gives them a sagacity that is neither 
derived from observation, nor waits for the 
finishings of experience ; Avhich, without a 
tutor, teaches them all necessary skill, and 
enables them, withouca pattern, to perform 
every needful operation ; and, what is far 
more surprising, never misleads them, either 
into erjoneous principles, or pernicious 
practices, never fails them, in the nicest and 
most arduous of their undertakings. 

Can you have patience to follow me if I 
step into a different element, and just visit 
the watei y world ? Not one among the in- 
numerable myriads which swim the bound- 
less ocean, but is watched over by that ex- 
alted eye, whose smiles irradiate the hea- 
ven of heavens. Not one but is supported 
by that almighty hand, which crowns angels 
and archangels with glory. The condescend- 
ing God has not only created but beautified 
them. He has given the most exact pro- 
portion to their shape, the gayest colom-s to 
their ski?i, and a polished smoothness to 
their scales. The eyes of some are sur- 
rounded with a scarlet circle ; the back of 
others is diversified with crimson stains. 
View them, when they glance along the 
stream, or while they are fresh from their 
native brine ; and the burnished silver is not 
more bright, the radiant rainbow is scarce 
more glowing, than their vivid, glistering, 
glossy hues. 

Yet notwithstanding the finery of their 
apparel, we are under painful apprehensions 
for their welfare. How can the poor crea- 
tures live amidst the sufFocating*waters ? 
As they have neither hands nor feet, how 
can they help themselves, or how escape 
their enemies? We are soon freed from 
our fears by ol)serving, that they all pos- 
sess the beneficial, as well as ornament- 
al furniture of fiJis. These when expand- 
ed, like masts above, and ballast below, 
poise their floating bodies, and keep them 
steadily upright. V/ e cannot forbear congrat- 
ulating them on the flexible play and vigor- 
ous activity of their tails, with which they 
shoot themselves through the paths of the 
sea, more swiftly than sails and oars can 
waft the royal yacht. But we are lost in 
wonder at the exquisite contrivance and de- 
licate formation of their gills j by which they 



are accommodated, even in that dense me- 
dium, with the power of breathing, and the 
benefits of respiration. A piece of mechan- 
ism this, indulged to the meanest of the fry; 
yet surpassing, infinitely surpassing, in the 
fineness of its structure, and the felicity of 
its operation, whatever is curious in the 
works of art, or commodious in the palaces 
of princes. 

Ther. Some persons, Aspasio, have the 
art of giving dignity to trivial, and spirit to 
jejune topics. I cannot but listen with a 
pleased attention to your discourse, though 
it descends to the lowest scenes, and mean- 
est productions of nature — To make such 
philosophical remarks was usually my pro- 
vince ; to add to the religious improvement 
yours. But my thoughts at present are 
wholy taken up with the consideration of 
my Saviom-'s righteousness. 1 can hardly 
turn my views, or divert my speech to any 
other subject. All those amiable appear- 
ances of the external creation, which I was 
wont to contemplate with rapture, afford 
but a languid entertainment to my mind. 
Till my interest in this divine Redeemer is 
ascertained,, the spring may bloom, the sum- 
mer shine, and autumn swell with fruits, 
but it will be winter, cheerless, gloomy, de- 
solate winter in my soul. 

Asp. You say, Theron, you attended to 
my cursory hints. Then your own supe- 
rior discernment could not but perceive, how 
every part of the exterior world is adjusted 
in the most excellent and gracious manner. 
Not the coarsest piece of inactive matter, 
but bears the impress of its maker's fashion- 
ing skill. Not a single creature, however 
insignificant, but exhibits evident demon- 
strations of his providential care. His hand 
is liberal, profusely liberal, to all that breathes 
and all that has a being. 

Let me only ask — and to introduce this 
question with the greater propriety, to give 
it a more forcible energy on our minds was 
the principal design of the preceding re- 
marks — let me ask, " Does God take care 
for oxen ?" 1 Cor. ix. 9. Is he a generous 
benefactor to the meanest animals, to the 
lowest reptiles ? Are his munificent regards 
extended farther still, and vouchsafed even 
to the most worthless vegetables? Aud 
shall they be withheld from you, my dear 
fi-iend, and from me ? Not one among all 
the numberless productions, which tread the 
ground, or stand rooted to the soil, wants 
any convenience that is proper for its res- 
pective state. And will his heavenly Fa- 
ther deny Theron what is so necessary to 
his present comfort, and his final happi- 
ness ? Impossible !* 

* I know not how to forbear transcribing a para- 
graph from one of our periodical papers ; which con- 
tains a proposal for adapting natural philosophy to 
the capacity of children; wishing, at the same time, 
that the ingenious author would enlarge his sketch 



DIALOGUE XV. 



417 



Ther. I wish for, but I can hardly hope 
to partake of that spiritual blessing ; which 
always included my whole happiness, and 
now engrosses my whole concern. 

Asp. " Not hope to partake of !" — What 
foundation, what shadow of pretence, has 
this desponding temper, either in reason or 
in Scripture? Is it not evident from the 
whole book of revelation ; is it not apparent 
through the whole compass of nature, that 
the almighty Lord, " whogoverneth the world 
with the palm of his hand, Eccl'us. xviii. 3, 
is remote, infinitely remote, from a niggard- 
ly disposition ? He not only provideth for 
the wants, but even " satisfieth the desire 
of every living thing, Psal. cxlv. 16. 

Consider those stately poppies, which are 
now the principal ornament of the garden. 
They have no tongue to request the least 
favour. Yet the ever-gracious Maker 
clothes them from his own wardrobe, and 
decks them with exquisite beauty. — Observe 
the young ravens, which sit carelessly croak- 
ing on yonder boughs. Do they cry for 
food ? Psal. cxlvii. 9. It is in hoarse inar- 
ticulate accents : Yet the all-supporting; 
God overlooks their ignorance; -hears mean- 
ing in their noise ; and supplies their every 
need from his own spontaneous bounty. 
If he accommodates the former, though in- 
capable of asking ; if he attends to the lat- 
ter, though insensible of their benefactor ; 
can he disregard our pressing wants ? will 
he reject our eaniest petitions ? especially, 
when we seek such pure and exalted gifts, 
as it is both his delight and his honour to 
bestow. 

O ! my friend, look abroad into universal 
nature, and look away every disquieting 
thought. 

Ther. Did you inquire what pretence I 
have for this desponding temper ? Alas ! I 
have more than a pretence, I have a reason ; 
a reason too obvious — my great unworthi- 
ness ! 

Asp. Pray, where was the worthiness of 
the stiff-necked Israelites ? Yet the Lord 

bare them, and carried them all the days 
of old," Isa. Ixii. 9. Where was the worthi- 
ness of Saul the blasphemer ? Yet the 
blessed Jesus made him a chosen vessel, 
and set him as a signet on his right hand. 
You deserve nothing at the hand of God 

into a treatise; and execute the plan which he has 
so judiciously projected, and of which he has given 
u.s so delicate a specimen. 

After some remaiks on the sagacity of birds, their 
industry and other surprising properties, he adds. 

Is it for birds, O Lord, that thou hast joined toge- 
ther so many miracles which they have no knowledge 
of ? Is it for men who give no attention to them ? Is 
it for the curious, who are satisfied with admiring 
without raising their thoughts to thee ? Or is it not 
rather visible, that thy design has been to call us to 
thyself, by sucJi a spectacle? to make us sensible of 
thy providence and infinite wisdom; and to fill us 
with confidtiice in thy bounty, who watchest with so 
much care and tenderness over birds, though two of 
them are sold but for a farthing ?" 



our Saviour : Neither did Joseph's brethren 
deserve any kindness from the viceroy of 
Egypt. Yet he delivered them from fa- 
mine, vv^ho sold him to slavery ; he settled 
them in the choicest territories, who cast 
him into the horrible pit. He showed him- 
self a friend and a father to those unnatu- 
ral relations who were his actual betrayers, 
and his intentional murderers. And can 
you persuade yourself, will you harbour a 
suspicion, that Christ is less compassionate 
than Joseph ? shall a frail mortal outvie 
Emmanuel in beneficence ? 

Ther. Is not some righteousness of our 
own indispensably required, in order to 
our participation of the righteousness of 
Christ ? 

Asp. Yes, such a righteousness as the 
Samaritan woman, John iv. 18, and Zac- 
cheus the publican possessed ; or such as the 
Philippian jailor, and the profligate Co- 
rinthians might boast, 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10. 
Zaccheus was a man of infamous character, 
and chief among the extortioners. The 
jailor was a barbarous persecutor, and in 
purpose a self-murderer. Yet our Lord 
says of the former, " This day," without en- 
joining any course of previous preparation, 
" is salvation come to thine house," Luke 
xix. 9. St. Paul directs the latter, without 
insisting upon any antecedent righteousness, 
" to believe upon the Lord Jesus Christ 
and assures the poor alarmed sinner that in 
so doing he should be saved." Acts. xvi. 31. 

So that nothing is required in order to 
our participation of Christ and his benefits, 
but a conviction of our need, a sense of their 
worth, and a willingness to receive them in 
the appointed way ; receive them as the 
freest of gifts, or as a matter of mere grace. 
" Come, and take freely," Rev. xxii. 17, is 
our Master's language ; without staying to 
acquire any graceful qualities, is his mean- 
ing. 

Tlier. Surely, to come without holiness, 
without any decent preparative, must be a 
gross indignity to the divine Jesus. Who- 
ever presents a petition to an earthly sover- 
eign, will think it absolutely necessary not 
to appear in a slovenly dishabile, much less 
in filthy raiment. Does not our Lord him- 
self, in the parable of the wedding garment, 
inculcate this very point, and caution us 
against a presumptuous approach ? 

Asp. In the parable you mention, Christ 
is both the bridegroom, the feast, and the 
wedding garment, Matth. xxii. 11. And 
who are invited to an union with this Bride- 
groom ? to be guests at this feast ? to be 
arrayed with this wedding garment ? The 
messengers aie sent, not to the mansion- 
houses of the rich, or the palaces of the 
mighty, but to the highways and hedges ; 
where misery mourns, and poverty pines, 
and baseness hides her head. To whom is 
2 E 



418 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



their message addressed ? To the poor, the 
maimed, the halt, the blind, Luke xiv. 21. 
persons who have no amiable or recommend- 
ing endowments, but every loathsome and 
disgustful property. Yet these (mark the 
passage, my dear friend ; mark well the en- 
couraging circumstance) these are not only 
not forbidden, but entreated, importuned, 
and by all the arts of persuasion, by every 
weighty or winning motive, compelled lo 
come in. And after all this, surely, it can- 
not be an act of presumption to accept, but 
must be a breach of duty to refuse the invi- 
tation. 

> Tker. You take no notice of the man who 
was found without a wedding-garment ; 
which is by far the most alarming ineident, 
and that which gives me no small uneasi- 
ness. 

Asp. And does my Theron take proper 
notice of the divine declaration ? " 1 have 
prepared my dinner," says the King eternal, 
" All things are ready," Matth. xxii. 4. 
" Whatever is necessary for the justification, 
the holiness, the complete salvation of sin- 
ners, is provided in the merit and the grace 
of my Son. Let them come therefore, as 
to a nuptial banquet ; and freely enjoy my 
munificence ; and feast their souls with the 
royal provision. 

The man without a wedding-garment, 
denotes the specious superficial professor ; 
who is " called by Christ's name," but has 
never "put on Christ Jesus by faith." Shall I 
tell you'more plainly whom this character re- 
presents ? You yourself, my dear Theron, 
was some months ago, in the state of this 
unhappy creature, when you trusted in your- 
self, and thought highly of your own, thought 
meanly of your Saviour's righteousness. 

I congratulate my friend on this happy 
delivei-ance from so dangerous a condition. 
You and I are now like the returning pro- 
digal. Let us remember that he came with 
no recommendation, either of dress, of per- 
son, or of character. None but his naked- 
ness, his misery, and an acknowledgment of 
vileness, which had every aggravating, not 
one extenuating circumstance. Yet he was 
received, received with inexpressible in- 
dulgence ; and clothed with that first, that 
best, that divinest robe, Luke xv. 22, the 
righteousness of Jesus Christ. 

Let us accustom ourselves to consider this 
incomparable robe, under its evangelical 
character. It is not a matter of bargain, nor 
the subject of sale, but a deed of gift. " The 
gift of righteousness," says the apostle. And 
gifts, we all know, are not to be purchased, 
but received. 

Ther. Is nothing then, nothing to be done 
on our part ? no heavenly-mindedness to be 
exercised ? no victory over our lusts gain- 
ed? no fruits of sanctification produced? 

Asp- These legal apprehensions ! how 



closely they cleave to my Theron's mind ! 
But I hope the word of God, which pierceth 
to the dividing asunder the soul and spirit, 
will give the severing blow. And what says 
that sacred word ? It describes the gospel as 
a will or testament, Heb. ix. 1 6, 17,* and 
all its glorious blessings, as legacies, be- 
queathed by the dying Jesus. When your 
old acquaintance Charicles left you a hand- 
some legacy, what did you do to establish 
your title, and make it your own ? 

Ther. My title was pre-established by 
my friend's donation. I had nothing to 
do, but to claim, to accept, and to pos- 
sess. 

Asp. Do the very same in the present, 
case. They who believe are heirs, undoubt- 
ed " heirs of the righteousness which is by 
faith," Heb. xi. 7. Surely you cannot sup- 
pose that Christ's kindness is less sincere, or 
that Christ's donations are less valid, than 
those of an earthly testator. 

Ther. This illustration hardly reaches 
the point. I speak not of doing any thing 
by way of merit, but by way of qualifica- 
tion. 

Asp. If there be any qualification, I thirik 
it is our extreme indigence. This indeed 
it will be proper to have ; and this, I pre- 
sume, you are not without. Other qualifi- 
cation, neither reason prescribes nor scrip- 
ture requires. 

"Reason prescribes no other." — The 
gifts of the great eternal Sovereign are in- 
tended, not to recognise our imaginary 
worth, but to aggrandize our views of his 
mercy and grace. To answer such a design, 
the unworthy and the sinners are duly qua- 
lified ; nay, are the only qualified persons. 

"Scripture requires no other." — The 
ever-merciful Saviour says not. They are 
unqualified for my merits ; they have no 
valuable or noble acquirements. But this 
is his tender complaint : " They will not 
come to me," just as they are — with all 
their sins about them, wnth all their guilt 
upon them — " that they may have life." 
John V. 40. Pray — take notice of this 
text, and you will see things placed in a new 
light, ranged in a new order. Sanctifica- 
tion, heavenly mindedness, and a victory 
over our lusts, are not so much the qualities 
which he requires, as the blessings which 
he will confer. 



* This notion not only runs through the scriptures, 
but stands conspicuous even in their title-page. What 
are they called ? The Old and the New Testament. 
What is a Testament ? An authentic deed, in which 
estates are transmitted, and legacies bequeathed In 
other testaments some earthly possession: in this the 
heavenly patrimony, even all the riches of grace, and 
the everlasting inheritance of glory. Did we consider 
the scriptures in this light, it would be a most engag- 
ing invitation to search them with assiduity and plea- 
sure. What child is willing to continue ignorant of a 
deceased parent's last will and testament ? Who does 
not covet to know, what honours, hereditaments, and 
wealth, devolve to his enjoyment by such.m interest- 
ing and venerable cor.\'eyaiice ? 



DIALOGUE XV. 



419 



Ther. " The unworthy and sinners, the 
only qualified !" of this expression I cannot 
but take particular notice. Then Judas 
should stand in the first rank of qualified 
persons ; and the devout centurion, " whose 
prayers and alms had come up as a memo- 
rial before God," was thereby unqualified 
for the favour of heaven. 

Asp. If you observed my expression, 
I spoke in the hypothetical manner ; made 
a supposition rather than advanced an as- 
sertion. If there be any qualification, this 
is the only one. But, strictly speaking, 
there is no such thing. The impulsive or 
jficlining cause of all God's favour shown, 
of all God's goodness exercised, is — from 
the creature ? No ; but from himself, him- 
self alone! " He has mercy," not because 
this or that person is amiable, is meet, or 
qualified, but " because he will have mer- 
cy." And as for our need of mercy and 
reconciliation, arising from our sinfulness, 
this can no more constitute a real qualifica- 
tion for the blessings, than an act of rebellion 
can qualify for the first honours of the state. 

But this we must allow, that such need, 
such misery, such sinfulness, illustrate the 
freeness, and manifest the riches of grace. 
And this we should never forget, that God's 
first and leading purpose, in all his favour- 
able dispensations to fallen man, is to de- 
monstrate the sovereignty, and advance the 
glory of his grace. The Lord, promising a 
very extraordinary deliverance to Israel, 
says, " not for your sakes, be it known unto 
you, do I this," Ezek. xxxvi. 32, single act 
of kindness. What then is the inducement ? 
We find it in the following declaration • " 1, 
even I, am he that blotteth out your trans 
gressions for my own sake,* and according 
to the good pleasure of my will." Isa- xliii. 
25. What is the end of all ? " It is for the 
praise of the glory of his grace." Eph. i. 6. 
A proper motto this for all the displays of 
divine goodness to sinful men. It has been 
inscribed by the hand of truth and inspira 
tion. Time and eternity, instead of crazing 
the lines, will only stamp them deeper, and 
open them wider. 

Tha\ This is such a gift ! to be interest- 
ed in all the merits of Christ ! to have his 
immaculate righteousness imputed to my 
soul ! so that from henceforth there shall be 
no fear of condemnation, but a comfortable 
enjoyment of freest love, and a delightful 
expectation of completest glory ! 

Asp. If this rich donation surpass your 
very thoughts, and fill with you grateful as- 
tonishment, it is so much the better adapted 
to display, what the scripture very empha- 
t ically styles, the abundant," the super- 

* Which teaches us that God, and nothing in the 
creature, is tlie original, entire, sole cause of all grace, 
and every gracious vouchsafenient. It is not only by 
him, and through him, but to him ; for the honour 
of his benign perfections, tliat we are pardoned, ac- 
cepted, saved. 



abundant," the "exceeding abundant*'* 
grace of our God. God hath pleasure in 
the prosperity of his servants. He is a 
boundless ocean of love ; ever flowing, yet 
absolutely inexhaustible. See ! what an 
innumerable variety of benefits [are trans- 
mitted from yonder sun, to gladden all the 
regions of nature ! yet the sun is but a 
spark ; its highest splendour no more than 
a shade ; its uninterrupted and most pro- 
fuse communications of light, a poor dimi- 
nutive scantling ; compared with the riches 
of divine benignity. 

The servant in the parable, who owed 
ten thousand talents, craved only some mer- 
ciful forbearance ; whereas his generous lord 
remitted the whole sum, and gave him an 
acquittance in full : " I forgive thee all that 
debt," Matth. xviii. 32. You wonder, and 
very deservedly, at such vast generosity. But 
what had been your admiration to see the 
noble master admitting this obnoxious slave 
to a share in his dignity ? what if he had 
made so worthless a wretch the chief of his 
family, and the heir of his estate ? This per- 
haps you would say, exceeds the bounds of 
credibility. Yet God Almighty's stupend- 
ous beneficence exceeds all this. He not 
only spares guilty creatures, but makes them 
his children ; makes them inheritors of his 
kingdom ; and as an introduction to all, 
or rather as the crown of all, makes them 
partakers of his Son. Heb. iii. 14. 

Ther. The gift is inestimable ; of more 
value than all worlds. It will render me 
blessed and happy, now and for ever. And 
may so unworthy a creature look for a bless- 
ing thus superlatively excellent ? 

Asp. Unworthy? my dear friend, dwell no 
longer upon that obsolete topic. The great- 
est unworthincss is no objection in Christ's 
account, when the soul is convinced of sin, 
and the heart desirous of a Saviour. And 
as for worthiness, this is as muchdisavovi'^ed 
by the gospel as equivocal generation! is ex- 
ploded by the discoveries of our improved 
philosophy. 

Nay, farther, this notion is diametrically 
contrary to the gospel, and totally subver- 
sive of the covenant of grace. 

Ther. In what respect ? 

Asp. Because it would make our own duty 
and obedience the terms ; whereas the terms 
were Christ's suffering, and Christ's obedi- 
ence. These are the hinge on which that 
great transaction turns, and on which the 
hope of the world hangs. 

* T'^n^duXXuffa. x°^il'i' 2 Cor. ix. 14. T^rs^- 
i'Tri^tffirtvffiv 9i ^cc^r. Rom. v. 20. TiTS^strXeav- 
aa-iv n X^?''' 1 Tim. i. 14. 

f- The ancients imagined, that many vegetables and 
insects were produced by, I know not what, plastic 
power in the sun and other elements. This is called 
e^MzyocftZ generation. VS^hereas the modern philoso- 
phers mamtain, that every individual of this kind 
derives its being from some parent-vegetable or pa- 
rent animal. This is styled unioocal generation. 



420 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



Ther. Be more particular, Aspasio. 

Asp. The first covenant was made with 
Adam, for himself and us. Breaking it, he 
lost his original righteousness, and became 
subject to death ; was at once a bankrupt 
and a rebel. Now you cannot suppose that 
the Almighty Majesty would enter into a 
fresh covenant with an insolvent and attaint- 
ed creature. It pleased, therefore, the Se- 
cond Person of the adorable Trinity to un- 
dertake our cause, to become our Surety, 
and put himself in our stead. With him 
the second covenant was made. He was 
charged with the performance of the condi- 
tions ; thereby to obtain pardon and righte- 
ousness, grace and glory, for all his people. 
" I have made a covenant with my Chosen 
One,"* is the language of the Most High. 
And the terms were, (you will permit me 
to repeat the momentous truth,) not your 
worthiness or mine, but the incarnation, 
tlie obedience, the death of God's ever- 
blessed Son. 

Ther. Has man then no office assigned, 
no part to act in the covenant of grace ? 

Asp. He has ; but it is a part which my 
friend seems very loath to discharge. His 
part is to accept the blessings fully purchas- 
ed by the Saviour, and freely presented to 
the sinner. His part is not to dishonour the 
Redeemer's gracious interposition, and in- 
finitely-sufficient performance, by hankering 
after any merit of his own. His part (why 
will you constrain me to reiterate in this 
manner !) is not to bring money in his hand, 
with the ten brethren ; but with an empty 
hand, and like an impoverished Lazarus, " to 
take hold of God's covenant." Isa. Ivi. 4. 

Ther. If this be the nature of the new 
covenant, I must confess 1 have hitherto 
been ignorant of the gospel. 

Asp. And from hence arises your present 
distress ; from hence your averseness to re- 
ceive comfort. You are a philosopher, Theron, 
and have been accustomed to examine nice- 
ly the proportion of objects, rather than to 
weigh them in the balance of the sanctuary. 
Here you find all proportion swallowed up 
and lost. This quite overthrows all your 
conclusions, drawn from the fitness of things. 
Here man is nothing, less than nothing, 
while grace is all in all. And should we 
not, however unworthy in ourselves, magni- 
fy the grace of our God ? 

* Psal. Ixxxix. 3. It is generally allowed, that this 
Psalm, in its sublimest sense, is referable to Christ; 
and in its full extent, [is referable only unto Christ. 
If so, I think it would be more significant and empha- 
tical to render the word my Chosen One. This will fur- 
nish out a very clear andcogent argument to prove, that 
the covenant of grace was made with our Lord Jesus. 
Just such an argument as the apostle uses to convince 
the Galatians that the promises of the covenant were 
made to the same divine Person, Gal. iii. 16. From 
both which promises this important conclusion fol- 
lows, that justification and every spiritual blessing are 
the purchase of Christ's obedience ; are lodged in him 
as the great propitiatory, are communicated to sinners 
only through the exercise of faith, or in the way of 
believing. See Zech. ix. 11. 



Ther. Most certainly. 

Asp. How can this be done, but by ex- 
pecting great and superlatively precious 
blessings from his hand? Alexander, you 
know, had a famous but indigent philoso- 
pher in his court. Our adept in science 
was once particularly straitened in his cir- 
cumstances. To whom should he apply, but 
to his patron, the conqueror of the world ? 
His request was no sooner made than grant- 
ed. Alexander gives him a commision to 
receive of liis treasurer whatever he wanted. 
He immediately demands, in his sovereign's 
name, a hundred talents.* The treasurer, 
surprised at so large a demand, refuses to com- 
ply, but waits upon the king, and represents 
the affair ; adding withal how unreasonable 
he thought the petition, and how exorbi- 
tant the sum. Alexander hears him with 
patience : but, as soon as he had ended his 
remonstrance, replies ; " Let the money be 
instantly paid, I am delighted with this phi- 
losopher's way of thinking. He has done 
me a singular honour , and shewed, by the 
largeness of his request, what a high idea he 
has conceived, both of my superior wealth, 
and my royal munificence." 

Thus, my dear Theron, let us honour 
what the inspired penman styles " the mar- 
vellous loving-kindness of Jehovah. From 
the King, " whose name is the Lord of 
hosts," let us expect — not barely what cor- 
responds with our low models of generosity, 
much less what we suppose proportioned to 
our fancied deserts, but what is suitable to 
the unknown magnificence of his name, and 
the unbounded benevolence of his heart. 
Then we shall cheerfully and assuredly trust, 
that Christ Jesus will be " made of God to 
us wisdom and righteousness, and sanctifica- 
tion and redemption ;" that he, who hath 
given himself for us, Eph. v. 2, will give 
us of his Spirit, John iv. 1 3, and will give 
unto us eternal life. John x. 28. 

Ther. Yes, upon condition that we fight 
the good fight, and finish our course of duty. 
Henceforth, says the apostle, after this is 
done, " there is laid up for me, and for other 
victorious soldiers, for other faithful labour- 
ers, " a crown of righteousness." 

Asp. To such persons the crown will as- 
suredly be vouchsafed. But is it vouch- 
safed on account of their successful warfare, 
or persevering obedience ? If so," Israel may 
vaunt themselves and say. Mine own hand, 
not the Redeemer's interposition, hath sav- 
ed me. Judges vii. 8. 

Not to repeat what has already been al- 
leged in opposition to this opinion ; not to 
produce what might further be urged, from 
a variety of scriptural testimonies ; I shall 
only desire you to observe what the apostle 
himself adds in this very place : " There is 



* About ten thousand pounds. 



DIALOGUE XV. 



4,21 



laid up for me a crown of righteousness 
but is this the pay proportionate and due to 
his own services ? Is it what he claims and 
demands, on the foot of duty performed ? 
The very titie of the rer»^ard implies the 
contrary. It is a crown of righteousness, 
because purchased by the meritorious and 
consummate righteousness of Christ. The 
action of the judge declares the contrary ; 
" which the Lord the righteous Judge shall 
give me at that day." It is, you see, an act 
of favour ; the issue of unmerited bounty ; 
what neither saint nor martyr, nor apostle 
enjoys, but only by way of gracious dona- 
tion.* 2 Tim, iv. 8. 

I w^ould fain have my Theron form more 
honourable apprehensions concerning the 
mercy and the bounty of our Lord Jesus 
Christ. He will bestow what you suppose 
he exacts. He is really a benefactor where 
you would represent him as a task-master. 
" The Lord will give grace as well as glory." 
He knows you have neither strength nor 
merit ; therefore he will supply your want 
of both from his own unfathomable ful- 
ness. 

Ther. Ah ! my Aspasio ! you do not know 
my state. I have not only no merit, but 
great guilt ; was by nature a child of wrath ; 
have been by practice a slave of sin ; and 
what is worse, am still corrupt ; have still 
a carnal heart — And has not such a wretch 
forfeited all title to the divine favour ? Nay, 
does he not deserve the vengeance of eter- 
nal fire ? 

Asp. That we all deserve this misery, is 
beyond dispute. I am truly glad that we 
are sensible of our demerit. Here our re- 
covery begins. Now we are to believe, that 
the Lord Jesus has satisfied divine justice ; 
has paid a glorious price, on purpose to ob- 
tain for such ill-deserving, such heU-deserv- 
ing creatures, all pardon, all holiness, and 
everlasting happiness. According to the 
import of that charming Scripture, " When 
we were enemies (and what is there in an 
enemy to bespeak favour or deserve bene- 
fits ?) we w^ere reconciled to God by the 
death of his Son." Rom. v. 10. 

You have great guilt. But is this a rea- 
son w^hy you should be excluded from the 
blessings of the covenant? Contemplate 



* I Believe no one experienced in the spiritual life 
will suspect that Theron speaks out of character. Con- 
science, when once alarmed, is a stubborn and uncere- 
monious thing. It pays no defeience to wealth ; it 
never stands in awe of grandeur: neither can it be 
soothed by the refinements of education or the attain- 
ments of learning. And we generally find that a most 
unaccountable propensity to self-worthiness strongly 
possesses the newly awakened convert. He is perpetu- 
ally raising objections founded on the want of per- 
sonal merit; notwithstanding all our remonstrances to 
quiet his fears, and remove his jealousies. It is truly 
a hard task for a mind'uaturally leavened with legal 
pride, to come nakedand miserable to Christ; to come 
divested of every recommendation but.that of extreme 
wretchedness; and receive from the hand of unmerit- 
ed benignity the free riches of evangelical grace. I 



the state of that forlorn and wretched out- 
cast, described in Ezekiel, chap. xvi. An 
infant " in its blood :" this represents a sin- 
ner, who has nothing to excite love, but all 
that may provoke abhorrence. Yet what 
says the Holy One of Israel? " "VVTien I 
saw thee" — not washed and purified, and 
made meet for my acceptance, but — " pol- 
luted in thy blood loathsome with de- 
filement, and laden with iniquity ; then, 
even then, " I said unto thee, Live : I 
spread my skirt over thee , and thou be- 
camest mine." This is the manner of his 
proceeding, not barely to one nation, but to 
all his people ; not in one period of time 
only, but through all generations. 

You are still coiTupt, one that is sensible 
of his corruption, and acknowledges his 
sinfulness ! Then you are the very person 
for whom the Saviour's righteousness is in- 
tended ; to whom it is promised. — You are 
a governor of the county hospital, Theron. 
You have been hidustrious in promoting, 
and are active in supporting that excellent 
institution ; where medicine wnth her heal- 
ing stores, and religion wdth her hea.venly 
hopes, act as joint handmaids to charity. 
What are the circumstances which render 
any persons the proper objects for an ad- 
mission into your infirmary ? 

Ther. Their poverty, and their distem- 
per. Without poverty, they would not 
need ; and, free from distemper, they would 
not prize, the benefit of our modern Beth- 
esda. 

Asp. Apply this to the case under con- 
sideration. The whole world is in a state 
of spiritual disorder. Christ is styled by 
the inspired writer, "the Lord our healer." 
Exod. XV. 26. The gift of-his righteousness, 
the balm of his blood, and the influences of 
his Spirit, are the sovereign restorative. 
And sure it cannot be a fanciful persuasion 
of our health, but a feeling conviction of 
our disease, w^hich renders us proper objects 
of his recovering grace. " He came, not 
to call the righteous," the righteous in their 
own eyes, " but sinners," Matt. ix. 13, 
Acts V. 31, self-condemned and ruined sin- 
ners, to give them " repentance," and par- 
don, and ne^vness of life; 

Ther. But if any foolish and refractory 
patients have abused our beneficence, it is 
a standing unalterable rule of the house, 
never to admit them a second time, how- 
ever pressing their exigencies, or however 
powerful their recommender. I have not 
once only, but through the whole course of 



* The words are peculiarly emphatical ; not only 
doubled, but redoubled ; to denote, at once, the 
strangeness of the fact, yet the certainty of the favour. 
" When I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in 
thme own blood, I said unto thee when thou wast m 
thy blood. Live ; yea, I said unto thee, when thou 
wast in thy blood, live." Ezek. xvi. 6. 



422 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



my life, abused the marvellous loving kind- 
ness of the Lord. 

Asp. And is not the Lord superior to all 
his creatures, in acts of pardon as well as 
of power ? Yes, as those heavens are higher 
than this prostrate earth, so nuich more en- 
larged and extensive is the divine clemency 
— than the widest sphere of human kind- 
ness, shall I say ? rather, than the boldest 
flights of human imagination. Your sta- 
tutes are inexorable, in case of one notori- 
ous irregularity committed : " But the free 
gift of a Redeemer's righteousness is vouch- 
safed, notwithstanding " many offences, un- 
to justification." Rom. v. 16. It is the 
glory of our almighty Ruler, and redounds 
to the honour of his crucified Son, to pass 
over, Prov. xix. 11, not a single transgres- 
sion only, but a multitude of provocations ; 
to be altogether as unequalled in mercy, as 
he is absolutely supreme in majesty. 

As it is the grossest pride to entertain 
high notions of our own accomplishments, 
or to expect eternal life on the score of our 
own obedience ; so it will be the greatest 
afl^ront to the grandeur of Christ's merits, 
and the freeness of his grace, if we suppose 
our crimes too heinous to be forgiven, or 
our persons too vile to be accepted. 

Theron paused. — These considerations 
seemed to operate ; this anodyne to take 
effect. Desirous to improve the favourable 
juncture, and impart the needed consola- 
tion, Aspasio added : — 

How often did the inhabitants of Jeru- 
salem disregard the warnings, and reject 
the counsels of our blessed Lord ! How 
justly might he have sworn in his wrath, 
" They shall never hear the joyful sound of 
my gospel more. The blessings which 
they have so wantonly despised, and so 
wickedly abused, shall be in-evocably with- 
drawn." Instead of passing such a sen- 
tence, this is the charge which, after his re- 
surrection, he gives to his apostles : " Let 
repentance and remission of sins be preach- 
ed in my name to all nations, begiiuiing at 
Jerusalem." Luke xxiv, 47. " At Jeru- 
salem, Lord ! Have not the men of that un- 
grateful and barbarous city been deaf to thy 
tenderest importunities? Did they not per- 
secute thee unto condemnation and death ? 
Are not their weapons still reeking, as it 
were, with thy blood ; and their tongues 
still shooting out arrows, even bitter words, 
by which they would murder thy character, 
as they have already crucified thy person ?" 
Yet these wretches (and could any be more 
inhuman ? could any be more unworthy ?) 
are not only not abhorred, but unto them is 
the message of grace and the word of sal- 
vation sent. Nay, to show the unparalleled 
freeness of our Redeemer's grace, these are 
first upon the heavenly list. The glad tid- 
ings of pardon and life, which are to be pub- 



lished through the world, must begin (amaz- 
ing mercy !) must begin at Jerusalem, 

Ther. Thus much I may venture to pro- 
fess in my own behalf ; — That I long for 
this blessing ; I pray for this blessing; but 
I cannot see my title to this comprehensive 
and i'festimable blessing clear. 

Asp. I behold it perfectly clear. Some 
days ago, a worthy clergyman, who lately 
came to settle in the neighbourhood, did 
himself the honour of making one at your 
table. After dinner you showed him your 
library ; we took a walk in your garden, and 
made the agreeable tour of the fish-ponds. 
Then, with that amiable frankness of mien 
and accent, which is so peculiar to my 
friend, and exceedingly endears all his fa- 
vours, you told him, " that he was as wel- 
come to any book in your study, as if the 
whole collection was his own ; that if, on a 
visit from some acquaintance of superior 
rank, he should wish to be accommodated 
with a more delicate entertainment than 
usual, the productions of your waters, and 
of your hot-beds, were entirely at his ser- 
vice ; and that his acceptance of your offers, 
without the least shyness or reserve, would 
be the most pleasing compliment he could 
pay you on the occasion." 

What says the great Proprietor of all 
good ? " If any man," however unworthy 
his person, or obnoxious his character, 
" thirst ;" — thirst for the blessings of my 
evangelical kingdom ; — " let him come unto 
me," the fountain of these living waters, 
" and drink his fill." John vii. 37. You 
yourself acknowledge that you long for the 
sacred privileges of the gospel. Your heart 
is awakened into habitual and lively desires 
after the salvation of Christ. What is this 
but, in the spiritual sense, to thirst ? To 
you, therefore, the promise is made, to you 
the riches of this benign dispensation be- 
long. 

That clergyman has not the least suspi- 
cion of being disappointed, in case he should 
send for a brace of carp from your canal, or 
a fine melon from your garden — Why is he 
so confident? Because he has done you any 
signal service ? No ; but because you have 
passed your word, and made the generous 
offer. And why should you harbour the 
least doubt concerning the divine veracity ? 
Why should you call in question your right 
to these heavenly treasures ? since it is 
founded on a grant altogether as free, alto- 
gether as clear, as your own indulgent con- 
cession, and infinitely moi-e firm than any 
human engagement ? founded on the fidelity 
of that supreme Being, " who remembers 
his covenant and promise to a thousand ge- 
nerations." 

Ther. It is impossible to confute, yet dif- 
ficult to believe what you urge. 

Asp. What I urge is not the voice of a 



DlyVLOGUE XV> 



4.23 



few dubious passages, nicely culled from the 
book of God, or forcibly wrested by the in- 
terpretation of man. The whole tenor of in- 
spiration runs, with the greatest perspicuity, 
and the greatest uniformity, in this delightful 
strain. Let me, out of a multitude, produce 
another express from the court of heaven. 
" Ho ! every one that thirsteth, come ye to 
the waters, even he that hath no money. 
Come ye, buy and eat ; yea come, buy wine 
and milk, without money and without price." 
Isaiah Iv. 1. Wine and milk undoubtedly 
signify the pardon of our sins, and the justi- 
fication of our persons ; the communications 
of sanctifying grace, and the hope of eternal 
glory. These are nourishing and refreshing 
to the soul, as milk, the richest of foods, 
and as wine, the best of cordials, are to the 
body. These you see are to be obtained, 
*' without money, and without price," with- 
out any merit of our own — without any plea 
deduced from ourselves, by poor, undone, 
perishing bankrupts. They are to be en- 
joyed by every one — who unfeignedly es- 
teems them, and humbly seeks them. No 
exception is made ; no exclusive clause 
added. It is not said, any one that is 
worthy, but "every one that thirsteth." 
To leave no room for any misgiving appre- 
hensions, the kind invitation is repeated : 
" Buy and eat ; buy wine and milk." The 
invaluable yet free tender is confirmed again 
and again ; " He that hath no money — 
without money — without price." And both 
are pressed upon us with a very remarka- 
ble, with the most affectionate vehemence : 
" Come ye ; come ye ; yea come." 
f Had our heavenly benefactor permitted 
us to draw up this instrument of convey- 
ance, and word it according to our own 
wish, what language could we have contriv- 
ed, to render either the grant more free, or 
our claim more secure ? 

The7\ These are cheering truths. They 
amount to little less than a demonstration. 
And I am ready to declare, in the language 
of Agrippa, Almost thou persuadest me lo 
commence a believer. 

Asp. And why, my dear friend, why not 
altogether ? Can you distrust the sincerity 
of the divine overtures ? If the overtures 
are real, your title is unquestionable. Nay, 
there is more than an overture : You have 
an actual gift from the Almighty Majesty. 
*' To us," says the prophet, including all 
that wait for the redemption of Christ, and 
the consolation of Israel, " a child is born." 
Isaiah ix. 6. " To us," he repeats the pre- 
cious truth, to declare his exuberant joy, 
and denote the absolute certainty of the 
thing, see Gen. xli. 32, " a son is given ;" 
even God's own Son, the ever-blessed Je- 
sus, to be our propitiation, our surety, our 
<;omplete Redeemer. 

, Just cast a look upon yonder neat lodge. 



Though placed in the centre of a spacious 
field, it seems to be contiguous with the ex- 
tremity of the vista. 'The eye, traveUing 
over such a length of ground, has almost 
lost the windovv^s, and the decent ornaments 
of the front. But I shall not soon lose the 
idea of that amiable munificence, which, as 
I was rambling one pleasant morning, and 
accidentally called at the house, I learned 
from its present owner. He was, I find, 
one of your servants j had spent several 
years in your family : When he settled in 
the world, you bestowed upon him that 
commodious box, and a pretty adjacent 
farm ; to possess, without molestation or con- 
trol, during his life. Does he not reckon the 
little estate, by virtue of your donation, to be 
his own ? as much his own, for the time pre- 
scribed, as if he had paid an equivalent in 
money? Since the Lord Jehovah has given us 
his Son, and all his unutterable merits ; why 
should we not, with an assurance of faith, 
receive the incomparable gift ? Why should 
we not confide in it, as firmer than the 
firmest deed ; and far more inviolable than 
any royal patent? Especially since it has 
been sealed to us in every sacramental or- 
dinance, and witnessed l;y every good mo- 
tion of the Holy Spirit in our hearts. 

T/ier. My servant never aflronted my 
authority. If he had vilified my character, 
or insulted u,y person, should I then have 
been inclined to make the same advantage- 
ous settlement ? 

Asp. Herein appears the infinite superi- 
ority of the divine bounty. God is rich in 
mercy, not only to the obedient and grateful, 
but to the unthankful and unworthy. " To 
the Lord our God," says the prophet, " be- 
long mercies and forgivenesses," in measure 
superabundant, and in continuance unwear- 
ied : and this, " notwithstanding we have" 
offended him by our manifold failures in 
duty ; nay, have " rebelled against him,"* 
Dan , ix. 9, by flagrant violations of his law- 



* The original word in the Hebrew language, bears 
a more obnoxious signification. It denotes the most 
audacious and the most flagitious impiety. It denotes 
that rebellion which is as the sin of witchcraft ; and 
that stubbornness, which is as the iniquity of idola- 
try : Yet, all-virulent and execrable as it is, it does 
not suppress the yearnings of divine pity, nor super- 
sede the exercise of di^'ine forgiveness. With a word 
derived from the same root, Saul, when exasperated 
almost to madness, upbraids Jonathan. And we 
know, persons so extremely incensed never speak in 
the softest terms ; never touch the subject with a 
feather, but make their tongue like a sharp sword. 

May I venture to add, that our translators seem to 
mistake the proper application of the aforementioned 
passage? They represent Saul's invective, flying as 
wide of the mark, as it is overcharged with malice. 
Son of the perverse rebellious woman ! This might 
be asserted, without the least impeachment of Jona- 
than's personal loyalty. Besides, is it not excessively 
indecent, as well as absolutely unreasonable, to re- 
flect upon the mother, for the misdemeanours of the 
son ? Surely, the clause should be rendered in peKfect 
consistence with the genius of the original : Thou 
son of perverse rebellion; or, more agreeably to the 
English idiom. Thou perverse rebellious wretch ! 1 
Sam. XX. 20. 



4,U 



THE RON AND ASPASIO. 



In sweet concert with this prophetical 
lesson, sings the transported psalmist : 
"Thou, Lord," in thy sacred humanity, "hast 
ascended up on high ;" ascended, from the 
low caverns of the tomb, to the highest throne 
in the highest heavens. " Thou hast led cap- 
tivity captive hast abolished death, that 
universal tyrant; and subdued those powers 
of darkness which had enslaved the whole 
world. Like a glorious and triumphant 
conqueror, thou hast also "received gifts;" 
not merely for thy own fruition, but to con- 
fer on others, by way of honorary and en- 
riching largess. What are those gifts, The- 
l on ? 

^2" Ther. The gifts of the gospel, I suppose ; 
pardon of sin, the influences of the Holy 
Spirit, and those other privileges of Christ- 
ianity, which constitute the present happi- 
ness of mankind, and prepare them for fu- 
ture bliss. 

Asp. You rightly judge. And for whom 
were those royal, those heavenly donatives 
received ? If you have an inclination to 
bestow a sword set with diamonds, a fine- 
ly wrought piece of plate, or an exquisitely 
finished picture — what names present them- 
selves to your thoughts ? What persons are 
the objects of your choice? The approved 
friend, or distinguished favomite, I make 
no question. But for whom (let me ask 
again, since it is a point of the last import- 
ance) were those heavenly donatives re- 
ceived ? 

JTier, Let me recollect : " Thou receiv- 
edst gifts," not for fallen angels, but "for 
men ;" and not for thy friends, but for thy 
" enemies ;" yea, " for the rebellious also," 
Psalm Ixviii. 18. Merciful heaven ! What 
a word is this ! And does it come from the 
God of truth ? Gifts, divine gifts ! gifts of 
unspeakable value and eternal duration, and 
these to be conferred on enemies, on the re- 
bellious ! wretches who are destitute of all 
gracious qualifications ; who deserve not the 
least favour, but have reason to expect the 
frowns of indignation, and the sword of 
vengeance ! 

Asp. Thus it is written in those sacred 
constitutions, which are far more stedfast 
and unalterable than the laws of the Medes 
and Persians. Thus it is spoken, by the 
mouth of that Almighty Being, with whom 
there is no variableness, nor the least sha- 
dow of turning. — Let us not, my dear friend, 
by unreasonable unbelief, frustrate all these 
promises, and reject our own mercies. Let 
us not, by an evil heart of unbelief, make 
God a liar ; and make ourselves, of all crea- 
tures, most miserable. 

But see ! The clouds which hung their 
agreeable sables to damp the ardour, and 
abate the glare of day, are departing. The 
sun has been colouring their fleecy skirts, 
and spreading over the floating screen a 



variety of interchangeable hues. Now he 
begins to edge them with gold, and shine 
them into silver ; a sure indication, that 
(like the glittering but transitory toys which 
they represent,) they will soon be swept 
from the horizon, and seen no more. The 
bright orb, while we are speaking, bursts 
the veil, and, from a voluminous pomp of 
parting clouds, pours a flood of splendour 
over all the face of nature. We shall quick- 
ly perceive this open situation too hot to 
consist with pleasure, and must be obliged 
to seek for shelter in the shady apartments 
of the house. 

Will you admit me, Theron, into those 
shady apartments ? 

Ther. Admit you, Aspasio ! I am sur- 
prised at your question. I thought you had 
known me better ; and I am sorry it should 
be needful to assure you, that my house is 
as much your own as it is mine. The more 
freely you command it, the more highly you 
will oblige me. 

Asp. May I believe you, Theron ? Do 
you speak from your heart ? or must I con- 
clude, that you plausibly profess what you 
have no intention to perform ? Would you 
be pleased, if I should obstinately persist in 
these dishonourable suspicions, notwith- 
standing all your friendly protestations ? 

Ther. My dear Aspasio, I see your de- 
sign. I see and am ashamed, ashamed to 
think that I should fancy myself more punc- 
tual in my professions, than God is true to 
his word. " Lord, I believe ; help thou mnie 
unbelief!" 



DIALOGUE XVL 

Qua friends had agreed upon a visit to 
Philenor. They rode through a fine open 
fruitful country, which was covered with 
crops of ripened corn, and occupied by se- 
veral parties of rustics gathering in the co- 
pious harvest. 

The rye, white and hoary as it were with 
age, waved its bearded billows, and gave a 
dry husky rustle before the breeze. The 
wheat, laden with plenty, and beautifully 
brown, hung the heavy head, and invited by 
its bending posture, the reaper's hand. 
Plats of barley, and acres of oats, stood 
whitening in the sun. Upright and perfect- 
ly even, as though the gardener's shears had 
clipped them at the top, they gratified the 
spectator's eye, and gladdened the farmer's 
heart. — Beans, partly clad in native green, 
partly transformed and tawny with the 
parching ray, were preparing the last em- 
ploy for the crooked weapon. Some of the 
grain lay flat, in regular rows, on the new- 
made stubble. Some were erected in grace- 
ful shocks, along the bristly ridges. Some, 



DIALOGUE XVI. 



425 



conveyed homewards on the loaded waggon, 
noflfit'd over the groaning axle. 

The villages seemed to be empty, and all 
their inhabitants poured into the plains. Here 
were persons of each sex and of every age. 
— The lusty youths, stooping to their work, 
])lied the sickle; or swept, with their scythes, 
the falling ranks. The sprightly females fol- 
l(jwed, binding the handfuls into sheaves, or 
piling the swaths into hasty cocks. Dis- 
persed up and down were the children of 
the needy, gleaning the scattered ears, and 
picking their scanty harvest. Nor were the 
old' people absent ; but crawling into the 
sun, or sitting on a shady eminence, they 
beheld the toils, the pleasing toils ihey once 
sustained. 

This is the most joyful period of the 
countryman's life ; the long expected crown 
of all his labours. For this he broke the 
stubboin glebe, and manured the impo- 
verished soil. For this he bore the sultry 
beams of summer, and shrunk not from the 
pinching blasts of winter. For this he toiled 
away the 'year, in a round of ceaseless but 
willing activity ; knowing that* " the hus- 
bandman must labour, before he partakes 
of the fruits," 2 Tim. ii. 6. And will not 
the blessed hope of everlasting life ; will not 
the bright expectation of consummate bliss, 
animate us with an equally cheerful resolu- 
tion, both to resist the temptations, and dis- 
charge the duties of our present state ? 

Short seemed the way, and quick passed 
the time, as they travelled through such 
scenes of rural abundance and rural delight. 
Before they were aware, the horsea stopt 
at Philenor's seat, where they found, to 
their no small disappointment, that the 
master was gone abroad. They alighted 
however, and took a walk in the gardens. 

The gardens, at proper intervals, and in well 
chosen situations, were interspersed with 
pieces of statuary. At the turn of a corner, 
yon are — not shocked with a naked gladiator, 
or a beastly Priapus, but agreeably surprised 
with the image of Tully. He is just risen from 
his seat, and upon the point of addressing 
himself to some important oration. A re- 
verential awe appears in his countenance ; 
such as silently acknowledges that he is go- 
ing to plead before the rulers of the world. 
Sedate, at the same time, and collected in 
himself, he seems conscious of superior elo- 
quence, and emboldened by the justice of 
his cause. His thoughtful aspect, and grace- 
fully-expanded arm, speak to the eye, before 
the tongue has uttered a syllable. 

You enter an alley, lined on either side 
with a verdant fan, and having no variety of 
objects to diversify the intermediate space, 



* Beza thinks that in settling the construction of 
this verse, the adverb -tt^otov should bt tuiUKCted with 
the participle KOTHmTO,. 



your view is conducted to a magnificent 
building at the end. As you walk along, 
contemplating the masterly performance in 
architecture, an unexpected opening diverts 
your attention, and presents you with some 
striking imitation of the virtuous or heroic 
life. Not the Macedonian madman, nor 
Sweden's royal knight-errant ; nor Caesar, 
infam.ously renowned for his slaughtered mil- 
lions — but the truly-gallant Czar : a drawn 
sword in his hand, and a commanding ma- 
jestic sternness on his brow. The weapon 
is held in the most menacing posture ; and 
many a spectator has been observed to start 
back with apprehensions of fear. It is that 
gloriously severe attitude in which the grate- 
ful citizens of Narva beheld him, and in 
which all posterity will admire him, when 
he turned upon his victorious, but ungo- 
vernable troops, and threatened to drench 
the dagger in their hearts, if they did not 
immediately desist from rapine* and slaugh- 
ter, immediately allow quarter to their van- 
quished foes. 

Under a circular dome, supported by pil- 
lars of the Doric order, and in a spot where 
several walks centre, stands — not the Venus 
de Medicis; corrupting, while it captivates 
the world — but a Spartan mother. Her ha- 
bit decent and graceful ; somewhat like the 
Juno Matrona of the Romans, as she is 
finely depictured in Mr. Spence's Polymetis. 
Her air stately and resolved ; expressive 
of dignity, yet mingled with softness. She 
holds a shield, is in the act of delivering it 
to her son ; a youth setting out for the army, 
and going to hazard his life in defence of 
his country. She is supposed to add that 
spirited and magnanimous exhortation, 
which is engraven on the protuberance of 
the buckler, — >? -ray, n s<rt tk; — " Bring it 
back, my son, as thy trophy ; or be brought 
back upon it as thy bier." 

1 am particularly pleased, said Theron, 
with the contrivance of this last ornament. 
It is regulated by one of the most refined 
rules of art, Not to lavish away all the beau- 
ty at a single view, but to make a skilful 
reserve for some future occasion. The dome 
and the columns afford pleasure, when be- 
held at a considerable distance ; the fine 
animated figure in the midst displays its 
graces on a nearer approach : by which 
means the attention is kept awake, and the 
entertainment continues new. 

But what I principally admire, is the spi- 
rit or style of the decorations in general. 
They put me in mind of a very just remark, 
which Mr. Pope has somewhere made. It 



• As soon as the soldiers were masters of the town, 
(Narva), they fell to plunder, and gave themselves up 
to the most enormous barbarities. The Czar ran from 
place to place, to put a stop to the disorder and mas- 
sacre. He was even obliged to kill with his own hand 
several Muscovites who did not hearken to his or- 
ders.— Voi.xair£'s Hist, Charles XII, 



426 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



is, if I remember right, to this eflfect : " A 
man not only shows his taste, but his vir- 
tue, in the choice of his ornaments. A pro- 
per piece of history, represented in painting 
on a rich man's walls, (or exhibited in ima- 
gery amidst his gardens,) is very often a 
better lesson than any he could teach by 
his conversation. In this sense, the stones 
may be said to speak, when men cannot, or 
will not." All but the comparative or sa- 
tirical part of the observation, I would ap- 
ply to the prospect before us, and its wor- 
thy owner. 

Asp. Philenor's gardens, are, I think, more 
chaste and delicate in their ornaments, than 
a certain collegiate church. In the latter 
place, we might reasonably expect the strict- 
est adherence to purity, if we should not 
meet with the symbols of piety and incite- 
ments to religion. What then would be the 
reflections of a judicious observer, if, in such 
a solemn and venerable edii3ce, he should 
see a huge brawny fellow stuck uj) against 
the wall, with his posteriors halt" bare, his 
whole body more than half naked, and in an 
attitude none of the most decent ?* Ex- 
cuse me, Theron. I confess myself asham- 
ed even to rehearse the description. How 
then can the spectacle itself become the 
house of divine worship ? 

Ther. But perhaps this same brawny fel- 
low may represent a Heathen demigod ; one 
of the idols worshipped by antiquity ; the 
tutelary deity of valour. 

Asp. And will this justify the practice? 
Does not this add profaneness to immodes- 
ty ? Are we Christians to thank Hercules 
for the valour of our warriors, and make our 
acknowledgment to Pallas for the conduct 
of our generals ? Shall we. Christians, be- 
hold with admiration, or recognise as our 
benefactors, what the apostle has stigma- 
tized under the character of " devils ?" 1 
Cor. X. 20. 

If he who overthrew the tables of the 
money-changers, had taken a walk in these 
famous cloisters, I am apt to suspect he 
would have paid no very agreeable compli- 
ment to this fine piece of statuary. " Take 
these things hence," would probably have 
been his command j and, " make not the 
precincts of your temple a chamber of Pa- 
gan imagery," his rebuke. John ii. 16. Nei- 
ther is it at all unlikely, that the image it- 
self, notwithstanding its inimitable work- 
manship, might have shared the fate of its 
kinsman Dagon, 



* Referring to the monument lately erected for 
Major General Fleming, in V^estminster Abbey ; 
where, under the General's bust, are placed Hercules 
and Pallas. Hercules with his club and lion's skin, 
in the manner related above ; Pallas, with a mirror 
and serpent at her side. The reader may see a pic- 
ture and an explanation of this monument in the 
Gentleman's Magazine for August 1754. 



When the captive ark 

Maim'd his brute image, head and hands lopp'd off 
In his own temple, on the gToundsell edge 
When he fell fiat, and shamed his worshippers. 

Milton, i. 458. 
Ther: But how should the artist re- 
present the great achievements and the 
shining qualities of his hero, if you will not 
allow him to make use of these significant 
emblems ? 

Asp. I question whether they are so very 
significant. The mirror seems to charac- 
terise a fop, rather than a soldier. It leads 
us to think of a soft Narcissus, admiring 
himself ; rather than a sagacious general, 
planning the operations of the campaign. 
Besides, is sacred literature so destitute of 
proper emblems, that we must borrow the 
decorations of our churches and the trophies 
of our conquerors from the dreams of su- 
perstition, or the delusions of idolatry? 
How just and expressive are those emble- 
matical representations, exhibited in Eze- 
kiel's vision ? where activity and speed are 
signified by hands in conjunction with wings ; 
and the deep, the complicated, yet ever har- 
monious schemes of Providence, by " a 
wheel in the middle of a wheel." With 
what propriety and force are the noblest en- 
dowments pictured in the revelations of St. 
John and their grand machinery ! Superior 
wisdom, aTid benevolence of heart, are de- 
scribed by the face of a man ; strength of 
mind, and intrepidity of spirit, by the visage 
of a lion; cahnness of temper and indefa- 
tigable application, by the features of an ox ; 
a penetratifig discernment, and an expedi- 
tious habit of acting, by the form of " a fly- 
ing eagle." Rev. iv. 7. 

These hieroglyphics are graceful, are per 
tinent, and such as every spectator will un-- 
derstand. Whereas the devices of our new 
monumental encomium, are, I presume, to the 
unlearned, hardly intelligible; to the serious 
little better than profane ; and to every be- 
holder, indelicate, if notimmodest. Phileiior, 
I imagine, would blush to admit them into 
his walks or avenues. And I am sorry to 
find them received into the most ancient,* 
most renowned, and most frequented church 
in the kingdom. 

Talking in this manner, they come to a 
curious grove, formed on that uncommon 
plan, proposed by Mr. Addison, in one of 
his Spectators. It consisted wholly of ever- 
greens. Firs clad in verdant silver, pointed 
their resinous leaves, and shot aloft their 
towering cones. Laurels arrayed in glossy 
green, spread their ample foliage, and threw 
abroad their rambhng boughs. Bay-trees 

* Some antiquarians trace back the origin of this 
church even to the reign of Lucius ; which is more 
than the space of 1500 years. Others suppose ;that 
Sebert, King of the East-Saxons, about the year 
of our Lord, 605, built the first religious structure on 
this spot. All agree that it was re-edified and enlarg- 
ed by Edward the Confessor, and that the present state- 
ly and magnificent fabric was fouudedby Henry IIL 



DIALOGUE XVI. 



427 



were expanded into a fan, that no weather 
ooiild tarnish; or rounded into acohimn, 
that knew not how to moulder. While the 
lauristinus ran out into a beautiful irregula- 
rity of shape ; and compacted her reddening 
gems, in order to unfold her whitening bloom. 
In one place lay a dale, gently sinking, and 
coated with the chamomile's natural frieze, 
which never changes its colour, never loses 
its gloss. Near it, and scooped, you would 
imagine, from the same hollow, arose a 
mount, softly swelling, and shagged with 
furze, gay with perennial verdure, and ge- 
nerally decked with golden blossoms. Here 
you are led through a serpentine walk and 
hedges of box ; and find perhaps a solitary 
pyramid or a capacious urn ; each composed 
of unfading yew. — There you look through 
a strait alley ; fenced on either side, and 
arched overhead with mantling philyra ; and 
see at the extremity, an obelisk sheathed 
in ivy, and ornamented with its sable clus- 
ters as with wreaths of living sculpture. 
Scattered up and down were several sorts 
of holly; some stripped with white, some spot- 
ted with yellow, some preparing to brighten 
and beautify the scene with berries of glow- 
ing scarlet. 

The heads of the trees, arising one above 
another, in a gradual slope, from the dimi- 
nutive mazerean to the lofty cypress ; the 
several shadings of their green attire, greatly 
diversified, and judiciously intermixed, af- 
ford, especially in the winter season, a most 
enlivened and lovely prospect. As the sun- 
shine is, by the frequenters of this grove, 
usually more coveted than the shade ; it is so 
disposed as to admit, in one part or another, 
every gleam of fine weather which exhilar- 
ates the winter. 

Asp. There mustbe something unspeakably 
pleasing in a plantation, which appears lively 
and fruitful when all its neighbours of the 
woodland race are barren, bleak, or dead ; but 
how much more cheering and delightful must 
it be, when decrepit age or bodily infirmities 
have impaired the vigour and laid waste the 
gratifications of our youthful prime, to find a 
solid undecaying pleasure in the favour of 
God and the hope of glory ! Now, indeed, 
the feathered tribes resort to the more flow- 
ing umbrage of the poplar and the ash ; but 
amidst December's cold, you shall observe 
them forsaking the leafless woods, and flock- 
ing to this friendly receptacle ; hopping 
across the sunny walks, or sheltering them- 
selves, in the wet and stormy day, under 
these trusty boughs. So the many thought- 
less creatures, who turn their back upon re- 
ligion amidst the soft and soothing caresses 
of prosperity, will want, extremely want, its 
sovei-eign supports under the sharp and dis- 
tressing assaults of adversity, sickness, and 
death. This collection, it is true, may not 
equal the groves of annual verdure in llorid- 



ity of dress ; but it far exceeds them in the 
duration of its ornaments. Ere long, yon- 
der showy branches will be stript of their 
holiday clothes ; whereas, these will retain 
their honours, when those are all rags, or 
nakedness. Thus will it be with every re- 
fuge for our poor, imperfect, sinful souls ; 
excepting only the righteousness of our 
Lord Jesus Christ. Every thing else will 
" fade as a leaf," Isa. Ixiv. 6. This, my 
Theron, and this alone is an evergreen ; al - 
ways free for our acceptance, and always ef- 
fectual to save. 

The7\ An evergreen it is. But, like the 
ruddy and inviting fruits which hang on the 
uppermost boughs of those lofty trees in the 
orchard, it seems to be quite out of my reach. 

Asp. Are you sensible that you need the 
immaculate and perfect righteousness of our 
Saviour ? 

Thei: Was Jonah sensible how much he 
needed the cooling shelter of his gourd, 
when the sun smote fiercely upon his tem- 
ples, and all the fervours of the fiery east 
were glowing around him ? So is your Ther- 
on sensible, that without a far better righte- 
ousness than his own, he must inevitably be 
condemned by the sentence of the law, and 
cannot possibly stand before the high and 
holy God. 

Asp. Remember then what our Lord says 
to such persons ; " Come unto me all ye 
that are weary and heavy laden, and I will 
give you rest," Matth. xi. 28. How gra- 
cious is the invitation ? Come unto me, the 
Father of compassions, and the Giver of 
every good gift. How extensive as well as 
gracious ! All that are " weary," (Ka . tovt;;,) 
toiling in a fruitless pursuit of happincs?, 
and spending your labour for that which 
satisfieth not. All that are " heavy laden," 
('n.i(po^rta-fiivo',) oppressed withtheservitude 
of sin, or bowed down under a load of mi- 
sery. These, all these are called, and you 
my friend, in the number. They have not 
a ticket, a bond, or some inferior pledge to 
ascertain their success : but they have a 
promise from faithfulness and truth itself. 
" I will give you rest," says the strength of 
Israel, whose will is fate, and his word the 
basis of the universe. And if Christ will 
give you rest, he will wash you in that blood 
which atones, and invest you with that 
righteousness which justifies ; since nothing 
short of these mercies can afford any satis- 
faction to the guilty conscience, or true sa- 
tisfaction to the restless soul. — Permit me 
to ask farther. Do you earnestly desire this 
righteousness ? 

TTier. Will yonder hirelings, when fatigued 
with the heat and burden of a long, labor- 
ious, sultry day, desire the shades of the 
evening, and the repose of the night r I can 
truly on this occasion, adopt the words of 
the prophet : " The desire of my soul is to 



THERON AND ASPASIO 



428 

thy name," blessed Jesus, *' and to the re- 1 
membrance" of thy righteousness. The 
very mention of this spotless righteousness 
is music to my ears. Every fresh, though 
distant discovery of it, gleams pleasure upon 
my mind. And that would be a welcome 
day, a day greatly to be distinguished, which 
should bring it near to my view, and home 
to my soul. 

Asp. Say not then, my dear friend, that 
Christ, and the blessings of his purchase, 
are beyond your reach. They are now, even 
now at your door. You need not argue 
anxiously and despondingly, " Who shall 
ascend into heaven, to bring down Christ 
from above ? or, who shall descend into the 
deep, to bring up Christ from beneath ?" 
Rom. X. 6, 7. There is no such impossi- 
bility, no such difficulty in the thing. 
Christ and his righteousness, Christ and his 
salvation, are brought nigh in the word of 
promise. And " if thou shalt confess with 
thy mouth the Lord Jesus" as dying on the 
cross for thy redemption ; " if thou shalt 
believe in thy heart, that God hath raised 
him from the dead" for thy justification, 
" thou shalt be saved," Rom. x. 9. In so 
doing, thou shalt receive remission of sin, 
and power to withstand its temptations. 

Have you never, in your travels, been 
overtaken by the dark and tempestuous 
night? When, chilled with the cold, and 
almost drowned in the rain, you arrived at 
the house of some valued friend, was you 
not willing to gain admittance ? 

Ther. W^illing ! I was desirous, I was 
almost impatient ? I thought every moment 
an hour till the hospitable door opened — 
till I exchanged the dismal gloom and the 
driving storm, for the cheerful light and the 
amiable company within. 

Asp. The adored Emmanuel professes 
himself equally willing to come unto you. 
"Behold 1" says the Saviour of the world, 
** I stand at the door, and knock. If any 
man hear my voice, and open the door, I 
will come in unto him, and will sup with 
him, and he with me." Rev. iii. 20. Like 
one exposed to all the inclemencies of the 
air, whose " head is filled with dew, and his 
locks with the drops of the night," Cant. 
V. 2, he is not only willing, but desirous to 
enter. " He stands at the door," with 
great long-suffering and perseverance, till 
all obstacles are removed, or rather till that 
one grand obstacle is taken out of the way, 
unbelief. " He knocks," by the preaching 
of his word, and the promise of his gospel, 
like one who sohcits admission, and will 
take no denial. Hear then his soliciting 
voice, and " he will sup with you ;" will 
make his abode with you, will manifest his 
glories in you, and communicate his grace to 
you. Bel'ieve his promising word, and " you 
shall sup with him ;" this will be refreshing to 



your distressed soul, as the most sumptuous 
banquet to the famished stomach and crav- 
ing appetite. 

Ther. I cannot open my heart. 

Asp. Christ has the key of David. " He 
openeth, and none can shut; he shutteth, 
and none can open." Rev. iii. 7. He is 
able to make all grace, not only to exist in 
you, but abound towards you, 2 Cor. ix. 8, 
and what is still more encouraging, he is 
professedly "the author and finisher of our 
faith." Heb. xii. 2. Since he has claimed 
this character to himself, since he has un- 
dertaken to execute this office, why should 
we harbour the least distrust? Will he 
not fulfil his own office, and act agreeably 
to his own character ? Be not, my dear 
Theron, be not faithless, but believing. 

Ther. This I believe — that I am a lost 
sinner ; under the curse of the law? and li- 
able to the wrath of God ; that there is no 
relief for my distress but in Christ and his 
transcendent merits. He, and he alone, is 
able to save me from my guilt, and all its 
dismal train of miseries. He is a Saviour 
fully proportioned to my wants ; exactly 
suited to my several necessities, I believe, 
and am persuaded, that if I was interested 
in the divine Jesus, my soul should live. 

Asp. Be persuaded likewise, that there 
is no clogging qualification, no worth to be 
possessed, no duty to be performed, in or- 
der to your full participation of Christ and 
his riches. Only believe, and they are all 
your own. " Christ dwelleth in our hearts" 
— how ? by legal works, and laborious pre- 
requisites? No; but "by faith." Eph. iii. 
17. " He that believeth on the Son, hath" 
— a chimerical? far from it — a real and a sub- 
stantial happiness, even " everlasting life." 
John iii. 36. 

Ther. Ah ! my Aspasio ! I cannot be- 
lieve. I feel my impotency. My mind is, 
as you formerly hinted, like the withered arm. 

Asp. It is no small advantage, Theron, 
to be convinced of our inability in this re- 
spect. This is, if not the beginning of faith, 
the sign of its approach ; and shows it to 
be, if not in the soul, yet at the very door. 
Fear not, my friend. He who bids you 
stretch out, will strengthen the withered 
arm. He first makes us sensible of our 
weakness, and then " fulfils all the good 
pleasure of his will, and the work of faith 
with power." 2 Thess. i. 11. 

Can you doubt of his willingness ? Then 
go to Mount Calvary. There listen to the 
" sounding of his bowels, and of his mer- 
cies towards you." Isaiah Ixiii. 15. Has 
not every drop of blood a tongue ? Cannot 
you read a language in each streaming 
wound, and hear a voice in every tlying 
pang ? Do they not all speak his infinite 
love even to wretched sinners ? Do they 
not all address you with that tender remoii- 



DIALOGUE XVL 



429 



strance, O thou of little faith, wherefore 
dost thou doubt ?" Matt. xiv. 31. Nay, 
do they not all declare, with an energy su- 
perior to the force of words, that he will 
deny you no manner of thing that is good ? 

Who gave his blood, what gift will he withhold ? 

Ther. I am ashamed to recollect, what 
mistaken notions I once entertained con- 
cerning the easiness of believing ; as though 
it were to be performed, like the act of ris- 
ing from our seat, or stepping into a coach, 
by our own strength, and at our own time. 
What a stranger was I then to the blind- 
ness of my understanding, and the hardness 
of my heart ; to my bondage under unbe- 
lief, and averseness to the way of salvation 
" by grace through faith !" 

Asp. Since you are sensible of your im- 
potence, beware of the contrary extreme. 
Because you cannot by your own strength 
exercise faith, let not this occasion a tame 
resignation of yourself to infidelity. You 
must endeavour, diligently endeavour, to 
believe ; and wait, and pray, for the divine 
Spirit. Though it is his office to testify of 
Christ, " and bring near the Redeemer's 
righteousness," Isa. xlvi. 1 ; yet his influ- 
ences are not to supersede, but to encourage 
our own efforts. " Work out your own 
salvation with fear and trembling here is 
our duty. *' For it is God that worketh in 
you both to will and to do, Phil. ii. 12, 13; 
here is our encouragement : and O what a 
glorious encouragement, to have the arm of 
Omnipotence stretched out for our support 
and our succour ! 

Ther. How, or in what manner, does the 
divine Spirit work faith in the heart of a 
sinner ? You wonder, perhaps, that I ask 
such a question. But my apprehensions are 
strangely dull, and my views very dim, with 
regard to spiritual things. If in this respect 
I have any sight, it is like his who " saw 
men as trees walking ;" saw these several 
objects, but so obscurely, so confusedly, that 
he could not distinguish one from the other, 
only by the circumstance of motion. 

Asp. The most enlightened minds see 
only in part ; and all have reason to make 
the blind beggar's supplication their own re- 
quest : " Lord, that I may receive my sight!" 
The operation of the Holy Spirit in pro- 
ducing faith, is thus described by a master 
in Israel : The divine Spirit brings Christ 
and his righteousness nigh unto us in the 
promise of the gospel ; clearing at the same 
time our right and warrant to intermeddle 
with all, without fear of vitious intromission ; 
encouraging and enabling to a measure of 
confident application, and taking home all 
to ourselves, freely, without money, and 
without price*" 

You was once, Theron, a zealous advo- 
cate for good works. Now you seem to 



have abandoned your clients. Remember, 
my dear friend, what our Lord Jesus Christ 
says, John iv. 29, " This is the work of 
.God," of all works most acceptable and 
"most honourable to the divine Majesty, 
" that you believe on him whom he hath 
sent." 

Ther. The true belief, according to your 
notion, Aspasio, is so refined and exalted a 
virtue, that I very much question whether 
I shall be ever able to attain it. 

Asp. If you are unable to attain it, is the 
Lord unable to give it? Our sufficiency 
for this and every good work, is not in our- 
selves, but in God. And to him difficul- 
ties are easy : Before him mountains are 
a plain. You will please to remember, that 
sinners are said to believe, not through 
their own ability, but through the power of 
grace : and you will permit me to ask, how 
you became acquainted with my notion of 
faith ? 

Ther. I am not so inattentive a reader of 
your letters, as to forget your definition of 
this momentous article. Faith, you say, 
" is a real persuasion, that the blessed Jesus 
has shed his blood for me, and fulfilled all 
righteousness in my stead ; that through 
this great atonement and glorious obedience 
he has purchased, even for my sinful soul, 
reconciliation with God, sanctifying grace, 
and all spiritual blessings.''* 

Asp. I am obliged to you, Theron, for 
the honour you do my letter ; and I hojjc 
you will pay an equal regard to the deter- 
mination of our church. You once apj)re- 
hended that my attachment to the church of 
England was unsettled and wavering. Judge 
now who has most thoroughly imbibed her 
doctrines, and is most invariably tenacious 
of her true interests. In the first part of 
the Homily concerning the Sacrament, we 
have this definition of faith : It is a belief, 
not only that the death of Christ is availa- 
ble for the remission of sins, and reconcili- 
ation with God, but also that he made a full 
and sufficient sacrifice for thee, a perfect 
cleansing for thy sins."f 

My notion of faith, you see, is evidently 
the voice of the establishment ; and I think 



* See Letter X. Here is, it must be acknowledged,;a 
total omission of all preparatory or rather impulsive 
dispositions ; such as convictions of sin, and hunger- 
ing after salvation. Here is likewise a total silence 
concerning all causes, instrumental or efficient, such 
as the power of the divine Word, and the agency of 
the divine Spirit. No mention is made of the fruits 
or concomitants ; such as love to Christ, love of the 
brethren, or purity of heart. Nothing is exhibited 
to view but the form and essence of faith, or that par- 
ticular act which characterises and constitutes real 
faith, which distinguishes it from the hypocritical 
pretension and the historical notion. This simple 
view is given, that the mind may fix upon the grand 
point, and not be embarrassed with a multiplicity of 
ideas. 

\ Answerable to this was the doctrine of the primi- 
tive church ; H -TTirrii ilio9roiitTat tov Qiov. 

C'HRVSOST. 



430 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



it gives us a clear intelligible sense, suited 
to the most common acceptation of the 
word ; such as would naturally arise in the 
mind of a stranger, who, without any bias 
on his judgment, should inquire into the 
purport of our religion, or consider the lan- 
guage of our Bible. 

Ther. How suited to the most common 
acceptation of the word ? 

Asp. When you sent a message to your, 
tenant, who, in his last sickness, expressed 
so much uneasiness on account of his nu- 
merous family and embarrassed circumstan- 
ces, assuring him that you had cancelled the 
bond and forgiven his debt : when you told 
the poor woman, whose husband fell from 
the loaded waggon, and broke both his legs, 
that you would order a surgeon to attend 
Lim, and would continue his weekly pay ; 
how did they regaid, how receive your pro- 
mised kindness? — So let us credit the gra- 
cious declarations of our God, so accept his 
faithful promise, and then we shall answer 
the import of the word — then we shall tru- 
ly believe. 

Ther. Where is there in Scripture any 
thing parallel or similar to these instances? 

ylsp. Have you never read the words of 
Micah, " Who is a God like unto thee, that 
pardoneth iniquity, and passeth by trans- 
gression ?" Micah vii. 18. Here is the gra- 
cious declaration. — " He will turn again ; 
he will have compassion upon us, he will 
subdue our iniquities," Micah vii. 19. Here 
is the faithful promise. — And why, my 
friend, why should we pay less credit to the 
ever-living Jehovah, than to a man, " whose 
breath is in his nostrils ?" Is there treach- 
ery with the Holy One of Israel ? Does the 
Lord make, and then violate his promise ? 
" Ask now of the days that are past, ask 
from the one side of heaven unto the other, 
whether such a thing hath ever been?" 

Ther. God has never violated his pro- 
mise, when it was expressly made, and par- 
ticularly applied. But in this circumstance 
there is a wide difference between the case 
of your friend, and the case of his poor peo- 
ple. I named the object of my compassion 
in one of the instances, and made a personal 
application in the other Neither of which 
is done in the Scriptures. 

Asp. Though we are not particularly 
named, yet we are very exactly describ- 
ed, by our family, our inclination, our 
practice. What says eternal Wisdom, when 
she makes a tender of her inestimable bless- 
ings ? " To you, O men," not to fallen an- 
gels, " I call ; and my voice is" not to this 
man or that man exclusively, but " to the 
sons of men" indefinitely, Prov. viii. 4. 
What says the holy apostle, when he pub- 
lishes the counsels of heaven ? " This is a 
faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta- 
tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world 



to save,"— the upright? the unblamable? 
Was this the case, our hopes would be co- 
vered with a cloud, or rather totally and fi- 
nally eclipsed. But see ! they are clear as 
the light, and conspicuous as the noon-day. 
For he came (cheering, charming word!) 
he came to save sinners. 1 Tim. i. 15, 

Consonant to all which is the declaration 
of another sacred envoy : " He," the prince 
of Peace, the monarch of the univei-se, 
" suffered" — for whom ? They in whose be- 
half this matchless ransom was paid, must 
have an undeniable right to look upon re- 
demption as their own : And blessed, for 
ever blessed be God, it is most peremptor- 
ily said, he suffered— for the unjust," 1 Pet. 
lii. 18. 

That no part of our character might be 
omitted, and no part of our misery pass un- 
relieved, it is farther declared, " When we 
were without strength, Christ died for the 
ungodly," Rom. v. 6. When we were un- 
godly, and considered only as ungodly crea- 
tures ; neither possessed of any thing amia- 
ble, nor having the least ability to acquire 
it ; nay, when we were chargeal3le with the 
most horrid guilt, and incapable of expiat- 
ing a single offence ; then, even then, Christ 
died — and for such abominable wretches he 
died. Are we not of the human family ? 
Are we not unjust,* Rom. v. 6, towards our 
fellow- creatures, and ungodly towards our 
great Creator? Are we not in all rela- 
tions, and in every respect, sinners? If we 
are (and upon these questions incredulity 
itself will scarcely demur,) let us not fro- 
wardly reject, rather let us thankfully re- 
ceive those spiritual treasures, which, by 
virtue of the afore-cited conveyance, belong 
to such people; which, by several other 
clauses in the will and testament of our 
crucified Lord, evidently devolve to such 
persons. 

Ther. Is it possible, Aspasio ? Can we 
be warranted and encouraged to receive 
these treasures, in a capacity and under a 
denomination, which I should think more 
likely to exclude us, disinherit us, and over- 
throw all our pretensions ? 

Asp. This may seem strange, but it is 
true. All the blessings of the gospel 
proceed upon a supposition of sinfulness, 
Christ is made wisdom unto his people ; but 
what occasion for the accession of wisdom, 
unless it be in the case of ignorance and 
folly ? Christ is made righteousness ; but 
who can stand in need of a justifying right- 
eousness, if they are not in themselves uii- 
profitable and guilty ? Christ is made sancti- 
fication ; and does not this imply a state of 
corruption to be remedied, a body of sin to 



* He is unjust towards his neighbour, who neglects 
to love his neighbour as himself. And if this is the 
standard, who lias not fallen short ? 



DIALOGUE XVI. 



4S1 



be destroyed ? Christ is made redemption ; 
and from what are persons redeemed but 
from chains and bondage, from misery and 
ruin, from all manner of evil? 

It is also a most precious and invaluable 
truth ; such as I would hold fast, and never, 
never let go. When I search for my own 
endowments, I find nothing that I dare ven- 
ture to plead, being in my best moments, 
and amidst my choicest duties, a sinner. 
As this is, at all times, my undoubted cha- 
racter, I have at all times an undoubted 
warrant to say, The uncreated Wisdom call- 
eth me ; the blessed Jesus came to save 
me ; the great Messiah suffered death for 
me. 

Let me illustrate the point. Romulus, 
you know, the founder of the Roman em- 
pire, was a poor prince, had but a handful 
of subjects, and very scanty territories. 
What expedient could he devise to enlarge 
the boundaries of the one, and augment the 
number of the other ? He issued a procla- 
mation, addressed to outlaws and criminals, 
all that were involved in debt or obnoxious 
to punishment, promising that as many as 
would settle under his dominion, should be 
secured from prosecution, and vested with 
considerable privileges. — We will suppose 
a person in those distressed circumstances. 
Upon hearing the welcome invitation, he 
hangs down his head, and, with a dejected 
air, cries, " I am a debtor, I am a criminal, 
and therefore unworthy of the royal protec- 
tion." What answer should be made to 
such a dispirited complainer ? Make the 
same to yourself, whenever you are inclined 
to renew the present objections : Remem- 
bering, that the infinite and eternal Sove- 
reign, to display the magnificence of his 
majesty, and manifest the riches of his 
goodness, has commissioned his ambassadors 
to publish in every nation under heaven, 
" That all unhappy sinners, who are op- 
pressed by the devU, and liable to damna- 
tion, may come to Christ, and rely on 
Christ ; may in this manner obtain pardon, 
righteousness, and all the privileges of child- 
ren." 

Tlier. At this rate, the vilest miscreants 
have as clear, nay, have the very same warrant 
to believe in Christ, and receive his salva- 
tion, as the highest saints. 

Asp. The very same. In this respect 
there is no difference. All have sinned, 
and must sue for spiritual blessings, not as 
deserving, but as guilty creatures ; must re- 
ceive them, not as the recompense of their 
own worth, but as the issues of infinite 
mercy. The vilest miscreants are blinded 
by the devil, and enslaved to their lusts : 
therefore they see no beauty in a Saviour, 
that they should desire him. Whereas when 
the divine Spirit opens their eyes, and in- 
clines their hearts, they discover and make 



use of just the same right to Christ and his 
merit as the highest saints ; — a right found- 
ed not on their awakened desires, not on 
any thing in themselves, but purely, solely, 
entirely, on the free grant of a Saviour. 

Shoidd " you ask the highest saints, on , 
what their hopes are grounded ? This, or 
something to this effect, would be their re- 
ply : — " On the free exhibition of Christ 
and his salvation, recorded in the word of 
truth. There we find it written, ' To you,' 
though Gentiles and idolaters, ' is preached 
the remission of sins.' Acts xiii. 38. 
' The promise is to you,' even to you, 'whose 
wicked hands have crucified and slain the 
Lord of life ;' and not to you only, but ' to 
all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord 
our God,' by the message of his everlasting 
gospel, ' shall call. '* We remember, Theron, 
though you seem to have forgotten, the 
wretched outcast, polluted in its blood, yet 
accepted by the Holy One of Israel- We 
remember the heaverdy gifts, received by 
the triumphant Redeemer, for enemies, and 
for the rebellious. Nor can we easily for- 
get the promise of forgiveness which was 
made, and the blessings of forgiveness which 
was vouchsafed, even to the murderers of 
the Lord of glory, "f 

Ther. This is a pleasing supposition. 
But it would be more satisfactory, if you 
should produce any of the saints speaking in 
this manner. 

Asp. Isaiah, you will allow, was a saint 
of no inferior rank : Yet he breathes the 
spirit I am describing, and acts the part I 
am vindicating. Turn to that epitome of 
the gospel, his fifty-third chapter. There 
you may observe him claiming a share in the 
greatest of all privileges, salvation through 
the blood of Christ. How does he advance 
and maintain his claim ? Not in the capaci- 
ty of a sanctified, but under the character 
of a sinful person. These are his words ; 
" The Lord hath laid on him," on his Son 
Jesus Christ "the iniquity of us all," Isa.liii. 
6. Of me, and of my brethren in piety, does 
he mean ? No ; but of me and of my fellow- 
transgressors. This is evidently implied in 
the clause I have quoted. In the preceding 
'part of the verse, the prophet explains him- 
self, and leaves no room for hesitation. " All 
we like sheep have gone astray, we have 
turned every one to his own ways ;" yet our 
transgressions, our iniquities, the God of 
all mercy has transferred from us, and 



* Acts ii. 39. Call — in the same manner as he call- 
ed those to, whom Peter spake ; which evidently 
means, not the inward efficacious call, wrought by 
the Spirit, but the outward call, delivered m the 
word. Otherwise, we must suppose every individual 
person in this promiscuous assembly to be savingly 
changed ; which will hardly be credited by those who 
remember, that the congregation consisted of mock- 
ers, murderers, and sinners. 

t Referring to Dialogue XV. 



432 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



charged upon our Redeemer. As the vilest 
miscreants are indispensably obliged to 
confess the former, they have a free and full 
right to profess, to assert^ and to believe the 
latter. 

At this you may probably wonder; at this 
we ought ail to wonder ! this is that amazingly 
rich grace, which will be the wonder of saints 
and angels through a boundless eternity. 
Yet, though we wonder, let us not murmur. 
Let not the elder brother repine, because 
the young prodigal enters at the same door, 
and is admitted to the same table with him- 
self. 

To this testimony of the saints, shall I 
add the decision of their King ? " God so 
loved the world," even the fallen, the wick- 
ed, the apostate world, that, in the fulness 
of time, " he gave his only begotten Son," 
John iii. 16, to bring in a perfect righteous- 
ness, and obtain eternal redemption. And 
he still gives him, with all his saving bene- 
fits, in the promise of the gospel. 

Ther. Does this general gift warrant a 
sinner to make a particular application of all 
to himself. 

Asp. It warrants, it demands, and in 
other instances obtains a particular applica- 
tion. When Jonah, in pursuance of the 
divine command, " cried and said. Yet forty 
days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown ;" 
there was no particular mention of man, wo- 
man, or child. Neither the king, nor the 
nobles, nor the commons were specified. 
Much less was each and every inhabitant 
threatened by name. Nevertheless, this 
general denunciation alarmed them all ; was 
influential on them all. Insomuch that " the 
people of Nineveh believed God, and pro- 
claimed a fast, and put on sackloth, from the 
greatest of them even to the least." Jonah 
iii. 5. They believed ; hence we learn the 
true nature of believing : " God speaks to 
me, and what he speaks he will perform ;" 
is its genuine profession. Hence we like- 
wise discover who they are which ought in 
this manner to apply the general word, " All, 
from the least even unto the greatest, believ- 
ed." 

Ther. The case is not parallel, Aspasio. 
This was a denunciation of vengeance, not ■ 
a promise of grace. i 

Asp. And can you suppose that God is ' 
more liberal of vengeance than he is com- > 
municative of grace ? Vengeance ishisstrange i 
work, but in mercy and loving kindness he 
delighteth. Are we bound to believe and 
apply his dreadful threatenings ? not allowed ( 
to believe and apply his precious promises ? 1 
Surely the Lord's ways are not so unequal. 1 
When the law says, " Cursed is every one j 
that continueth not in all thingfi," Gal. iii. ^ 
10, should not every hearer take this to 
himself, and submit to the sentence of just j 
ondemnation? When the gospel says, '-' lie ;i 



t came to save that which was lost," Matth. 
) xviii. 11, should not every hearer take this 
1 also to himself, and embrace the tender of 
} free salvation. 

However, if you dislike my instance, I 
3 will give you another ; which is not of the 
r vindictive, but of the beneficent kind 
5 When the manna made its first appearance 
. in the wilderness ; when the Israelites knew 
. neither what it was, nor for whom intended ; 
! both these particulars were explained by 
, Moses : " This is the bread which the Lord 
• hath given you to eat." Exod. xvi. 15. No 
mention is made of any individual person. 
[ Yet the whole congregation looked upon 
I this as an undoubted permission, both for 
themselves and their children, to gather, to 
1 fetch home, and to use the miraculous food. 
And here, Theron, here lies the principal 
difference between the vile miscreant, and 
the exalted saint : not that the one was 
originally better than the other ; not that 
the one has a clearer grant of Christ than 
the other ; but the latter has gathered the 
heavenly manna, and uses it to his unspeak- 
able advantage : whereas it lies round about 
the tents of the former ; and whoever will, 
may take, may eat, and his soul shall live. 

Ther. God gave the manna to all the Is- 
raelites, both good and bad. But does he 
give Christ with this unlimited freeness ? 

Asp. Our Lord himself, alluding to this 
very miracle, vouchsafes you an answer : 
" My Father giveth you the true bread from 
heaven," John vi. 32. My Father giveth 
you his incarnate Son, and his divinely ex- 
cellent righteousness. These are bread in- 
deed; bread which came down from the 
regions of heaven ; and bread which nourish- 
eth the soul for the joys of heaven. This 
my Father giveth you ; though not in actual 
possession, yet in right to possess. This 
he giveth you, in the free indefinite grant of 
his word ; without which grant, any attempt 
to possess, even in the most upright of men, 
would be illegal and presumptuous ; by vir- 
tue of which grant, even the poor sinner has 
an unquestionable warrant to receive and 
possess the riches of Christ. 

Ther. Unquestionable! is not this expi'es- 
sion too peremptory ? That such a grant 
should be made to believers, I can easily 
conceive : But is it made to sinners — to 
any sinners — to the most abandoned sin- 
ners ? 

Asp. Yes, Theron, to sinners. And 
when sinners receive the grant, then they 
commence believers. Was it made to be- 
lievers only, no man living would inherit the 
blessing; because all men are, by the de- 
pravity and impotence of their nature, ori- 
ginally concluded under sin and unbelief. 

What said our Lord ? My Father giveth 
you ; that is, the people who stood around 
and heard his gracious voice ; many of whom 



dialogue: XVI. 



4S3 



were in a can'nii slate habitually, and even 
then were in a murmuring wicked frame. 
John vi. 28, 41. What says his prophet? 
" To us a Son is given," not to us who were 
aiitecedenlly children of the light, but who 
" walk in darkness, and dwell in the 
shadow of death," Isa. ix. 2, 6- What saith 
God the Lord, he that created the heavens, 
aiid stretched them out ? "I will give thee," 
meaning his beloved Son, " for a covenant ;" 
it is not said, of believers, but " of the peo- 
ple ;" it is not said, of new creatures, but 
" of the Gentiles who were the vilest of 
all creatures, or, as you have properly spoke, 
the most abandoned sinners. That we may 
understand more clearly the signification of 
these terms, and see the tme extent of this 
gift, it is added, I will give thee " to open 
the blind eyes, and to bring out the prison- 
ers from the prison," Isa. xlii. 6, 7. Misera- 
ble and guilty wretches, blinded by the de- 
vil, and enslaved to their lusts ; these are 
the patentees in the heavenly grant. To 
these the great Surety is given, together 
with all the benefits of his covenant. 

I-Jere then the grant and the gift are men- 
tioned ; the persons for whom they are 
designed are specified, and expressly named. 
They are sinners ; blinded and enslaved sin- 
ners ; or, if there be any other more obnoxious 
sort, they are all comprehended in this one 
word, Gentiles. Only allow these texts to 
be true ; only allow the divine speaker to 
be sincere and faithful ; then we may bold- 
ly affirm, that any, that every poor sinner is 
authorized to say, " God gives me his Son, 
to be my covenant-surety. I take him at 
his word. The Surety and all his merits are 
mine." Divmcly rich bounty ! O let us not 
refuse what, on this consideration, the un- 
erring Spirit, calls " our own mercy." Jonah 
ii. 8- Let us adore the beneficence of our 
God; let us believe his promising word; and 
in this sweet, this easy maimer, obtain both 
pi'esent and final salvation. 

Titer. Let me recollect : — Christ is given 
for the v>'orld, the apostate world, to believe 
on : Christ has died, not for the righteous, 
but for the ungodly : Christ came in the 
flesh to save sinners, even the chief of sin- 
ners. Well, Aspasio, if these things are 
true, (and how can they be otherwise, since 
they are the express doctrine of scripture ?) 
it is pity but they were more generally 
known. For my part, I must confess, they 
are not ojily new, but strange to me. 
Though I have read them in the Bible, yet 
wlien I come to consider them, and com- 
pare them with what passes in my breast, 
I find they are quite contrary to my usual 
ways of thinking. 

Asp. You remind me of a valuable per- 
son, whom I once numbered among my ac- 
quaintance, and whose way of thinking was 



somewhat similar to your oa\ti. Will you 
give me leave to relate his case ? 

Ther. Most gladly. It will be some 
kind of consolation to hear that others have 
laboiired under the same difficulties with 
myself, and been subject to the same dis- 
tresses. If I am informed of their deliv- 
erance from those distresses, it will be like 
showing me an opened door for efi^ecting my 
own escape. If I am likewise acquainted 
with the manner of their deliverance, this 
will fiu:nish me with a clue to guide my 
steps. 

Asp. This person was roused from a 
habit of indolence and supineness, hito a 
serious concern for his eternal welfare. 
Convinced of his depraved nature and ag- 
gravated guilt, he had recourse to the scrip- 
tures, and to frequent prayer. He attended 
the ordinances of Christianity, and sought 
earnestly for an assured interest in Christ ; 
but found no steadfast faith, and tasted very 
little comfort — At length he applied to ai; 
eminent divine, and laid open the state of 
his heart. Short, but weighty, was the an- 
swer he received : " I perceive. Sir, the 
cause of all your distress. You do not, 
you will not, come to Christ as a sinner. 
This mistake stands between your soul and 
the joy of religion. This detains you in 
the gall of bitterness ; and take heed, O ! 
take heed, lest it consign you over to the 
bond of iniquity!" This admonition never 
departed from the gentleman's mind ; and 
it became a happy means of removing the 
obstructions to his peace. 

Remember this little history, Theron; 
and may it prove as efiicacious for your 
good, as it is pertinent to your circum- 
stances ! Remember, that the free grant of 
Christ, made in the word of truth, and ad- 
dressed to sinners of mankind, is the only 
basis and ground- work of faith. An apos 
tie, after all the labours of his exemplary 
life, can have no better. And a Magda- 
lene or a Manasseh, as a motive and en- 
couragement for their turning to the Lord, 
have the very same. 

But we digi-ess from the principar sub- 
ject. Since you disapprove my account of 
faith, I must desire you to favour me with 
a description more correct and unexception- 
able ; For, as you justly observed, this is a 
veiy momentous article. Is not Christ the 
souice of all spiritual good, and faith the 
m.ain channel of conveyance ? Surely then 
it should be made and kept as clear as pos- 
sible. Is not Christ the foundation of all 
true godliness, and faith the master-arch 
in this sacred structure ? Surely then it 
should be raised and turned with the ut- 
most care. 

Titer. Palaem.on's account is this — Faith, 
he says, is a fiim persuasion, tluit Jesu.^ 

2 F 



434. 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



Christ has shed his blood, and fulfilled all 
righteousness ; has snstained the punishment 
due to sin, and obtained full reconciliation 
with God : that all this grace, and each of 
these benefits, are free, perfectly free— for 
you, for me, for others. In consequence of 
this persuasion, the sinner flies to Christ, 
comes to Christ, and trusts in Christ for 
his own salvation. 

Asp. I have the highest regard for Palce- 
raon's judgment ; and I cannot but think 
my opinion is confirmed even by his. The 
act of flying to Christ, is an appropriating 
act. It implies an intention to get out of 
danger ; it implies a discovery of Christ as 
the appointed safety ; and consists in mak- 
ing use of hirn as such. How can this be 
done, but by a persuasion that he is mine ? 
That his suflVrings were in my stead, and 
that his death is my safeguard ? What is 
meant by coming to Christ, we may learn 
from Jeremiah : " Behold ! we come unto 
thee, for thou art the Lord our God." Jer. 
iii. 22. Coming, you see, includes a real 
persuasion that the Lord is our God. 
While we are wholly destitute of this per- 
suai:ion, we stand at a distance, and our 
souls are afar oif. We are never brought 
nigh ; we never come, in the prophet's 
sense, till we are taught to say, each one 
for himself, " Thou art the Lord ray God." 
The act of trusting in Christ is much of 
the same nature : It pre-supposes that 
Christ is the trustee of the covenant of 
grace ; it proceeds upon a conviction of his 
fuithfulness in executing the office ; and it is 
a solemn surrender or giving up the whole 
affair of our salvation into his hand ; giving 
it up, not in uncertainty of success, (this 
would be mistrusting rather than trusting,) 
but with a certainty in some measure suit- 
able to the fidelity and ability of Him with 
whom we have to do. 

If you still are doubtful, whether any 
such persuasion is implied in trusting, let 
us choose a referee. Let us carry our 
controversy to the king of Israel. Inquire 
of David, why he trusts in the Lord, and 
what he means by trusting ? To both these 
inquiries he answers distinctly and fully : 
*' The Lord is my high tower, my shield, 
and he in whom I trust," Psal. cxliv, 2. " He 
is — he is my shield ; of this I am persuad- 
ed, and therefore I trust in him ; or, this I 
believe, and, in so doing, I trust on him." 

Ther. There is an air of assurance in 
your^j-epresentation of faith, which sounds 
harsh in my ear, and appears presumptuous 
in my eye. It is as if people pretended to 
know their seat in heaven before the judg- 
ment-day. 

Asp. The Papists, I own, take great of- 
fence at this expression, and utterly explode 
this doctrine. But they are no infallible 
guides for us to follow ; neither are they 



very inviting patterns for us to imitate. 
You and I, Theron, cannot be oflTended at 
the expression or the doctrine, if we recol- 
lect what we have been taught in the first 
stage of life, and what is professed in the 
last scene of mortality. We are taught, 
even from our infancy, that the sacrament 
of the Lord's supper is not only a sign of 
spiritual- grace, but a pledge to assure us 
thereof. At the interment of the dead, we 
profess our sure and certain hope of a re- 
surrection to eternal life. That this is al- 
ways applied, with due propriety, in 'our 
burial-service, I will not ventui-e to assert ; 
that it sufficiently countenances my senti- 
ments, none will undertake to deny. And 
if this countenances, the apostle authorizes 
them, when he addresses us with this very 
remarkable exhortation : " Having there- 
fore, brethren, boldness to enter into the 
holiest by the blood of Jesus, let us draw 
near with a true heart in full assurance of 
faith with a firm persuasion of acceptance ; 
with a certain expectation of success. 

However, if you dislike the word assur- 
ance, we will change it for the more soften- 
ed, and more modestly. Sounding term ap- 
propriation. 

Ther. You change it for a more softened, 
not for a more intelligible term. I must 
desire to know what you mean by the word 
appropriation. 

Asp. To appropriate, in the theological 
sense, is to take home the grace of God, 
which lies in the common indefinite graiit 
of the gospel. Is Christ the treasure hid 
in the field? To appropriate this treasure, 
is to receive and use it as our own portion. 
Is Christ the balm of Gilead, full of saving 
health ? To appropriate this balm, is to take 
and apply it for the recovery of our om ii 
souls. And without such an appropriation, 
how can we either be enriched by the for- 
mer, or healed by the latter ? 

Let me farther explain my meaning, and 
exemplify the position, by considering Christ 
in his several offices. Christ, as a Priest, 
is made to guilty creatures righteousness. 
When we appropriate the grace of our great 
High Priest, this is the language of our 
hearts, " In the Lord have I righteousness." 
Isaiah xlv. 24. Christ, as a Prophet, is 
made to ignorant creatures wisdom. When 
we appropriate the benefits of our imerriiig 
Prophet, this is the persuasion of our souls, 
" Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will 
be 'a light unto me." Micah vii. 8. Christ, 
as a King, is made unto depraved creatiu'es 
sanctification. When we appropriate the 
munificence of our Almighty King, this is 
our comfortable trust, " The Lord will de- 
liver me from every evil work. " 2 Tim. i v. 18. 

This is what I mean by appropriation. 
That something of this kind is included in 
the essence of faith, is the sentiment I 



DIALOGUE XVL 



435 



woula maintain. Which sentiment might 
be confirmed, if such confirmation were de- 
manded, by a multitude of the most illus- 
trious ^vitnesses: witnesses so illustrious, 
that they were a blessing to the world, and 
• an honour to human nature ; so numerous, 
that, without giving an abstract of their tes- 
timonies, it might seem tedious only to re- 
cite their names.* 

Thcr. I Avill dispense with your recital 
of their names, only let me have a specimen 
of their testimonies. 

Asp. First, then, let me present you 
with Dr. Owen ; than whom England has 
produced few writers either more judicious 
or m.ore devout. " Faith," he tells us in 
his catechism, " is a gracious resting upon 
the free promises of God in Jesus Christ 
for mercy, with a firm persuasion of heart 
that God is a reconciled Father to us in the 
Son of his love." Next let me introduce 
the learned and justly celebrated Altingius, 
professor of divinity at Heidelberg. " Faith," 
he says, " is a knowledge of the grace of 
God in Christ, together with a fiduciary re- 
liance on it, or an application of it to a 
man's own self." To these let me add 
the unanimous suffrage of the churches of 
the Palatinate. It is asked, in the twenty- 
first question of their public catechism, 
" What is tine faith ?" To which this an- 
swer is returned. " It is not only an assent 
to all the tmths which God hath revealed 
in his word; but it is an assured trust, 
wrought by the Holy Spirit in my heart, 
that remission of sins, complete righteous- 
ness, and eternal life are given, freely given, 
not to others only, but to myself ; and all 
this fro-m the mere mercy of God, through 
the alone merits of Christ. 
These testimonies are but as the'tythe to the 

If the reader should inquire after their names, he 
■will find some of them enumerated in the following 
catalogue: — Luther, Calvin, Melancthon, Beza, Bul- 
linger, Bucer, Knox, Craig, Melvil, Bruce, Davidson, 
Forbes, &c. Ursinus, Zanchius, Junius, Piscator, 
Rollock, Danaeus, Wendelinus, Chamierus, Sharpius, 
Bodius, Pareus, Altingius, Triglandii (Gisbertus and 
Jacobus,) Arnoldus, Maresius; the four professors at 
Leyden, Wallseus, Rivetus, Polyander, Thysius; 
Wollebius, Heidegerus, Essenius, Turrettinus, &c. 
Many eminent British divines ; Bishops Babington, 
Davenatit, Hall ; Messrs. Perkins, Pemble, Willet, 
Gouge, Rogers, 13urgess, Owen, Marshall, &c. 

If we were apparently and demonstrably in an error, 
yet, to err with such company, and in the footsteps 
of such guides, must very much tend to mitigate the 
severity of censure. But, I believe, few serious per- 
sons will venture to charge error and delusion upon 
such a venerable body of Protestant divines ; so emi- 
nent for their learning, and so exemplary for their 
holiness; whose labours were so remarkably owned 
by God, and whose sentiments, on this particular 
subject, have been adopted by so many reformed 
churches. The declarations of the English and Pala- 
tine churches are produced in the dialogue. I have 
in my hand an extract from the confessions and stan- 
dard doctrines of the church — of Scotland — of Ireland 
— of France — of Helvetia; with all which Aspasio 
has the happiness to agree. Only some of them are 
much stronger in displaying and maintaining the spe- 
c\3i\fiducia, or the appropriating persuasion of faith. 
To quote them, would dignify and strengthen the 
cause. But, to avoid prolixity, I forego this advan- 
tage. 



whole crop. Yet these are more tnan enough 
to exempt me from the charge of singulari- 
ty. You will not wonder therefore, if I 
still abide by the good old Protestant doc- 
trine, which is espoused by so many of the 
ablest judges, which was the darling tenet 
of almost all our reformers ; wbich has been 
so signally instrumental in demolishing the 
superstitions of Popery ; and is so evident- 
ly conducive to the holiness and the happi- 
ness of Christians. Especially as I appre- 
hend, the determinations of scripture, and 
the experience of scriptural saints, are all 
on my side. 

Ther, You have now brought the cause 
to the proper bar. When a question so 
important is debated, and an interest so mo- 
mentous is concerned, I cannot acquiesce in 
any authority less than divine. I cannot, 
and indeed I think we ought not. Nothing 
should satisfy us on such an occasion but 
the word, which is unemng and decisive j 
the word, by which we are to stand or fall 
etemally. Whence does it appear that the 
determinations of this divine word are on 
your side ? 

Asp. From the noblest description of 
faith which language itself can form. The 
writer to the Hebrews, having mentioned 
the life of faith, the perseverance of faith, 
and the end or reward of faith, proceeds to 
a definition of this leading grace, " Now 
faith is the substance of things hoped for, 
the evidence'of things not seen," Heb. xi, 1. 
" The evidence," exhibiting not a faint sur- 
mise, but a clear demonstration, both of in- 
visible blessings, and of our right to enjoy 
them. " The substance," realizing what is 
promised ; and giving us, as it were, a pos- 
session of good things that are remote, a 
present possession of good things that are 
future. 

Ther. What are those blessings, and these 
good things ? 

Asp. I will inform my Theron ; and in 
such a manner, from such passages, as shall 
farther ascertain my representation of faith. 
What says the apostle of the Gentiles ? " I 
preached unto you the gospel,'' 1 Cor. xv. 
1. And what is the substance of this evan- 
gelical dispensation ? " Christ died for our 
sins." 1 Cor. xv. 3. That so exalted a per- 
son as the Son of God, and Lord of glory, 
should die, is wonderful ! That he should 
die for sins, the ^most abominable objects, 
and for sinners, the most detestable crea- 
tures, is abundantly more wonderful ! That 
he should die, not for sins in general, but for 
our sins in particular, this is inexpressibly 
wonderful ! and at the same time inexpress- 
ibly comfortable. Here we have the gos- 
pel and its capital blessing expressed in this 
proposition, " Christ died for our sins." 
Here we have faith and its principle acting 
expressed in this proposition, " Christ died 



436 

for our sins." Till the former is preached, the 
doctrine is not gospel ; till the latter is be- 
lieved, it should seem, from St. Paul's ac- 
count, the conviction is not faith. 

Let me produce another instance, ex- 
tracted, like the preceding, from the rolls of 
heaven : " This is the record, that God 
hath given to us eternal life," 1 John v- 11 , 
not proposed it, on I know not what condi- 
tion, but hath given — freely and fully, with- 
out any reserve, and with a liberality suited 
to his inconceivable goodness, hath given 
the richest of all prizes ; and not to some 
only, or to others, but to us, even to us. 

liier. Us, that is, the apostles and exalt- 
ed saints. 

Asp. Was eternal life given them be- 
cause they were apostles ? No, verily ; but 
because Christ died for them. Did Christ 
die for them, because they were exalted 
saints ? In no wise ; but because they were 
miserable sinners. Eternal life was pur- 
chased for them when they were sinners. 
It was consigned over to them when they 
were sinners. And neither the purchase nor 
the gift were founded on their being saints, 
but aimed at making them so. 

That " Christ died for our sins that 
" God hath given to us eternal life ;" these 
are the blessings of which faith is the evi 
dence ; these the good things of which faith 
is the substance. This is the honey in the 
evangelical hive ; and I am at a loss to con 
ceive how we can taste the honey, without 
some appropriation of the good things to 
ourselves. This, if I mistake not, is com- 
prehended in all those figurative descriptions 
of faith which occur in holy writ. 

Ther. Favour me with some of those de- 
scriptions. I begin to see a peculiar beau- 
ty, and an unequalled richness, in the figures 
of scripture. Nothing yields me a more 
refined pleasure, than to investigate and dis- 
cover the exact sense of those instructive 
images. It is somewhat like kindling the 
consecrated incense ; which, when rising in 
a flame, difl^used light ; when spreading in 
clouds of fragrance, distributed refreshment. 

Asp. Faith is styled, " a looking" unto 
Jesus." But if we do not look unto Jesus 
as the propitiation for our sins, what com- 
fort or what benefit can we derive from the 
sight ? "A receiving of Christ." But 
can I have any pretence to receive him, or 
take possession of his merits, unless I am 
convinced, that they are intended for me ? 
This is what neither the dictates of con- 
science will allow, nor the laws of reason 
authorize. " A resting upon Christ."* But 



THERO^,AND ASPASIO. 

how can we rest on a surety, if he has not 



* I find two words in the original, which express 
the privilege and the duty of resting on Christ ; one 
implies such a state of acquiescence as silences the 
clamours of conscience, and composes the perturba- 
tion of the spirit ; the other signifies the refreshment 
and repose of a weary pilgrim, when he arrives at the 
end of his journey, and is settleci for life in a secure, 
commodious, plentiful habitation. Psalm, xxxvii, 7. 
Isa. xxviii. 1-2. 



interposed on our behalf? or how confide 
in a payment, which we believe to be made 
for others, not for ourselves ? — Surely, The. 
ron, when I rest upon an object, I use 
it as my support : When I receive a gift, I . 
take it as my own property. And when the 
Israelites looked unto the brazen serpent, 
they certainly regarded it as a remedy, each 
particular person for himself. 

Ther. To cast ourselves upon Christ, as 
an all-sufficient Saviour ; and rely upon 
him for our whole salvation — is not this real 
faith ? This is what I heard some time ago 
from a celebrated pulpit. 

Asp. If you rely on the all-sufficiency of 
his will, as well as of his power ; if you 
take the comfort and appropriate the benefit 
restilting from both ; you practise the very 
thing I recommend. This is what was 
taught from the pulpit of infallibility ; and 
by those first of preachers, who spake as 
the Holy Ghost gave them utterance. Let 
the convinced siimer, and the afllicted soul, 
" trust in the name of the Lord, and stay 
upon his God." Let him not only rever- 
ence Christ as the incarnate God, and there-, 
fore mighty to save ; but look upon Christ 
as his God, and therefore willing to save. 
Thus let him " lean upon the Rock of 
ages," Isa. 1. 10, without indulging a doubt 
concerning his right to make use of it, or 
the possibility of its failing him. 

To " cast ourselves upon Christ ; to cast 
our burden," or " to cast all our care Ett/^- 
^lypuvn; upon the Lord ; 1 Pet. v. 7 ; are 
metaphors, which may receive some eluci- 
dation from an incident recorded in the 
Acts. When the mariners and passengers 
which sailed with St. Paul, saw their ves- 
sel shattered; saw the waves prevailing; 
saw no hope of safety from continuing in 
the ship ; they cast themselves A^o^^i-^'co,- 
Ti; upon the floating planks. Acts xxA'li. 
43. They cast themselves upon the planks 
without any scruple, not questioning their 
right to make use of them ; and they clave 
to those supporters with a cheerftd confi- 
dence, not doubting but, according to the 
apostle'sjpromise, they should escape safe 
to land. Be this what people mean when 
they speak of venturing or casting them- 
selves upon Christ, and I approve the ex- 
pression, I subscribe the doctrine. It speaks 
what I wish for my friend, for myself, and 
for my fellow-sinners. 

Let us shift our situation, and view the 
point in another light. Consider the bless- 
ed and glorious object of our faith. Christ 
is represented by the similitude of bread, 
heavenly bread for the hungry soul. Faith 
is characterised by eating the food. And 
can this be done without a personal applica- 
tion ? Christ is held forth under the image 
of living waters, ever running, and always 



DIALOGUE XVI. 



437 



ihree for the thirsty appetite. But let them 
run ever so copiously, let them be presented 
ever so freely, all this will neither quench the 
thirst, nor refresh the spirits, unless they 
Eire drank. To do this is the business of 
faith. Christ is described as a garment, to 
accommodate destitute, and beautify de- 
formed creatures. Faith is expressed by 
putting on this commodious garment, and 
wearing this beautiful robe. And can any 
idea, or any expression, more strongly de- 
note an actual appropriation ? 

Ther. It is evident, that many holy peo- 
ple, in former ages, were not possessed of 
assurance. What is the language of David ? 
It is all despondency : *' I am cast out of 
the sight of thine eyes." To the same me- 
lancholy tune is the harp of Asaph strung : 
*' Is his mercy clean gone for ever ? doth his 
promise fail for evermore ? The same jea- 
lous and distrustful air breathes jn the com- 
plaint of the church. " The Lord hath for- 
saken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me." 
Why then should my Aspasio set up a rule 
stricter and higher than those eminent saints 
attained. 

Asp. You should rather ask, Why have 
the best judges, and the most exemplary 
Christians, in their several writings, set up 
this rule ? Why have the apostles of our 
Lord, and the Spirit of our God, speaking 
in the Bible, set up this rule ? To which 
I might reply, Because it is, of all precepts, 
the most beneficial. Therefore they have 
not so much set it up under the notion of a 
strict rule, as they have set it forth under 
the character of a choice blessing. 

Your complaint, when put into its proper 
language, seems to run thus : " Why must 
we be obliged to trust in Christ alone ? 
Why must we be obliged to assure our- 
selves of salvation by him?'' Whereas, in- 
stead of a complaint, it should be matter of 
exultation, and we should rather express 
ourselves in this manner : " Bless the Lord, 
O my soul, that a sinner, such a vile sinner, 
should be allowed to take Christ and all his 
salvation as my own ; and thus to assure 
myself of pardon, holiness and glory." 

This blessing was certainly enjoyed by 
the holy men of old ; but, like every other 
species of felicity in this world, it was en- 
joyed after an imperfect manner. They had 
an assured persuasion of God's present fa- 
vour, and of their own final happiness. 
Nevertheless, this assured persuasion was 
liable to the assaults, both of outward temp- 
tations and of inward corruptions, which 
might for a while impair its vigour, though 
not destroy its being ; as under a transient 
swoon the spirits fail, the colour departs, 
but the vital principle still subsists. 

You may farther observe, concerning those 
pious persons, that, when they cease to ex- 
ercise this confidence of faith, they lament 



the failure : " I said, this is my infirmity." 
Psal. Ixxvii. 10. They chide themselves 
for it : " Why art thou cast down, O my 
soul ?" They encourage themselves against 
it : " Hope in God," Psal. xlii. 5 ; it is thy 
unquestionable privilege. How could they 
do this — on what grounds, or from what 
motive — if they had not a secret persuasion 
that their ransom was paid, and their God 
reconciled ; consequently, that all their 
doubts were an injury to his fidelity and to 
his goodness ? 

Nay, the church, even under her darkest 
apprehensions, still speaks the sentiment, 
still retains the grace for which I am plead- 
ing : " My Lord," uttered with her lips, 
argues an applicatory faith in her heart. So 
copious and pregnant are the evidences of 
this precious doctrine ! It is confirmed by 
that very passage which was produced for 
its confutation. 

Ther. If this be the sentiment of the 
church in general, is it also the temper ol 
her particular members ? Was each of them 
animated by this firm and lively faith? 

Asp. Let these particular persons appear 
and answer for themselves. Hear the de- 
claration of the Psalmist: " Bless the Lord, 

my soul ; and all that is within me, bless 
his holy name." Psal. ciii. 1, 2. What is 
the cause of this holy transport and devout 
praise? Is it, because God possibly may; 
because he probably will ? No ; but because 
he actually does forgive : " Who forgiveth 
all thine iniquities." Take notice of .Job's 
belief, and Job's support, amidst his un- 
exampled sufferings : " I know that my Re- 
deemer liveth ;" not only that there is a 
Redeemer, but that he is, together with all 
his saving benefits, mine ; which, being a 
truth so sweet and delightful, is expressed a 
second time : " Whom I shall see for my- 
self," Job xix. 25 — 27, to my own advan- 
tage and for my own comfort : see him ex- 
erting his almighty jiower and infinite mer- 
cy, to rescue my body from the grave, and 
to deliver my soul from hell. What was 
Habakkuk's security, amidst the threatening, 
the tremendous, the triumphant malice, of 
his own and his country's enemies ? " The 
Lord God is my strength." He says not, 

1 wish, I pray, for the divine favour and the 
divine succour; but I am persuaded they 
both are mine ; my inestimable portion, and 
my inviolable safeguard. " He will make 
my feet like hind's feet," that I shall per- 
fectly escape from all danger ; " and he will 
make me walk upon mine high places," be- 
yond the reach of every evil. Hab. iii. 19. 

Ther. Is this the language of believers 
under the New Testament dispensation ? 

Asp. Under every dispensation, Theron. 
They who lived before the law " were per- 
suaded" (Hitir^ivTis) of the promises ; had 
not the least distrust with regard to the 



438 



THERON AND ASPASIQ. 



certainty of their performance ; nay, they 
*' embraced them" (A<rorfl!cr«,<4£vai) as their 
own ; they hugged them, as it were, to their 
very souls. Heb. xi. 13. They who lived 
under the law could say, " As far as the 
east is from the west, so far hath he remov- 
ed our transgressions from us." Psalm ciii. 
1 2. . And can you imagine in the days of 
the gospel, when our advantages are greater 
and oiU" light is clearer, that oiu* faith should 
be weaker, or our hope fainter ? St. Peter 
makes a profession, which excludes all 
doubting : " I am a witness of the sufferings 
of Christ, and also a partaker of the glory 
that shall be revealed." 1 Pet. v. 1. St. 
Paul answers in the same heroic strain : " I 
know in whom I have believed ; and am 
persuaded, that neither life, nor death, nor 
any creature, shall be able to separate me 
from the love of God, which is in Christ 
Jesus my Lord." Rom. viii. 39. With 
both which, the confession of faith recorded 
by St. Luke is exactly correspondent : 
" We believe, that, through the grace of 
the Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be saved 
even as they." Acts xv. 11. 

Ther. Was not this a privilege peculiar 
to the apostles ? 

Asp. By no means. All believers are 
brethren, and have "like precious faith." 
Hear how St. Peter exhorts all his people : 
" Gird up the loins of your mind, and hope 
to the end ;" or, as the word should rather 
be translated, " hope perfectly, hope as- 
suredly, for the grace that is to be brought 
unto you at the revelation of Jesus 
Christ."* 1 Peter i. 13. Maintain not 
a dim, but a bright hope ; not a waver- 
ing, but a steady expectation of eternal 
life ; that free but grand gift, of which the 
Lord Jesus, at his second coming, shall 
put you in full possession. The apostle, 
writing to his Hebrew converts, encourages 
them all to " hold/ast the confidence, and 
the rejoicing of hope, firm unto the end.'' 
Heb. iii. 6. From whence it is deducible, 
that a trust, amounting to confidence, and 
the joy which naturally results from such 
a trust, were the common portion of 
Christians ; possessed not barely by some 
few exalted saints, but by the followers of 
Jesus in general. I might bring many more 
instances. But why should I multiply 
proofs, since the beloved disciple declares, 
" These things have I written unto you that 
believe on the name of the Son of God, 
that you may know that ye have eternal 
life." 

Ther. True, Aspasio. This coincides 
with my apprehensions. The scriptures 



* E/,- viXii or f^ixi^ TiXfii, signify "to the 
piid." But TiXni,j;, as far as I can recollect, is never 
used in this sense, either by sacred or profane writers. 
It may be rendered j ei-fecte, integi-e, in this con- 
Eexion, cum Jinnafldacia, with a firm affiance. 



are written, first, that we may believe, and 
be entitled to eternal life ; next, that we 
may have the knowledge of our belief, and 
a consciousness of our title. The apostle 
supposes his correspondents to possess the 
former, yet not to have attained the latter. 

Asp. Is it certain that he makes such a 
supposition ? He writes, I imagine, not 
with a Yiew of leading them to either, but 
of confirming them in both. He intimates 
that the privilege and the comfort should 
go together. If we believe that Christ is 
our Surety, we should be persuaded that he 
has paid our debt, and satisfied justice to the 
very uttermost farthing ; if we believe that 
Christ is our bridegroom, we should rest as- 
sured, that his righteousness, his inheritance, 
and his kingdom are ours. And why should 
we take pains to separate, what God's word 
and the very nature of things have united ? 
Will this tuni to our advantage ? must it 
not issue in our loss ? Besides, according to 
your own interpretation, whoever faUs short 
of this cheering knowledge, falls short of 
one great end for which the Scriptures were 
written. He receives not his full reward : 
He only gleans where he might reap ; is 
tossed on the ocean of uncertainty : Where- 
as they that have believed, have gained the 
port, have dropped their anchor, and enter 
into rest. Heb. iv. 3. 

Ther. Believed ! What ? that our sins 
are laid upon Christ? that he was obedient 
in our stead ? that all spiritual blessings are 
thereby procured for our — even for oiu: en- 
joyment ? 

Asp. The blessings you mention are evi- 
dently the purport of the gospel. And I know 
of no other justifying faith but that which 
relates to the gospel, and believes its report. 
Isa. liii. 1. Nor can I think that any other 
belief will administer the tranquillity, or pro- 
duce the rest specified by the apostle. But 
here, I find, lies the core and root of our 
controversy. This is the precise point to 
be settled. What it is to believe ? "IVhat is 
included in this very important word ? This 
question might renew om: dispute, and cause 
the past arguments to recur : whereas, I would 
gladly get'rid of disputation. We have already 
been too long detained in these disagreeable 
paths. However, since you have given the 
occasion, I may just touch upon another text 
or two : For I would willingly drive this 
nail to the head ; and not leave my friend 
unconvinced on a subject of the utmost con- 
sequence. 

The Lord declares byhisprophet, "I, even 
I, am he that blotteth out thy transgi-es- 
sions." To believe, is to subscribe this de- 
claration ; to subscribe with our hand, and 
profess from our heart, " Lord it is done as 
thou hast said." Faith is, if I may so speak, 
the echo of the divine voice. It eagerly 
catches, and punctually reverberates the joy- 



DIALOGUE XVI. 



439 



ful sound. Does God say, " Thou art my 
people?" Faith replies, " Thou art my God," 
Hos. ii. 23 ; not barely desiring, but confi- 
dently averring an interest in his favour. 
This explanation of faith is given us by a 
wisdom which cannot be deceived, by a 
fidelity which cannot deceive — Once more 
our Lord bears this testimony concerning 
Thomas, " Thomas, thou hast believed." 
Now then, I think we have ,got an infallible 
touchstone. Let us examine what that is 
which Jesus Christ calls believing. What- 
ever it be, it is the determination of truth 
itself, and should pass for a verdict, from 
which there lies no appeal. And this, this 
is the confession of Thomas, " My Lord 
add my God." John xx. 28, 29. This, this 
expresses what our divine Master calls be- 
lieving. When, therefore, we confess with 
our lips, and are persuaded in our hearts, 
that " Jesus is our Lord, who bought us 
with his blood ; that " Jesus is our God," 
who will exert all his adorable perfections 
for our good ; then we truly believe : We 
believe in our Sa^dour's sense of the word, 
we have that faith which he allows to be 
genuine. 

Thej\ Is this the constant language of 
faith ? According to this account, there is 
no difference between the infant and the 
adult ; between the new-born babe and the 
full grown man in Christ. Your spiritual 
children, Aspasio, must be men from their 
birth ; nay, born in all the vigour of man- 
hood. Whereas, the apostle makes an evi- 
dent difference between the babes, the young 
men, and the fathers ; between faith — the 
assurance of faith — and the full assurance of 
faith. If we are told of a patriarch, who 
was strong in faith ;" we read of some 
Roman converts, who were " weak in the 
faith ;" and we hear our Lord speaking to 
disciples who were " fearful and of little 
faith." 

Asp. Between faith, and the full assur- 
ance of faith, the apostle makes a difference. 
The one is the most exalted pitch, where 
. the other is but an inferior elevation. Yet 
- both are rounds of the same ladder. I do not 
remember, that the sacred writer anywhere 
distinguishes between faith and assurance, 
n/s-'jand UsToifffAffis, faith find confidence, 2lxq 
joined in the epistle to the Ephesians. It 
is the opinion of the best critics, that the 
sense of the latter is included in the former. 
The critics' opinion is confirmed by the 
apostle's declaration, " We have access with 
confidence through faith." Eph. iii. 12. 
Could yonder sun diffuse warmth through 
the air, if it had no warmth in itself ? No 
more could faith produce confidence in the 
believer, if in its own nature it did not con- 
tain the same. 

The case of little faith, I think, may be 
explained from oiu" Lord's own expostula- 



tion : " O thou of little faith, wherefore 
didst thou doubt ?" Here was a faith, not 
only in Christ's power, but also in his will. 
Nay, here was an appropriating faith, by 
which the apostle applied both to himself : 
" I verily'believe, that my divine Master is 
able to preserve me, even though I venture 
to tread upon this tempestuous sea. I am 
persuaded likewise, that he will uphold me, 
and not suffer his servant to perish in the 
hazardous enterprise." Nothing less than 
this could have produced that hazardous en- 
terprise, or have emboldened him to walk 
upon the rolling billows. 

Do you not discern, in this instance, some 
degree of personal application, some real 
assurance of faith ? It is true, this faith was 
violently assaulted by doubts, and greatly en- 
feebled by fears.* Yet still it was of the 
applicatory kind. " He can, he will," were 
expressive of its nature; though the bois- 
terous winds, and the terrifying appearance 
of things, almost drowned its voice, or 
stifled the words in their utterance. 

Ther. If you allow no difference between 
faith and confidence, I am very sure St. 
John puts a difference between babes, young 
men, and fathers. 

Asp. He does, Theron ; and so would 
I. Neither can I think of any thing more 
proper to explain my meaning, or establish 
my tenet, than yoiu- own comparison. In 
some fruitfid family, you may see one child 
in leading-strings ; another able to walk by 
itself ; a third come home, improved and 
cultivated, from the school of literature. 
Observe their speech. One lisps out a few 
broken sentences ; another talks intelligibly, 
but very incorrectly ; the last has learned to 
express himself with tolerable propriety. 
Yet each speaks the same language, not- 
vAithstanding the various degrees of fluency 
in their utterance, or purity in their diction. 
— So faith always speaks one and the same 
uniform language. Whether she lisps or 
stammers ; whether she whispers in faint 
accents, or raises her voice in a more manly 
tone ; this is still the unvaried import of 
her speech : " God, even our o\vn God, 
will give us his blessing." Can you forget, 
how St. John addresses even his little 
children ? "I write unto you, little chil- 
dren, because your sins are forgiven." 1 John 
ii. 12. 

Ther. Will not this account discourage 



* I must beg of the candid reader to take particu- 
lar notice of this limitation ; and must entreat the 
impartial examiner, not to forget this concession. We 
nowhere suppose, that a freedom from all fears, or 
a superiority to all doubts, are included in the nature 
of faith. We only affirm, that an appropriating per- 
suasion or assurance are necessary to the being of 
faith. This assurance may be encumbered with doubts, 
and may conflict with fears. But still it is assurance 
— real assurance — and proves itself to be such, by op- 
posing and struggling with the coutrary principle. 



440 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



some, and offend others, who are not ar- 
rived at such an exalted pitch ? 

Asp. I would not offend the meanest, nor 
discourage the weakest of my Redeemer's 
servants. As for offence, that cannot be 
given, and ought not to be taken, when all 
we advance is strictly conformable to the 
unerring oracles. Whereas, to qualify and 
attenuate the scriptural descriptions of faith, 
in complaisance to our own experience ; to 
make the unhappy fluctuations and unwor- 
thy suspicions, which possess the breasts of 
some particular Christians — to make them 
the rule of explaining, or the measure of 
enforcing so capital a duty ; this, sure, would 
be an offence to God, an injury to his word, 
and detrimental to the welfare of souls. 

With regard to discouragement, I cannot 
conceive how this should ensue, from in- 
forming the poor sinner that he has a right 
to apply Christ, and all Christ's merits, to 
himself ; or from exhorting the poor sinner 
to do this, without any hesitation, and with 
a resolute dependence. In this case, to 
doubt is to be discouraged : as much as you 
want certainty, so much you want consola- 
tion. The proper way to comfort these 
distressed people is, not to allow, but to 
dissipate their doubts ; to blow away those 
dead ashes, that the smothered embers may 
shine and glow. 

Were we to inquire after the cause of 
that disquietude and despondency which 
are so common among modern professors, I 
am inclined to suspect we should find it ly- 
ing hid in their wrong apprehensions, both 
of Christ and of faith. They look upon 
Christ, as a rigorous and forbidding mo- 
narch, who insists upon some hard terms 
and high qualifications. Whereas, his heart 
and his arms are ever open ; his heart as 
open, as infinite love can set it ; his arms 
as open, as infinite merit can make them. 
They look upon faith as containing a possi- 
bility only, or, at most, a probability, of sal- 
vation through his name. It is with them 
a kind of peradventure ; a situation of mind, 
fluctuating and pendulous. " Perhaps I 
may succeed, and be eternally blessed : Per- 
haps I may be rejected and eternally ruin- 
ed." Such a state of suspense, in an affair 
of everlasting consequence, cannot but create 
uneasiness and anxiety. 

This uneasiness and anxiety seem to 
have been little known in the earlier and 
better days of the church. And why ? Be- 
cause Christians were then exposed to the 
rage of persecution ? Because they were 
placed nearer the time of Christ's sojourn- 
ing on earth ! I rather think, because they 
were taught this particular ajid comfortable 
application of Christ and his righteousness. 
They exercised a confident affiance on Je- 
sus, as their own Redeemer ; and were 
shown a more direct way to obtain this as- 



surance, than merely to search after their 
own renewed qualities. 

Ther. Surely, Aspasio, in this particular 
you differ, not from me only, but from the 
generality of the orthodox. 

Asp. 1 am sorry to find myself under a 
necessity of differing from any worthy per- 
sons, much more of disagreeing with the 
generality. This I can safely aver, that it 
is not from any affectation of novelty, or 
any fondness for disputing, but from a dis- 
interested regard to the truth of the gospel. 
I shoidd be glad to have the concurrence of 
all the serious, and all the pious ; but I 
dare not purchase their approbation, I dare 
not attempt a coalition of sentiments, by 
diminishing the boundless riches of grace, 
or restricting the absolute freeness of salva- 
tion by Christ. 

You are pleased to remind me of the or- 
thodox. Pray, my dear friend, what is the 
standard of orthodoxy ? Is it the word of 
revelation? This speaks once, yea twice, 
nay, some hundreds of times, in our favour. 
Is it the doctrine of our reformers from 
Popery ? With these we jar not, but exactly 
harmonize. Is it to be taken from the old 
confessions of faith, and the catechisms of 
Protestant churches ? To these we appeal, 
and have the sanction of their authority. 
Has the modem way of treating and stating 
this momentous subject so much to allege 
for its support ? 

Let me farther ask, — Are we better than 
our fathers ? Is Christianity in a thriving 
condition, or practical religion on the ad- 
vancing hand ? The reverse, the melancholy 
reverse, is undeniably true. When our 
writers enforced, and our preachers urged 
what I am defending, professors were alive, 
and animated with the power of godliness : 
Whereas now we seem to be degenerated 
into the mere form ; we " have a name to 
live, but are" languid, listless, and if not 
" dead," Rev. iii. 1, yet ready to die. It 
behoves us therefore to consider whether 
the declension, the decays, the unfruitful- 
ness, so justly lamented in the present age, 
be not owing to the absence of this appro- 
priating belief, or this assured persuasion. ~ 
A sweet assurance of pardon, a comfort- 
able persuasion of our reconciliation with 
God, an established hope of eternal glory 
through Jesus Christ ; these will be opera- 
tive in the soul, as " a torch in the sheaf." 
These will enkindle love, and increase 
watchfulness ; these will beget the true hu- 
mility of mind, and work an unfeigned ab- 
horrence of sin ; these will enlarge the heart 
with charity, and exalt the affections above 
the Avorld. These are the proper, and the 
only effectual means of " making the man 
of God perfect," that is, " thoroughly fur- 
nished to every good work."* 

* For the display and coiifirmation of these points. 



DIALOGUE XVI. 



441 



But the doubting frame is not fitted to 
yield any of these fruits. Nay, I am appre- 
hensive there are several graces which can 
hardly be exercised, several duties which can 
scarcely be performed, so long as this spirit 
of diffidence prevails. 

Ther. Name them, Aspasio. 

Asp. I am afraid, lest I should seem to 
arrogate the office of a teacher ; which 
neither becomes my condition, nor is agree- 
able to my temper. 

Ther. I beseech you, my dear friend, let 
us wave ceremony, and have nothing to do 
with compliments. My soul is in jeopardy. 
My present comfort, and my everlasting hap- 
piness are at stake. And shall we suffer any 
little punctilios to overbear such weighty 
considerations ? 

Suppose you are a teacher ; I have great 
need, and am very desirous to become your 
scholar. For I freely confess, that, know- 
ing as I may seem in other instances, I am 
very ignorant in the great peculiarities of 
the gospel. Nay, though I have read the 
scriptures in a critical view, I have been an 
utter stranger to their spiritual meaning. 
Here I am' uninstructed as a babe. Here, 
therefore, I ought to be teachable as a 
babe. Yes, in this respect I would be- 
come as a little child, that I may enter into 
the knowledge, and possess the privileges of 
the kingdom of heaven. 

Asp- Your answer, Theron, shall be a 
law. " Love to God," is the first command- 
ment ; and, without all peradventure, is the 
principal grace. But is it easy, is it pos- 
sible, to love God, before we have any per- 
suasion of his love to us? This is what the 
apostles did not, could not do. And, if it 
exceeded their ability, it will doubtless be 
above the reach of our capacity. The thing 
may be attempted ; the practice may be 
urged ; we may see the necessity of it, and 
desire to perform it ; but we shall never, 



I do, with great pleasure, and without any diffidence, 
refer to Mr. Marshall's " Gospel Mystery of Sanctifi- 
cation which I shall not recommend in the style 
of a critic, or like a reader of taste, but with all the 
simplicity of the weakest Christian ; I mean from my 
own experience. It has been made one of the most 
useful books to my own soul : I scarce ever fail to re- 
ceive spiritual consolation and strength from the per- 
usal of it. And was I to be banished into some deso- 
late island, possessed only of two books besides my 
Bible, this should be one of the two, and perhaps the 
first that I would choose. 

Should any person, hitherto a stranger to the work, 
purchase it on this recommendation, I must desire to 
suggest one caution : That he be not surprised, if, in 
the beginning he meets with something new, and 
quite out of the common road ; or, if surprised, that 
he would not be offended, but calmly and attentively 
proceed. He will find the author's design opening 
Itself by degrees : He will discern more and more the 
propriety of his method ; and what might, at the 
first view, appear like a stumbling-block, v.'ill prove 
to be a fair, compendious, and ample avenue — to the 
palace of truth— to the temple of holiness — and to the 
Dowers of happiness.— Our author's particular l ecom.- 
mendation of this invaluable book, m a preface to an 
edition printed of it in Loudon, is inserted in the 5lh 
Yolume of the works. 



never be able to exercise it, till we have 
some comfortable apprehension of God's re- 
conciliation and good-will to us. " We love 
Him." Wherefore? from what inducement? 
" Because he first loved us," 1 John iv. 10, 
and because this love hath been made evi- 
dent to our consciences by the light of 
faith. 

What think you of " delight in God ?" 
This also is a Christian grace. But " how 
can two walk together, except they be agreed? " 
We never covet an intimacy with the per- 
son who declares himself our enemy. Nay, 
if there be only a suspicion that he bears us 
a secret ill-will, we shall be jealous of trust- 
ing him, and averse to approach him. This 
was the case of our first parents immediate- 
ly after the fall. Instead of drawing near 
to their Creator with pleasure and gratitude, 
they fled from him with anxiety and terror. 
And why? Because they were under the 
alarming apprehensions of his displeasure. 
Whereas, let us once believe what the apos- 
tle affirms, " When we were enemies, we 
were reconciled to God by the death of his 
Son." Rom. v. 1 0. Let us cordially credit 
what the prophet repeatedly declares,'' There- 
fore will the Lord wait that he may be gra- 
cious unto you; and therefore will he be 
exalted, that he may have mercy upon you." 
Isa. XXX. 18. Then we shall seek his face 
with alacrity. Our affections will be on 
the wing to salute their Almighty Benefac- 
tor. We shall "joy in God through our 
Lord Jesus Christ." 

Ther. To the enjoyment of so many spi- 
ritual consolations, and the exercise of seve- 
ral delightful graces, I acknowledge, an as- 
sured faith is necessaiy ; but — 

Asp. Ay, Theron, you may well hesitate. 
ItVill be difficult to fill up the chasm in your 
discourse. For my part, I know not any 
duty of holiness, which can be performed 
aright, \\dthout some degree of this confid- 
ing faith. We are to " walk worthy of Him 
who hath called us to his kingdom and glory." 
I Thess. ii. 12. But if we doubt whether 
we in particular are called, how can this in- 
fluence our conversation? We are to be "fol- 
lowers of God, as his dear children." Eph. 
V. 1. But if w^e do not, cannot, will not be- 
lieve, so as to cry " Abba, Father," how can 
such a consideration sway our hearts ? Nay, 
upon what principles can such a person ad- 
dress himself to discharge any office of the 
Christian life ? We are to " abound in the 
works of the Lord," from the animating 
prospect of a glorious resurrection. 1 Cor. 
XV. 38. This he cannot do ; because he 
apprehends himself to have no lot or por- 
tion in the blessed hope. We are to open 
our hands in charity to otliers, from a vie^v 
of that heavenly kingdom which was pre- 
pared for us from the foundation of the 
world. Matth. x;vv. 34. We are to cleanse 



442 



THERON AND A3FASIO. 



ourselves^from all filthinesss of flesh and 
spirit, on account of those precious pro- 
mises which are freely given to us in Christ 
Jesus. 2 Cor. vii. 1. But where unbeliev- 
ing doubts predominate, these endearing and 
invigorating motives are lost. The man 
has no interest in the encouraging promises, 
has no title to the blissful inheritance ; con- 
sequently, these sinews of evangelical obe- 
dience, with respect to him, are benumbed, 
withered, dead. 

Ther. Such a man may make prayers and 
supplications. Though he cannot rejoice 
in the privileges, he may request them at 
the throne of grace. 

Asp. Prayer is a great duty, and as great 
a privilege. I wish, my dear Theron, the 
spirit of grace and supplication. This will 
be better, incomparably better, and more 
advantageous, than a key to hidden trea- 
sures. But how can you pray with hum- 
ble boldness, or with lively hope, unless you 
believe ? believe that Christ is your High- 
Priest — is your Intercessor with the Fa- 
ther, and, with the incense of his infinite 
merit, presents your petitions ? Then, and 
then only, can you have what the apostle 
calls "boldness and access with confidence."* 
Take notice of these vigorous expressions, 
and at your leisure consider whether they 
countenance the suspicious and misgiving 
temper. At present observe how yonder 
lark warbles and mounts in the firmament, 
as if she was bidding adieu to the earth, 
and going to mingle with the skies ! An 
image this of believing prayer. — Should a 
fowler shoot the soaring songster through 
the wing, how vi^ould she fall fi'om her ele- 
vation, and flutter on the ground ! An em- 
blem that of distrusting prayer. 

I know not how to leave this subject, 
without attending to the testimony of St. 
James, than which nothing can be more 
awful, or more decisive. It shoiJ.d really 
alarm the doubting disposition as much as 
any solicitation to the most horrid sin. It 
should alarm the whole religious world, as 
much as the beacons suddenly kindled, and 
all on a flame, would alarm the inhabitants 
of the maritime coasts. " Let him pray in 
faith, nothing doubting ;f !for he that doubt- 



» Eph. iii. 12. Ylijorruyeoyvi^ "access with a 
cheering and graceful assurance," such as those peti- 
tioners enjoy who are introduced into the royal pre- 
sence by some distingiiished favourite. Yla^^Wia,, 
"2l boldness or unrestrained liberty of speech ;" such 
as children use, when they present their addresses, 
and make known their requests to an indulgent fa- 
ther. — Ev 'ri'TotS-Affiiy "with a well grounded and 
steady confidence," that we shall both obtain a fa- 
vourable acceptance, and a gracious answer. — And all 
this, "through the faith of Christ;" through the 
worthiness of his person, and the prevalence of his in- 
tercession. 

t Jam. i. 6. «' Nothing doubting," is the apostle's 
explanation of faith. MjjSev ^iizx^ivofmos is, in our 
translation, " nothing wavering." But the very 
same expression is rendexed, Actsx. 20, "Nothing 



eth is like a wave of the sea, driven by the 
wind, and tossed." James i. 6. Nay, the 
apostle adds, — and it is an addition greatly to 
be regarded ; it should abide with weight on 
our consciences ; forit comes from a casuist, 
who could neithei be too indulgent, through 
an excess of compassion, nor too rigorous, 
through an extravagance of zeal, — " Let not 
that man," the doubting supplicant, " think 
that he shall receive anything of the Lord." 

Never then, my worthy friend, never 
more be an advocate for doubtings. Pur- 
sue them with fire and sword. Give them 
no quarter. Deal with them as Saul was 
commanded to treat the Amalekites. 

Ther. If we are grieved at the remem- 
brance of past sin, and feel an aversion to 
all sin; if the prevailing bias of our afi'ec- 
tionsbe to the divine Redeemer, and the 
habitual breathing of our souls after a con-^ 
formity to his image ; may we not suppose 
ourselves possessed of the tmth and reality, 
though we have not the confidence and re- 
joicing of faith ? I say we, because I ap 
prehend this is not my peculiar case, but 
common to myself and many other Christ- 
ians of the weaker sort I ask, therefore, 
in their name and in my own, may we not 
humbly suppose our condition safe, though 
we do not presume to use the language of 
the spouse, " My beloved is mine, and I am 
his?" 

Asp. So you are still inclined to spare 
Agag, because delicately and speciously dis- 
guised under the appearance of tenderness 
to weak souls. I should have thought the 
text from St. James must have done exe- 
cution, like the prophet Samuel's sword ; 
but since corrosives succeed not, let us 
make trial of lenitives. 

When the great Jehovah is pleased to 
say " I am the Lord thy God," then, upon 
this authentic warrant, to use the language 
of the spouse is neither more nor less than 
to declare, " I am persuaded that Christ 
is faithful and true, that he speaks what he 
thinks, and will do what he says." Where- 
as, to deny this by downright unbelief, or 
to question this, by living in suspense, is 
not humble duty, but proud disobedience- 
Might not the Lord Jesus justly complain, 
" What iniquity have sinners found in me ?" 
what unkindness, or what unfaithfulness, 
that they are so much afraid of confiding in 
my grace, and of believing my word ? 

You ask. Whether the state of these per- 
sons is safe, and their faith real ? I answer, 
why should not their state be happy, and 
their faith assured ? Why should you, or 



doubting." The sense is, either way, alike ; Though 
I think, " nothing wavering" corresponds too nearly 
with the comparison, " hke a wave," makes some- 
thing of a disagreeable jingle ; and flattens the force, 
or supersedes the necessity, of the following illus*- 
tration. 



DIALOGUE XV L 



443 



they, or any one, plead the cause of unbe- 
lief, and veil it with the plausible pretext of 
humility ? Let these persons know, what- 
ever their names or their circumstances are, 
that they have as good a right to adopt the 
words of the spouse, as we have to walk in 
these gardens, and enjoy their refined de- 
lights. Yet they will do well to remember, 
that those qualifications, however amiable, 
are by no means the ground of their right. 
They are to advance their claim, and hold 
fast the blessing, not as men ornamented 
with fine endowments, but as poor, indigent, 
guilty sinners. For such the Saviour is 
provided ; to such his benefits are proposed, 
and on such his grace will be magnified. 

Ther. Do you elude my question, or give 
up your point? One or the other my As- 
pasio certainly does. 

Asp. Since my friend so peremptorily 
affirms, I will not have the ill manners to 
deny. I will own the former charge ; the 
latter I cannot admit. I will own, that at 
present I had much rather act as a comfort- 
er, than as a disputant. On some other 
occasion 1 will undertake to consider, and 
endeavour to answer all your objections. In 
the mean time, I am far from giving up the 
point, barely by inquiring, why such persons 
should lose their time, and perhaps embar- 
rass their minds, in these less profitable sup- 
positions, when there is a direct, a com- 
pendious, and a certain method of obtaining 
peace, by appropriating Christ and his me- 
rits, without recurring to any such qualifica- 
tions ? 

Nevertheless, if you insist upon a positive 
reply, I am obliged to declare, that faith 
consists in none of those qualifications which 
you describe. The language of faith is not 
— " I feel such an aversion ; I am actuated 
with such a bias ; or I breathe such a de- 
sire:" But — "God has freely loved me; 
Christ has graciously died for me ; and the 
Holy Ghost will assuredly sanctify me in 
the belief, the appropriating belief, of these 
precious truths."* 

But see, Theron ! Yonder black and low- 
hung cloud points this way. It seems big 
with a shower; it marches on apace, and 
will soon be over our heads. We must in- 
stantly tly to shelter. 

Thcr. It is well we have this summer- 
house for our shelter. The thickest boughs 
would be insufficient to screen us. I think 
I never saw a more impetuous burst of rain. 
A shower ! No, it is a descending deluge. 
The large, ropy, reeking drops come down 
like a torrent. Surprising ! What a dread- 
ful flash was there ! A sheet of sulphureous 
fire, launched from the dismal gloom, and i 



* If the reader finds this Dialogue too long, here 
he will have a comneiiieiit vcsting-pkicc. 



wrapping the whole skies in a blaze ] Not 
a moment s interval between the lightning's 
rage and the thunder's roar. How sudden 
and vast the explosion ! What a deep, pro- 
longed, tremendous peal ensues ! It seems 
as if the poles of earth and the pillars of 
nature cracked ! 

See, my dear Aspasio, see the direful 
havoc, the horrid effects of this elementary 
tumult. Yonder oak, which reared its tow- 
ering head aloft, and spread wide its grace- 
ful branches, is, in the twinkling of an eye, 
turned into a naked trunk. There it stands, 
singed and tore ; stripped of its verdant 
honours,* and surrounded with its own shat- 
tered fragments. How fearful is the artil- 
lery of heaven ! 

Asp. And why — why did not the blow 
fall on this guilty breast ? "Why was not the 
fiery bolt, which flew so near, commission- 
ed to pierce our hearts ? If our heavenly 
P ather has been so tenderly careful of these 
perishing bodies, will he not be much more 
gracious to our immortal souls? Will he 
not clothe them with that immaculate robe, 
which is the oidy security from the stroke 
of eternal vengeance? And let me ask, Can 
this be a security to us, unless we are vest- 
ed with it? Could this building, though very 
substantial, have secured us from the rush- 
ing rains, if we had not betaken ourselves 
to its friendly covert ? 

Christ is represented, 'in the prophecy of 
Isaiah, by this very image ; as " a place of 
refuge, and as a covert from the storm and 
from rain," Isa. iv. 6. That is, his merits 
and death are a sure protection from the curse 
of the law, and the damnation of hell. No 
fury of the elements so terrible as these ; 
no bulwark of stone so impregnable as those. 
If this is a proper emblem of Christ, to 
what shall we liken faith ? To a persuasion, 
that the shelter of the summer-house is free 
for our use ? To a high esteeni oi its ac- 
commodation, an e:;r:iest desire after its 
protection, or an habitual tendency towards 
it ? Would this defend us from the incle- 
mencies of the weather ? Would this keep 
us dry, amidst (what you call) the descend- 
ing deluge ? Would this esteem, desire, or 
tendency, unless carried into actual entrance 
and possession, be a proper safeguard, or in- 
deed any manner of advantage to our per- 
sons ? 

Ther. No, Aspasio; neither would a per- 
suasion that the summer-house is mine. 

Asp. True ; but a belief that Christ is 
mine, is like entering the summei-house. 
When the divine Spirit reveals the obe- 



* Does not this frive us the most awful and grand 
sense of Psalm xxix. 9 ? '« The voice of the Lord/' 
when uttered in thunder, and accompanied with 
lightningj not only " discovereth the thick bush- 
es, but stt-ips t\\e forest;" lays bare the branching 
woods; reduces l)?e most magnificent and flourishing 
cedars to naked and withered trunks. 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



dient and dying Saviour in my heart; when 
I am enabled to believe, that his death was 
the desert of my sins, and his obedience is 
the matter of my justification ; when I live 
in the exercise of this appropriating faith, 
then I find that comfort, and I receive that 
benefit, which correspond with the repose 
and security we now enjoy from this hospi- 
table structure, 

Ther. May T then, from this instant, look 
upon Christ, his glorious person, his perfect 
righteousness and his pi-ecious death, as my 
certain inheritance? May I firmly believe, 
that, through this grand and immensely-meri- 
torious cause, I shall have pardon and accept- 
ance, true holiness, and endless salvation ? 

Asp. Why should you not believe all 
this firmly? You have the same reason to 
believe with a steady confidence, as to be- 
lieve with any degree of affiance. It is the 
free promise of the gospel, addressed to sin- 
ners, that warrants the latter ; and the very 
same promise, under the same circumstan 
ces of unmerited munificence, authorizes 
the former. 

You have heard my opinion ; hear now 
what our Lord himself says : " Let him 
that is athirst, come ; and whosoever will, 
let him take the water of life freely," Rev. 
xxii. 1 7. He may partake of my spiritual and 
unspeakable blessings, as freely as he makes 
use of the most common refreshments ; 
as freely as he drinks of the running stream. 
This is his royal proclamation : Here his 
gracious invitation. Look unto me, and be 
ye saved," Isa. xlv. 22, saved from your 
disquieting fears, by justification ; saved 
from your domineering corruptions, by sanc- 
tification ; saved from every evil, by com- 
plete and etei'nal redemption. To whom 
is this most affectionate call directed ? Not 
to a few distinguished favourites only, but 
-t9_"allthe ends of the earth." None are 
excepted ; lisne are prohibited ; and can my 
Theron imagine thai-hs is excluded ? 

Nay farther, hear our Lord'^s earnest en- 
treaty ; hear his tender and repeated impor- 
tunity : As though God did beseech you 
by us, we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye 
reconciled to God," 2 Cor. v. 20. Hark ! 
It is the voice of infinitely-condescending 
love, speaking by his ambassador : — Sin- 
ners, accept my great salvation. Enjoy 
what I have purchased for you by my dying 
agonies. Do not suspect my kindness, or 
refuse my fgifts. This will wound me 
deeper than the spear which pierced my 
heart." — O ! the grace of our exalted King. 
He bows from his celestiarl throne. He al- 
most kneels to his guilty creatures. He 
begs, he even begs of obnoxious sinners, 
not to reject his mercies. After all this, 
can you entertain the least doubt, Theron, 
whether, you have a permission to believe 
fii'mly ? 



Ther. This is extraordinary goodness in- 
deed ! I have often read these passages, but 
never saw them, till this hour, in a light so 
engaging and so encouraging. 

Asp. Should not this threefold cord be 
strong enough to draw my dear friend, let me 
add (what must absolutely supersede all ob- 
jections) the plain, express, peremptory 
command of the Almighty. " This is his 
command, that we should believe on the 
name of his Son Jesus Christ," 1 John iii. 
23. Pray, examine the language ; not he 
allows only, or barely advises, but commands. 
We are not ordy permitted, but strictly re- 
qiured. . It is not only our privilege, but 
God's positive injunction. Upon the dis- 
covery of such a Saviour, methinks every 
heart should cry, " O that I might be al- 
lowed to approach him ! to solicit an inter- 
est in him ! How gladly would I wait, ever 
so long a time, in ever so mean a posture, 
if I might at |the last receive him as my 
portion !" The superabundant goodness of 
God prevents our wishes and exceeds our 
hopes. " I freely give my Son," saith the 
Lord, "and all his riches to you. I be- 
seech you as a compassionate friend, not to 
refuse him. I enjoin you as an uncontroll- 
able sovereign, to believe on him." — How 
gracious ! most amazingly gracious is this 
command ! And give me leave to hint, it is 
the greatest and most important command 
that ever issued from the throne of glory. 
If this be neglected, no others can be kept ; 
if this be observed, all others will be easy. 
Now, Theron, will you not receive Christ, 
and look upon his all-sufficient merits as 
your own ? Is not your warrant clear and 
unexceptionable ? nay, is not your obliga- 
tion strong and indispensable ? 

Ther. Truly, Aspasio, you put all my 
mistrustfid apprehensions to the stand. 
Here is a proclamation from the blessed 
God, — seconded by his invitation — accom- 
panied by his entreaty — and all enforced by 
his command. I know not what can be a 
fuller proof of your point, or a stronger in- 
utfcement to believe. 

Asp. Yes, my friend, I can produce (if 
such a thing be possible) stronger proof 
still ; such as, I hope, will totally route un- 
belief, and drive all her forces from the 
field. 

God has not only invited you, entreated- 
you, and commanded you to live under the 
sweet persuasion, that his Son is your Sa- 
viour : but he has given you the grandest 
ratification of this precious truth. He has 
passed his word .; he has made yon a firm 
promise ; nay, he has given you many and 
various promises, of this inestimable bless- 
ing. And " God is not a man, that Be; 
should lie; or the Son of man, that lie 
should repent ; Hath he said, and shall he 
not do it ? or hath he spoken, and shall he 



DIALOGUE XVI. 



»ot rtialce it good Numb, xxiii. 19. Hea- 
ven and earth may drop into nothing, soon- 
er than one promise, or indeed one jot or 
tittle of his promise, should fall to the 
ground. 

Besides this, he has given you, if I may 
so speak, a note under his own hand. He 
has recorded his promises in the Bible, and 
written them with an everlasting pen ; so 
that they will stand conspicuous and indeli- 
ble, like a bill drawn upon heaven, and a 
basis laid for faith, so long as the sun and 
moon endure. 

Nay, he has confirmed all by the most 
solemn sanction imaginable — by his oath ; 
by his own oath ; by the oath of a God. 
Though his word is sure, and his promise 
immutable, he adds, astonishing condescen- 
sion ! adorable benignity ! he adds his oath 
to all. He not only speaks, but swears ; 
swears by himself, swears by his own eter- 
nal existence, that his promises belong — to 
whom ? Mark this particular with the most 
exact attention : To whom do those pro- 
mises belong, which are ratified in this un- 
equalled and inviolable maimer ? To the 
holy, the upright, the accomplished? — To 
those, says the scripture, " who fly for re- 
fuge to the hope set before them," Heb. vi. 
17, 18 ; the hope set before them in the 
propitiation, the righteousness, the ineffable 
merits of Christ. 

Ther. May 1 then believe, firmly believe, 
assuredly believe, that Jesus the Mediator, 
and all the rich benefits of his mediation, 
are mine ? Pardon me, Aspasio, for reiter- 
ating the question. I am really, with re- 
spect to the obedience of faith, too much 
like that Saxon monarch, who, for his re- 
missness and inactivity, was surnamed the 
*' Unready."* 

Asp. I do more than pardon my dear 
Theron : I feel for him, and I sympathize 
with him. If there is some of that Saxon 
prince's disease running in his religion ; I 
am sure there is too much of it in mine ; 
and I fear it is an epidemical distemper : but 
let us reflect a moment: Suppose any neigh- 
bour of substance and credit should bind 
himself by a deliberate promise, to do you 
some particular piece of service ; if he should 
add to his promise a note under his hand ; 
if he should corroborate both by some authen- 
tic pledge ; if he should establish all by a 
most awful and solemn oath : could you 
suspect the sincerity of his engagement, or 
harbour any doubt with regard to its execu- 
tion? This would be most unreasonable 
in any one ; and to your generous temper, 
I am very certain, it would be impossible. 
Let us remember that God has given us all 
this cause for an assurance of faith, and 
more. Nay, I will defy the most timorous 



* Ethelrod. 



and suspicious temper to demand from the 
most treacherous person on earth, a greater, 
stronger, fuller security, than the God of 
infinite fidelity has granted to you and me. 
After all this, one would think, diffidence 
itself could no longer hesitate, nor the most 
jealous incredulity demur. Shall we, can 
we withhold that affiance from the un- 
changeable Creator, which we could not but 
repose on a fallible creature ? 

Ther. You rouse and animate me, As- 
pasio. O ! that I may arise, and, with the 
divine assistance, shake off this stupor of 
unbelief. Certainly, it can never be ho- 
nourable to God, nor pleasing to Christ, 
nor profitable to ourselves. 

Asp. If it be, then cherish it ; maintain 
it, and never relinquish it. But how can 
it be honourable to God ? it depreciates his 
goodness ; it is a reproach to his veracity ; 
nay, the apostle scruples not to affirm, that 
it "makes him a liar," 1 John v. 10. Where- 
as, they who believe his testimony, glorify 
his faithfulness ; glorify his beneficence ; 
and, as John the Baptist speaks, " set to 
their seal that God is true. John iii. 33. 
I have been informed, that when the late 
Elector of Hanover was declared, by the 
parliament of Great Britain, successor to 
the vacant throne, several persons of dis- 
tinction waited upon his Highness, in order 
to make timely application for the most va- 
luable preferments. Several requests of this 
nature were granted, and each was confirm- 
ed by a kind of promissory note. One gen- 
tleman particularly solicited for the master- 
ship of the Rolls. Being indulged in his 
desire, he was offered the same confirma- 
tion which had been vouchsafed to other 
successful petitioners. Upon which he 
seemed to be under a pang of graceful con- 
fusion and surprise ; begged that he might 
not put the royal donor to such unnecessary 
trouble ; at the same time protesting, that 
he looked upon his Highness' word as the 
very best ratification of his suit. With this 
conduct, and this compliment, the Elector 
was not a little pleased. " This is the gen- 
tleman," he said, " who does me a real ho- 
nour ; treats me like a king ; and whoever 
is disappointed, he shall certainly be gratified." 
— So we are assured by the testimony of 
revelation that the patriarch, " who stag- 
gered not through unbelief, gave," and in 
the most signal, the most acceptable man- 
ner, " glory to God." Rom. iv. 20. 

Is it " pleasing to Christ ?" Quite the 
reverse. It dishonours his merit ; it de- 
tracts from the dignity of his righteousness ; 
it would enervate the power of his interces- 
sion. Accordingly, you may observe, there 
is nothing which om- Lord so frequently re- 
proved in his followers as this spirit of un- 
belief. What says he to his disciples when 
he came down from the mount of transfi- 



446 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



guration ? " O faithless and perverse genera- 
tion !"* They were perverse, because faith- 
less. "What says he to the travellers whom 
he overtook in their journey to Emmaus? 
" O fools, and slow of heart to believe !" 
Luke xxiv. 25. They were fools because 
slow to believe. What says he to the 
apostles after his resurrection ? " Jesus up- 
braided them with their unbelief. " Mark, 
xvi. 14. He took no notice of their cow- 
ardly and perfidious behaviour ; he inveigh- 
ed against none of their other follies and 
infirmities ; but he upbraided them with 
their unbelief. Not gently rebuked. No ; 
this was a fault so unreasonable in itself, 
so reproachful to their Master, so pernici- 
ous to themselves, that he severely repri- 
manded them for it ; with an air of vehe- 
mence, and with a mixture of invective. 

Is it " profitable to ourselves ?" Nothing 
less. It damps our love, and diminishes 
our comfort. It subjects us to that fear 
which hath torment ; and disqualifies us for 
that obedience which is filial. In a word, 
this distrustful and unbelieving temper 
weakens every principle of piety, and im- 
poverishes the whole soul. Whence come 
spiritual oscitancy and remissness ? whence 
proceed sterility and unfruitfulness in the 
knowledge of Christ? St. Peter ascribes 
them all to an habitual unbelief. Such per- 
sons, he says, "have forgotten that they were 
purged from their former sins." 2 Pet. i. 8, 
9. In the regenerate, where it remains, it 
is very detrimental ; for " they that will 
not believe shall not be established." Isa. 
vii. 9. In the unregenerate, where it pre- 
vails, it is absolutely destructive ; and though 
it may not kill like an apoplexy, it wastes 
like a consumption. " They could not enter 
in because of unbelief." Heb. iii. 19. 

Let us then, my dear friend, cast away 
this sin, which so easily besets us both. It 
clogs our feet ; it hampers all our powers ; 
and hinders us from running, with alacrity 
and speed, " the race that is set before us." 
What says David ? " God hath spoken in 
his holiness," Psalm Ix. 6, hath made an 
express and inviolable promise, that I shall 
be ruler of his people Israel. " I will re- 
joice therefore away with every alarming 
apprehension ; I will even exult and 
triumph. Nay more ; I will divide She- 
chem, and mete out the valley of Succoth 
I will look upon the whole land as my own. 
I will divide it, and dispose of it, just as if 
it was already in my possession. Why 
should not you and I also say, " God hath 
spoken in his holiness ; hath expressly and 
solemnly declared, The promise of an all- 



» AiSo-T^oaiii^sy^ijMatth.xvii. 17. A believing state 
of mind is like some well-arranged and beautiful sys- 
tem of limbs. Unbelief dislocates the parts, distorts 
the harmonious frames and disfigures its comely pro- 
portion. 



sufficient Saviour is to you. " We will re- 
joice therefore confiding in this most faith- 
ful word, we will bid adieu to all disquiet- 
ing fears, and make our boast of this glori- 
ous Redeemer. Yes ; notwithstanding all 
our unworthiness, Christ and his atone- 
ment, Christ and his righteousness, are 
ours. God hath passed his word ; and 
amidst all our temptations his word is our 
anchor; its hold is firm, and its ground im- 
moveable. * 

Ther. 1 have heard some people distin- 
guish between the faith of reliance, and the 
faith of assurance ; between the reflex and 
the direct act of faith. Methinks, I approve 
these sentiments, though i dislike the terms. 
The sentiments are happily adapted to the 
relief of human infirmity ; though the terms 
are rather too abstruse for ordinary capaci- 
ties to understand. 

Asp. I cannot say that I am very fond 
either of the one or of the other. In my 
opinion, they both partake too much of the 
subtilty of the schools ; and are more likely 
to create perplexity, than to administer 
godly edifying. For which reason, I should 
choose to drop the difficult phrases, and not 
to dwell on the nice distinctions : Yet, it 
we must not dismiss them without some 
notice, I would just remark — 

That the faith of reliance, in its true scrip- 
tural sense, includes or presupposes a degree 
of assurance. Includes ; for what is reli- 
ance but a repose of the mind, which is at- 
tended with tranquillity, and excludes per- 
turbation ? How can this take place, if there 
be no sort of conviction, that " the Lord is 
my light and my salvation ?" — Presupposes ; 
for who would rely on a satisfaction made, 
without being persuaded that the satisfac- 
tion is for him and his iniquities ? Reliance, 
separated from this persuasion, seems to be 
neither comfortable nor reasonable. 

As to those who insist upon what they 
call the reflex act of faith ; sure, they mis- 
take the nature of the thing. This, if I un- 
derstand them aright, is their way of argu- 
ing : — " I am a new creature ; I love the 
Lord Jesus in sincerity ; I have the fruits 
of the Spirit : From whence it is plain, that 
Christ and his salvation are mine." Now, 
in all this procedure, I cannot discern the 
least footstep of faith; no, not the least 

* This very important doctrine is more copiously 
displayed in some sermons [of Mr Ebenezer Erskine 
on the " assurance of faith," vol. iii. p. 201.t — Was I 
to read, in order to refine my taste, or improve my 
style, 1 would prefer Bishop Atterbury's sermons. 
Dr. Bate's works, or Mr Seed's discourses. But was 
I to read, with a single view to the edification of my 
heart, in true faith, solid comfort, and evangelical ho- 
liness, I would have recourse to Mr. Erskine, and 
take his volumes for my guide, my companion, and 
my own familiar friend. 

f This refers to a select collection of Mess. Ebenezer 
and Ralph Erskine's sermons published at London, in 
three volumes octavo. The sermons on the *' assur- 
ance of faith" are to be found in the first volume of 
Mr Ebenezer Erskine's sermons printed at Edinburgh 
in 1701. 



DIALOGUE XVI. 



trace of receiving a testimony, or relying 
iipon a Saviour. Here is rvothing more 
than a logical deduction of one proposition 
from another ; a conclusion draN^ n from giv- 
en premises. Grant the latter, and any 
person, without any aid from the Spirit, 
will infer the former. It may, therefore, 
more properly be reckoned an act of reason- 
ing than of believing ; it is founded on what 
we ourselves feel, not upon the record of a 
faithful God ; and it is styled by judicious 
writers, the assurance of sense rather than 
of faith. 

When, in confcrrmity to the aforemen- 
tioned opinion, we are advised to prove our 
title to comfort, by genuine marks of con- 
version, and taught on this column to fix 
the capital of assurance, I would rather pro- 
pose a question than advance objections. Is 
not this somewhat like placing the dome of 
a cathedral upon the stalk of a tulip ? 

Tlier. No, say they ; it was the practice 
of the apostle himself ; and he has left it 
upon record, as a pattern for all posterity to 
copy. " We know that we are passed from 
death unto hfe, because we love the bre- 
thren." 

Asp. Observe, Theron, the process of 
the apostle's reasoning. It is like the form 
of an inverted cone ; where you have first 
the point, and from thence proceed to the 
base. So the sacred writer begins with the 
less, and ascends to the greater proof. He 
says, in one of the following verses ; " Here- 
by perceive we the love of God,* because 
he laid down his life," 1 John iii. 16, not 
merely for sinners, but for us in particular. 
Here, you see, is assurance by the direct act 
of faith. From this truth beheved, from 
this blessing received, the love of the bre- 
thren takes its rise ; which may very justly 
be admitted as an evidence that our faith is 
real, and our assurance no delusion : As 
yonder leaves may serve to distinguish the 
particular species, and ascertain the healthy 
state of the trees on which they grow. 

When your tenants bring in their rent, 
this affords no contemptible evidence that 
the lands which they respectively occupy are 
youi's. But this is a proof which does not 
occur every day, or every week ; it is occa^ 



♦ The word God is not in the original. It was 
omitted by the apostle, just as the particular name 
is omitted by Mary, when she speaks to the gardener ; 
Sir, if thou hast borne him hence : — and by the church, 
■when she addresses the sacred object of her affection ; 
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, John 
XX. 15. Cantic. i. 1.— In all which places there is a 
language, a very emphatical language, even in the 
silence. It declares, how deeply the heart was pe- 
netrated, how totally the thoughts were possessed, 
by the beloved and illustrious subject. It expresses 
also the superlative dignity and amiableness of the 
person meant; as though he, and he only, either 
was or deserved to be known and admired by all. 
Vox which reason, to mention his name, or display 
his excellencies, seemed as needless as to show light 
to the open eye. 



sional only, and of the subordinate kind. 
The grand demonstration, that which is al- 
ways at hand, and always forcible IS your 
possession of the deeds of conveyance. Thus, 
the promise of God in his divine word is 
our charter, or the authentic conveyance of 
our right to pardon and salvation. Make 
just the same difference between this pro- 
mise and your own holiness, as you make 
between the writings of your estate and the 
receival of the revenues ; you will then judge 
aright, because your judgment will coincide 
with the apostle's. 

Besides, this method of seeking peace and 
assurance, I fear, will perplex the simple^ 
minded, and cherish, rather than suppress, 
the fluctuations of doubt. For, let the marks 
be what you please, a love of the brethren 
or a love of all righteousness, a change of 
heart or an alteration of hfe ; these good 
qualifications are sometimes like the stars at 
noon-day, not easily, if at all discernible ; 
or else they are like a glow-worm in the 
night, glimmering rather than shining ; con- 
sequently will yield, at the best, but a feeble, 
at the worst, a very precarious evidence. If, 
in such a manner, we should acquire some 
little assurance, how soon may it be unset- 
tled by the incursions of daily temptation, 
or destroyed by the insurrection of remain- 
ing sin ! At such a juncture, how will it 
keep its standing ! how retain its being ! It 
will fare like a tottering wall, before the 
tempest ; or be " as the rush without mire, 
or the flag without water." Job viii. 11. 

Instead therefore of poring on our own 
hearts, to discover, by inherent qualities, 
our interest in Christ, I should rather renew 
my application to the free and faithful pro- 
mise of the Lord — assert and maintain my 
title on this unalterable ground : " Pardon 
is mine, I would say grace is mine, Christ 
and all his spiritual blessings are mine. 
Why ? because I am conscious of sanctify- 
ing operations in my own breast ? Rather 
because ' God hath spoken in his holiness ;' 
because all these precious privileges are con- 
signed over to me in the everlasting gospel, 
with a clearness unquestionable as the truth, 
with a certainty inviolable as the oath of 
God." 

Cast your eye into yonder meadow. 
Take notice of that industrious fisherman, 
how intent he is upon the pursuit of his 
business. He has just thrown his net, and 
taken a considerable booty. You do not 
see him spending his time in idle triumphs, 
on account of his success : He does not 
stand to measure the dimensions of the fish, 
or compute the value of his prize : But 
having, without delay, secured the captives, 
he prepares for another cast, and hopes for 
another draught. 

So let us, instead of exulting in any past 
acquisitions, seek afresh to the inexhau&ti- 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



m 

ble fulness of our Saviour for renewed com- 
munications. If we have been blessed with 
any taste of his goodness, or any tokens of 
his love, let us not too fondly dote upon the 
sweetness of such experiences. Let us not 
make them the foundation of our confi- 
dence, but only so many encouragements to 
})ersevere and advance in believing ; that, 
having life and having peace from our divine 
Head, we may have them " more abundant- 
ly." John X. 10. Then will be fulfilled 
the saying which is written, The just — 
the righteous in Jesus Christ — shall live ; 
shall not only be delivered from condemna- 
tion and death, but shall thrive in comfort, 
and flourish in holiness — How ? by reflect- 
ing on their sanctification, or viewing their 
own attainments ? No ; but by the infinite- 
ly more encouraging views of their complete- 
ness in Christ, and by a fresh, a repeated, 
a never-ceasing exercise of faith, Rom. i. 
17, on that Holy One of God. 

This, I verily think, nay, this the apostle 
testifies, is the most effectual way of feeding 
that lamp, and quickening that flame, which, 
having cheered us in our earthly pilgrimage, 
will be brightened up into immortal glory 
in the heavens. 

Here they went in ; and after a slight re- 
freshment took coach. As they were re- 
turning home, Theron observed, not with- 
out concern, the changed and melancholy 
aspect of things in the territories of the 
husbandman. The fields of corn, which a 
little while ago were gracefully erect, or 
softly inclining to the breeze, lay sunk and 
flatted under the impetuous rains. Such, 
added Aspasio, such I apprehend will be 
our faith, if it aspires not after assurance, 
or if its assurance is erected on any endow- 
ments of our own. 

Ther. If this is the case, what can be 
the reason why so many people are totally 
destitute of all religious assurance ? have no 
notion of it, much less aspire after it? and 
as to full assurance, they would be much 
surprised, perhaps highly disgusted, at the 
very ^mention of such a doctrine ? 

Asp. If people never aspire after the as- 
surance of faith, or an appropriating interest 
in Christ, I very much question whether 
they are truly awakened, or really in ear- 
nest. They are hke the men of Ephraim, 
whom the prophet styles " a cake not turn- 
ed," Hos. vii. 8. Neither bread, nor yet 
dough ; neither absolute reprobates, nor 
real saints; or, as our Lord explains the 
proverb, in his charge against the church of 
Laodicea, they are " neither hot nor cold." 
Rev. iii. 15. Not frozen in insensibility, it is 
true; at the same time not fervent in spirit, 
but indifferent and lukewarm in the con- 
cerns of religion. As to a full assurance, 
or the highest degree of this grace, vv^as I to 
declare myself more explicitly upon this 



point, it should be in the calm and moderate 
words of a judicious divine : " 1 do not 
affirm, that without a full assurance there is 
no faith. But this 1 maintain, that wher- 
ever the latter exists, there will be asmcere 
pursuit of the former." 

Among the reasons why so few persons 
attain this eminent blessing, we may reckon 
the following: — They understand not the 
perfect freeness of grace, nor the immense 
merits of Christ: They never consider the 
unspeakable value of an assured faith ; 
neither are they aware that it is intended 
for the enjoyment of si»ners : Either they 
seek it not at all, or else they seek it where 
it is not to be found j from some works of 
righteousness in themselves, rather than 
from the gracious promise of God in his 
word ; which is altogether as ill-judged, 
and as sure to issue in disappointment, as 
if a person should go in quest of ice amidst 
the torrid zone, or expect to find spicy 
islands under the northern pole. 

But whether people consider it or no, the 
value of an assured faith is indeed unspeak- 
able. When this is wrought in the heart, 
peace will stand firm, and afilictions drop 
their sting. Prayer will return laden with 
treasures, and death will approach stripped 
of its terrors. The soul will be as a water- 
ed garden, and all her graces blossom as 
a rose. When this is wrought in the heart, 
the gospel of Christ will appear with new 
charms, and operate with new energy. Its 
hymns will no longer be a strange language 
to your ear, nor its privileges as forbidden 
fruit to your palate. You will then, as you 
peruse each sacred page, feel it to be the 
power of God, and " taste that the Lord is 
gracious." 1 Pet. ii. 3. You will reap a 
benefit, and enjoy a delight, as much supe- 
rior to those of the doubting reader, as the 
pleasure of eating this delicious peach is su- 
perior to the mere description of its agree- 
able relish. 

Bear with me a moment longer, Theron : 
For you can hardly imagine what an im- 
provement and exaltation this will give to 
every truth you contemplate, and every ob- 
ject you behold. When you contemplate 
the rise of kingdoms, and the fall of em- 
pires ; when you recollect the many great 
and astonishing events regarded in the his- 
tory of nations ; how highly delightful must 
it be to say, " All these passed under the 
superintendency of that hand \Ahich was 
pierced with the bloody nail, and fastened 
to the cursed cross for me !" When you be- 
hold the magnificence of creation, and the 
richness of its furniture — the grandeur of 
nature, and the variety of her works — what 
a heightened pleasure must they all impart, 
if, as you view the glorious scene, your 
thoughts make answer to your eyes, " All 
these were brought into_ existence by that 



DIALOGUE XVII. 



449 



adorable Person who sustained my guilt, and 
wrought out my justifying righteousness !" 

O that we may possess this " precious 
faith !" !2 Pet. i. 1, that it may grow incess- 
antly, " grow exceedingly," 2 Thess. i. 3, 
till it be rooted like those full-grown oaks 
under which we lately walked, atid ground- 
ed* like that well-built edifice which is still 
in our view. 

Ther. I join with my Aspasio in this 
wish ; and must beg of him to inform me 
how I may attain so desirable a blessing. 

Asp. You have entirely cured me, The- 
ron, of making apologies : would to God I 
might be as successfully instrumental in de- 
livering my friend from his doubts ! that the 
gospel might come to us as it came to the 
Thessalonians, " not in word only, but in 
power and in the Holy Ghost, and in much 
assurance." 1 Thess. i. 5. 

Prayer is the first expedient. Every 
good gift is from above, and cometh down 
from the Father of lights. Christ is not 
only the object, but the author and finisher 
of our faith. " Lord, increase our faith !" was 
the request of his disciples, and should be 
the prevailing language of our hearts. 

Lay up many cf the divine promises in 
your memory. Stock that noble cabinet 
with this invaluable treasure. " Faith com- 
eth by hearing,"! ilom. x. 17, by meditating 
on, by praying over this word of life and word 
of grace. And never, never forget the free- 
ness with which the promise is made, and its 
good things are bestowed. You are to re- 
ceive the one, and apply the other, not with 
a full but with an empty hand ; not as a right- 
eous person, but as an unworthy creature. 

Make the trial. Exercise yourself in 
this great secret of true godliness. I am 
satisfied it will be productive of the most 
beneficial effects. Look unto Jesus as dy- 
ing in your stead, and purchasing both 
grace and glory for your enjoyment. Come 
unto God as a poor sinner, yet with a con- 
fident dependence : expecting all spiritual 
blessings through Him that loved you, and 
gave himself for you. " He that believeth," 
with this appropriating faith, " shall not be 
confounded." 1 Pet. ii. 6, nor frustrated in 
his expectations. " He that beheveth," 
with this appropriating faith, " shall have the 
witness in himself," I John v. 10. Nothing 
will bring in such light and peace, such ho- 
liness and happiness to his soul. The Ephe- 
sians, thus believing, " were sealed with that 
Holy Spirit of promise,"! Eph. i. 13. The 



* Rooted and grounded ntifM- 
'Atufiivoi. These are the apostle's beautiful ideas, or 
rather expressive similitudes, each comprehended in a 
single word. Eph. iii. 18. 

t On which account the scriptures are styled the 
words of faith, 1 Tim - iv. 6. 

% UiffTivffccvrti tr^^ayiffhri, not after that 
ye believed, ye were sealed ; but believing ye were 



dispersed of Israel, thus believing, " rejoiced 
with joy unspeakable," 1 Pet. i. 8. Those 
were marked out as rightful heirs, these 
were blessed with some delightful foretastes 
and both were prepared for the complete 
fruition of life and immortahty. O ! that 
we may " be followers of their example, and 
sharers of their felicity !" 

As for those doubts which have given 
you so much perplexity, and cost us so long 
a disquisition, look upon them as some of 
your graetest enemies. Oppose them with 
all the resolution and all the vigour of your 
mind. Nay, look upon those unreasonable 
doubts, as some of your greatest sins. Con- 
fess them with the deepest shame; and 
pray against them with the utmost ardour. 
With equal assiduity and zeal, let us press 
after a steadfast, an immoveable, a triumph- 
ant faith. Faith is the vehicle and the in- 
strument of every good : " All things are 
possible to him that believeth," Mark ix. 23. 
Faith is the immediate and grand end of 
the whole gospel : " These things are writ- 
ten, that ye might believe," John xx. 31. 
Let us therefore covet, earnestly let us 
covet this best of gifts, and " shew all dili- 
gence to the full assurance of hope." Heb. 
vii. II. 



DIALOGUE XVIL 

The next morning Theron ordered a cold 
collation to be prepared, and his pleasure- 
boat to hold itself in readiness. Breakfast 
being despatched, and some necessary orders 
relating to the family given — Now, says he 
to Aspasio, let me fulfil my promise ; or 
rather, let us execute our mutual engage- 
ment ; and consign the remainder of this 
mild and charming day to a rm"al excur- 
sion. 

We will take our route along one of the 
finest roads in the world : A road incom- 
parably more curious and durable than the 
famous causeways raised by those puissant 
hands which conquered the globe : A road 
which has subsisted from the beginning of 
time ; and though frequented by innumer- 
able carriages, laden with the heaviest bur- 
dens, has never been gulled, never wanted 
repair to this very hour — Upon this they 
stept into the chariot, and are conveyed to 
a large navigable river, about three quarters 
of a mile distant from the house. Here 
they launch upon a new element, attended 



sealed. In the way of believing, ye became partak- 
ers of this sealing and sanctifying Spirit. Conform- 
ably to the expostulation of the apostle on another 
occasion, "Received ye the Spirit by the works of 
the law, or by the hearing of faith ?" 

2 G 



450 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



by two or three servants, expert at hand- 
ling the oar and managing the nets. 

Is this the road, replied Aspasio, on 
which my friend bestows his panegyric ? It 
is indeed more curious in its structure, and 
more durable in its substance, than the cele- 
brated Roman causeways; though Imustas- 
sure you, the latter have a very distinguish- 
ed share of my esteem. I admire them far 
beyond Trajan's pillar, or Caracalla's baths ; 
far beyond the idle pomp of the Pantheon, 
or the worse than idle magnificence of the 
amphitheatre. They do the truest honour 
to the empire ; because, while they were the 
glory of Rome, they were a general good 
and not only a monument of her grandeur, 
but a benefit to mankind. 

But more than all these works, I admire 
that excellent and divinely gracious pur- 
pose to which providence made the empire 
itself subservient. It was a kind of road or 
causeway for the everlasting gospel, and af- 
forded the word of life a free passage to the 
very ends of the earth. The evangelical dove 
mounted the wings of the Roman eagle, and 
flew with surprising expedition through all 
nations. Who would have thought that in- 
satiable ambition, and the most bloody wars, 
should be paving a way for the Prince of 
liumility and peace ? How remote from all 
human apprehension was such a design, and 
how contrary to the natural result of things 
was such an event ! Most remarkably, there- 
fore, was that observation of the Psalmist 
verified, " His ways are in the sea, and his 
paths in the great waters, and his footsteps 
are not known." Psal. Ixxvii. 19. 

Conversing on such agreeable subjects, 
they were carried by the stream through no 
less agreeable scenes. They pass by hills 
clothed with hanging woods, and woods ar- 
rayed in varying green. Here, excluded 
from a sight of the outstretched plains, they 
are entertained with a group of unsubstan- 
tial images, and the wonders of a mimic 
creation. Another sun shines, but stript of 
his blazing beams, in the watery concave ; 
while clouds sail along the downward skies, 
and sometimes disclose, sometimes draw 
a veil over the radiant orb. Trees, with 
their inverted tops, either flourish in the fair 
serene below, or else paint, with a pleasing 
delusion, the pellucid flood. Even the moun- 
tains are there, but in a headlong posture; and 
notwithstanding their prodigious bulk, they 
quiver in this floating mirror, like the poplar 
leaves which adorn their sides. 

Soon as the boat advances, and disturbs 



* These roads ran through all Italy, and stretched 
themselves into the territories of France. They were 
carried across the Alps, the Pyrenean mountains, and 
through the v^hole kingdom of Spain. Some of them 
towards the south, reached even to Ethiopia, and some 
of them towards the north, extended as far as Scot- 
land, The remains of several of them continue m 
England to this day, though they were made, it is pro- 
bable, above 1000 years agu. 



the placid surface, the waves, pushed hastily 
to the bank, bear off in broken fragments 
the liquid landscape. The spreading circles 
seemed to prophesy, as they rolled, and pro- 
nounced the pleasures of this present state 
— the pomp of power, the charm of beauty, 
and the echo of fame— pronounced them 
transient, as their speedy passage ; empty, 
as their unreal freight. Seemed to pro- 
phesy ! It was more, imagination heard them 
utter, as they ran. 

Thus pass the shadowy scenes of life away ! 

Emerging from this fluid alley, they dart 
amidst the level of a spacious meadow. 
The eye, lately immured, though in pleasur- 
able confinement, now expands her delight- 
ed view into a space almost boundless, and 
amidst objects little short of innumerable. 
Transported for a while at the numberless 
variety of beauteous images poured in sweet 
confusion all around, she hardly knows 
where to fix, or which to pursue. Recov- 
ering at length from the pleasing perplexi- 
ty, she glances, quick and instantaneous, 
across all the intermediate plain, and marks 
the distant mountains ; how cliffs climb 
over clifi^s, till the huge ridges gain upon the 
sky ; how their diminished tops are dress- 
ed in blue, or wrapped in clouds : while all 
their leafy structures, and all their fleecy 
tenants, are lost in air. 

Soon she quits these aerial summits, and 
ranges the russet heath ; here shagged with 
brakes, or tufted with rushes ; there inter- 
spersed with straggling thickets or solitary 
trees, which seem, like disaffected partizans, 
to shun each other's shade. A spire, plac- 
ed in a remote valley, peeps over the hills. 
Sense is surprised at the arausive appear- 
ance ; is ready to suspect that the column 
rist , like some enchanted edifice, from the 
rifted earth. But reason looks upon it as 
the earnest of a hidden vale, and the sure 
indication of an adjacent town : perform- 
ing in this respect, much the same office to 
the eye as faith executes with regard to the 
soul, when it is the evidence of things not 
seen." Keb. xi. 1. 

Next she roves, with increasing pleasure, 
over spacious tracts of fertile glebe, and cul- 
tured fields, where cattle of every graceful 
form, and every valuable quality, crop the 
tender herb, or drink the crystal rills. Anon, 
she dwells with the utmost complacency on 
towns of opulence and splendour, which 
spread the sacred dome, and lift the social 
roof ; towns no longer surrounded with the 
stern forbidding majesty of unpassable en- 
trenchments, and impregnable ramparts ; 
but encircled with the delicate, the inviting 
appendages of gardens and orchards ; those 
decked with all the soft graces of art and 
elegance, these blushing and pregnaiit with 
the more substantial treasures of fruitful 
nature. Wreaths of ascending smoke in- 



DIALOGUE XVIT. 



451 



termingled with turrets and lofty pinnacles, 
seem to contend which shall get farthest 
from the earth, and nearest to the skies. 
Happy for the inhabitants, if such was the 
habitual tendency of their desires!* if no 
other contention was known in their streets. 

Villas, elegant and magnificent, seated in 
the centre of an ample park, or removed to 
the extremity of a lengthened lawn, not far 
from a beautiful reservoir of standing wa- 
ters, or the more salutary lapse of a limpid 
stream. Villages, clad in homely thatch, 
and lodged in the bosom of clustering trees. 
Rustics, singing at their works ; shepherds 
tuning their pipes, as they tend their flocks ; 
travellers pursuing each his respective way, 
in easy and joyous security- 
How pleasing, said Aspasio, is our si- 
tuation ! How delightful is the aspect of all 
things ! One would almost imagine that no- 
thing could exceed it, and that nothing can 
increase it. Yet there is a method of in- 
creasing even this copious delight, and of 
heightening even this exquisite pleasure. — 
Let me desire my friend, answered Theron, 
to explain his remark ; and not only to ex- 
plain, but to exemplify — If we view, re- 
sumed Aspasio, our own prosperous, and 
compare it with the afflicted condition of 
others, the method I propose will be re- 
duced to practice. Such a dark and mourn- 
ful contrast must throw a.'iditional bright- 
ness, even upon tiie bri;-;h!:est scene. 

Above, the skies smile with serenity; be- 
low, the fields look gay with plenty ; all 
around the sportive gales 

Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense 
Native perfumes; and whisper, whence they stole 
Those balmy spoils.f 



* This compnrison, I think, cannot appear vulgar 
to those persons who liave read, and who reverence 
the hook of Canticles. There the church, ascending 
continually in devout affections to her beloved Jesus 
and to her heavenly home, is characterised by this 
very similitude. Wlio is this that cometh out of the 
wilderness like iiillars of smoke ? C nt. iii.G. Though 
it must be confessed, that this simiiitvide, like many 
of the illustrations used in scripture, might have a 
sort of local propriety peculiar to the people of tliat 
age, country, and religion. It might probably refer 
to those columns of smoke wiiich arose from the burnt 
offering, or fumed from;the altar of incense. If so, 
this circumstance must give a solemnity and dignity 
to the idea, of which many readers areaiot at -all aware, 
and which indeed no m.odern reader can fully con- 
ceive. 

May I take leave to mention another comparison of 
this kind ? " The enemies of the Lord shall consume 
as the fat of lambs ; yea, even as the smoke shall they 
consume away," Psalm xxxvii..20. As the fat of lambs, 
is not to us a striking representation. But to those 
who attended the altar, who saw the unctuous and 
most conbustible parts of the victim blazing in the 
sacred fire, it presented a very lively image, which 
was still more apposite and significant, if tliis psalm 
was sung while the sacrifice was burning. None, I 
believe, in such a case, could forbear either observ- 
ing or admiring the beautiful gradation, " They shall 
perish as yonder fat which is so easily set on fire, and 
when once in a flame, is so speedily consumed. Nay, 
they shall be as the smoke, which is still more tran- 
sient, whose light vuisubstantial wreaths but just make 
their appearance to the eye, and in a moment vanish 
into empty air." 

fMilton, book 4. 



With us, all circumstances are as easy as 
the wafture of the boat ; as smooth as the 
flow of the stream. But let us not forget 
those grievous calamities which befal our 
brethren in some remote tracts of the earth, 
or distant parts of the ocean. How many 
sailors are struggling, vainly struggling, with 
all the fury of rending winds and dashing 
waves ! while their vessel, flung to and fro 
by tempestuous billows, is mounted into 
the clouds, or plunged in the abyss. Pos- 
sibly the miserable crew hear their knell 
sounded in the shattered mast, and see de- 
struction entering at the bursting planks. 
Perhaps this very moment they pour the 
last, dismal, dying shriek ; and sink, irre- 
coverably sink, in the all-overwhelming 
surge. — The traveller, in Africa's barren 
wastes, pale even amidst those glowmg re- 
gions, pale with prodigious consternation, 
sees sudden and surprising mountains rise ; 
sees the sultry desert ascending the sky, and 
sweeping before the whirlwind. What can 
he do? whither fly? how escape the ap- 
proaching ruin ? Alas ! while he attempts to 
rally his thoughts, attempts to devise some 
feeble expedient, he is overtaken by the 
choking storm, and suffocated amidst the 
sandy inundation. The driving heaps are 
now his executioner, as the drifted heaps 
will soon be his tomb. 

While we possess the valuable privileges, 
and taste the delicious sweets of liberty, 
how many partakers of our common nature 
are condemned to perpetual exile, or chain- 
ed to the oar for life ! How many are im- 
nun ed in the gloom of dungeons, or buried 
in the caverns of the mines, never to behold 
the all-enliveniiig sun again ! While respect 
waits upon our persons, and reputation at- 
tends our characters, are there not some un- 
happy creatures, led forth by the hand of 
vindictive justice, to be spectacles of hor- 
ror and monuments of vengeance ? sentenc- 
ed, for their enormous crimes, to be broke 
limb by limb on the wheel, or to be impal- 
ed alive on the lingering stake. To these, 
the strangling cord, or the deadly stab, 
would be a most welcome favour ; but they 
must feel a thousand deaths, in undergoing 
one. And this, too probably, is but the 
beginning of their sorrows — will only con- 
sign them over to infinitely more terrible 
torment. 

While ease and pleasure, in sweet con- 
junction, smooth our paths, and soften our 
couch, how many are tossing on the fever's 
fiery bed, or toiling along affliction's thorny 
road ! Some under the excruciating but 
necessary operations of surgery ; their bo- 
dies ripped open, with a dreadful incision, 
to search for the torturing stone ; or their 
limbs, lopt off by the bloody knife, to pre- 
vent the mortification's fatal spread. Some, 
emaciated by pining sickness, are deprived 



452 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



of all their animal vigour, and transformed 
into spectres, even before their dissolution.* 
These are ready to adopt the complaint of 
the Psalmist : " I am withered like the 
grass : my bones are burnt up, as it were a 
firebrand ; I go hence like the shadow that 
departeth." While health, that staple 
blessing, which gives every other entertain- 
ment its flavour and its beauty, adds the 
gloss to all we see, and the gout to all we 
taste ; health plays at our hearts, dances in 
our spirits, and mantles in our cheeks, as 
the generous champaign lately sparkled in 
our glass. 

We are blessed with a calm possession 
of ourselves : with tranquillity in our con- 
sciences, and an habitual harmony in our 
temper ! whereas many, in the doleful cells 
of lunacy, are gnashing their teeth, or wring- 
ing their hands ; rending the air with vol- 
lies of horrid execrations, or burdening it 
with peals of disconsolate sighs. And O ! 
what multitudes, even amidst courts and 
palaces, are held in splendid vassalage by 
their own domineering passions, or the 
vanities of a bewitching world ! far less in- 
nocently, far more deplorably disordered,! 
than the fettered madman, they are gnaw- 
ed by the envenomed tooth of envy ; they 
are agitated by the wild sallies of ambition ; 
or feel the malignant ulcer of jealousy rank- 
ling in their breasts. In some, avarice, like 
a ravening harpy, gripes : In some, revenge, 
like an implacable fury, rages : While 
others are goaded by lordly and imperious 
lusts, through the loathsome sewers of im- 
pure delight ; and left, at last, in those hat- 
ed and execrable dens, where remorse rears 
her snaky crest, and infamy sharpens her 
hissing tongue 

Why this long pause ? replied Theron. 
Your observations are as useful as they are 
just.^ We should all be acquainted, at least 
in speculation acquainted, with grief ; and 
send our thoughts, if not our feet, to visit 
the abodes of sorrow; — that in this school we 
may learn asympathisingpity for our distress- 
ed fellow-creatures ; and see in this glass our 
inexpressible obligations to the distinguish, 
ing goodness of Providence, which has 
crowned our table with abundance, and re- 



* A very little excursion of thought will easily con- 
vince the reader, that there is no period of time, in 
which some of these calamities do not befal our fel- 
low-creatures, in one part of the world or another. 

t Give me any plague, says an apocryphal writer, 
but the plague of my heart, Ecclus. xxv. 13. Upon 
which judicious and weighty apothegm, Masinissa's 
speech in Mr. Thomson's Sophonisba, is a very per- 
tinent and affecting paraphrase ; 

O ! save me from the tumult of the soul ! 

From the wild beast within !— For circling sands, 

When the swiftlwhirlwind'whelmslthem o'erthe lands ; 

The roaring deeps, that to the clouds arise. 

While thwarting thick the mingled lightning flies ; 

The monster-brood, to which this land gives hirth, 

The blazing city, and the gaping earth, 

All deaths, all tortures in one pang combined. 

Are gentle to the tempest of the mind ! 



plenished our cup with delicacies ; permit- 
ting neither penury to stint the draught, nor 
adversity to mingle her gall. Go on, I must 
entreat you, with your description of com- 
parative felicity. We have a large circuit 
still to make, before we arrive at our intend- 
ed port J and I could wish, that your dis- 
course might keep pace with the current. 

Since you approve the subject, answered 
Aspasio, I will pursue it a little farther — 
We, the inhabitants of this favourite isle, 
breathe an air of the most agreeable tem- 
perature, and most wholesome qualities. 
But how many nations languish under braz- 
en skies, vaulted as it were with fire ! They 
welter amidst those furnaces of the sun, till 
their " visage is burnt, and as black as a 
coal." Lam. iv. 8. What is far more dis- 
astrous, beds of sulphur, and combustible 
materials lie in subterraneous ambush, ready 
to spring the irresistible mine ; ere long, 
perhaps, on some day of universal festivity,* 
or in some night of deep repose, to be 
touched by heaven's avenging hand. Then 
with what outrageous violence will they 
burst ! rock the foundations of nature ! 
wrench open the ponderous jaws of the 
earth ! and swallov*^ up astonished cities in 
the dark, tremendous, closing chasm ! 

These earthquakes, it may be, both pre- 
cede and portend "the pestilence that walk- 
eth in darkness, and the sickness that de- 
stroyeth at noon-day," Psal. xci. 6. They 
are, at once, a fearful omen and a ruinous 
blow. The stagnating atmosphere, rank with 
malignant vapours, becomes a source of 
deadly infection ; or, replete with poisonous 
animalculse, is one vast incumbent cloud of 
living bane. If the active gales arise, they 
arise only to stir the seeds of disease, and 
diffuse the fatal contagion far and near. Un- - 
happy people ! The plague, that severer mi- 
nister of divine indignation, fixes her head- 
quarters in their blasted provinces; and 
sends death abroad "on his pale horse," 
Rev. yi. 8, to empty their houses, depopulate 
their towns and crowd their graves. 

Our island is seldom visited with either 
of these dreadful judgments ; and has never 
sustained any very considerable calamity from 



* There is a remakable passage in Psal. Iviii, 9, 
which seems to denote some such unexpected, but 
speedy and inevitable doom. The sense is darkened 
not a little by the version admitted into orir liturgv. 
I believe the true translation may be seen in the follow- 
ing, and the true meaning learned from the interwoven 
paraphrase.—" Speedily, or before your pots can per- 
ceive the warmth of blazing thorns, shall he that rul- 
eth over all sweep away the wicked ; sweep him away 
by a stroke of righteous indignation, as by a fierce 
and mighty tempest ; so that, even from the fulness 
of his sufficiency, and the height of his prosper! ty, he 
shall be plunged into utter destruction.— The Hebrew 
word, which is very unhappily rendered raw, signifies 
a state of prosperity or pleasurable enjoyment, 1 Sam. 
xxv. 6. The whole verse, in a gradation of striking 
images, gives us a most awful display of divine ven- 
geance; vengeance quite sudden, utterly irresistible, 
and overtaking the secure sinner, amidst all the ca- 
resses of what the world calls fortvme. 



IDIALOGUE XVII. 



453 



he former. However, let us not be presump- 
tuously secure. We have not long ago receiv- 
ed an awful warning. The road has been 
shaken ; or rather the sword has been bran- 
dished over our territories. Who can for- 
get the general consternation which seized 
our metropolis on occasion of the late earth- 
quake ? And not without reason : For, of 
all divine visitations, this is the most ter- 
ribly vindictive. The vi'hirlwind is slow in 
its progress, war is gentle in its assaults, even 
the raging pestilence is a mild rebuke, com- 
pared with the inevitable, the all-overwhelm- 
ing fury of an earthquake. When it begins, 
It also makes an end, 1 Sam. iii. 12, puts a 
period, in a few minutes, to the work of ages, 
ruins all without distinction ; and there is 
no defence from the destructive stroke. 

Should Almighty vengeance stir up again 
those fierce subterranean commotions ; 
should the Most High God bid strong con- 
vulsions tear the bowels of nature, and make 
the foundations of the world tremble hke a 
leaf ; what " O ye careless ones," Isaiah 
xxxii. 1 1, what will you do ? whither will you 
fly ? See ! the pavement sinks under your 
feet. Your houses are tottering over your 
heads. The ground, on every side, cracks 
and opens like a gaping grave ; or heaves 
and swells like a rolling sea. " A noise of 
crashing," Zeph. i. 10, is heard from with- 
out, occasioned by the rending streets, and 
falling structures. Thunders, infernal thun- 
ders,* bellow fi'om beneath, mingled with 
despairing shrieks and dying groans from 
those wretched creatures, who are jammed 
between the closing earth, or going down 
alive into the horrible pit.f Where now 



* Before the overthTow of Catania by an earth- 
" quake, a noise was heard, vast and horrid, as if all 
the artillery in the world was discharged at once. 

•f Very memorable, and equally tremendous, is the 
account of the earthquake, that visited Sicily, in the 
year 1G33. — It shook the whole island The mischief 
it caused is amazing. Fifty-four cities and towns, 
besides an incredible number of villages, were either 
demolished, or greatly damaged. Catania, one of the 
most famous and flourishing cities in the kingdom, 
was entirely destroyed. Of 18,914 inhabitants, 18 000 
perished. 

Another earthquake, almost as dreadful, and in the 
same year, spread desolation through the colony of 
Jamaica. In two minutes time, it snook down, and 
laid under water, nine tenths of the town of Port- 
Royal. In less than a minute, three quarters of the 
houses, and the ground they stood on, together with 
the inhabitants, were quite sunk; and the little part 
left behind was no better than heaps of rubbish. 
The shock was so violent, that it threw people do^vn 
upon their knees or their faces, as they were running 
about for shelter. The ground heaved and swelled 
like a rolling sea ; and several houses, still standing, 
were shuffled some yards out of their places. The 
eartli would crack and yawn ; would open and shut, 
quick and fast. Of which horrid openings, two or 
three hundred might be seen at once. In some 
whereof, the people went down and were seen no 
more. In some they descended, and rose again in 
other streets, or in the middle of the harbour. Some 
swiftly closing, seized the m.iserable creatures, and 
pressed them to death ; leaving their heads or half 
tlieir bodies above ground, to be a sijectade of terror, 
and a prey to dogs. Out of others would issue whole 
rivers of water, spouted to a great height in the air, 
and threatening a deluge to that part which the 



will you fly ? To your strong towers ? They 
were shattered in pieces — To the strong 
rocks ? They were thrown out of their place. 
— To the open fields ? They are a frightful 
gulf, yawning to devour you. Wherever 
you fly ; in the wildness of your distraction, 
wherever you seek for shelter ; it shall be, 
"as if a man fled from a hon and a bear 
met him ; or went into the house, and lean- 
ed his hand upon the wall, and a serpent 
bit him." Amos v. 19. 

Yet there is one place of refuge, which 
will prove an inviolable sanctuary, and a 
perfect security. I mean, the great, the 
gracious, the adorable Redeemer's right- 
eousness. Hither let us betake ourselves. 
Now, before the day of desolation cometh, 
let us betake ourselves to this stronghold. 
Then shall we have no reason to fear, though 
the earth be moved, and though the hills 
be carried into the midst of the sea. For 
thus saith God, the omnipotent and faith- 
ful God : " The sun and the moon shall be 
darkened, and the stars shall withdraw their 
shining. The Lord also shall roar out of 
Zion, and utter his voice from Jerusalem. 
The heavens and the earth shall shake ; but 
the Lord Jesus Christ will be the hope of 
his people, and the strength of the children 
of "Israel." Joel iii. 15, 16. Or, if the 
true believer is involved in the same undis- 
tinguished ruin with the ungodly, even this 
shall turn to his gain. It shall exempt him 
from the lingering pains and the melancholy 
solemnities of a dying bed. Like Elijah's 
fiery chariot, it shall speedily waft his soul 
to the bosom of his Saviour ; while the hi- 
deous cavern, that whelms his body in the 
centre, shall be its chamber of rest till the 
beloved Bridegroom comes, and the day of 
resurrection dawns. 

We lift up our eyes, and behold the ra- 
diant colours which flush the forehead of 
the morning ; we turn, and gaze upon the 
no less beautiful tinges, which impurple the 
cheek of evening. We throw around our 
view, and are delighted with numberless 
forms of fertility, which both decorate and 
enrich our plains : whereas, other countries 
are over-run with immense swarms of lo- 
custs, which intercept, wherever they fly, 
the fair face of day ; and destroy, wherever 
they alight, the green treasures of the 
ground. 

Ah ! what avails it, that the laborious hind 
sows his acres, or the skilful husbandman 



earthquake spared. Scarce a planting-house or sugar- 
work was left standing in all the island. Two thou- 
sand lives were lost, and a thousand acres of land 
sunk. The whole was attended with frightful noises, 
with brimstone blasts, and offensive smells. The 
noisom.e vapours belched forth, corrupted the air, 
and brought on a general sickness; which swept 
away more than three thousand of those who escaped 
the fury of the earthquake. See Chamb. DM. on 
the word Earthquake. 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



454 

prunes his vineyard ? that spring, with her 
prolific moisture, swells the bud ; or, with 
her delicate pencil, paints the blossom ? Nor 
grain, nor fruit, can hope for maturity, while 
these rapacious and baleful creatures infest 
the neighbourhood. They ravage the gardens. 
They strip the trees, and shave the mea- 
dows. Scarce a single leaf remains on the 
boughs, or so much as a single stalk in the 
furrows. "A fire devoureth before them, 
and behind them a flame burneth ; the land 
is as the garden of Eden before them, and 
behind them a desolate wilderness ; yea, and 
nothing can escape them." Joel ii. 3."* 

Now, let the dreadful artillery roar from 
all its iron throats, and disgorge the heaviest 
glut of mortal hail. Now, ye sons of slaugh- 
ter, men "skilful to destroy," Ezek. xxi- 31, 
now hurl the sulphureous globes, which kin- 
dle into a hurricane of fire, and burst in rag- 
ged instruments of ruin. — To no purpose. 
The linked thunderbolts are turned into 
stubble, the bursting bombs are accounted 
as straw. These armies of the air laugh at 
all the formidable preparations of war ; "and 
when they fall on the sword, they shall not 
be wounded. "f Surprising and awful des- 
tination of the everlasting God ! at once to 
stain the pride and chastise the guilt of 
man ! These are a despicable and puny 
r;ice ; clad in no coat of mail, but crushed 
by the slightest touch. They wear neither 
svv'crd nor scimitar, nor any offensive wea- 
j)on : Yet, in spite of opposing legions, they 
carry on their depredations, and push their 
cotiqiiests. Terror marches in their front, 
and famine brings up the rear. They spread 
universal devastation as they advance; and 
frequently give the signal for the pestilence 
to follow. Potent armies lose their hands, and 
haughty tyrants tremble for their dominions. 

O that the natives of Great Britain would 
bethink thniselves ! would break off" their 
sins by righteousness, and their iniquities 



* A fire devoureth before them, and be'iiiid them 
a flame burneth. This is one of those bold and cxprrs- 
sive metaphois, in which the Hebrew language de- 
lights, and by which it is eminently distinguished. It 
signifies a total devastation of the vegetable produce ; 
such as must ensue, if a raging and resistless fire at- 
tended the progress of these pernicious animals ; burn- 
ing with such vehement impetuosity, that none could 
quench it ; spreading such extensive havoc, that no- 
thing could escape it. 
t The prophet Joel, foretelling the plague of locusts, 
gives, under the image of an embattled host, a most 
alarming display of their terrible appearance ; their 
impetuous progress ; the horrible dread they raise, 
as they advance; and the irreparable mischief they 
leave, as they depart ; adding, among other amazing 
circumstances. When they fall upon the sv/ord, they 
shall not be wounded. Which implies, I apprehend, 
that no method of slaughter should prove destructive 
to their troops ; or, that every expedient, contrived 
for their suppression, should be utterly baffled ; be- 
ing, through their imm^ense numbers, as invincible, 
as if e-very one was absolutely invulnerable. For, 
though millions and millions should perish by the 
weapons of war; even such blow, in reference to 
their whole collective body, should scarce be perceived 
fis a Joss, scarce be felt as a wound ; neither diminish- 
mg their strength, uor retarding their march, Joel. ii. 8. 



by cherishing the influences of the divine 
Spirit ! lest this " overflowing scourge," 
under [which some neighbouring kingdoms 
have severely smarted, should be commis- 
sioned to visit our borders, and avenge the 
quarrel of its Maker's honour. Distant as 
those countless legions are, with interposing 
seas between ; yet, if God lift up a stand- 
ard from far, or but hiss* unto them from 
the ends of the earth, "they come with 
speed swiftly," Who will convey this wisii 
to the ears, who will transmit it to the 
hearts of my countrymen ? that our land 
may always appear as it does at present, 
like the darling of Providence ; may always 
resound with the voice of joy, and be filled 
with the fruits of plenty ; may always wear 
the robe of beauty, and be adorned with 
the smile of peace. 

How great are the advantages of peace ! 
said Theron. Peace, at her leisure,, plans, 
and leads our industry to execute, all the 
noble and commodious improvements, which, 
we behold on every side. Peace sets the 
mark of property on our possessions, and 
bids justice guarantee them to our enjoy- 
ment. Peace spreads over us the banner 
of the laws, while we taste, free from, out- 
rage, and secuie from injury, the milk and 
honey of our b.onest toil.f — Amidst the tu- 
multuous confusions of war, who could have 
a heart to corUrive, or a hand to accomplish, 
any such woiks of dignity and use? In 
those days of {larkiiess and distraction, how 
languid to the sight are all the dewy Jan' 
scapes of spririg ? How insipid to the tt' 
are all the delicious flavours of autu 



* " Hiss unto them," Isa. v. 26. With great signi- 
ficancy, and peculiar grandeur, the prophet applies 
this expression to the Lord God of Hosts influencing 
the most powerful armies; q. d. They come without 
a moment's delay, and from the remotest regions of 
the earth, to execute all his pleasure. Formidable 
and innumerable as they are, they come, I say not up- 
on his repe.ate l injunctions, or at his strict command, 
but at the first, the very smallest intim.ation of his 
will ; such as the shepherds use to their flocks, such 
as the bee-raea, ofold, to tlieir swarms; or such as we 
in these days to some of our domestic animals. The 
Hebrew word I would not translate, at his whis le: 
because this phrase, in our language, creates a vulgar 
sound, and conveys alov/idea; but such is the im- 
port of the orij^inal ; which denotes all that uncon- 
cerned ease of action, without any of the oflensive 
familiarity of diction. 

t " Pax optima rerum," says the Latin poet. But 
the Orientals, I think, discover the most superlative 
esteem for this blessing, by making it the constant 
form of their salutations, and the subject of tlieir 
niost cordial v^ishes for their friends : " Peace be un- 
to thee." In this short sentence, they seem to have 
comprised a whole volume of mercies ; meaning by 
their single ^I^U^ all that the Greeks expressed by 
their .^cej^siv, vyiKivnv, iv^^xTTHv • e- a conflu- 
ence of that joy of mind, that health of body, that 
prosperity of outward circumstances which complete 
the happiness of mankind. 

We have a fine description of peace, and its various 
blessings, 1 Maccab. xiv. 8, 9, &c. The picture is 
very exact, though perfectly artless. Nothing should 
hinder me from transcribing the passage, but a fear 
of being too diffusive in my notes. Lest the reader 
v/ho expects a treat, should complain of a glut; or 
have reason to object, that the sideboard is more co- 
piously furnished than the table. 



DIALOGUE XVII 

"When the nation is overrun with armies 
and embroiled in slaughter, " a trembling 
of heart, and failing of eyes, and sorrow of 
mind," Deut. xxviii. 65, are the dismal 
distinction of the times. Instead of a cal 
acquiescence in our portion, our very life 
hangs in continual suspense. 

But what are all the benefits of external 
peace, though displayed in the fairest light, 
and enlivened by the strongest contrasts 
what are they all, compared with the bless 
ings of the gospel ? by which sinners may 
have " peace with God through Jesus Christ 
our Lord !" 

This, resumed Aspasio, suggests a fresh 
instance of happiness, which others want 
and we possess ; an instance never to be 
omitted in our catalogue of peculiar mercies 
I might add, never to be forgotten by any 
Christian on "any occasion. While many 
kingdoms of the earth are ignorant of the 
true God, and know neither the principles 
of piety, nor the paths of felicity ; the day- 
spring from on high hath visited us, to give 
the knowledge of salvation, and to guide our 
feet into the way of peace." While millions 
of rebellious angels, cast from their native 
thrones, are reserved in chains of darkness 
unto the judgment of the great day ; we 
though rebellious and apostate sinners of 
mankind, are delivered from the wrath to 
come. The holy Jesus (blessed be his re- 
deeming goodness i) has endured the cross, 
and despised the shame, on purpose to re 
scue us from those doleful and ignominious 
dungeons, where the prisoners of almighty 
vengeance 



455 



Converse with groans, 

Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved. 
Ages of hopeless end. Milton. 

Yes, my dear Theron, let me repeat your 
own important words : *' What are all the 
benefits of external peace, though displayed 
in the fairest light, and enlivened by the 
strongest contrasts — what are they all, com- 
pared with the blessings of the gospel ?" 
This brings the olive-branch from heaven, 
and glad tidings of reconciliation with our 
offended God. This composes the tumult 
of the mind ; disarms the warring passions ; 
and regulates the extravagant desires. This 
introduces such an integrity of heart, and 
benevolence of temper, as constitute the 
health of the soul. This spreads such an 
uniform beauty of holiness through the con- 
duct, as is far more amiable than the most 
engaging forms of material nature. 

O ! that thou wouldst bow the heavens ! 
that thou wouldst come down, celestial Vi- 
sitant, and make thy stated, thy favourite 
abode in our isle ! that every breast may be 
animated with thy power ; and every com- 
munity, every individual, may wear thy re- 
splendent badge ! Tlten shall it be the least 
ingredient of our public felicity, that the j 



sword of slaughter is beaten into a plough, 
share, and the once bloody spear bent into 
a pruning-hook. It shall be the lowest upon 
the list of our common blessings, that " vio- 
lence is no more heard in our land, wasting 
and destruction within our borders. Our 
very officers will be peace, and our exactors* 
righteousness. We shall call" (and the 
event will correspond with the name) " our 
walls salvation, and our gates praise," Then 
shall every harp be taken down from the 
willows, and every voice burst into a song. 
— " In other climes" — will be the general 
acclamation — , 

" In other climes, let myriads of curious 
insects spin the delicate thread, which soft- 
ens into velvet, stiffens into brocade, oj' flows 
in glossy sattin ; which reflects a lovelier 
glow on the cheek of beauty, and renders 
royalty itself more majestic. We are pre- 
sented with infinitely finer robes, in the im- 
puted righteonsness of our Redeemer, and 
the inherent sanctification of his Spirit ; 
which beautify the very soul, and prepare it 
for the illustrious assembly — of saints in 
light — of angels in glory. 

Let eastern rocks sparkle with diamonds, 
and give bii th to gems of every dazzling 
tincture. We have hid in the field of our 
Scriptures, the ' Pearl of great price ; the 
white and precious stone,' Rev. ii. 17, of 
perfect absolution ; a diadem which will 
shine with undiminished lustre, when all the 
brilliant wonders of the mind are faded, ex- 
tinguished, lost. 

Let richer soils nourish the noblest 
plants, and warmer suns concoct their exqui- 
site juices ; — the lemon, pleasingly poignant; 
the citron, more mildly delicious ; or that 
pride of vegetable life, and comj)endium of 
all the blandishments of taste, the pijie- ap- 
ple. We enjoy far more exalted dainties, 
in having access to the " Tree of life, whose 
eaves are for the healing of the nations," 
Rev. xxii. 2, whose l)oughs are replenished 
with a never-failing abundance of heavenly 
fruits ; and the nutriment they dispense is 
bliss and immortality. 

Let Iberian vines swell the translucent 
cluster, and burst into a flood of generous 
wine ; let the Tuscan olive extract the fat- 



Isa. Ix. 17. Officers and exactors signify persons 
ested with public; authority, who have it in their 
power to rule with rigour. But these, instead of 
abusing their power, shall conduct the administration 
with all possible equity and gentleness ; with a pater- 
nal tenderness, rather than a magisterial austerity ; so 
that, though the title and office of exactor may le- 
main, nothing of the domineering insolence, or op- 
pressive severity, shall continue. The prophet, who 
always delivers his sentiments with the utmost em- 
phasis, says. They shall be, not barely peaceable and 
jhteous, but possessed of these qualities in the high- 
est degree. Or, which implies more than any worda 
can express, they shall be peace and righteousness it- 
self. The same beautiful figure is used in the next 
aiise, which describes the inviolable security of the 
city, toiretlier with the universal joy and piety of the 
inhabiianls. 



456 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



ness of the earth, and melt into a soft mel- 
lifluous stream : We shall neither envy nor 
covet these inferior gifts, so long as vi^e may 
draw water out of the wells of salvation ; so 
long as we may receive that unction from 
the Holy One," 1 John ii. 20, those influen- 
ces of the Comforter, which not only make 
a cheerful countenance, but gladden the very 
heart ; imparting such a refined satisfaction, 
as the whole world cannot give — such a per- 
manent satisfaction, as no calamities can 
take away. 

" Let Ethiopian mountains be ribbed with 
marble, and Peruvian mines embowelled 
with gold : We want neither the impene- 
trable quarry, nor the glittering ore ; having, 
in our adored Messiah a sure foundation for 
all our eternal hopes, and an inexhaustible 
fund of the divinest richesi 

" Be it so, that our Isis is but a creeping 
drop, and the Thames itself no more than a 
scanty rivulet, compared with the magnifi- 
cent sweep of the Ganges, or the stupen- 
dous amplitude of Rio de la Plata.* The 
wretched natives, even on the banks of those 
stately rivers, are at a distance from all the 
springs of true consolation : whereas we 
have a fountain, we have a river, that issues 
from the ocean of eternal love. With in- 
comparable dignity, and with equal proprie- 
ty, it is styled, 'the river of life,' Kev. 
xxii. 1. It visits the house of the mourner, 
and revives the spirit of the sorrowful. It 
makes glad the city, and makes happy the 
servants of our God : It quickens even the 
dead ; and every human creature that drinks 
of its water lives for ever. 

" Let Asiatic islands boast their moun- 
tains of myrrh, and hills of frankincense ; 
let Arabian groves, with a superior liberali- 
ty, distil their healing gums, and ripen for 
vigorous operation their vital drugs. We 
have a more sovereign remedy than their 
most powerful restoratives, in the great Me- 
diator's atoning blood ; we have a more 
refreshing banquet than all their mingled 
sweets, in commemorating his passion, and 
participating his merits. 

" In short, we have an equivalent, far 
more than an equivalent, for all those choice 
productions which bloom in the gardens, or 
bask in the orchards of the sun. We have 



* This river is near two hundred miles broad, where 
it discharges itself into the sea. It pours such an im- 
mense quantity of the liquid element into the Atlantic 
Ocean, that fresh water may be taken up for the space 
of many a league. It continues thus amazingly vast 
through a course of six hundred miles ; when it di- 
vides into two m.ighty branches, the Parana and the 
Paraguay, which, having run in separate channels, 
several thousand miles along the country, unite at 
last, and form, by their conflux, this magnificent and_ 
spacious stream, which is supposed to be -the largest 
in the world. To conceive a proper idea of its prodi- 
gious dimensions, we may imagine a current of waters 
taking its rise beyond Jerusalem ; and, after having 
received all the rivers of Europe into its capacious 
bed, making its entry on the British ocean, by a moiith 
extended from Do^er to Bristol. 



a gospel, rich in precious privileges, and 
abounding with inestimable promises : we 
have a Saviour, full of forgiving goodness, 
and liberal of renewing grace ; at whose 
auspicious approach, fountains spout amidst 
the burning desart ; under whose welcome 
footsteps, the sandy waste smiles with herb- 
age ; and beneath his potent touch, * the 
wilderness buds and blossoms as a rose,' 
Isa. XXXV. 1. Or, to speak more plainly, 
the desolate and barren soul brings forth 
those fruits of the Spirit, which are hifinite- 
ly more ornamental than the silken gems of 
spring; infinitely more beneficial than the 
salubrious stores of autumn. 

" We have a Saviour, — tell it out among 
the Heathen, that all the nations on earth 
may partake of the gift, and join in the song 
— a Saviour we have, whose radiant eye 
brightens the gloomy paths of afiliction ; 
whose efficacious blessing makes ' all things 
work together for the good of his people,' 
Rom. viii. 28. Death, gilded by his pro- 
pitious smile, even death itself looks gay. 
Nor is the grave, under his benign adminis- 
tration, any longer a den of destruction, but 
a short and shady avenue to those immor- 
tal mansions, whose ' foundations are laid 
with sapphires ; whose windows are of 
agate ; the gates of carbuncle ; and all the 
borders of pleasant stones.' " Isa. hv. 11, 12. 

Pardon my rhapsody, dear Theron. 
Your own remark, added to the grand and 
lovely views, have warmed, have animated, 
have almost transported me — Theron an- 
swered not a word, but seemed fixed in 
thought. While he is indulging his con- 
templation, we may just observe some other 
peculiarities of the prospect. 

Here and there, a lonesome cottage scarce- 
ly lifts its humble head. No pompous swell 
of projecting steps surrounds the door ; no 
appendent wings of inferior offices skirt the 
edifice ; no stately hall, slabbed with mar- 
ble, and roofed with sculpture, receives the 
gazing stranger : but young-eyed Health, 
and white-robed Innocence, with sweet- fea- 
tured Contentment, adorn the habitation ; 
while Virtue lends her graces, and Religion 
communicates her honours, to dignify the 
abode ; rendering the blameless hut supe- 
rior in real majesty to a dissolute court. 

At some distance appear the hoary re- 
mains of an ancient monastery. Sunk be- 
neath the weight of revolving years, the 
once venerable fabric is levelled with the 
dust. The lofty and ornamented temple 
lies rudely overgrown with moss, or stil 
more ignobly covered with weeds. The 
walls, where sainted imagery stood, or idol 
ized painting shone, are clasped with twin- 
ing ivy, or shagged with horrid thorn. 
Through aisles, that once echoed to the 
chanter's voice, mingled \v\th the organ's 
majestic sound, the hollow winds roar, and 



the dashing storm drives. Where are now 
the silent cells, the vocal choirs, the dusky 
groves, in which the romantic saints pro- 
longed their lonely vigils by the midnight 
taper ; or poured their united prayers be- 
fore the lark had waked the morn ; or stroll- 
ed, in ever-musing melancholy, along the 
moonlight glade? Surely those mouldering 
fragments now teach (and with a much bet- 
ter grace, with a much stronger emphasis) 
what formerly their unsocial and gloomy re- 
sidentiaries professed ; — they teach the van- 
ity of the world, and the transitory duration 
of all that is most stable in this region of 
sliadows. 

Behold, on yonder eminence, the rueful 
memorials of a magnificent castle. AH dis- 
mantled, and quite demolished, it gives a 
shadmg of solemnity to the more lively parts 
of nature's picture ; and attempers the rural 
delight with some touches of alarming 
dread.-— War, destructive war, has snatch- 
ed the scythe from the hand of Time, and 
hurried on the steps of Destiny. Those 
broken columns, and battered walls ; those 
prostrate towers, and battlements dashed to 
the ground, carry evident marks of an im- 
mature downfall. They were built forages, 
and for ages might have stood a defence 
and accommodation to generations yet un- 
born, if haply they had escaped the dire as- 
saults of hostile rage. But what vigilance 
of man can prevent the miner's dark ap- 
proach ? or what solidity of bulwark can 
withstand the bellowing engine's impetuous 
shock ? 

Those, perhaps, were the rooms in which 
licentious Mirth crowned with roses the 
sparkling bowl, and tuned to the silver- 
sounding lute the syren's inchanting song. 
Those, the scenes of voluptuous indulgence, 
where Luxury poured her delicacies ; where 
Beauty, insidious Beauty, practised her 
wiles, and spread with bewitching art her 
wanton snares. Now, instead of the riot- 
ous banquet, and intrigues of lawless love, 
the owl utters her hated screams by night 
and the raven flaps her ominous wing by 
day. Where are the violet couches, and 
the woodbine bowers, which fanned with 



DIALOGUE XVIL 457 
ness walked their daily round, attended with a 
train of guiltless delights ; where amiable 
and refined Friendship was wont to sit and 
smile, looking love, and talking the very 
soul ; where Hospitality, with Economy al- 
ways at her side, stood beckoning to the 
distressed but industrious* poor, andshower- 
ed blessings from her liberal hand. But 
war, detested war, has stretched over the 
social and inviting seat " the hue of confu- 
sion, and the stones of emptiness." Isa. 
xxxiv. 11. Now, alas! nothing but deso- 
lation and horror haunt the savage retreat. 
The ample arches of the bridge, which so 
often transmitted the wondering passenger 
along their pensile way, lie buried in the 
dreary moat. — Those relics of the massy 
portals, naked and abandoned, seem to be- 



I say distressed but industrious poor; because 
1 would not be understood as encouraging in any de- 
gree the relief of our common beggars. 'J'owards the 
former, I would cultivate a tender and ever-yearning 
compassion; I would anticipate their complaints; 
and, as a sacred writer directs, would even seek to do 
them good. But as to the latter, I frankly own, that 
I look upon it as mv duty to discouragesuch cumberers 
of the ground. They are, generally speaking, lusty 
drones ; and their habitual begging is no better than 
a specious robbing of the public hive. For such stur- 
dy supplicants who are able to undergo the fatigue of 
travelling; able to endure the inclemencies of the 
weather, and consequently much more able, were they 
equally willing, to exercise themselves in some species 
of laudable industry ;— for these, the house of cor- 
rection would be a far more salutary provision than 
any supply from our table : and confinement to fsbour, 
a much more beneficial chanty than the liberality of 
the purse. 

We should remember, that they should be taught 
that the law ordained by the court of heaven is : "If 
a man will not work, neither shall he eat." If then we 
contribute to support them in idleness, do we not 
counteract and frustrate this wise regT.ilation establish- 
ed by the great Sovereign of the universe ? Is it not 
also a wrong to the deserving poor, if we suffer these 
wens on the body politic to draw off the nourishment 
which ought to circulate amongst the valuable and 
useful members ! Money or victuals bestowed on these 
worthless vnretches is not real beneficence, but the ear- 
nest-penny of sloth. It hires them to be good-for-noth- 
ing, and pays them for being public nuisances. 

Let us then unanimously join to shake off these dead 
weights from our wheels, and dislodge these swarms 
of vermin from our state. Let us be deaf to their 
most importunate clamours, and assure ourselves that 
by this determined inflexibility, we do God, we do our 
commimity, we do them, the most substantial service. 
Should they implore by the injured name of Jesus — 
for the honour of the Lord Jesus, let us resolutely 
withhold our alms. Their meaning is — " I cannot go 
on injmy present shameful and iniquitous course ; I can 
no longer continue to act the wicked and slothful ser- 
vant, unless you will administer some kindly pemici- 
their breathing sweets, the polluted flame ? ous assistance. For.Christ's sake, therefore, assist me 
The soil seems to sufier for the abuses of 
the owner. Blasted and dishonoured, it 
produces nothing but ragged briars and 



noisome nettles, under whose odious co- 
vert the hissing snake glides, or the croak- 
ing toad crawls : Fearful intimation of that 
ignominious and doleful catastrophe which 
awaits the sons of riot ! when their momen- 
tary gratifications will drop like the faded 
leaf, and leave nothing behind but pangs of 
remorse, keener far than the pointed thorn, 
and more envenomed than the viper's tooth. 
Perhaps they were the beauteous and ho 



to dishonour my Christian name, and to live more in- 
the 



famously than the vilest beasts. For.Christ's sake, help 
me to be a reproach and burden to my native country, 
and to persist in the way that leads to eternal destruc- 
tion." This is the true import of their petitions ; and 
whether the sanction of that most venerable name, 
added to such a request, shouldmove our commisera- 
tion, or excite our abhorrence, letevery thinking per- 
son judge. 

I trust the reader will be so candid as to excuse this 
long digressive note, and do me the justice to believe 
that I am not pleading against, but for the real poor : 
not to harden any one's b eart, but rather to direct every 
one's hand. Give out of gratitude to Christ, out of 
compassion to the needy, and be for ever blessed : but 
give not to incorrigible vagrants, tom.aintain impiety, 
and pamper indolence, lest it be demanded one day, 
Who hath required this at your hand ? Lest, by sup- 
porting dissolute creatures, in that abandoned' sloth 



J V 1 , 1 J -r> T which is the nurse of all vice, we become partakers of 

noured abodes, where Grandeur and Fohte- ! their giiiit. and accessory to their min. 



458 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



moan their melancholy condition. No splen - 
did chariots, with their gay retinue, frequent 
the sohtary avenues. No needy steps, with 
cheerful expectation, besiege the once boun- 
tiful gate. But all is a miserable, forlorn, 
hideous pile of rubbish. 

Since riches so often take to themselves 
wings, and fly away ; since houses great and 
fair, reel upon their foundations, and so 
tumble into dust ; how wise, how salutary, 
is our divine Master's advice ! " Make to 
yourselves friends with the mammon of un- 
righteousness ; that when the world fails 
around you, when the springs of nature fail 
within you, they as witnesses of your cha- 
rity, and vouchers for the sincerity of your 
faith, " may receive you into everlasting ha- 
bitations," Luke xvi. 9. This is to lay up 
treasure " for ourselves," Matth. vi. 20 ; 
whereas, whatever else we amass, is for our 
heirs, for our successors, for we know i'.ot 
who. This wealth is truly and emphati- 
cally called "our own," Luke xvi. 12 ; it is 
an advowson ; we have the perpetuity. 
Whereas, whatever else we possess, is ours 
only for a turn, or in trust. 

See the dreadful, dreadful ravages of civil 
discord ! Wherever that infernal fury stalks, 
she marks her steps in blood, and leaves 
opulent cities a ruinous heap.* — What 
thanks then, what ardent and ceaseless 
thanks, are due to that all-superintending, 
ever-gracious Lord, who has dashed the 
torch from her hand ; has broke her mur- 
derous weapons, and driven the baleful pest 
from our island ! — May the same Almighty 
goodness shortly banish the accursed mon- 
ster from all lands ! — banish the monster, 
with her hated associate Rapine, and her 
insatiable purveyor Ambition, to the deep- 



* The effects of what Virgil calls hella, horrida 
hella, were never displayed in colours that glow, and 
with figures that alarm, like those which are used by 
the prophet Jeremiah, chap. iv. 19, &c. As this is 
perhaps the greatest master-piece of the kind, the 
reader will permit me to enrich the notes with a tran- 
script of the passage. 

First we see, or rather we feel, the effects of war 
on the human mind ; the keenest anguish, and the 
deepest dismay. " My bowels ! my bowels ! I am 
pained at my very heart. My heart maketh a noise 
in me ; I cannot hold my peace : because thou hast 
heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm 
of war. Destruction upon destruction is cried; for 
the land is spoiled. Suddenly are my tents spoiled, 
and my curtains in a m.oment. How long shall I see 
the standard, and hear the sound of the trumpet ?" 

Then we see the dismal devastations of war ; and 
who does not shudder at the sight? the whole country 
laid in ruins ! deprived of all its ornaments, and all 
its inhabitants ! reduced to a solitude, and a chaos. 
" I beheld the earth, and lo it was without form and 
void ; and the heavens, and they had no light. — I be- 
held the mountains, and lo ! they trembled, and all 
the hills moved lightly. — I beheld, and lo ! there was 
no man, and all the birds of the heavens were fled. — 
I beheld, and lo ! the fruitful place was a wilderness, 
and all the cities thereof were broken down, at the 
presence of the Lord, and by his fierce anger. 

If, after all this profusion of imagery, bold and ani- 
mated even to astonishment, we can have any relish 
for the cold correctness of a Heathen Genius, we may 
find somethinff of the same nature in Horace, lib. 2. 
Od. 1. 



est hell. Branded with everlasting infamy, 
and bound in adamantine chains, there let 
them gnash their teeth, and bite the inevi- 
table curb ! While Peace, descending from 
her native heaven, bids her olives spring 
amidst the joyful nations ; and Plenty, in 
league with Commerce, scatters blessings 
from her copious horn. While Gladness 
smiles in every eye ; and Love, extensive, 
universal love, levelling the partition-wall of 
bigotry, cements every heart in brotherly 
affection. 

Near those heaps of havoc lies the spot, 
ever memorable and still revered, on which 
an obstinate and fatal battle was fought. 
The husbandman, as he breaks his fallow 
land, or rends the grassy turf, often discov- 
ers the horrid implements, and the more 
horrid effects, of that bloody conflict. He 
starts to hear his coulter strike upon the 
bosses of a rusty buckler, or gride over the 
edge of a blunted sword. He turns pale to 
see human bones thrown up before his 
plough ; and stands aghast to think, that in 
cutting his furrow he opens a grave. — The 
grey-headed sire often relates to his grand- 
sons, hanging with eager attention on the 
tale, and trembling for the event— relates 
the dismal, the glorious deeds of that im- 
portant day : — How the fields, now covered 
with waving crops, were then loaded with 
mangled and ghastly corpses ; how the pas- 
tures, now green with herbage, were then 
drenched and incrimsoned with human 
gore. 

" On that extended common," he says, 
" where the busy shepherd is erecting his 
hurdled citadel, the tents were spread, and 
the banners displayed ; the spears bristled 
in air, and the burnished helmets glittered 
to the sun. — On yonder rising ground, 
where the frisking lambs play their harmless 
frolics, stood the martial files, clad in mail, 
and ranged in battle array ; stood war, with 
all its collected honors, like some portentous 
cloud, ready to burst into an immediate storm. 
— On the nearer plain, where the quiet steed 
grazes in safety, and those sober oxen chew 
the juicy herb, the fierce encounter mixed. 
There, the javelins, launched from nervous 
arms, and aimed by vengeful eyes, flew and 
re-fiew, whizzing with death. The arrows 
lightened* from the strings, and drenched 
their keen points, and dipped their feathery 
wings in blood. Soon as this shower of 



« Hab. iii. 11. The original words, literally trans- 
lated, present us with that beautifully-bold figure, 
the "lightning of thy spear;" — which, with innu- 
merable other graces of speech, that give dignity and 
spirit to our modern compositions, are borrowed'from 
the language of Zion; are transplanted from the 
school of the prophets. If we start into a pleasing 
amazement, at Homer's "^o^v fcoitvirai • have we not 
equal reason to be charmed and surprised at Nahum's 
every chariot raged with vio- 
lence and impetuosity — was eager, was even mad to 
destroy. Nah. ii, 5. 



DIALOG 

missive steel ceased, instantly outsprung 
thousands of flaming swords. They clash 
on the brazen shields, they cut their way 
through the riven armour, and sheath their 
blades in many a gallant dauntless heart- 
Here, on this distinguished level, the proud 
presumptuous enemy, confident of victory, 
and boasting of their numbers, poured in 
like a flood. There, a bold determined 
battalion, of which myself was a part, plant- 
ed themselves like a rock, and broke the 
fierce attack. 

" Then," adds the brave old warrior, 
" then the coward herd fled before the ven- 
geance of our conquering arms. Then, 
these hands streu ed the plains with a har- 
vest, different far from their present produc- 
tions. Then the fathers, smitten with in- 
exjjressible dread, looked not l)ack on their 
children,* though shuddering at the lifted 
s{)ear, or screaming under the brandished 
sword. The fathers looked not back on 
their children, though they fell among the 
slain, gashed with deadly wounds ; or lay 
expiring, in groans of agony, under our 
feet." 

We leave the warrior to repeat his shock- 
ing story, and enjoy his savage satisfaction. 
For calmer scenes and softer delights, we 
willingly leave him : The eye is i)leased 
with the elegant gaiety of the parterre; the 
ear is soothed with the warbling melody of 
the grove ; but grand objects, and the mag- 
nificence of things, charm and transport the 
whole man. The mind on such occasions 
seems to expand with the prospect, and se- 
cretly exults in the consciousness of her 
greatness. Intent upon these large and 
excursive views, our friends scarce advert 
to the minuter beauties, which address 
them on every side. The swan with her 



* For this very striking and most terrific image, 
we are obliged to the pro])het Jeremiah ; who, in a 
few words, but with ail the pomp of horror, describes 
the din of approaching war, and the consternation of 
a vanquished people. " At the notice of the stamp- 
ing of the hoofs of his strong horses, at the rushing 
of his chariots, and at the rumbling of his wheels, 
the fathers shall not look back to their children 
for feebleness of hands." Jer. xlvii. 3. 

Not to mention the thunder-like sound of the dic- 
tion ; and that in language much less sonorous than 
the original; I appeal to tvery reader, whether the 
last circuirjstance does not awaken the idea of so tre- 
mendous a scene, and so horrible a dread as no words 
can express. Virgil has imitated the prophet's man- 
ner, in that very delicate descriptive touch ; where, 
representing the prodigious alarm, excited by the yell 
of the infernal fury, he says, 

" Et trepidae matres pressere ad pectora natos." 
That IS, " Each frighted mother clasped the infant 
to her fluttering bosom." 

No one, I believe, need be informed, thatthepanic 
is painted, with a very superior energy, by the poet 
of heaven. In the Pagan's draft, the elfect of fear 
results from the constitution, and coincides with the 
bias of hurnanicy : whereas in the prophet's picture, 
it counteracts, it suspends, U ciii ircly overbears, the 
tenderest workings and stro;;g! s"- p; "..r.ei.sities of na- 
ture, thoi";h iiistigatcJ, 01 'v the most 
importiuiate calls of cxfiui v . : ".r.id stimu- 
lated on the other, l;v al! tliL .• .; ; cf the most 
yearning co!i\;f:is5!in;. 



UE xvn. 459 

snowy plumes, and loftily- bending head, not- 
withstanding all her superb air, and lordly 
state, rows by without exciting admiration, 
or obtaining notice. Equally unnoticed is 
both the array and the action of the duck ; 
her glossy neck, and finely checkered wings ; 
her diving into the deep, or her darting up 
into day. The swallow, skimming the air 
in wanton circles, or dipping her downy 
breast in the flood, courts their observation 
in vain. Nor could the finny shoals attract 
their regard, though they played before the 
boat in sportive chase ; or, glancing quick 
to the surface, shewed their pearly coats be- 
dropt with gold. Thus they, engaged in 
sublime, neglect inferior speculations ! And 
if the sons of religion overlook the diminu- 
tive, transient, delusory forms of pleasure, 
which float on the narrow stream of time, or 
flit along the scanty bounds of sense ; it is 
only to contemplate and enjoy a happiness 
in their God, which is elevated, substantial, 
and immortal. Compared with which, what- 
ever the eye can survey, from pole to pole, 
from the rising to the setting sun, is a 
cockle-shell, a butterfly, a bubble. 

From this open and enlarged scene, they 
enter the skirts of a vast, umbrageous, vener- 
able forest. On either side, the sturdy and 
gigantic sons of earth rear their aged trunks 
and spread their branching arms. Trees 
of every hardy make, and every majestic 
form, in agreeable disorder and with a wild 
kind of grandeur, fill the serial regions. The 
huge expansive roaming boughs unite them- 
selves over the current, and diffuse " their 
umbrage, broad and brown as evening." 
The timorous deer start at the clashing of 
the waves. Alarmed with the unusual sound 
they look up and gaze for a moment, then 
fly into covert, by various ways, and with 
precipitate speed ; vanishing, rather than 
departing, from the glade. 

How awful to reflect, as they glide along 
the shelving shores, and the moss-grown 
banks, as they sail under the pendant shades 
of quivering poplar, of whistling fir, and the 
solemn sounding foliage of the oak, how aw- 
ful to reflect: " These were the lonely haunts 
of the Druids two thousand years ago! 
Amidst these dusky mazes, and sympa- 
thetic glooms, the pensive sages strayed. 
Here they sought, they found, and, with 
all the solemnity of superstitious de- 
votion, they gathered the misletoe.* Here 
the visionary recluses shunned the tumul- 
tuous ways of men, and traced the myste- 
rious paths of Providence. Here they ex- 
l)lored the secrets of nature, and invoked 
their fabled gods." 

Sometimes wrapt in a sudden reverie of 

* If the reader p'eases, he may see these pompous 
solemnities described iu Van'wiii Prced. Rust. p. 125, 
I'tc. where the curious narrative of Pliny is cmbel- 
litelied with the harmoniotis number,;; of Virgil. 



*60 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



vhought, sometimes engaged in conversa- 
tion on the solemn appearance of things, the 
voyagers scarce perceive their progress. 
Before they are avi^are, this venerable scene 
is lost, and they find themselves advanced 
upon the borders of a beautiful lawn. The 
forest retiring to the right hand, in the shape 
of a crescent, composed what Milton styles, 
" A verdurous wall of stateliest aspect;" 
and left in the midst an ample space for the 
flourishing of herbage. 

Here, said Theron, if you please, we will 
alight, and leave the bearer of our floating 
sedan to pursue his ceaseless course ; to 
enrich the bosom of other valleys, and lave 
the feet of other hills ; to visit cities, and 
make the tour of counties ; to reflect the 
image of many a splendid structure which 
adorns his banks, and which is far more ami- 
able, to distribute, all along his winding 
journey, innumerable conveniences both for 
man and beast ; acquiring, the farther he 
goes, and the more benefits he confers, a 
deeper flow, and a wider swell ; to the re- 
markable confirmation of that beneficent 
maxim, " There is that scattereth, and yet 
increaseth." Pro v. xi. 24. 

Theron and Aspasio, walking across the 
spacious amphitheatre, seated themselves at 
the extremity of the bend. Before them 
lay a verdant area, quite even, perfectly 
handsome, but far from gay. Green was 
all the dress, without any mixture of gaudy 
flowers, or glittering colours ; only, now 
and then, a gentle breeze, skimming over 
the undulating mead, impressed a varying 
wavy gloss on its surface. The whole 
seemed to resemble the decent and sober 
ornaments of raaturer age, when it has put 
off" the trappings, and bid adieu to the levi- 
ties of youth. The broad transpai'ent 
stream ran parallel with the lips* of the 
channel ; and drew aline of circumvallation, 
as it were, to guard the calm retreat. It 
appeared, where shaded with boughs, like 
a barrier of polished steel ; where open to 
the sun, like a mirror of flowing crystal. 
The eastern edges of the river were barri- 
caded with a kind of mountainous declivity, 
on whose rude and rocky sides the timorous 
rabbit burrowed, and the bearded goat 
browsed. Not far from the summit two 
or three fountains gushed, which, uniting 
their currents, as they trickled down the 
steep, formed a natural cascade : here it 
was lost in the rushy dells, or obscured by 
the tv^isting roots ; there it burst again in- 
to view, and, playing full in the eye of day, 
looked like a sheet of spouting silver. 

In this romantic retirement, said Theron, 



* .The Greek, which is above all languages happy 
in its beautiful variety of compound words, very 
neatly expresses this appearance by Kro^xtXn; Tif 



we are quite sequestered from society. We 
seem to be in a world of our own ; and 
should almost be tempted to forget that we 
are encompassed with a kindred species, did 
not the music of those silver-tongued bells, 
poured from a distant steeple, and ghding 
along the gentle stream, bring us news of 
human kind. 

Escaped from man and his busy walks, 
methinks we are come to the house of tran- 
quillity. Such a deep undisturbed compo- 
sure reigns all around ! It is, as if some au- 
gust personage was making his entrance, or 
some majestic being was upon the point to 
speak, and all nature stood fixed in attentive 
expectation. No place better fitted to 
cherish, or to inspire a contemplative se- 
dateness. 

Observe the simplicity and grandeur of 
those surrounding trees ; the noble plain- 
ness of their verdure, and the prodigious 
stateliness of their aspect. What a speck 
are our gardens, and what a mere dwarf are 
our groves, compared with these vast plan- 
tations ! Here is none of your nice exact- 
ness, but all is irregularly and wildly great. 
Here are no traces of the shears, nor any 
footsteps of the spade ; but the handiwork 
of the Deity is apparent in all. Give me 
the scenes, which disdain the puny assist- 
ance of art, and are infinitely superior to the 
low toils of man. Give me the scenes, 
which scorn to bribe our attention with a 
little borrowed spruceness of shape, but, by 
their own native dignity, command our re- 
gard. I love the prospects which, the mo- 
ment they are beheld, strike the soul with 
veneration, or transport it with wonder, and 
cry aloud in the ear of reason, " Ascribe ye 
greatness to our God-" Such, I think, in 
a very eminent degree, is the forest, 

High waving o'er the hills, 

Or to the vast horizon wide diffus'd, 
A boundless deep immensity of shade. 

Asp. Solomon's refined genius seems to 
have been fond of the same situation, and 
delighted with the same objects. There- 
fore, at a great expense, and in the most 
curious taste, he built " the house of the 
forest." Isaiah's divine imagination was 
charmed with the same grand spectacle. 
More frequently than any of the prophets, 
he derives his illustrations from it. One 
comparison I particularly remember: Speak- 
ing of the Assyrian king and his military 
forces, he likens them to such an assemblage 
of trees : Numerous, as their amazing mul- 
titudes ; strong, as their massy trunks.- 
Yet numerous and potent as they were, 
they should all be brought low, and laid in 
the dust. " For behold the Lord, the 
Lord of hosts, shall lop the bough with 
terror, and the high ones of stature shall be 
hewn down, and the haughty shall be hum- 
bled ; and he shall cut down the thickets of 



DIALOGUE XVII. 



461 



his forest with iron, and Lebanon shall fall 
by a mighty one," Isaiah x. 33, 34. 

Then be passes by a most beautiful tran- 
sition to his darling topic, the redemption 
of sinners. He gives us, together with one 
of the finest contrasts* imaginable, a view 
of the Messiah and his great salvation. 
When those lofty cedars are levelled with 
the ground, "there shall come a rod," a 
twig shall spring " from the stem of Jesse, 
and a branch shall grow out of his roots," 
Isaiah xi. 1. which, notwithstanding its 
mean original and unpromising appearance, 
shall rear its head to the skies, and extend 
its shade to the ends of the earth. 

Ther. You do well, Aspasio, to recall 
my roving thoughts. This magnificent so- 
litude had captivated my imagination, and I 
was giving a loose to the usual sallies of my 
fancy ; but with a willing compliance, I turn 
to a more excellent subject. Only I must 
assure you, that your remark awakens a pain- 
ful idea in my mind, though a joyful one in 
your own : For my hopes, which were once 
high and lifted up, are now too much like 
that devoted prostrate forest. 

Asp. My dear Theron, give me leave to 
say, they were never rightly founded. They 
were what Shakespeare calls, "the baseless 
fabric of a vision." Now the shadowy and 
transient hopes are demolished, that solid 
and everlasting joys may succeed. Let them 
rest on Christ, the infinitely glorious Re- 
deemer, and they shall never be overthrown, 
never be removed any more. 

Cast a look upon yonder ivy. What can 
be more feeble ? It has not strength enough 
to withstand the slightest blast. Nay, if 
left to itself, its own weight would crush it 
to the earth. Yet, by twining around the 
oak, how high it rises, and how firm it 
stands ! An emblem of our state, and a 
pattern for our imitation. — Thus let us, 
who in ourselves are nothing, of ourselves 
can do nothing, let us fly to Christ — rely 
on Christ — and as Barnabas (that true son 
of consolation) speaks, " cleave to the Lord 
Jesus Christ with full purpose of heart." 
Acts xi. 23. Let us determine to know 
nothing, to desire nothing, to depend on 
nothing, but Jesus Christ and him crucifi- 
ed. Let this be the motto for our faith, 
this the language of our souls, " Christ is 
all." Then shall our virtues, though hi- 
therto smitten with a blast, revive as the 
corn ; then shall our hopes, though in them- 
selves weaker than the ivy, mount like the 
cedars. 

Ther. You can hardly imagine how a 
sense of guilt and unworthiness oppresses 

* This fine contrast, and that artful transition, 
are, by the injudicious division of the two chapters, 
very much obscured, if not quite lost to many read- 
ers. The chapters, I think, should by no means be 
separated ; but the tenth and the eleventh, as a con- 
tinuation of the same pro^ihecy, should be united. 



j my mind. I am often discouraged, and can- 
not bring myself to be steadfast in faith, or 
joyful through hope. 

Asp. You cannot bring yourself, but God 
Almighty's power and grace can bring to 
pass these desirable effects. And hear what 
the prophet says farther, upon the charm- 
ing topic which introduced our discourse. 
Whenever the eloquent Isaiah undertakes 
to display a truth, he gives it all the energy, 
all the beauty, and every heightening touch 
which it is capable of receiving. This hum- 
ble shoot, springing from the stem of Jesse, 
shall rise to such a pitch of elevation, that 
it shall be conspicuous far and near, and 
" stand for an ensign of the people." It 
shall be seen, not like a beacon upon the 
top of an hill, by the Israelites only, or the 
natives of a single territory ; but, like the 
great luminaries in heaven, shall be visi- 
ble in every country, and by the whole in- 
habited world. " To it shall the Gentiles 
seek," not only from the remotest, but from 
the most barbarous and idolatrous climes. 
These, even these persons, though savage 
in their nature, and detestable in their man- 
ners, shall be freely admitted, and find rest 
under his shadow. Nay, the refreshment 
which he yields, and the comfort which they 
receive, shall be not seasonable only, but of 
sovereign efficacy ; " his rest shall be glori- 
ous." Isaiah xi. 10. 

From this we learn, that all the blessings 
of Christ's mediation are designed jpor Gen- 
tiles — for the most abandoned and abomin- 
able sinners ; that they are so full and con- 
summate, as to create a calm of tranqidllity, 
a " glorious rest," in the most troubled, af- 
flicted, guilty consciences. And I dare chal- 
lenge even my Theron's misgiving mind, 
to specify any want which is not supplied, 
any grievance which is not redressed, by the 
righteousness of Jesus Christ. I formerly 
encoimtered your objections, let me now 
combat yoiu* scniples. 

Tlier. Sometimes I have a deep and dis- 
tressing conviction of my extreme sinfulness. 
It is like a sore burden, too heavy for me to 
bear. It is like the vilest filth, and renders 
me odious to myself : how much more 
loathsome to the all-seeing eye ? It appears 
like a debt of ten thousand talents, and 1 
have nothing, no, not any thing to pay. 
Then I experience what the psalmist so 
pathetically laments ; " My sins have taken 
such hold upon me, that I am not able to 
look up ; yea, they are more in number than, 
the hairs of my head:" and my heart is 
ready to fail ; my hopes are upon the point 
to expire. 

Asp. Then, Theron, fly to that just and 
righteous One, who is the strength of our 
hearts, the life of our hopes, and our por- 
tion for ever. 

If sin is a sore burden j look unto 



4G2 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



Christ, wlio bore it all in his own body on 
the tree, and removed, entirely removed, 
that tremendous load, which would other- 
wise have sunk the whole world into the 
nethermost hell. If sin renders us filthy ; 
let us have recourse to that blood of sprink- 
ling which cleanses, not from a few stains 
only, but from all guilt ; by which the most 
defiled transgiessors become fair as the fair- 
est wool, nay, whiter than the virgin snows. 
Psal. li 7. If shi is a debt,* subjecting us 
to wrath, and bindirsg us over to punish- 
ment ; let us confide in that gracious Sure- 
ty who has taken the debt upon himself, 
and made it all his own ; and not only so, 
but has paid it to the uttermost farthing, to 
the very last mite ; so that justice itself can 
demand no more. 

Let me confirm and illustrate thig com- 
fortable truth by a scriptural similitude. No 
similitudes are more exact, and none so strik- 
ing. " I have blotted out as a thick cloud 
your transgressions, and as a cloud your 
sins," Isa. xliv. 22. A little while ago, the 
whole expanse of yonder sky was covered 
with clouds. Nothing could more strongly 
represent a multitude of corruptions besieg- 
ing the heart, and a multitude of iniquities 
overspreading the life. But where is now that 
immense arrangement of gloomy vapours? 
The sun has shown them, and the wind has 
swept them clean away. There are none, 
neither great nor small, remaining. From 
one end of the wide extended hemisphere to 
the other, we see nothing but the clear and 
beautiful blue of the firmament. So saith 
the Spirit of God to the true believer, so 
totally is your guilt, however horrid and , 
enormous, done away through the dying 
Jesus. 

l^her. It is not possible to conceive, nor 
will the whole creation afford, a more ex- 
quisitely fine comparison. Perhaps nothing 
can so emphatically describe the most pro- 
digious multitude entirely obliterated, with- 
out the least trace of their former existence. 
But I am not only chargeable with past in- 
iquities ; I am also liable to daily miscar- 
riages. I relapse into sin; and when I 
would do good, evil is present with me. 
Nay, my best hours are not free from sinful 
infirmities, nor my best duties from sinful 
imperfections, which like a worm at the core 



* By these three images, the Psahnist displays the 
horribleatid destructivemalionity of sin.together with 
the free nature and invaluable worth of evangelical 
forgiveness. Blessed is he whose transgression, as an 
insupportable load, is bore or taken away ; whose sin, 
as being the most abominable filth, is covered ; unto 
whom the Lord imputeth not that most ruinous of all 
debts, iniquity. Itispleasing to observe the vehemence 
and ardour, with which the royal uenitent speaks on 
this favourite topic. He breaks out with a kind of holy 
abruptness, and pours his soul in a variety of warm 
expressions ; as one who thought he could not possibly 
enter upon the subject too soon, nor dwell upon it too 
long, Psal. xxxii. 1, 2. 



of the fruit, eat away the vigour of my 
graces, and tarnish the beauty of my ser- 
vices. 

Asp. Because, through the frailty of your 
mortal nature, you cannot always stand up- 
right ; because even the just man falleth 
daily, and daily contracteth defilement ; 
therefore " a foimtain is opened for sin and 
for uncleanness." Zech. xiii. I. The blood 
and atonement of Christ are compared to a 
heavenly fountain, in which polluted sinners 
may wash daily, wash hourly, and be con- 
stantly, perfectly clean. A cistern may fail, 
may be broken or exhausted ; but it is the 
property of a real fountain, never to be dried 
up, always to yield its waters. Such is the 
efficacy of Christ's death ; not to be dimi- 
nished by universal and by incessant use. 
It " removes the iniquity of the land." 
Zech. iii. 9. " It takes away the sin of the 
world." John i. 29. It is new for our 
application every morning; new, for this 
blessed purpose, every m.oment On which 
account it makes complete provision for our 
cleansing, our restoration, and our comfort. 
Especially, as it is not only sovereign in it- 
self, and always free for our approach, but 
is ever pleaded by a great High-priest in 
our behalf. Therefore the inspired casuist 
directs us to this source of consolation un- 
der ail the upbraidings of conscience, and 
uli the remains of inbred depravity. " If 
any man sin, we have an advocate with the 
Father, Jesus Christ the righteous, and he 
is the propitiation for our sins." 1 John ii. 
1. 

We; — St- John reckons him.self in the 
, number of those frail offending creatures, 
who stand in need of Christ, as a perpetual 
Intercessor. This is written, not to encou- 
rage us in the commission of sin, but that we 
may be the less discouraged under a sense 
of our infirmities. We have : — not we pos- 
sibly may, but we actually have. A soul 
burdened with guilt cannot be satisfied, can- 
not be eased, with a bare perhaps. It is 
therefore positively affirmed, as a matter of 
established certainty, of which we should 
not admit a doubt. We have for our advo- 
cate : — not a mean person, but him who re- 
ceived an illustrious testimony from the 
most excellent glory, " This is my beloved 
Son." 2 Pet. i. 17. Not a guilty person, 
who stands in need of pardon for himself, 
but "Jesus Christ the righteous." — Not a 
mere petitioner, who relies purely upon libe- 
rality ; but one who has merited, fully me- 
rited, whatever he asks : " he is the propi- 
tiation for our sins," has paid our ransom, 
and purchased our peace. — In consequence 
of which he claims, rather than asks our 
renewed, our irrevocable forgiveness. This 
he claims, not from an unrelenting Judge, 
but from his Father and our Father. And 
can such a plea meet with a repulse ? Can 



DIALOGUE XVil. 



4o3 



Bucb an advocate miscariy in his suit ? If 
the prophets of old were reckoned " the 
chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof,"* 
2 Kings ii. 12 ; xiii. 14. because, like their 
ancestor Jacob, they had power with God, 
and prevailed in prayer : O ! what a de- 
fence, what a security, is the divinely-ex- 
cellent, and ever-prevailing intercession of 
Jesus Christ ! 

" Your graces," you complain, " are sul- 
lied, and your services defective." Then, 
my dear friend, renounce them in point of 
confidence ; and gladly receive, cordially 
embrace, the all-perfect righteousness of 
your Lord. So shall your justification be 
complete and your services, though deficient 
in themselves, be " accepted in the Belov- 
ed," I have somewhere seen, painted upon 
a flat surface, an av/kward and disagreeable 
countenance : in ^ hich was nothing regular, 
nothing graceful, but every feature dispro- 
portionate. Yet this very face, reflected 
from a cylindrical mirror, has put off its de- 
formity ; the lineaments became well a^ljust- 
ed ; symmetry connected eveiy part, and 
beauty smiled throughout the whole. Like 
the former our virtues appear, when com- 
pared wnth the immaculate purity of God, 
or the sublime perfection of his law ; but 
they acquire the amiableness of the latter, 
when presented to the Father by our divine 
Mediator, and recommended by his incon- 
ceivably precious oblation. f 

Milton, tiiking his hint from the revela- 
tions of St. John, represents our great High- 
Priest in this glorious and delightful atti- 
tude ; represents him offeiing uj) the sup- 
plications and penitential duties of our first 
pai-ents ; mixing with them the incense of 
his own merits, and thus interceding before 
the throne : — 

See, Father ! what first fruits on earth are sprung 
From thy implanted graceiaman ! These sighs 
And prayers, which, in this golden censer mixed 
With incense, I thy Priest before thee bring. 
Now therefore bend thine ear 



* There is a peculiar beauty, and most ap])osite 
significancy, in this proverbial saying, as u ^ed by the 
ancient Israelites. Horses and chariots were deemed, in 
those ages, the principal strength of the battle, the most 
formidable apparatus of war. Of these the Israelites 
were entirely destitute. Their God had expressly 
forbidden them to multiply horses ; and we never 
read of their bringing any considerable number of 
cavalry into the field. But, so long as they enjoyed 
the presence of their prophets, they wanted not this 
arm of flesh. They had more than an equivalent for 
chariots and horses, in the fervent, the effectual pray- 
ers of those holy men of God. 

t They, the persons and performances of frail men, 
*< shall come up with acceptance on mine altar, saith 
the Lord," Isa. Ix. 7- Which is explained by St. Pe- 
ter's comment ; " Ye are an holy priesthood, to offer 
up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable unto God by Jesus 
Cnrist." 1 Peter ii. 5. and still farther ascertained by 
St. Paul's practice, who, when he addresses the ma- 
jesty of heaven with any petition, or presents the tri- 
bute of praise, presumes not to do either the one or 
the other, but in theblessed- IVIediator's name ; because, 
secluded from this grand recommendation, they 
would be offensive to the awful Jehovah, "as smoke 
in his nostrils;" accompanied with it, they are ac- 
ceptable, "as the sweet-smelling incense." 



To supplication; h-^nr ii'; ^^.^ui^li mute ! 

Unskiiiiil v.'ith wluHt w. ■ - iL-tme 
Interpret for hini. me iii . .c 

And propitiati:;n. Aii li:- . ; ' a me. 
Good, or not g^ioc), ingr,.;'' : my merit tliose 
Shall perfect ; and for the^.- my death shall pay.* 

The poet's words are very emphatical. 
Yet words can jio more exj>r(_'ss the preva- 
lence of our Lord's negotirition, than the 
picture of the sun ran diiiuse its splendour, 
or convey itswai-mth. 

liter. IMy spiritual wants are many. I 
have many duties to discharge, and many 
temptations to withstand ; many con ii])tions 
to mortify, and many graces to culti\-ate, or 
rather to acquire. Yet have I no stock, and 
no strength of my own. 

Asp. I rejoice that my Theron is sensible 
of his own indigence. The good Lord keep 
us both in this respect, as little children, 
whose whole dependence is upon their nurse's 
care, or their parent's bounty ! Then may 
we, having such a sense of our poverty, and 
having a great High- Priest over the house 
of God, come boldly to the throne of grace. 
We may apply, through the righteousness of 
Jesus Christ, for all needful succour, and 
for every desirable blessing. If Solomon 
could say, " Lord, remember David, and all 
his trouble :" If ]\Ioses could say, "Lord 
remember Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, thy 
servants -." how much more confidently may 
we say, " Lord, remember Jesus, the Son 
of thy love ! remember Jesus, and all his 
sufferings ; Jesus, and all his merits. Shall 
they be sent empty away, who have their 
S:iviour's obedience to plead?" No verily. 
I hough they are altogether unworthy in 
themselves, " yet worthy is the Lamb that 
v.'as slain, ' for whose sake their petitions 
should be granted^ and their every necessity 
supplied. 

Let me repeat to you a most beautiful 
and encouraging portion of Scripture, which 
you ma)- look upon, imder all your wants, as 
a carte-l.'lanche put into your hand by God 
all-sufficient : " Having therefore, brethren, 
boldness to enter into the holiest by the 
blood of Jesus, by a new and living way 
which he has consecrated for us, through the 
veil, that is to say, his flesh; and having an 
High- Priest over the house of God, let us 
draw near -s^-ith a true heart, in full assur- 
ance of faith." Heb. x. 19—22. 

The apostle, in this place, and through- 
out this whole epistle, alludes to the JMosaic 
ordinances, in order to show that the privi- 
leges of the Chiistian dispensation were typi- 
fied by, yet are greatly superior to, those of 
the Jewish. Among the Jews, none but the 
high-priest was permitted to set a foot 
within the holy of holies ; and he only on 
the solemn day of expiation : Whereas, all 
Christians are allowed to enter into the im- 



« Paradise Lost, Book xi. 1. 22, &c. ^ 



464 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



iDediate presence of tne most high God ; 
inay have the nearest access to him who 
dwells in the heaven of heavens ; and this, 
not once in the year only, but at all times, 
and on all occasions. The high-priest never 
made that awful approach but with the blood 
of a slaughtered animal : We have blood of 
infinitely richer value to atone for our fail- 
ings and recommend our addresses, even the 
blood of the crucified Jesus. Aaron enter- 
ed through the vail of the temple, a way 
which was soon to become antiquated, and for 
ever to be abolished : We enter by a far 
more noble way; by the flesh of our blessed 
Redeemer, given as a propitiatory sacrifice 
for our sins ; which way is both new and 
living, such as never waxes old, will subsist 
to the end of time, and leads to eternal life. 
— Trusting in this sacrifice, and entering 
by this way, which are consecrated on pur- 
pose for our use, we may not only draw 
near, but draw near " with boldness," with 
an humble filial confidence, and present our 
supplications -with faith — with assurance of 
faith — with full assurance of faith. 

How strong is the contrast, and how fine 
the gradation ! how precious the doctrine, 
and how free the privilege ? What shall we 
fearj if we believe this doctrine ? what can 
we lack, if we improve this privilege ! And 
why should not we believe the former, why 
should not we improve the latter ? since 
they both are founded, not on any excellent 
endowments, not in any recommending ac- 
tions of our own, but purely, solely, entirely 
on. the blood of Jesus Christ. 

Ther. There may come seasons of de- 
sertion when all graces are languid, if not 
dead ; when the light of God's countenance 
is suspended, if not turned into darkness ; 
and the man is more like a lifeless log than 
a zealous Christian. These frames of mind 
I have heard mentioned, and I begin to 
know something of them by experience. 

Asp. Then, Theron, when you " walk in 
darkness and see no light" of sensible com- 
fort, " trust in the name," the unchangeable 
grace, " of the Lord ; and stay upon" the 
righteousness, the consummate righteous- 
ness, of " your God." Isaiah 1. 10. This 
is not barely ray advice, but the direction 
of an infallible guide. This agrees also 
with the character of a real Christian, as it 
is most exactly drawn by an unerring pen : 
" We rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no 
confidence in the flesh;"* no reliance on 



* Phil. iii. 3. Exactly dratc;?2.— Perhaps tliere is no 
where extant, a finer, a more complete, or so lively a 
picture of the true Christian. It is in miniature, I 
own; but it comprehends all the master-lines and 
every distinguishing feature. "We are they, who 
worship God in the spirit ; with the spiritual homage 
of a renewed heart ; with faith, love, resignation. 
" And rejoice in Christ Jesus;" in him look for all 
our acceptance with God ; from him derive all the 
peace of our minds ; and on him place all the hope 
of our final felicity. *' And have no confidence in the 



any thing of our own, either for present joy, 
or future glory. 

To rely on the elevation of our spirits, 
or the enlargement of our devotion, is like 
building our house upon the ice, which may 
abide for a season, but, upon the first alter- 
ation of weather, ceases to be a foundation,, 
and becomes " water that runneth apace 
Whereas, to derive our consolation from the 
Mediator's righteousness and Jehovah's 
faithfulness, is to build our edifice upon the 
rock, which "may not be removed, but 
standeth fast for ever." The former of 
these, even amidst all our changes, is invar- 
iably the same ; the latter, notwithstanding 
all our unworthiness, is inviolably sure. 
Therefore the fruit of that righteousness is 
peace, and the eflfect of this faithfulness is, 
if not rapturous joy, yet " quietness and as- 
surance for ever." Isaiah xxxii. 17. 

So that, when it is winter in my soul, 
and there seems to be a dearth on all my 
sensible delights, I would still say with the 
Psalmist, *' Why art thou so disquieted, O 
my soul ? Christ is the same amidst all thy 
derelictions. ' He is a green fir-tree,' 
Hos. xiv. 8. which never loses its verdure. 
Under his shadow thou mayest always find 
repose. His merit and atonement are still 
mighty to save ; they constitute an ever- 
lasting and infinite righteousness. The 
promises of God, through his mediation, 
' are yea and amen,' 2 Cor. i. 20 ; are un- 
questionably and inalienably thine." 

Ther. It is very probable I may meet 
Avith afflictions — death in my family, or 
disease in my person. Disappointment 
may frustrate my designs. Providence may 
wear a frowning aspect, as though the Lord 
had a controversy with his sinful creature, 
and was making him to possess the iniqui- 
ties of his youth. And what will be suffi- 
cient to support and to cheer in such a 
gloomy hour ?* 

Asp. The righteousness of Christ.— 
Nothing is so sovereign to calm (3m* fears, 
and remove all apprehensions of the divine 
wrath. Apprehensions of the divine wrath 
would draw the curtains of horror around 
our sick-beds, and throw upon our lan- 
guishing eye-lids the shadow of death ;f but 
a believing improvement of Christ's satis- 



flesh ;" renouncing ourselves, in every view, as un- , 
profitable servants; disclaiming all our own works 
and attamments, as defective services. 

* The sufficiency of Christ's righteousness to an- 
swer all these important and delightful ends, is ex- 
cellently displayed in Mr. Rawlin's sermons, on Christ 
the righteousness of his people ; in which the public 
have seen the grand and amiable essentials of the 
gospel, delivered in masculine language, defended by 
nervous reasoning, and animated with a lively devo- 

^^T*Alluding to that description of tribulation and 
anguish, which, I believe, no person of sensibility can 
read without shuddering : "My face is foul with 
weeping, and on my eye-lids is the shadow of death." 
Job svi. 10. 



DIALOGUE XVII. 



465' 



faction for our ofFences, clears up the luourn- 
ful scene, and takes away the sting of tri- 
bulation. 

Attending to this great propitiation, the 
sufferer sees his sins forgiven, and his God 
reconciled. From whence he concludes, 
that the severest afflictions are only fatherly 
corrections ; shall not exceed his ability to 
bear ; and shall assuredly obtain a gracious 
issue. He can fetch comfort from that cheer- 
ing word, "I will be with him in trouble 
and expect the accomplishment of that most 
consolatory promise, " I will deliver him, 
and bring him to honour." Psalm xci. 15. 
These supports have enabled the saints to 
kiss the rod, and bless the hand which chas- 
tised them ; to possess their souls, not in 
patience only, but in thankfulness also ; 
while they have looked inward, and dis- 
cerned their absolute need of these bitter 
but salutary medicines ; have looked up- 
ward, and beheld the cup in a most wise 
and tender Physician's hand ; have looked 
forward, with a joyful hope, to that better 
world, where God will wipe away all tears 
from their eyes, and there shall be no more 
sorrow, nor any more pain. 

Ther. The last occasion of need is the 
trying hour of death, and the tremendous 
day of judgment. Will this righteousness 
carry us with safety through the darksome 
valley, and present us with acceptance at 
the dreadful tribunal ? 

Asp. It will, it will — This silences all 
the curses of the law, and disarms death of 
every terror. To believe in this righteous- 
ness, is to meet death at our Saviour's side ; 
or rather, like good old Simeon, with the 
Saviour in our arms. " They overcame," 
says the beloved disciple, they overcame the 
last enemy, not by natural fortitude, or phi- 
losophic resolution, but " by the blood of 
the Lamb," Rev. xii. 11 ; by a believing 
application of the victorious Redeemer's 
merit. " I know," adds the heroic apostle, 
"whom 1 have believed," 2 Tim. i. 12 ; I 
am assured, that my Jesus is infinitely faith- 
ful, and will not desert me ; that his ran- 
som is absolutely sufficient, and cannot de- 
ceive me. Therefore, with a holy bravery, 
he bids defiance to death ; or rather, tri- 
umphs over it, as a vanquished enemy : 
" Thanks be to God who giveth us the vic- 
tory, through our Loi d Jesus Christ !" 1 
Cor. XV. 57. Nay, through the wonderful 
efficacy of Christ's propitiation, " death is 
ours," 1 Cor. iii. 22 j not our foe, but oiu- 
friend and deliverer. We may number it 
among our treasures ; and rest satisfied that 
*' to die, is gain." 

What though our flesh see corruption ? 
though this body, vile at present, be made 
viler still, by dwelling amidst worms, and 
mouldering in the dust ? yet through his 



righteousness, who is the resurrection and 
the life, it shall shake off the dishonours of 
the grave ; it shall rise to a new and illus- 
trious state of existence ; it shall be made 
like the glorious and immortal body of our 
triumphant Lord. If the body be so refined, 
so exalted, what will be the dignity, what 
the perfection, of the soul? or rather of soul 
and body both, when they are happily and 
indissolubly united at the resurrection of the 
just? — Shall they have any thing to feair 
when the judgment is set, and the books are 
opened ? It is probable there will be no 
accusation, it is certain " there is no condem- 
nation to them that are in Christ Jesus." 
Rom. viii. 1. Who shall lay any thing to 
their charge ? " It is God,"— not man, or 
angel, or any creature, but God — " that jus- 
tifies them." The God whose law was 
broke, the God to whom vengeance belong- 
eth, he himself pronounces them innocent, 
because their iniquities have been laid upon 
Christ ; he himself pronounces them righte- 
ous, because they are interested in the obe- 
dience of their Redeemer ; on these ac- 
counts, he himself pronounces them bless- 
ed, and gives them an abundant entrance 
into the joy of their Lord. 

But what can express, or who can ima- 
gine their happiness, when they take up their 
abode in the palaces of heaven, amidst the 
choirs of angels, and under the light of 
God's countenance ! when they possess the 
" hope of righteousness," Gal. v- 5. ; when 
they wear " the crown of righteousness," 2 
Tim. iv. 8. and receive that great, that eter- 
nal salvation, which is an adequate recom- 
pense for the humiliation and agonies of "Je- 
sus Christ the righteous," 1 John ii. 1. 

Come then, my dear Theron, let us 
henceforth be as branches ingrafted into the 
heavenly Vine ; derive all our sap, all our 
moisture, all our consolation, from his ful- 
ness. Let us live upon our all-sufficient Re- 
deemer, as the Israelites subsisted on their 
manna from heaven, and their waters from 
the rock, and not wish for other, as we can- 
not possibly enjoy better sustenance. 

Ther. Is this the meaning of our Lord's 
exhortation, vv'hen he shews the necessity of 
eating his flesh, and drinking his blood ? 

Asp. It is the very same. A repeated 
and incessant application of our Saviom-'s 
merits, for all the purposes of piety and sal- 
vation, is the kernel of this nut, the mean- 
ing of this metaphor. When we habitually 
advert to Jesus Christ, as dying for our 
sins, and rising again for our justification ; 
performing all righteousness, that we may 
be entitled to an eternal crown ; and inter- 
ceding in heaven, that we may be filled with 
all the fulness of God ; then we eat his 
flesh, and drink his blood ; then we derive 
a life of solid comfort, and real godliness, 
2h 



46$ 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



from the mediatorial offices ; just as we de- 
rive the continuance of our natural life from 
the daily use of alimentary recruits. 

Ther. Your discourse brings to my re- 
membrance that magnificent and beautiful 
passage in scripture, where Christ is called 
the Sun of Righteousness. Your doctrine 
sets the comparison in a very advantageous 
light; gives it the utmost force and the 
greatest propriety. The righteousness of 
Christ, according to your account, is as ex- 
tensively useful in the Christian life, as the 
beams of that grand luminary are in material 
nature. The sun fills the air ; where it dif- 
fuses light, and creates day. The sun pene- 
trates the ocean ; from whence it exhales va- 
pours, and forms the clouds. In the veget- 
able creation, the sun raises the sap, and 
protrudes the gems; unfolds the leaves, and 
paints the blossom ; distends the fruit, and 
concocts the juices. Turn we to the animal 
world ; the sun delights the eye, and glad- 
dens the heart ; it awakens millions of in- 
sects into being, and imparts that general 
joy which every sensible creature feels. In- 
deed there is nothing hid from the heat 
thereof. 

Asp. Thus the Lord Jesus Christ, that 
true and only Sun of Righteousness, arises 
on his people with healing in his wings, 
Mai. iv. 2 ; so various, so efficacious and so 
extensive are his influences. Like a sun, 
he enlightens and enUvens ; like wings, he 
cherishes and protects; like a remedy, he 
heals and restores; and ail, by virtue of his 
righteousness, on account of his righteous- 
ness. Nor can we doubt, nor need we won- 
der, if we consider its nature and its author. 
Its nature ; it is consummately excellent, has 
every kind and every degree of perfection- 
Its author ; it is the righteousness and obe- 



dience of that incomparable Person, in whom 
dwells all the fulness of the Godhead. 

It must therefore— you will permit me to 
sum up in a word what has been displayed 
at large, — it must be fully answerable to the 
demands of the law, even in its highest 
purity and utmost exactness. It is infinite- 
ly superior to the demerit of sin, and en- 
tirely a;bsolves from all guilt, entirely ex- 
empts from all condemnation. It is a most 
valid and never-failing plea against the ac- 
cusations of Satan, and the challenges of 
conscience. It establishes an undoubted 
title to every blessing, whether in time or in 
eternity, whether of grace or of glory. It is 
a £>ure support for the Christian, in an hour 
of desertion, and in the agonies of tJeath. 
Casting anchor on this bottom, he may dis- 
miss every fear, and ride out every storm. 
Leaning upon this staflf, he may go down to 
the repose of the grave ; and neither be ap- 
palled at the solemn harbingers of disso- 
lution, nor terrified at its far more awful 
consequences. The merit of this righteous- 
ness, and the power of its Divine Author, 
will unseal the tomb ; will bring forth the 
sleeping dust from the chambers of putre- 
faction, and build up the whole man into 
immortality and glory. By this he will be 
presented " without spot," Eph. v. 27. ; 
presented faultless, Jude 24?. ; yea, be pre- 
sented perfect. Col. i. ii8., and with exceed- 
ing joy before the throne. 

What a gift then is the righteousness of 
Christ ! Blessed be God for all the indul- 
gent dispensations of providence ! Blessed 
be God for all the benefical productions of 
nature ! But, above all, blessed be God for 
the trancendent and unspeakable gift of Christ 
— for the unsearchable and infinite treasures 
of " his righteousness." 



A 



TABLE OF THE TEXTS 

MORE OR LESS ILLUSTRATED IN THIS WORK. 





Page 


Obnesis ii. 17. 


270 


iii, 15. 


332 


V. 3. 


• 270 


vi, 3. • 


276 


vi. 5. 


274 


vi. 14. 


169 


viii. 21. 


274 




- 4^32 


xxii. 14. 


404 


xxli. 18. 


333 


Sxodus XX. 2. 


230 


xxviii. 36j 37. 


333 


xxviii 33. - 


- 312 


xxxiv 7* • 


184 


Leviticus xvi. 5. • 


- 167 


xvii. 3, 4. 


1 58 


Numbers xxiii. 21. 


170 


xxiv. 5, 6". 


- 320 




260 


Deuteronomy xxxii. 14. 


413 


xxxiii. 13. 


- 390 


Judges xviii. S. 


276 


1 Samuel xxiii. 25, 


- 207 


2 Samuel xv. 31. 


323 




- 402 


xxii'* "l^ 


333 


xxiii, 4. 


367 


xxiii. 5. 


256 


1 Kings xviii. 27. 


310 


2 Kings ii. 12. 


- 463 


xiv. 9. 


- 313 


XX. 3. 


241 


Nehemiah ii. 4. 


323 


Job i. 1, 


- 310 


ix. 20, SI, ,30 32. 


240 


xi. 12. " - 


293 


XV. 14 — 16. 


- 273 


xix. 2.1, 27. 


437 


xxvi. 8. 


- 3.56 


xxxiii, 22. 


333 


xxxvi. 28. 


356 


xxxvii. If.". 


356 


xxxviii. 7. 


- 359 


xxxviii. 10. 


376 


xli. 22. 


382 


xlii. 6, 


- 333 


Psalms viii. 6 H. 


387 




273 




- 219 


'■■ ■„ 
.It • 


341 




334 


XXIX. 4 — ~0 


- 380 




443 




- 272 


Ivii. if. 


293 


Ix. 6. * 


- 446 


Ixii. 12. 


215 


Ixviii.lB. 


424 


Ixxi. 15. - 


364 


Ixxi.' 16*. 


334 


Ixxiii. 22. 


301 


Ixxxix. 3. 


420 


Ixxxix. 15, 16. 


- . .335 


ciii. 1, 2. 


. . 437 


civ. 16. 


. 252 


cxxxiii. 2. 


406 


cxxxv . 7- 


356 


cxliii. 2. 


241 


cxliv. 2. 


434 


Proverbs xxi. 1, 


371 


xxii. 15. 


. 273 


XXV. 11. 


153 


Ecclesiastes vii. 6. 


. 148 


xii. .3. 


282 


xii. G. 


. 282 


Canticles i. 9. 


335 


ii.a 


172 


ii. 11, ]2, 13 


- . . 162 


ii> 14. 


. 360 


Isaiah ii. 11. 


242 







Isaiah iv 6. - 


• 443 


v. 26. 


- 454 


vi. 3. • 


240 


ix. 6. - 


- 202 


ix. 6. 


423 


X. 33, 34. 


461 


xi. 1. - 


461 


xi. 10. - . 


- 461 


xiii. 19—22. - 


266 


xxvi. 8, 9. 


321 


xxvii. 5. » 


182 


xxviii. 7» " . 


298 


xxviii. 12. 


338 


xxviii. 16. 


341 


xxviii. 18. 


170 


XXX. 18. 


441 


xxxiii. 16. - 


- 380 


xl, 22. 


279 


xlii. 1. 


3*16 


xlii. 6, 7. 


433 


xliii. 6. 


• 187 


xliii. 25. 


419 
462 


xliv. 22. 


xlv. 24. . 


S35 


1. 10. 


436 


li. 6. 


336 


li. 9, 10. . . " 


. 373 


lii. 7. 


392 


lii. 13. - 


369 


liii. 4. 


179 


liii. 6. 


177 


liii. 11. 


228 


Ix. 7. - 


463 


Ixi. 1. 


219 


Ixi. 10. 


335 


Ixiv. 6.' , 


.327 


Jeremiah iii. 22. 


43t 


iv. 19. - 


458 


V. 22. 


376 


vii. 22. - «. 


. 172 


xvii. 3, 


275 


xxiii, 5, 6. a 


375 




4.59 


Ezekiel xvi. 6 


421 




2l5 


Daniel iii. 1. ^ , 


265 


ix. p. 


423 


ix. 24> 


336 


Hosea ii. 1,9 20 


407 


ii, 23* * , ' 


439 


vii. 8. 


448 


xiv. 5, 


l.'iS 


Joel ii. 3. 


454 


iii. 15, 16. 


4.'>3 




432 


Micah vi. 7, 8 • < 


229 




" 3!;3 


Liakyacvi^uiv 111. 0. " 


.%"8 




180 


iii. li. 


" 458 


iii. 19. 


437 


Haggai ii. 7. 


333 


Zechariah iii. 4, 5. 


255 


iii. y. 


^60 


iv. 2, 3, 12. 


406 


vi. 12, 13. 


255 


ix. .9. 


337 


xi. 10. 


201 


xiii. 1. . 


462 


xiii. 7. 


181 


xiii. 7. 


.3'J8 


Malachi iii. 16, 17. 


148 


iv, 2. - 


4C6 


Matthew v. 3, 


217 


V. 20. 


. 217 


vi. 20. 


458 


vi. 33. 


342 


viii. 22. 


. 276 


xi. 28. i 


45>7 


xiv. 24. 


37U 



468 TABLE OF TEXTS. 



Matthew xvi. £4. 


Fag's 










317 


[ Corinthians xii. 12. 


_ 




289 


xvii> 17. 


446 


XV. 47- 




_ 


194 


xvii. 27. 


370 


XV. 52. 






339 


xviii. 32. 


- 419 


2 Corinthians iii. 6. 






248 


xix. 17. 


217 


iii. 7. 




_ 


243 




417 


iv. 17. 






152 


XXV. 30. " 


21^ 


V. 14. 






311 


xxvi. 41. 


30JI 


V. 14. 






179 


xxvii, 9. 


374 


V. 20. 




_ 


444 


Mark ii, 14. 


371 


V. 21. 




_ 


348 


vii. 22. 


■ . 309 


vii. 10. 




_ 


396 


vii. 3- 


363 








398 


ix. 3. 


- 176 


viii. 12. 






246 


xi. 20. 


370 


jralatians i. 7' • 




_ 


245 


xiv. 13. 


371 


ii. 15, 16. 






347 


xvi. 14. 


446 


ii. 19, 






316 


Luke i. 35. 


- 360 


ii. 21. 


_ 




224 


X. 30, 


152 


iii. 10. 




_ 


246 


xii. 60. 


362 


iii. 13. 






179 


xvi. 9, 12. 


458 


iii. 24. 






224 




202 


Ephcflians i 8. * 






188 


xviii. 13f 14. 


253 


i. 13. 


_ 




449 


xix. 48. 


149 


i. 22. 






408 


xxiii. 34 


363 


ii. 3. 


_ 




277 


xxiv. 25. • 


446 


ii. 8. 






223 


xxiv. 47. " 


422 


iii. 12. 






439 




148 


iii. 18. 






449 


John 1^12. 


261 


iii. 19. 




- 


408 


1. 14. 


395 


iv. 16. 






294 


i. 47. 


. 221 


Philippians i. 10, 11. 






293 


ii. 14. 


» 371 


ii. 12, 13. 






429 


ii. 25. a 


371 


iii. 3. 






464 


iii. 6. 


- - 276 


iii. 8, 9. 






348 


iii. 16. 


184 
215 


Colossiansl. 21. 






£76 


iii. 18, 36. 


ii. 1. 






469 


iv. 34. 


361 


ii. 9, 10. 






374 


vi. 32. 


. 432 


iii. 16. 






153 


vi. 35. 


260 


1 Timothy ii, 6. 






179 


vii. 37. 


- - 422 


2 Timothy i. 12. 






465 


xii. 45. • 


363 


iii. 16. 






347 


xiv. 30. 


363 


iv. 8. 




_ 


421 


XV. 6. 


232 


Titus 1. 15. 






232 


xvi. 8—11. 


347 


iii. 3 — 8. 






231 


xvii. 4. 


363 


iii. 3. 


_ 




304 


xvii. 24. 


256 


iii, 8, 






201 


xvii. 24. 


365 


Hebrews ii. 10. 






- 189 


XX. 28, 29. 


439 


iii. 6. 






438 


Acts iii. 8. 


370 


iii. 14. 






408 


iii. 14. 


364 


iv. 12. - 






- 236 


ix. 11. 


392 


vi. 17, 18. 




_ 


445 


X. 35. 


- 215 


vi. 22. 






199 


xi. 18. 


225 


viii. 5. 




- 


174 


xiii. 38. 


227 


viii. 10—12. 






188 


xvii. 27. 


- 293 


viii. 10. 


_ 




257 


xviii. 17' 


317 


ix. 15. 






171 


xix. 21. 


400 


ix. 16, 17. 






418 




253 


X. 14. 






171 


xxvi. 25. 


161 


X. 19 — 22. 






463 


Romans i. 16, 17- 


342 


X. 20. 






- 174 


i. 17. 


448 


xi. 1'. 






435 


ii. 15. 


305 


xi. 17. 






400 


iii. 19. 


273 


xi. 13. 






- 438 


iii. 20. 


247 


xii. 2. 






261 


iii. 21, 22. 


332 


xiii, 12. 






168 


iii. 25, 26. 


151 


James i. 6. • 






442 


iii. 31. 


343 


ii. 21, 24. 






218 


iv.3. 


259 


iii, 9. 






277 


iv. 4. 


245 


iii. 13. 






145 


iv. 5. 


200 


iii. 15. 






308 


iv. 6, 7. 


343 


v. 17. 






- 310 


iv. 14. 


246 


1 Peter i. 2. 






230 


V. 6. 


430 


i. 13. 


* 




438 


V. 8. 


184 


iii. 18. 






430 


V. 12. 


194 


V. 7. 






436 


V. 14. 


406 


2 Peter i. L 






342 


v. 17. 


366 


1 John i. 9. 






190 


V. 17. 


344 


iii. 16. 






447 


v. 18. 


197 


iii. 23. 






444 


V. 19. 


344 


iv. 10. 






441 


v. 21. 


328 


v. 11. 






436 


vi. 6. 


296 


2 John 6. 






397 




247 


Tllrlo 10' 






277 


vii. 18. ~ 




fvCV vlutiV^Xi III* ±o* 






448 


viii.7« 




iii. 18. 






338 
428 


ix. 30—32. 


260 


iii. 20. 






X. 3w 


345 








369 


X. 4. 


346 


iv' 7* 






426 


X.9. 


254 


V. 9 10. 






369 


xi. 6. 


245 


vii. 14, 15. 






242 


1 Cerinthians i. 30. 


347 


viii. 8*, 9. 






377 


ii. 14, 


297 


xii. 11. 






465 


iii. 22. 


465 


xiv. la 






- 231 


T.7. 


- . 166 


xviii. 1, 






372 


vi, 11. 


346 


xix. 8. 






336 


vi. 19. 


29." 


XX, 11. 


a 




373 


viii. 1. 


3y' 


' xxii. 17. 


9 fc 




444 



4SPASI0 VINDICATED, 

IN 

ELEVEN LETTERS 

FROM 

MR HERVEY TO THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. 



PREFACE. 



The following letters were written by my 
late brother in answer to a piece which 
was first sent him from the Rev. Mr. John 
Wesley, by way of private letter, contain- 
ing some remarks which that gentleman 
had made on reading Theron and Aspasio. 
When my brother had read it over, he 
thought it best to be silent, as it contained 
nothing which could materially affect his 
judgment in regard to the work it censured. 
For this reason, as well as for peace sake, 
he laid it by him unanswered. Mr. Wes- 
ley then published a pamphlet, which he 
entitled, a Preservative against Unsettled 
Notions in Religion ; in which he printed 
the above-mentioned letter. 

This my brother looked upon as a sum- 
mons to the bar of the public, and upon 
this occasion, in a letter to a friend, dated 
June 23, 1758; writes as follows : — 

" My Dear Friend,— I little thought, 
when I put Mr. Wesley's manuscript into 
your hand, that I should see it in print so 
soon. I took very little notice of it, and 
let it lie by me several months, without 
giving it an attentive consideration.* It 
seemed to me so palpably weak, dealing 
only in positive assertions and positive de- 
nials, that I could not imagine he would 
adventure it into the world, without 
great alterations. But it is now come 
abroad, just as you received it, in a two 
shilling pamphlet, entitled, a Preservative 
against Unsettled Notions in Religion. Of 
this pamphlet, what he has wrote against 
me makes only a small part. Now, then, 
the question is, whether I shall attempt to 
answer it ? Give me your opinion, as you 
have given me your assistance ; and may 
the Father of mercies give you an increase 
of knowledge and utterance, of peace and 
j'oy in the Holy Ghost." 

Between this and the October following, 
my brother began the letters contained in 



* Afterwards he read it again, and gave it, what 
he calls in the beginning of the first letter, " a care- 
ful perusal." 



this volume, of which he thus speaks in 
another letter to his friend, dated October 
24. 1758. 

" My Dear Friend, — Let me repeat 
my thanks for the trouble you have taken, 
and for the assistance you have given me 
in relation to my controversy with Mr. 
Wesley. He is so unfair in his quotations, 
and so magisterial in his manner, that I 
find it no small difficulty to preserve the 
decency of the gentleman, and the meek- 
ness of the Christian, in my intended an- 
swer. May our divine Master aid me in 
both these instances, or else not suffer me 
to .write at all." 

When in the December following I was 
sent for to Weston, in the very last period 
of my brother's long illness, I asked him 
the evening before he died, " what he would 
have done with the letters to Mr. Wesley ; 
whether he would have them published 
after his death ?" He answered, " by no 
means, because he had only transcribed 
about half of them fair for the press, but as 
the corrections and alterations of the latter 
part were mostly in short-hand, it would be 
difficult to understand them, especially as 
some of the short-hand was entirely his 
own, and others could not make it out ; 
therefore, he said, as it is not a finished 
piece, I desire you will think no more about 
it." 

As these were his last orders concerning 
these letters, I thought it right to obey 
them, and therefore I withstood the repeat- 
ed solicitations of many of his friends who 
wanted to have them printed ; alleging the 
service they might be of to allay the ground- 
less prejudices, which the Preservative might 
occasion in the minds of many against ray 
brother's other writings, as well as the 
utility of them in general, as they contain 
so masterly a defence of " the truth as it is 
in Jesus." 

But notwithstanding the regard I had 
for the persons who solicited the publica- 
tion, I could not be persuaded to print the 
letters ; and they never had appeared in 



472 



PREFACE. 



public with my consent, tad not a surrepti- 
tious edition of them lately made its way 
from the press, and was I not under a firm 
persuasion that it will be followed by more. 

As this is the case, I think it my duty to 
the memory of my late brother, to send forth 
as correct an edition as I possibly can ; for 
as to that which has appeared (from what 
editor I know not,) it is so faiilty and in- 
correct, that but little judgment can be 
formed from it, of the propriety and force 
of my brother's answers to Mr. Wesley. 

As to the unfairness of publishing my 
brother's letters without my consent, and 
the injustice to his memory, in sending so 
mangled a performance out under his name, 
they are too apparent to need any proof ; 
and though the editor, as I have been in- 
formed, gave away the whole impression, so 
that it is plain, lucre was not the motive of 



his proceeding, and I would charitably hope 
he did it with a view of benefiting his read- 
ers, yet it is so like doing evil that good may 
come, as, in my opinion, to be quite unjusti- 
fiable. 

However, as the only way now left to 
remedy in some sort what has been done, and 
to prevent a further imposition on the public 
from worse motives than actuated this pub- 
lisher, I have called a friend to my assist- 
ance, and by this means present the reader 
with as perfect a copy of these letters, as 
can possibly be made out from the original 
manuscript in my hands. 

That the reader may judge more clearly 
of the state of the controversy between my 
late brother and Mr. Wesley, I have thought 
it right to subjoin Mr. Wesley's letter, word 
for word, as it stands in the Preservative, 



Mr. WESLEY'S LETTER.* 



jJEAR Sir, — A considerable time since, 
X sent you a few hasty thoughts, which oc- 
curred to me on reading the Dialogues be- 
tween Theron and Aspasio. I have not 
been favoured with any answer. Yet upon 
another and a more careful persual of them, 
I could not but set down some obvious re- 
flections, which I would rather have com- 
municated before those Dialogues were pub- 
lished. 

In the first Dialogue there are several just 
and strong observations, which may be of use 
to every serious reader. In the second, is 
not the description often too laboured, the 
language too stiff and affected ? Yet the re- 
flections on the creation make abmidant a- 
mends for this. 

" Is justification more or less than God's 
pardoning and accepting a sinner through 
the merits of Christ?" That God herein 
" reckons the righteousness and obedience 
which Christ performed as om own," I 
allow, if by that ambiguous expression you 
mean only, as you here explain it yourself, 
" These are as effectual for obtaining our 
salvation, as if they were our own personal 
qualifications." 

" We are not solicitous as to any particular 
set of phrases. Only let men be humbled, 
as repenting criminals at Christ's feet, let 
them rely as devoted pensioners on his 
merits, and they are undoubtedly in the way 

* The quotations from Theron and Asprisio are dis- 
tinguished l>y double inverted commas. 



to a blissful immortality." Then for Christ's 
sake, and for the sake of the immortal souls 
which he has purchased with his blood, do 
not dispute for that particular phrase, the 
imputed righteousness of Christ. It is not 
scriptural, it is not necessary. Men who 
scruple to use, men who never heard the ex- 
pression, may yet be humbled as repenting 
criminals at his feet, and rely as devoted pen- 
sioners on his merits. But it has done im- 
mense hmt. I have had abundant proof, 
that the frequent use of this imnecessary 
phrase, instead of furthering men's progress 
in vital holiness, has made them satisfied with- 
out any holiness at all ; yea, and encouraged 
themtovv'ork all unci eanness with greediness. 

" To ascribe pardon to Christ's passive, 
eternal life to his active righteousness, is 
fanciful rather than judicious. His uni- 
versal obedience from his birth to his death, 
is the one foundation of my hope." 

This is unquestionably rigbt. But if it 
be, there is no manner of need to make the 
imputation of his active righteousness a 
separate aiid laboured head of discourse. 
O that you had been content with this plain 
scriptural account, and spared some of the 
Dialogues and Letters that follow ! 

The third and fourth Dialogues contain 
an admirable illustration and confirmation of 
the great doctrine of Christ's satisfaction. 
Yet even here I observe a few passages, 
which are liable to some exception. 

*' Satisfaction was made to the divine 



MR WESLEY'S LETTER. 



473 



law." I do not remember any such expres- 
sion in Scripture. This way of speaking of 
the law, as a person injured and to be satis- 
fied, seems hardly defensible. 

" The death of Christ procured the par- 
don and acceptance of believers, even be- 
fore he came in the flesh." Yea, and ever 
since. In this we all agree. And why 
shoidd we contend for any thing more ? 

" All the benefits of the new covenant 
are the purchase of his blood." Surely 
they are. And after this has been fully 
proved, where is the need, where is the use, 
of contending so strenuously for the impu- 
tation of his righteousness, as is done in the 
fifth and sixth Dialogues ? 

" If he was om' substitute as to penal 
sufferings, why not as to justifying obedi- 
ence?" 

The former is expressly asserted in Scrip- 
ture ; — the latter is not expressly asserted 
there. 

" As sin and misery have abounded 
through the fii'st Adam, mercy and grace 
have uauch more abounded through the se- 
cond. So that none can have any reason to 
complain." No, not if the second Adam 
died for all ; otherwise all for whom he did 
not die, have great reason to complain. For 
they inevitably fall by the first Adam, with- 
out any help from the second. 

" The Avhole world of believers" is an ex- 
pression which never occurs in Scripture, 
nor has it any countenance there : The 
world in the inspired writings being con- 
stantly taken either in an universal or in a 
bad sense; either for the whole of mankind, 
or for that part of them who know not 
God. 

" In the Lord shall all the house of Israel 
be justified." It ought unquestionably to 
be rendered, by or through the Lord : This 
argument therefore proves nothing. — " Ye 
are complete in him." The words literally 
rendered, are, Ye are filled with him. And 
the whole passage, as any unprejudiced rea- 
' der may observe, relates to sanctification, 
not justification. 

" They are accepted for Christ's sake ; 
this is justification through imputed right- 
eousness." That remains to be proved. 
Many allow the former, who cannot allow 
the latter. 

" Ther. I see no occasion for such nice 
distinctions and metaphysical subtleties." 

" Asp. You oblige us to make u-se of them 
by confounding these very different ideas, 
that is, Christ's active and passive righte- 
ousness." 

I answer, we do not confound these ; but 
neither do we separate them ; nor have vve 
any authority fi'om Scripture, for either 
thinking or speaking of one separate from 
the other ; and tliis whole debate on one 



of them separate from the other, is a mere 
metaphysical subtlety. 

" The righteousness which justifies us, is 
already wrought out." A crude unscriptur- 
al expression ! " It was set on foot, carried 
on, completed." O vain philosophy ! The 
plain truth is, Christ lived and tasted death 
for every man ; and through the merits of 
his life and death, every believer is justi- 
fied. 

" Whoever perverts so glorious a doc- 
trine, shews he never believed." Not so ; 
They who turn back as a dog to the vomit, 
had once escaped the pollutions of the 
world by the knowledge of Christ. 

" The goodness of God leadeth to re- 
pentance." This is unquestionably true. 
But the nice, metaphysical doctrine of im- 
puted righteousness, leads not to repentance, 
but to licentiousness. 

" The believer cannot but add to his 
faith, works of righteousness. " During his 
first love, this is often true. But it is not 
true afterwards, as we know and feel by 
melancholy experience. 

" We no longer obey, in order to lay the 
foundation for our final acceptance." No ; 
that foundation is already laid in the merits 
of Christ. Yet we obey, in order to our 
final acceptance through his merits. And 
in this sense, by obeying we lay a good 
foundation, that we may attain eternal life. 

" We establish the law ; we provide for 
its Tionour, by the perfect obedience of 
Christ." Can you possibly think St. Paul 
meant this ? That such a thought ever en- 
tered into his mind ? The plain meaning 
is, we establish both the true sense and the 
effectual practice of it ; we provide for its 
being both understood and practised in its 
full extent. 

" On those who reject the atonement, 
just severity." Was it ever possible for 
them not to reject it? If not, how is it 
just to cast them into a lake of fire, for 
not doing what it was impossible they 
should do ? Would it be just (make it 
your own case) to cast you into hell, for 
not touching heaven with your hand ? 

" Justification is complete the first mo- 
ment we believe, and is incapable of aug- 
mentation. " 

Not so : There may be as many degrees 
m the favour as in the image of God. 

" St. Paul often mentions a righteous- 
ness imputed : [Not a righteousness — 
never once ; but simply righteousness.] 
What can this be, but the righteousness of 
Christ ?" He tells you himself Rom. Iv. 
5, ' To him that believeth on him that jus- 
tifieth the ungodly, faith is imputed for 
righteousness.' " Why is Christ styled Je ■ 
liovah our righteousness?" Because we 
are both justified and sanctified through him. 



MR. WESLEYS LETTER. 



m 

" My death, the cause of their forgive- 
ness, my righteousness, the ground of their 
acceptance." 

How does this agree with " To ascribe 
pardon to Christ's passive, eternal life to 
his active righteousness, is fanciful rather 
than judicious." 

" He commends such kinds of benefi- 
cence only as were exercised to a disciple 
as such." Is not this a slip of the pen ? 
Will not our Lord then commend, and re- 
ward eternally, all kinds of beneficence, 
provided they flowed from a principle of 
loving faith ? Yea, that which was exer- 
cised to a Samaritan, a Jew, a Turk or a 
Heathen ? Even these I would not term 
*' transient bubbles," though they do not 
procure our justification. 

" How must our righteousness exceed 
that of the Scribes and Pharisees ! Not 
only in being sincere, but in possessing a 
complete righteousness, even that of Christ !" 
Did our Lord mean this ? Nothing less. 
He specifies, in the following parts of his 
sermon, the very instances wherein the 
righteousness of a Christian exceeds that of 
the Scribes and Pharisees. 

" He brings this specious hypocrite to 
the test." How does it appear that he was 
an hypocrite ? Our Lord gives not the 
least intimation of it. Surely he loved him, 
not for his hypocrisy, but his sincerity. 

Yet h€ loved the world, and therefore 
could not keep any of the commandments 
in their spiritual meaning. And the keep- 
ing of these is undoubtedly the way to, 
though not the cause of eternal life. 

" By works his faith was made perfect 
1 — appeared to be true." No : the natural 
sense of the word is, by the grace superadd- 
ed while he wTought those works, his faith 
was literally made perfect. 

" He that doeth righteousness is righte- 
ous, manifests the truth of his conversion." 
Nay ; the plain meaning is, he alone is truly 
righteous, whose faith worketh by love. 

" St. James speaks of the justification of 
our faith," Not unless you mean by that 
odd expression, oiu: faith being made per- 
fect ; for so the apostle explains his own 
meaning. Perhaps the word justified is once 
used by St. Paul for manifested, but that 
dees not prove it is to be so understood 
here. 

« ^VTioso doeth these things shall never 
fall into total apostacy." How pleasing is 
this to flesh and blood ! But David says no 
such thing. His meaning is, whoso doeth 
these things to the end shall never fall into 
hell. 

The seventh Dialogue is full of impor- 
tant truths. Yet some expressions in it I 
cannot commend. 

" One thing thou lackest, the imputed 
righteousness of Christ." You cannot 



think this is the meaning of the text. Cer- 
tainly the one thing our Lord meant, was 
the love of God, This was the thing he 
lacked. 

" Is the obedience of Christ insufficient 
to accomplish our justification ?" Rather 
I would ask, is the death of Christ insuffi- 
cient to. purchase it ? 

" The saints in glory Ascribe the whole 
of their salvation to the blood of the Lamb." 
So do I ; and yet I believe he obtained for 
aU a possibility of salvation. 

" The terms of acceptance for fallen 
men were a full satisfaction to the divine 
justice, and a complete conformity to the 
divine law." This you take for granted, 
but I cannot allow. 

The terms of acceptance for fallen men 
are repentance and faith : ' Repent ye and 
believe the gospel.' 

" There are but two methods whereby 
any can be justified, either by a perfect obe- 
dience to the law, or because Christ hath 
kept the law in our stead." You should 
say, ' or by faith in Christ.' I then an- 
swer, this is true. And fallen man is jus- 
tified, not by perfect obedience, but by faith. 
What Christ has done is the foundation of our 
justification, not the term or condition of it. 

In the eighth Dialogue, likewise, there are 
many great truths, and yet some things lia- 
ble to exception. 

" David, God himself dignifies with the 
most exalted of all characters. " Far, very 
far from it. We have more exalted charac- 
ters than David's, both in the Old Testa- 
ment and the New. Such are those of Sa- 
muel, Daniel, yea and Job, in the former ; 
of St. Paul and St. John in the latter. 

" But God styles him a man after his own 
heart." This is the text which has caused 
many to mistake : For want of considering, 
first, That this is said of David in a parti- 
cular respect, not with regard to his whole 
character; secondly, The time at which it 
was spoken. When was David a man af- 
ter God's own heart ? When God found him 
following the ewes great with young, when 
he took him from the sheep-folds. Psalm 
Ixxviii. 71. It was in the second or third 
year of Saul's reign that Samuel said to 
him, The Lord hath sought him a man af- 
ter his own heart, and hath commanded hifh 
to be captain over his peopre, I Sam. xiii. 
14. But was he a man after God's own 
heart all his life ? or in all particulars ? So 
far from it, that we have few more excep- 
tionable characters among all the men of 
God recorded in Scripture. 

" There is not a just man upon earth that 
sinneth not." Solomon might truly say so, 
before Christ came. And St. John might, 
after he came, say as truly, * WhosocA^er is 
bom of God sinneth not.' But 'in many 
things we offend all !' That St. Jam^ s 



MR. WESLEY'S LETTER. 



475 



does not speak this of himself, or of real 
Christians, will clearly appear to all who 
impartially consider the context. 

The ninth Dialogue proves excellently 
well, that we cannot be justified by our 
works. 

But have you thoroughly considered these 
words, " O children of Adam ! you are no 
longer obliged to love God with all your 
strength, nor your neighbour as yourselves. 
Once indeed I insisted upon absolute purity 
of heart ; nowl can dispense with some de- 
grees of evil desire. Since Christ has fulfil- 
led the law for you, you need not fulfil it. 
I will connive at, yea, accommodate my 
demands to your weakness." 

I agree with you, that this doctrine makes 
the holy one of God a minister of sin. 
And is it not your own ? Is not this the 
very doctrine which you espouse throughout 
your book? 

I cannot but except to several passages 
also in the tenth Dialogue. I ask first, 

Does the righteousness of God ever 
mean, (as you affirm) the merits of Christ ? 
I believe not once in all the Scripture. It 
often means, and particularly in the epistle 
to the Romans, God's method of justifying 
sinners. When therefore you say, the 
righteousness of God means, such a righte- 
ousness as may justly challenge his accep- 
tance," I cannot allow it at all ; and this 
capital mistake must needs lead you into 
many others. But I follow you step by 
step. 

" In order to entitle us to a reward, there 
must be an imputation of righteousness." 
There must be an interest in Christ. And 
then every man shall receive his own re- 
ward according to his own labour. 

A rebel may be forgiven, without be- 
ing restored to the dignity of a son." A 
rebel against an earthly king may ; but not 
H rebel against God. In the very same mo- 
ment that God forgives, we are the sons of 
God. Therefore this is an idle dispute : 
For pardon and acceptance, though they may 
be distinguished, cannot be divided. The 
words of Job which you cite are wide of 
the question. Those of Solomon prove no 
"more than this, (and who denies it?) That 
justification implies both pardon and accep- 
tance. 

" Grace reigneth through righteousness 
unto eternal life ;" that is, the free love of 
God brings us, through justification and 
sanctification to glory — " That they may re- 
ceive forgiveness, and a lot among the sanc- 
tified ;" that is, that they may receive par- 
don, holiness, heaven. 

" Is not the satisfaction made by the 
death of Christ, sufficient to obtain both 
our full pardon and final happiness ?" Un- 
questionably it is, and neither of the texts 
you cite proves the contrary. 



" If it Avas requisite for Christ to be 
baptized, much more to fulfil the moral 
lav/." 

I cannot prove that either the one or the 
other was requisite in order to his purchas- 
ing redemption for us. 

" By Christ's suflferings alone, the lavr 
was not satisfied." Yes it was, for it re- 
quired only the alternative, obey or die- 
It required no man to obey and die too. 
If any man had perfectly obeyed, he would 
not have died — " Where Scripture ascribes 
the whole of our salvation to the death of 
Christ, a part of his humiliation is put for 
the whole." I cannot allow this without 
some proof. * He was obedient unto death,' 
is no proof at all, as it does not necessarily 
imply any more, than that he died in obe. 
dience to the Father. In some texts there 
is a necessity of taking a part for the whole, 
but in these there is no such necessity. 

" Christ undertook to do every thing ne- 
cessary for our redemption, namely, in a 
covenant made with the father." It is sure 
he did every thing necessary ; but how does 
it appear, that he undertook this before the 
foundation of tlie Vv^orld, and that by a po- 
sitive covenant between him and the Fa- 
ther ? 

You think this appears from four texts, 
First, From that, ' thou gavest them to me-' 
Nay, when any believe, the Father gave 
them to Christ ; but this proves no such 
previous contract. Second, ' God hath laid 
upon him the iniquities of us all.' Neitlier 
does this prove any such thing. Third, 
That expression, ' the counsel of peace shall 
be between them,' does not necessarily im- 
ply any more, than that both the Father 
and the Son would concur in the redemp- 
tion of man. Fourth, ' According to the 
counsel of his will,' that is, in the way or 
method he had chosen. Therefore neither 
any of these texts, nor all of them, prove 
what they were brought to prove. They do 
by no means prove, that there ever was any 
such covenant made between the Father 
and the Son. 

" The conditions of the covenant are re- 
corded : Lo, I come to do thy will." Nay, 
here is no mention of any covenant, nor 
any thing from which it can be inferred — 
" The recompense stipulated in this glori- 
ous treaty." But I see not one word of 
the treaty itself. Nor can I possibly allow 
the existence of it without far other proof 
than this. — " Another copy of this grand 
treaty is recorded Isaiah xlix. from the first 
to the sixth verse." I have read them, but 
cannot find a word about it in all these ver- 
ses. They contain neither more nor less 
than a prediction of the salvation of the 
Gentiles. 

" By the covenant of works, man was 
bound to obey in his own person. " And 



476 



MR. WESLEY'S LETTER. 



so he is under the covenant of grace, though 
not in order to his justification. — " The 
obedience of our Surety is accepted instead 
of our own." This is neither a safe nor a 
scriptural way of speaking. I would sim- 
ply say, * We are accepted through the be- 
loved. We have redemption through his 
blood.' 

" The second covenant was not made 
with Adam or any of his posterity, but with 
Christ, in those words. The seed of the 
woman shall bruise the serpent's head." 
For any authority you have from these 
words, you might as well have said. It was 
made with the Holy Ghost. These words 
were not spoken to Christ, but of him, and 
give not the least intimation of any such 
covenant as you plead for. They manifest- 
ly contain, if not a covenant made with, a 
promise made to Adam and all his posteri- 
ty. 

" Christ, we see, undertook to execute 
the conditions." We see no such thing in 
this text. \ We see here only a promise of 
a Saviour, made by God to man. 

" It is true, I cannot fulfil the conditions." 
It is not true : The conditions of the new 
covenant are, repent and believe ; and these 
you can fulfil, through Christ strenthening 
you.—" It is equally true, this is not requir- 
ed at my hands." It is equally true, that 
is, absolutely false, and most dangerously 
false. If we allow this, Antinomianism 
comes in- with a full tide. — " Christ has 
performed all that was conditionaryfor me." 
Has he repented and believed for you ? You 
endeavour to evade this by saying, " He per- 
formed all that was conditionary in the cov- 
enant of works." This is nothing to the 
purpose ; for we are not talking of that, 
but of the covenant of grace. Now he did 
not perform all that was conditionary in 
this covenant, unless he repented and be- 
lieved. " But he did unspeakably more." 
It may be so- But he did not do this. 

" But if Christ's perfect obedience be 
ours, we have no more need of pardon than 
Christ himself." The consequence is good. 
You have started an objection which you 
cannot answer. You say indeed, " Yes, 
we do need pardon ; for in many things we 
offend all." What then ? If his obedience 
be ours, we still perfectly obey in him. 

" Both the branches of the law, the pre- 
ceptive and the penal, in the case of guilt 
contracted, must be satisfied." Not so; 
' Christ by his death alone (so our Church 
teaches) fully satisfied for the sins of the whole 
world.' The same great truth is manifestly 
taught in the 31st article. Is it therefore 
fair, is it honest, for any one to plead the 
articles of our Church in. defence of absolute 
predestination? Seeing the 17th article 
barely defines the terms, without either af- 
firming or denying the thing : whereas the 



31st totally overthrows and razes it from 
the foundation. 

" Believers who are notorious trans- 
gressors in themselves, have a sinless obe- 
dience in Christ." O siren song ! pleasing 
sound, to James Wheately ! Thomas Wil- 
liams ! James Reiley ! 

I know not one sentence in the eleventh 
Dialogue which is liable to exception : But 
that grand doctrine of Christianity, original 
sin, is therein prov^ by irrefragable argu- 
ments. 

The twelfth likewise is unexceptionable, 
and contains such an illustration of the wis- 
dom of God, in the structure of the human 
body, as, I believe, cannot be paralleled in 
either ancient or modern wiiters. 

The former part of the thirteenth Dia- 
logue is admirable. To the latter I have 
some objection. 

" Elijah failed in his resignation, and 
even Moses spake luiadvisedly with his 
lips." It is true : But if you could like- 
wise fix some blot upon venerable Samuel 
and beloved Daniel, it would prove nothing. 
For no Scripture teaches, that the holiness 
of Christians is to be measured by that of 
any Jew. 

" Do not the best of men frequently feel 
disorder in their aflfections? do not they 
often complain, when I would do good, evil 
is present with me ?" I believe not. You 
and I are only able to answer for ourselves. 
— " Do not they say, V/ e groan, being bur- 
dened with the workings of inbred corrup- 
tion ?" You know this is not the meaning 
of the text. The whole context shows, 
the cause of that groaning was their longing 
to be with Christ. 

The cure" of sin " will be perfected in 
heaven." Nay, surely, in paradise, if no V 
sooner. — >" This is a noble prerogative of 
the beatific vision." .No: It would then 
come too late ; if sin remains in us till the 
day of judgment, it will remain for ever. — , 
" Our present blessedness does not consist 
in being free from sin." I really think it 
does. But whether it does or no, if we 
are not free from sin, we are not Christian 
believers. For to all these the apostle de- 
clares, ' being made free from sin, ye are 
become the servants of righteousness.' 
Rom. vi. 18. 

" If we were perfect in piety [St. John's 
words are, perfect in love'] Christ's priestly 
office would be superseded." No; v/e 
should still need his Spirit (and consequent- 
ly his intercession) for the continuance of 
that love from moment to moment. Be- 
sides, we should still be encompassed with 
infirmities, and liable to mistakes, from 
which words or actions might follow, even 
though the heart was all love, which were 
not exactly right. Therefore in all these 
respects, we should still have need of Christ's 



MR. WESLEY'S LETTER 



477 



priestly office ; and therefore, as long as he t 

remains in the body, the greatest saint may i 

say, i 

Everv moment. Lord, I need 
The merit of thy death. l 

The text cited from Exodus asserts no- i 
thing less than that iniquity cleaves to all ' 
our holy things till death. < 

« Sin remains, that the righteousness of < 
faith may have its due honour." And vi^ill ] 
the righteousness of faith have its due hon- i 
our no longer than sin remains in us ? Then 
it must remain, not only on earth and in : 
paradise, but in heaven also. — " And the 
sanctification of the spirit its proper es- 
teem." Would it not have more esteem if 
it were a perfect work ? 

" It [sin] will make us lowly in our ovm 
eyes." What! will pride make us lowly? 
Surely the utter destruction of Pride would 
do this more effectually. — " It will make us 
compassionate." Would not an entire re- 
newal in the image of God make us much 
more so ? — " It vidll teach us to admire the 
riches of grace." Yea, but a fuller experi- 
ence of it, by a thorough sanctification of 
spirit, soul, and body, will make us admire 
it more. — " It will reconcile us to death." 
Indeed it will not : Nor will any thing do 
this, like perfect love. 

« It will endear the blood and intercession 
of Christ." Nay, these can never be so dear 
to any, as to those who experience their full 
virtue, who are filled with the fulness of 
God. Nor can any feel their continual need 
of Christ, or rely on him in the manner 
which these do. 

Dialogue 14. " The claims of the law 
are all answered." If so. Count Zinzen- 
dorf is absolutely in the right : Neither God 
nor man can claim my obedience to it. Is 
not this Antinomianism without a mask ? 

" Yoiur sins are expiated through the 
death of Christ, and a righteousness given 
you, by which you have free access to God." 
This is not scriptural language. I would 
simply say, ' By him we have access to the 
father.' 

There are many other expressions in this 
Dialogue, to which I have the same objec- 
tion, namely, first, That they are unscrip- 
tural; second, That they directly lead to 
Antinomianism. 

The first Letter contains some very use- 
ful heads of self-examination. In the 
second, 

I read, " There is a righteousness which 
supplies all that the creature needs. To 
prove this momentous point, is the design 
of the following sheets." 

I have seen such terrible effects of this 
unscriptiu-al way of speaking, even on those 
* who had once clean escaped" from the pol- 
lutions of the world,' that I cannot but ear- 
nestly wish you would speak no otherwise 



than do the oracles of God. Certainly this 
mode of expression is not momentous : It 
is always dangerous, often fatal. 

Letter 3. " Where sin abounded, grace did 
much more abound : that as sin had reigned 
unto death, so might grace [the free love of 
God] reign through righteousness [through 
our justification and sanctification] unto 
eternal life." Rom. v. 20, 21. This is the 
plain natural meaning of the words. It 
does not appear, that one word is spoken 
here about imputed righteousness : Neither 
in the passages cited, in the next page, fromi^ 
the Common-prayer and the Article. In 
the Homily likewise, that phrase is not 
found at all ; and the main stress is laid on 
Christ's shedding his blood. Nor is the 
phrase (concerning the thing there is no 
question) found in any part of the Homilies. 

" If the fathers are not explicit wdth re-/ 
gard to the imputation of active righteous- 
ness, they abound in passages which evince 
the substitution of Christ in our stead : 
passages which disclaim all dependence on 
any duties of our own, and fix our hopes 
whoDy on the merits of our Saviour. When 
this is the case, I am vei*y little solicitous 
about any particular forms of expression." 
O lay aside, then, these questionable, dan- 
gerous forms, and keep closely to the scrip- 
tural. 

Letter 4. " The authority of our church, 
and of those eminent divines, does not touch 
those particular forms of expression." Nei- 
ther do any of the texts which you afterwards 
cite. As to the doctrine we are agreed- 

" The righteousness of God signifies, the 
righteousness which God-man wrought 
out." No: It signifies God's method of 
justifying sinners. 

" The victims figured the' expiation by 
Christ's death ; the clothing with skins, the 
imputation of his righteousness.'' That 
does not appear. Did not the one rather 
figure our justification, the other o\ir sancti- 
fication ? 

Almost every text quoted in this and the 
following Letter, in support of that particu- 
lar form of expression, is distorted above 
measure from the plain obvious meaning 
which is pointed out by the context. I shall 

• instance in a few, and just set down their 
true meaning, without any farther remarks. 

' To shew unto man his uprightness,'— 
! to convince him of God's justice, in so 

punishing him. 
L ' He shall receive the blessing' — pardon, 
> ' from the Lord ; and righteousness,' — holi- 
i ness, — ' from the God of his salvation,' — the 
God who saveth him both from the guilt and 
i from the power of sin. 
\ ' 1 will make mention of thy righteous- 

• ness only,' — of thy mercy. So the word 
- frequently means in the Old Testament ; 
i SO it unquestionably means in that text, * In 



478 



MR. WESLEY'S LETTER. 



(or by) thy righteousness shall they be ex- 
alted.' 

* Sion shall be redeemed with judgment/ 
—after severe punishment ; * and her eon- 
verts with righteousness,' — with the tender 
mercy of God following that punishment. 

* In (or through) the Lord I have right- 
eousness and strength,' — justification and 
sanctification. ' He hath clothed me with 
the garments of salvation,' — saved me fi:om 
the guilt and power of sin : Both of which 
are again expressed by, * He hath covered 
me with the robe of righteousness.' 

* My righteousness (my mercy) shall not 
be abolished.' 

* To make reconciliation for iniquity' — 
to atone for all our sins — * and to bring in 
everlasting righteousness,' — spotless holi- 
ness in our souls. And this righteousness 
is not human but divine. It is the gift and 
the w^ork of God. 

* The Lord our righteousness' — the author 
both of our justification and sanctification. 

" What righteousness shall give us peace 
at the last day, inherent or imputed Both 
Christ died for us and lives in us, * that we 
may have boldness in the day of judgment." 

Letter 5. ' That have obtained like pre- 
cious faith through the righteousness' — the 
mercy, of our Lord. ' Seek ye the king- 
dom of God and his righteousness ;' — the 
holiness which springs from God reigning 
in you. 

' Therein is revealed the righteousness of 
God' — God's method of justifying sinners. 

" W^e establish the law, as we expect no 
salvation without a perfect conformity to it 
■ — namely, by Christ." Is not this a mere 
quibble ? and a quibble which, after all the la- 
boured evasions of Witsius, and a thousand 
more, does totally make void the law ? But 
not so does St. Paul teach. According to 
him, without holiness, personal holiness, no 
man shall see the Lord. No one M'ho is not 
himself conformed to the law of God here, 
shall see the Lord in glory. 

This is the grand, palpable objection to 
that whole scheme. It directly makes void 
the law. It makes thousands content to 
live and die transgressors of the law, be- 
cause Christ fulfilled it for them. There- 
fore, though I believe he hath lived and died 
for me, yet I would speak very tenderly and 
sparingly of the former, (and never separ- 
ately from the latter) even as sparingly as 
do the Scriptures, for fear of this dreadful 
consequence. 

" The gift of righteousness must signify a 
righteousness not their own." Yes, it sig- 
nifies the righteousness or holiness which 
God gives to, and works in them. 

" The obedience of one, is Christ's ac- 
tual performance of the whole law." So 
here liis passion is fairly left out I whereas. 



his becoming obedient unto death, that is, 
dying for man, is certainly the chief part, if 
not the whole, which is meant by that ex- 
pression. 

" That the righteousness of the law might 
be fulfilled in us — that is, by our represen- 
tative in our nature." Amazing ! but this, 
you say, " agrees with the tenor of the 
apostle's arguing ; for he is demonstrating 
we cannot be justified by our own conform- 
ity to the law." No ; not here. He is not 
speaking here of the cause of our justifica- 
tion, but the fruits of it. Therefore that 
unnatural sense of his words does not at all 
agree with the tenor of his arguing. 

I totally deny the criticism on ^ixuioffWTi 
and 'hkKaiufjt.a..) and cannot conceive on what 
authority it is founded. O how deep an 
aversion to inward holiness does this scheme 
naturally create ! 

*' The righteousness they attained could 
not be any personal righteousness." Cer- 
taiidy it was. It was implanted as well as 
imputed. 

For instruction in righteousness, in the 
righteousness of Christ." Was there ever 
such a comment before ? The plain meaning 
is, for training up in hohness of heart and 
of life. 

* He shall convince the world of righteous- 
ness that I am not a sinner, but inno- 
cent and holy. 

" That we might be made the righteous- 
^ ness of God in him. Not intrinsically, but 
imputatively." Both the one and the other 
God, through him, first accounts and then 
makes us righteous. Accordingly, the right- 
eousness which is of God by faith, is both 
imputed and inherent. 

" My faith fixes on both the meritorious 
life and atoning death of Christ." Here 
we clearly agree. Hold then to this, and 
never talk of the former without the latter. 
If you do, you cannot say, " Here we are 
exposed to no hazard." Yes, you are to an 
exceeding great one : even the hazard of 
living and dying without holiness. And 
then we are lost for ever. 

The sixth Letter contains an admirable 
account of the earth and its atmosphere, 
and comprises abundance of sense in a nar- 
row compass, and expressed in beautiful 
language. 

Gems have " a seat on the virtuous 
fair one's breast." I cannot reconcile this 
with St. Paul. He says, " Not with-pearls .•" 
by a parity of reason, not with diamonds. 
But in all things I perceive you are too fa- 
vourable, both to the desire of the flesh and 
the desire of the eye. You are a gentle 
casuist as to every self-indulgence which a 
plentiful fortune can furnish. 

" Our Saviour's obedience.'' O say, with 
the good old puritans, 'our Saviour's death 



MR. WESLEl 

or merits.' We swarm with Antinomians 
on every side. Why are you at such pains 
to increase their number ? 

' My mouth shall show forth thy righteous- 
ness and thy salvation j' — thy mercy which 
brings my salvation. 

The eighth Letter is an excellent descrip- 
tion of the supreme greatness of Christ. I 
do not observe one sentence in it which I 
cannot cheerfully subscribe to. 

The ninth Letter, containing a descrip- 
tion of the sea, with various inferences de- 
duced therefrom, is likewise a master-piece, 
for justness of sentiment as well as beauty 
of language. But I doubt whether " mere 
shrimps" be not too low an expression ; and 
whether you might not as well have said no- 
thing of " cod, the standing repast of Lent :" 
Or concerning " the exquisite relish of tur- 
bot, or the deliciousness of sturgeon." Are 
not such observations beneath the dignity of 
a minister of Christ ? I have the same 
doubt concerning what is said of " delicate- 
ly flavoured tea, finely-scented coffee, the 
friendly bowl, the pyramid of Italian figs, 
and the pistacio nut of Aleppo beside 
that the mentioning these in such a manner, 
is a strong encouragement of luxury and 
sensuality. And does the world need this ? 
The EngHsh in particular ? — Si non insan- 
iwnt satis sua sponte instiga. 

Letter 10. " Those treasures which 
spring from the imputation of Christ's right- 
eousness." Not a word of his atoning blood ! 
Why do so many men love to speak of his 
righteousness, rather than his atonement ? 
I fear, because it affords a fairer excuse for 
their own unrighteousness : To cut off this, 
is it not better to mention both together ? 
At least, never to name the former without 
the latter ? 

" Faith is a persuasion that Christ has 
shed his blood for me, and fulfilled all right- 
eousness in my stead." I can by no means 
subscribe to this definition. There are hun- 
dreds, yea thousands, of true believers, who 
never once thought one way or the other of 
Christ's fulfilling all righteousness in their 
stead. I personally know many, who to 
this very hour have no idea of it ; and yet 
have each of them a divine evidence and 
conviction, Christ loved me and gave him- 
self for me. This is St. Paul's account of 
faith : And it is sufficient. He that thus 
believes is justified. 

" It is a sure means of purifying the heart, 
and never fails to work by love." It sure- 
ly purifies the heart, if we abide in it ; but 
not if we draw back to perdition. It never 
fails to work by love, while it continues ; 
but if itself fail, farewell both love and good 
works. 

"Faith is the hand which receives all 
that is laid up in Christ." Consequently 
if we make shipwreck of the faith, how much 



f'S LETTER. m 

soever is laid up in Christ, from that hour 
we receive nothing. 

Letter 11. "Faith in the imputed righte- 
ousness of Christ, is a fundamental principle 
in the Gospel." If so, what becomes of all 
those who think nothing about imputed 
righteousness ? How many who are full of 
faith and love, if this be true, must perish 
everlastingly ! 

" Thy hands must urge the way of the 
deadly weapon through the shivering flesh, 
till it be plunged in the throbbing heart." 
Are not these descriptions far too strong ? 
May they not occasion unprofitable reason- 
ings in many readers ? 

Nepuerum coram populo Medea trucidet. 
"How can he justify it to the world ?" 
Not at all. Can this then justify his faith 
to the world ? 

" You take the certain way to obtain 
comfort, the righteousness of Jesus Christ." 
What ! without the atonement ? Strange 
fondness for an unscriptural, dangerous 
mode of expression .' 

" So the merits of Christ are derived to 
all the faithful." Rather the fruits of the 
Spirit ; which are likewise plainly typified by 
the oil in Zechariah's vision. 

" Has the law any demand ? It must go 
to him for satisfaction." Suppose, * Thou 
shalt love thy neighbour as thyself :' Then 
I am not obliged to love my neighbour. 
Christ has satisfied the demand of the law 
for me. Is not this the very quintessence 
of Antinomianism? 

" The righteousness wrought out by Je- 
sus Christ, is wrought out for all his peo- 
ple, to be the cause of their justification, and 
the purchase of their salvation. The right- 
eousness is the cause, the purchase." So 
the death of Christ is not so much as nam- 
ed ! " For all his people -." But what be- 
comes of all other people ? They must in- 
evitably perish for ever. The die was cast 
or ever they were in being. The doctrine 
to pass them by has 

Consign'd their unborn souls to hell. 
And damn'd them from their mother's womb ! 

I could sooner be a Turk, a Deist, yea, an 
atheist, than I could believe this. It is less 
absurd to deny the very being of God, than 
to make him an almighty tyrant. 

" The whole wwld, and all its seasons, 
are rich with our Creator's goodness. His 
tender mercies are over all his works." Are 
they over the bulk of mankind ? Where is 
his goodness to the non-elect ? How are 
his tender mercies over them ? " His tem- 
poral blessings are given to them." But are 
they to them blessings at all ? Are they not 
all curses ? Does not God know they are ? 
that they will only increase their damnation? 
Does he not design they should ? And this 
you call goodness ! This is tender mercy ! 
" May we not discern pregnant proofs of 



480 



MR. WESLEY'S LETTER. 



goodness in eacli individual object ?" No ; on 
your scheme not a spark of it in this world, 
or the next, to the far greater part of the 
work of his own hands ! 

" Is God a generous benefactor to the 
meanest animals, to the lowest reptiles ? 
And will he deny my friend what is neces- 
sary to his present comfort, and his final 
acceptance?" Yea, will he deny it to any 
soul that he has made ? Would you deny 
it to any if it were in your power ? 

But if you lov'd whom God abhorr'd. 
The servant weie above his Lord. 

" The wedding- garment here means ho- 
liness." 

" This is his tender complaint, * they will 
not come unto me !' " Nay, that is not the 
case ; they cannot. He himself has de- 
creed, not to give them that grace, without 
which their coming is impossible. 

" The grand end which God proposes in 
all his favourable dispensations to fallen man, 
is to demonstrate the sovereignty of his 
grace." Not so ; to impart happiness to his 
creatures, is his grand end herein. " Barely 
to demonstrate his sovereignty," is a princi- 
ple of action fit for the great Turk, not the 
most high God. 

" God hath pleasiu-e in the prosperity of 
his servants. He is a boundless ocean of 
good." Nay, that ocean is far from bound- 
less, if it wholly passes by nine-tenths of 
mankind. 

" You cannot suppose God would enter 
into a fresh covenant with a rebel." I both 
suppose and know he did. " God made the 
new covenant with Christ, and charged him 
with the performance of the conditions." I 
deny both these assertions, which are the 
central point wherein Calvinism and Anti- 
nomianism meet. ' 1 have made a coven- 
ant with my chosen viz. with David my 
servant. So God himself explains it. 

" He will wash you in the blood which 
atones, and invest you with the righteous- 
ness which justifies." Why should you 
thus continually put asunder what God has 
joined ? 

" God himself at the last day pronounces 
them righteous, because they are interested 
in tlie obedience of the Redeemer." Rather 
because they are washed in his blood, and 
renewed by his Spirit. 

Upon the whole, I cannot but wish that 
the plan of these Dialogues had been exe- 
cuted in a different manner. Most of the 
grand truths of Christianity are herein both 
explained and proved with great strength 
and clearness. Why was any thing inter- 



mixed which could prevent any serious 
Christian recommending them to all man- 
kind ? Any thhig which must necessarily 
render them exceptionable to so many thou- 
sands of the children of God ? In practical 
writings, I studiously abstain from the very 
shadow of controvei-sy. Nay, even in con- 
troversial, I do not knowingly write one 
line, to which any but my opponent would 
object. For opinions shall I destroy the 
work of God ? Then am I a bigot indeed. 
Much more, if I would not drop any mode of 
expression, rather than offend either Jew or 
Gentile, or the church of God. I am, with 
great sincerity, dear sir, your affectionate 
brother and servant, J. W. 

Octoher 15, 1756. 



I have but one thing more to add, which 
is, concerning the seasonableness of the fol- 
lowing publication. It may perhaps, be 
thought a needless revival of a dispute which 
happened long ago, and which is now pro- 
bably forgotten. In answer to which, I can 
assure the reader, that the above is printed 
from an edition of the Preservative now 
on sale at the Foundry. The seasonableness 
of this publication is therefore apparent ; for 
though my brother died December 25, 1758, 
the controversy did by no means die with 
him, but still subsists in the daily publica- 
tion and sale of the Preservative, which al- 
so comes with a special* recommendation 
from Mr. Wesley, into the hands of all his 
preachers, to be by them first " carefully 
read, then to be recommended and explain- 
ed to the several societies where they la- 
bour." So that the controversy is, in the 
most effectual manner, daily and hourly kept 
alive by Mr. Wesley himself. This proves 
very sufRciently the seasonableness, and as 
things have happened, the expediency, of the 
present appearance of the following Letters 
in public. How pertinent an answer they 
contain to Mr. Wesley's objections, is now 
to be left to the consideration of the candid 
reader. 

W. HERVEY. 

Miles-Lane, December 5, 1764. 



* See the last paragraph of a tract, entitled. Rea- 
sons against a separation from the church of England, 
printed also in the Preservative, p. 23/. 



LETTERS 

TO THE 

REV. MR. JOHN WESLEY. 



LETTER L 



Reverend Sir, — I received the letter you 
mention, containing remarks on the Dia- 
logues between Theron and Aspasio. As, 
after a careful perusal, I saw very little rea- 
son to alter my sentiments, I laid aside your 
epistle without returning an answer, in hopes 
that my silence (which it seems you mis- 
took for obstinacy) would most emphatical- 
ly speak my advice ; which, had it been ex- 
pressed more plainly, would have been de- 
livered in the apostle's words. That ye study 
or make it your ambition, to be quiet.* 

Since you have, by printing these re- 
marks, summoned me, though reluctant, to 
the bar of the public, it should seem that I 
ought not to discredit the truth once deli- 
vered to the saints, by a timid silence : and 
I am the more willing to answer for myself, 
as I have now the privilege of an unpreju- 
diced judge, and an impartial jury. If my 
defence should be lost on my opponent, it 
may possibly make some useful impressions 
on the court, and candid audience. How- 
ever, I will not absolutely despair of con- 
vincing Mr. Wesley himself ; because it is 
written, " Give admonition to a wise man, 
and he will yet be wiser.f" On some very 
momentous and interesting points, I may 
probably be a little more copious than the 
strict laws of argument demand, in order to 
exhibit some of the great truths of the gos- 
pel in so clear a light, that " he may run 
who readeth them in so amiable and invit- 
ing a light, that the believer may rejoice in 
them, and the sinner may long for them. 
For such digressions I promise myself an 
easy pardon, both from yourself and the 
reader. 



* 1 Thess. iv. 11, *^*''^97'/jMS/(rS«/, a beautiful 
word, rich with meaning, and not adequately trans- 
lated by maJce it pour ambition, still more inade- 
quately by our common version, 

t Prov. ix. 9. Tlie original phrase is only Give, 
which may signify, give admonition, as well as (what 
our version has supposed) instruction. 



Thus you open the debate : " In the se- 
cond Dialogue, is not the description often 
too laboured, the language too stiff and af- 
fected ?" I must confess, Sir, tliis animad- 
version seems to be as just, as the praise 
which you have here and elsewhere bestow- 
ed, appears to be la^^sh ; the former, if not 
more pleasing, may be no less serviceable 
than the latter ; for both I acknowledge my- 
self your debtor ; and if ever I attempt any 
thing more in the capacity of an author, I 
will be sure to keep my eye fixed on the 
caution you have given. 

I am sorry that the next words bring on 
a complaint so close to my acknowledg- 
ment. " You cite the pages according to 
the Dublin edition, having wrote the rough 
draught of what follows in Ireland." But 
should you not, in complaisance to your 
readers on this side the water, have refer- 
red to the pages of the English edition ? 
For want of such reference, there is hard- 
ly distinction enough in some places to 
know which are your words, and which are 
Aspasio's. Should you not also, in jus- 
tice to the author, before you transcribed 
the rough draught for the press, have 
consulted the last edition of his work ? 
which, you well knew, was not the copy 
from which the Irish impression was taken, 
yet might reasonably suppose to be the 
least inaccurate. 

When I read your next paragraph, I am 
struck with reverence, I am ashamed and 
almost astonished at the littleness of the 
preceding observations ; stiffness of style, 
and a thousand such trifles, what are they 
all, compared with justification before the 
infinite and immortal God ? This is a sub- 
ject that commands our most awful regard, 
a blessing that should engage our whole at- 
tention. As this is the grand article to 
come under our consideration, 1 would de- 
sire to maintain an incessant dependance on 
2 I 



482 



LETTERS TO THE 



the divine Spirit, that my thoughts may be \ pen to be only diversified expressions of the 
isifliieiiced, and my pen guided, by the wis- 
dom v/hich cometh from above ; that I may 
iieitlier pervert the truth by any erroneous 
representations, nor dishonour it by an un- 
christian temper. It would be easy to 
make use of bitter satire, and disdainful 
irony, the contemptuous sneer, or the in- 
dignant frown. And indeed, Sir, you have 
laid yourself open to every attack of this 
kind ; but these are not the weapons of a 
Christian's warfare. 

- — Non defensoribus istis. 
We are to give a reason of the hope that 
is in us with meekness and fear ; meekness, 
with regard to those who interrogate or op- 
pose us ; fear, with regard to him whose 
cause we plead, and whose eye is ever upon 
rts, " Is justification," you say, "more or less 
than God's pardoning and accepting a sin- 
r«er, through the merits of Christ?". I 
somewhat vv'onder. Sir, that you should ask 
this question, when it is professedly answer- 
ed by Aspasio, who has presented you with 
a very circumstantial definition of justifica- 
tion, explaining it, establishing it, and ob- 
viating several objections advanced against 
it. If you would animadvert with spirit and 
force, or indeed to any considerable purpose, 
should you not lay open the impropriety of 
ihii definition, shewing from reason and 
:,i':ijjture, that it is neither accurate nor or- 
thodox ? 

Thi oader may see Aspasio's account of 
;oii, and find the words imputttion 
i.xmsness of CArfsf particularly ex- 
piaiittu ; the latter denoting " all the vari- 
ous instances of his active and passive obe- 
dience." Accordingly it is affirmed, " the 
punishment we deserved, he endures ; the 
obedience which we owed, he fulfils," 
What Aspasio here professes to under- 
stand by the righteousness of Christ, the 
reader is particularly requested to bear in 
his memory, that he be not misled by Mr. 
Wesley, who often forgets it, and com- 
plains, when the righteousness of Christ is 
mentioned, that his penal sufferings are 
quite omitted. 1 would not wish. Sir, to 
have a plainer proof that you do not dis- 
card the active, than Aspasio has hereby 
given that he never excludes the passive. 

By your question, you hint a dislike, yet 
without informing us what it is, or wherein 
Aspasio's illustrations and proofs are defi- 
cient. You propose, and only propose, an- 
other deliiution. Well, then, to dififer from 
you as little as possible, nay, to agree with 



same idea. The merits of Christ will cer- 
tainly comport either with Popish or Soci- 
nian notions. It abounds in writers of the 
former sort, and it is to be found in the lat- 
ter. Therefore, to be more explicit — By 
pardoning, I mean God's acquitting a sin- 
ner from guilt of every kind, and of every 
degree. By accepting, I mean still more, 
God's receiving him into full favour, con- 
sidering and treating him as righteous, yea, 
perfectly and gloriously righteous. — By 
the merits of Christ 1 would always be 
supposed to signify, his active and passive 
obedience ; all that he wroiight, and all that 
he suffered, for the salvation of mankind.* 
Interested in all this, the believer enters 
into the divine presence, and stands before 
the divine majesty, not like David's ambas - 
sadors, stealing themselves into Jericho ; 
safe, indeed, but with the marks of Ammo- 
nitish insults on their persons : He rather 
enters like that illustrious exile, Joseph, in- 
to the presence of Pharaoh, v/hen his prison 
garments were taken from hira, and he was 
arrayed in vestures of fine linen, meet for 
the shoulders of those who appear before 
kings. With this explication, I am content 
that your definition takes place of mine.+ I 
would further observe, that you have droi)t 
the word imputed, which inclines me to sus- 
pect you would cashier the thing. But let 
me ask. Sir, How can we be justified by the 
merits of Christ, unless they are imputed 
to us ? Would the payment made by a sure- 
ty procure a discharge for the debtor, imless 
it was placed to his account ? It is certain 
the sacrifices of old could not make an atone- 
ment, unless they were imputed to each 
offerer respectively. This was an ordin- 
ance settled by Jehovah himself. | And 
were not the sacrificies, was not their impu- 
tation typical of Christ, and things pertain- 
ing to Christ ? The former prefiguring his 

* The merits of Christ is certainly an ambigvioiis 
phrase, and what I can by no means admire; but as 
it occurs in Mr Wesley's letter, and in many valuable 
writers, I have, led by their example, used itin the fol- 
lowing debate, still understanding it, and still using 
it, in the sense explained above, 

■) To gratify Mr, Wesley I have admitted his phrase, 
" the merits of Christ," though, as it is a phrase of 
dubious import, and what almost any sect or heresy 
will subscribe, I should much sooner choose to abide 
by Aspasio's language. And why should we not all 
speak with the Scriptures ? Why should we not use 
the expressions of the apostle? He says, justified by 
the blood of Christ ; he says, made righteous by the 
obedience of Christ. When therefore we say, sinners 
j are pardoned and accepted through the blood and 
I through the obedience of Christ, we have a warrant 
for our doctrine, which is indisputable, and a prece- 
dent for our language, which is unexceptionable. 



you as far as truth will permit, since you l .* Lev. yii. I's. ♦ if any of the flesh of the sa- 
1 ^1 1 . ■• crifice of his peace-ofiermgs be eaten at all on the 

are so loth to admit Ot our representation, l third day, it shall not be accepted, neither shall it be 
we will accede to yours : especially if it be imputed unto him thatofferethit;'it shall notbeac- 
-E, , 1 • J J T..i.i • J ! cepted. Why ? for this reason, because it shall not be 

somewhat explained, and a little improved, i imputed. A plain indication that the latter is the 
FciT indeed the words, in their present form, cause ofthe former : That without imputation, whe- 
9fp rathpr tnn vracnf^ <-n Pnnet^Mit^. nn^^ ^In. ^^^^ it be of the typical or real sacrifice, the blood 
art. latner too vague to constitute any He- \ of the beast, or the d, vth ot Christ, there is no accep- 
fe.vdon. Pardoning and accepting may hup- \ tance. 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



483 



all-sufficient expiation, the latter shadowing ' 
forth the way whereby we are partakers of 
its efficacy. The righteousness, (not the 
righteousness and obedience, Aspasio speaks 
otherwise,) which Christ perfoi-med, is reck- 
oned by God as our own. This you call 
an ambiguous expression ; but if considered 
in conjunction with the foregoing and fol- 
lowing enlargements, I should think can 
hardly deserve the charge. Aspasio all 
along labours to be understood. In this 
place he more fully opens his meaning by 
giving another view of the nature, and by 
specifying the effects of imputation. The 
natitre — it being the same as placing to our 
account something not our own. The 
effects — Christ's righteousness thus placed 
to our account being as effectual for obtain- 
ing our salvation, as if it was our own per- 
sonal qualification. To the latter you ex- 
pressly agree, to the former you make no 
objection : To the whole doctrine, thus ex- 
plained, you elsewhere declare your assent. 

If in all this we may depend upon you, 
Sir, must we not feel an alarming shock at 
your adjuration in the next paragraph? 

" For Christ's sake do not" — What ? 
surely nothing less can excite or justify this 
vehement exclamation, but the obtrusion of 
some doctrine that is most glaringly false, 
and aljsolutely damnable. Shall we have 
such a solemn firing, such a thunder of ex- 
])losion, only to silence a particular phrase ? 
In another person this would look like pro- 
fiitie levity ; in Mr. Wesley the softest ap- 
])cllation we can give it is idle pomp. All 
this clamour merely against words ! words 
too, the explication of which, and the doc- 
trine contained in them, yourself allow. 
Dear Sir, what is a woi d or a phrase ? Can 
it do either good or harm, but as conveying 
right or wrong sentiments? Will the mere 
pronouncing or hearing of a word, (be it 
abracadabra, or Idgyajan selah, or imputed) 
without its idea, poison the principles of 
men, and induce them to work all unclean- 
ness with greedmess ? As you have been 
firing without an enemy (Aspasio is owned 
for an ally) so you seem to be triumphing 
without a victory. Aspasio's charity for 
those who are disgusted at the expression, 
and have no explicit knowledge of the doc- 
trine, is guarded by the words immediately 
following, " yet live under the belief of the 
truth, and in the exercise of the duty:" as 
well as by the annexed description of the 
persons, and their temper; who are far 
enough from fancying, that if they may but 
be pardoned for the sake of Christ, they 
can obtain the divine favour, and a title to 
future happiness, by their own good beha- 
viom: Hence it will appear that he has 
been too cautious to part with the very 
thing for which be is contending. And this 
is more abundantly evident from the close 



' of his charitable paragraph, wherehi, though 
he allows such people to be safe, yet he la- 
ments their perplexity, and their deficiei;cy 
in light, strength, and consolation. " The 
phrase is not scriptural." Suppose it were 
not, this would afford but a slight reason 
for so passionate an outcry : However, this 
is certain, St, Paul uses the phrase God 
imputeth, Rom. iv. 6, and that righteous- 
ness might he imputed, Rom. iv. 11. 
Now, is it possible that there should be 
righteousness imputed, yet not an imputed >- 
righteousness ? To assert this must argue 
either a wonderful subtile refinement, or an 
exceeding strong prejudice. " it is not ne- 
cessary." Perhaps so; but is it not ne- 
cessary Mr. Wesley shoidd either inform , 
us what sense of the phrase it is which he ' 
apprehends so likely to mislead men, or 
else, instead of exclaiming against Aspasio, 
should join all his force with him, in de- 
fending that sense which they both es- 
pouse ? It has done immense hurt. ' 
When we are made sensible of the immense, 
or indeed of any real hurt done by the 
phrase imputed ; when we see those who 
dislike it cordially warm for the sentiment 
expressed in other words, we \\\\\ then con- 
sent to resign it for its equivalent, "reckon- 
ed as our own," " placed to our account," 
"as effectual as if our own personal qualifi- 
cation." Till then we must guard the cas- 
ket for the sake of the jewel. We prefer 
the word imputed, because it says more at 
once than any other term we know, and 
because we are aware of a common practice 
used in all ages by the opposers of sound 
doctrine. They pretend a zeal only against 
the phrase, that by bringing this into disuse, 
they may cause that to be forgotten. Shall 
we not then dispute for imputed righteous- 
ness ? Yes, Sir, we must dispute both for 
the doctrine and for the phrase, since there 
are persons who openly strike at the one, 
and we fear with a view to supplant the 
other. Shall we not dispute for imputed 
righteousness — though the words are a grand 
peculiarity of the Scriptures, and the thmg 
I he very spirit and essence of the gospel ? 
Not dispute for that wliich is better to us 
sinners than all worlds, better than one 
hearts could wish or our thoughts conceive, 
which, in short, is the best, the noblest, the 
completest gift that God himself can be- 
stow ? 

When such a gift, and such a righteous- 
ness, is the subject of disputation, we 
must not give place, no, not for an hour ; 
we must maintain its matchless excellency 
so long as we have any breath, or any be- 
ing. We must say in direct opposition to 
your fervent, but unadvised zeal, " For 
Christ's sake," let us contend earnestly for 
imputed righteousness, because it is the 
brightest jeuel in his mediatorial crown. 



484. 



LETTERS TO THE 



" For the sake of immortal souls," let us 
hold fast and hold forth this precious truth, 
because it yields the strongest consolation 
to the guilty conscience, and furnishes the 
most endeai'ing, as well as the most pre- 
vailing inducement to universal obedience. 

" To ascribe pardon to Christ's passive, 
eternal life to his active obedience, is fanci- 
ful rather than judicious." The remark is 
just, not so the quotation : Aspasio is 
somewhat disfigured by your distortion of 
his featm'es ; he limps a little, by your dis- 
location of a limb. There is in his lan- 
guage, guard enough to check every attempt 
either to dissolve the miion, or sever the 
co-agency, of the different parts of our 
Lord's righteousness. 

But let us give Aspasio a fair hearing. 
Thus he expresses himself : " To divide them 
(the active and passive righteousness) into 
detached portions, independent on each 
other, seems to be fanciful rather than ju- 
dicious." To divide into detached portions, 
is more than to distinguish between the one 
and the other. The latter Aspasio practises, 
the former he disavows. " Independent of 
each other : " Do these words stand for no- 
thing ? have they no meaning, that here you 
show them no regard, and never recollect 
them throughout your whole epistle ? Had 
you honoured them with any degree of no- 
tice, several of your objections must have 
Deen precluded, and if the more candid 
reader pleases to bear them in memory, se- 
veral of your objections will at the very first 
view fall to the ground. Besides, the per- 
son who tells us the case seems to be so, is 
not so peremptory, as he who roundly 
affirms it to be so : the former is all that 
Aspasio has advanced. Though I am will- 
ing that you should correct his style, yet I 
must beg of you, Sir, not to make him quite 
so positive ; let him have the satisfaction 
of being modest, even where he has" the 
misfortune, in your opinion at least, to be 
erroneous. 

" Christ's universal obedience from his 
birth to his death, is the one foundation of 
my hope," says Aspasio. To which you 
assent, and with a laudable vehemence re- 
ply, " This is unquestionably right." I 
wish, Sir, you would ponder your words be- 
fore you speak, at least before you print, 
that there may be something fixed and cer- 
tain, on which we may depend, and by 
which you will abide. One would think, 
after this acknowledgment, pronounced with 
such an air of solemnity, you could never so 
tar forget yourself, as to open your mouth 
against the obedience, the imiversal obedi- 
ence of Christ, which surely must include 
both what he wrought, and what he suffer- 
ed. You confess it to be your foundation, 
— the foundation of your hope, the only 
foundation of your hope : Can you then, 



without the most amazing inconsistency, 
either wish to secrete the doctrine, or of!er 
to discountenance the expression ? 

" There is no manner of need to make 
the imputation of Christ's active righte- 
ousness a separate head of discourse." No 
manner of need, even though you declare 
that this active righteousness, together with 
the expiatory death, is the only foundation 
of your hope ! Can you think it possible 
to treat of such a topic too particularly, too 
distinctly, too minutely ? Aspasio has 
shown the need, or assigned the I'eason for 
this method of handling the subject ; be- 
cause it sets the fulness of our Lord's me- 
rit in the clearest light, and gives the com- 
pletest honour to God's holy law. Have 
you alleged any thing to disprove, or so 
much as to invalidate his plea ? Ought not 
this to have been done before your assertion 
can be valid or even decent ? 

Besides, are there not persons in the 
world, who fondly imagine, that if they can 
but .have pardon through Christ, they shall 
by then- own doings secure eternal life ? 
"WTien such persons are in danger of over- 
looking the active obedience of the Redeem- 
er, v.'hy should you not, for their sakes, al- 
low us to make the imputation of his righte- 
ousness " a separate head of discourse ?'' 
that, seeing the transcendent perfection of 
Christ's work, they may cease from confid- 
ing in their own, Heb. iv. 10 ; lest it be 
said to them another day, " I will declare 
thy righteousness, and thy works, that (for 
the grand piu-pose of justification,) they shall 
not profit thee. Isa. Ivii. 12. 

We must therefore take leave to dwell 
upon the active righteousness of our Lord ; 
we must display its perfection, in opposition 
to all the vain pretensions of human qualifi- 
cations, endeavours, or attainments ; we 
must demonstrate that, as the heavens are 
higher than the earth, so is this divine obe- 
dience higher than all the works of the chil- 
dren of men. Yea, so transcendent in it- 
self, and absolutely perfect, as to be incapa- 
ble of any augmentation. All the good 
deeds of all the saints, could they be added 
to it, would not increase in any degree its 
justifying efficacy : It is like all the othet 
works of God, concerning which we are 
told, "nothing can be added to them." This 
brings to my remembrance a most beautiful 
and sublime representation, which you must 
have read in the evangelical prophet, 
" Every valley shall be exalted, and every 
mountain and hill shall be made low, and 
the crooked shall be made straight, and the 
rough places plain ; and the glory of the 
Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall 
see it together." Here mountains are de- 
molished, vallies are elevated, and the earth 
is levelled into a spacious plain, on purpose 
to accomplish what Mr. Wesley supposes 



tlEV. MR. WESLEY. 



4,-85 



unnecessary ; on purpose to give the 
most clear, full, striking view of the great 
Redeemer, of his wonderful person, and 
glorious work ; that he alone may be dis- 
tinguished and exalted ; may walk majestic 
and conspicuous through the midst of man- 
kind, as being singly and completely suffi- 
cient for the recovery of sinners. That all 
flesh — not Jews only, but Gentiles also ; not 
men of reputation only, but the meanest of 
mortals, the most infamous of wretches — 
may together see his glory, may on equal 
ground, without any pre-eminence of one 
above another, contemplate and partake of 
his precious death and perfect righteousness, 
which are the one object of divine compla- 
cency, and the sovereign glory of the Lord 
•Redeemer. According to the import of this 
magnificent piece of imagery, all the differ- 
ences which subsist between one man and 
another are abolished ; nothing but Christ 
and his complete work are proposed, as the 
cause of justification and the ground of hope. 
Faith beholds nothing but the divine Jesus : 
it never inquires, What have I done ? what 
have I suffered ? But, what has that most 
illustrious personage done, and what suffer- 
ed? What has Jehovah manifested in our 
nature, wrought for the benefit and redemp- 
tion of sinners ? Faith is never weary of 
viewing or reviewing either the active or 
passive obedience of Immanuel. Faith will 
declare, that neither of these points can be 
set forth in too strong or too recommending 
a light. Faith is ever desiring to see more 
and more of the Saviour's worthiness, that 
the soul may rejoice in his excellency, and 
be filled vfith all his fulness. 

May you, dear Sir, abound in this faith, 
and live under such views of God our Savi- 
our ; then I flatter myself you will be dis- 
satisfied with your present opinion, and not 
be disgusted at the freedom of speech used 
by yours, &c. 



LETTER IL 

Reverend Sir, — lam particularly pleased 
at my entrance on this epistle, because it 
presents me with a view of Mr. Wesley in 
very good humour. Instead of rebuking, 
he commends. He puts off the frown of 
censure, for the smile of approbation. I 
hope to follow the amiable example ; to ap- 
prove and applaud, wherever opportunity 
offers, and truth permits. And though I 
shall be sometimes obliged to oppose or re- 
fute, yet I shall do both with all the tender- 
ness and lenity which may consist with a 
proper vindication of the truth. 

" The third and fourth Dialogues contam 
an admirable illustration and confirmation 
of the great doctrine of Christ's satisfac- 



tion." This is generously acknowledged. 
Yet even here it so unhappily falls out, that 
complaisance gets the start of judgment. 
Did you advert. Sir, to the state of the 
controversy, or see the consequence of As- 
pasio's arguing, you must either give up ft 
favourite tenet, or else dissent from his 
docttine. 

Aspasio maintains, that Christ's suffer- 
ings were punishment ; real, proper punish- 
ment. Now, could Christ, an innocent 
person, be punished, without bearing sin — 
the very sin of others ? Could Christ, a di- 
vine person, bear the sin of others, and not 
do it perfectly away ? or can they whose 
guilt was punished in Christ, and whose sin 
is perfectly done away by Christ, can they 
perish eternally ? But I forbear. Yourself 
and the judicious reader, will easily appre- 
hend my meaning, and discern the point to 
which these questions lead. All the bene- 
fit I propose by this remark is, to convince 
Mr. Wesley that he is not incapable of a 
mistake ; that he has tripped a little in what 
he commends, and therefore may possibly 
make a false step in Avhat he condemns. 

Unless I may be allowed to propose this 
additional advantage, the rectifying an im- 
propriety in some people's apprehensions 
concerning our Lord's vicarious suffering. 
It is usual to say, " He bore the punish' 
raent, not the guilt ; the penalty, not tho 
fault:" which ^eeras to be a distinction more 
scrupulous than j licious ; answers no other 
end, but that of derogating from our Redeem- 
er's grace, and weakening the foundation of 
our hopes. 

The guilt of sin, I take to be what tho 
apostle calls avof4,iot, the transgression of the 
law. From hence arises the obligation to 
punishment. This guilt our Lord so truly 
bore, that he was no less liable to the arrest 
of justice, and the infliction of vengeance, 
than if he himself had committed the most 
enormous crimes. " He bare (says the Ho- 
ly Ghost) the sin of many." But punish- 
ment cannot be reckoned the same as sin, 
any more than wages can be accounted the 
same as work. If, then, our Lord bore sin 
itself, he must bear every thing criminal that 
is included in it ; no circumstance of de- 
merit or aggravation excepted. 

He bore the fault ; therefore he makes 
us without fault in the sight of God ; and 
will present us faultless before the throne, 
with exceeding joy. He bore the guilt ; 
therefore our Lord's sufferings were real 
punishment, justly inflicted by the supreme 
judge, and on principles of justice, discharge 
us from all punishment whatever. He bore 
the filth, — therefore he felt what those 
wretched souls endure, who die in their ini- 
quities; his eternal Father forsook him, and 
hid his face from him, as from an abomina- 
|ble object. 



486 



LETTERS TO THE 



This renders our Saviour's propitiation 
great, wonderful, glorious. Seeing this, be- 
lieving this, we have nothing to fear. Con- 
science is satisfied, and the accuser of the 
brethren is silenced. Nothing can be laid 
to our charge by the righteous law, and no- 
thing remains to awaken the indignation of 
the righteous judge. Whereas, if this was 
not done, we have reason to be terribly ap- 
prehensive. If Christ bore not the guilt, 
then sinners must bear it in their own per- 
sons ; if he took not away the filth, then it 
must lie on transgressors, and render thera 
loathsome for ever. If the fault was not 
transferred to him, then it must abide upon 
us, and be our everlasting ruin. 

Neither does this doctrine in any degree 
detract from our Saviour's dignity- It ra- 
thergives him the honour due untohisname, 
•Jesus. As in the scales of a balance, the 
lower the one descends, the higher the other 
mounts, so the deeper our Mediator's hu- 
miliation sinks, to the more exalted height 
does his glory rise. The more horrible the 
condition to which he submitted, the more 
illustriously his goodness shines, and the 
more clearly the perfection of his work ap- 
pears. 

Satisfaction was made to the divine law, 
says Aspasio. " I do not remember any 
such expression in Scripture," replies Mr. 
Wesley. But do you not remember this 
expression in the epistle to the Galatians, 
" Christ was made undes^the law?"* Why 
was he made under the law, but to fulfil its 
precepts, and undergo its penalty ? and is 
not this a satisfaction to its demands ? 

The truth is, the divine law was violated 
by our sins. It was absolutely impossible 
for us to make any reparation ; therefore 
Christ, in our nature and in our stead, sub- 
mitted to its obligations, that he might mag- 
nify its injured authority, and render it in 
the highest degree venerable : might make 
even its tremendous sanctions and rigorous 
requirements, the very basis of grace, mercy, 
and peace. Divinely noble contrivance !• 
unspeakably precious expedient.! By this 
means, vengeance and forbearance have met 
together ; wrath and love have kissed each 
other, in the redemption of sinners. The 
law says, I am fulfilled : Justice says, I am 
satisfied. While both concur to expedite 
and ascertain the salvation of a believer. 

" This way of speaking of the law, as a 
person injured, and to be satisfied, seems 
hardly defensible." Does not the apostle 
speak of the law as a person ? A person 



* Gal. iv. 4. There is, I think, something uncouth 
in this expression. Tsva^fva;, it is true, very well 
comports with both the clauses, 5« yvvxtxo; and 
VT voftov. But in the English translation, the parti- 
ciple might not ungracefully be varied, perhaps in 
some such manner, " The Son of God was made of a 
woman, and became subject to the law." 



that liveth,* to whom some are married, ami 
to whom others are dead ? Aspasio will 
akvays think himself, and his manner of 
' speaking, sufficiently defensible, so long as 
j he has the apostolical practice for his pre- 
cedent. 

Having such a precedent, he wants no 
other ; otherwise he might plead the autho- 
rity of Mr. John Wesley ; who, in his ex- 
planatory notes on the New Testament, 
says, " The law is here spoken of (by u 
common figure) as a person, to which, as to 
an husband, life and death are ascribed."! 
And if the law be an husband, may not an 
husband be injured ? May not an injured 
husband insist upon being satisfied ? 

" All the benefits of the new covenant 
are the purchase of Christ's blood ;" this is 
Aspasio's belief. To this you assent, 
" Surely they are." — With pleasure I should 
receive your suff'rage, was I not afraid that 
this is your meaning — They are so the pur- 
chase of his blood, as not to have any de- 
pendence on, or any connexion with, his 
most perfect obedience. I was alarmed by 
the close of your last paragraph, and my 
suspicions are increased by the following ne- 
gative interrogation : " After this has been 
fully pioved, where is the need, where is 
the use of contending so strenuously for the 
imputation of his righteousness ?" 

Aspasio has informed you, Sir, in the se- 
cond Dialogue. He has there shewn the 
advantage of unfolding, circumstantially and 
copiously, this momentous truth. To give 
you farther satisfaction, he has quoted the 
words of an eminent divine, of which the 
following are a part : " Whoever rejects the 
doctrine of the imputation of our Saviour's 
righteousness to man, does, by so doing, 
reject the imputation of mans sin to our 
Saviour, and all the consequences of it." 
Ifyou are not satisfied with Mr. Staynoe's 
reasons, you are remitted to St- Paul, In 
Rom. ch.v. (a chapter of distinguished dig- 
nity and importance) he teaches mankind 
that Christ died for the ungodly ; that we 
are justified through his blood, are saved 
from wrath by his death. After all this had 
been fully proved, where was the need, 
where was the use of insisting largely upon 
that obedience of one by which many are 
made ' righteous ? ver 19, Or upon that 
righteousness of one, wli ch is imputed to 
many for justification of life ? Yet this the 
inspired writer evidently does. 

Answer the foregoing question in behalf 
of the apostle, and you will answer it in be- 
half of Aspasio. Or if you decline the of- 
fice, give me leave, Sir, to answer it on be- 



* Rom.vii.l. 4. The word at the end of the 

first verse is spoken of the law, not of the man, as 
Mr. Wesley and others have very justly observed. It 
should therefore be translated not Jie but ifc 
t See Explan. Notes, Rom. vii. 1. 



httif of them both. The blood of Christ is 
never considered as independent on, or de- 
tached from, the righteousness of Christ. 
They united their blessed efficacy in accom- 
plishing the work of our redemption : we 
always look upon them as a grand and glo- 
rious aggregate, in their agency inseparable, 
though in mediation distinguishable. Being 
thus distinguishable, at proper times we me- 
ditate upon each distinctly -. We display 
each with all the particularity possible, and 
cannot but contend for the imputation of 
one, as well as of the other. The farther 
we dig into either of thesie spiritual mines, 
the greater fund of treasures we discover. 
The more we glorify the Saviour, the more 
we strengthen faith, and the greater addition 
we make to our conrifort, our peace, our joy. 

Aspasio inquires, If Christ was our sub- 
stitute as to penal suffering, why not as to 
justifying obedience ? You reply, " The 
former is expressly asserted in Scripture, 
the latter is not expressly asserted there." 
A small inaccuracy here. Sir : The former 
is no more a Scripture expression than the 
latter ; while the latter is no less the doc- 
trine and sense of Scripture than the for- 
mer. A little piece of forgetfulness like- 
wise ; since you just now acknowledged, 
that " Christ's universal obedience was the 
one foundation of your hope." But how 
can his obedience be any foundation of your 
hope, if in this capacity he was not your 
substitute? Take away the circumstance 
/ ; of substitution, and there is no more ground 
for your reliance on the obedience of Christ, 
than for your reliance on the obedience of 
Gabriel. We are made the righteousness 
of God, because we are in him as our proxy 
and our head ; because he wrought the jus- 
tifying righteousness, not only in our nature, 
but in our name ; not only as our benefac- 
tor, but as our representative. 

" As sin and misery have abounded 
through the first Adam, mercy and grace 
have much more abounded through the se- 
cond. So that now none can have any rea- 
son to complain." Here indeed we have 
Aspasio's words, but in a patched and dis- 
figured condition. Let any one read the 
whole of these passages, and judge whether 
they can be fairly applied to the doctrines 
of election or predestination. Yet Mr. 
Wesley is resolved at all adventures, with 
or without occasion, to introduce these sub- 
jects of deep and perplexed disputation. 
Therefore he replies, " No, not if the se- 
cond Adam died for all ; otherwise, all for 
whom he did not die, have great reason to 
complain." 

Here, Sir, do you not force an inference 
from Aspasio's words, foreign to his design? 
He is speaking of those who betake them- 
selves to Christ, and are recovered through 
his righteousness. Such persons he parti- 



V/ESLEY. 487 

cularly mentions, ot sucij aionc ne discour^, 
ses ; without considering the case of others, 
who, despising or neglecting the Redeem 
er, reject the counsel of God against them 
selves. Would it not be as edifying to the 
reader, and as agreeable to your office, if 
you should join with Aspasio in displaying 
the free, superabundant, infinitely rich grace 
of our God ; altogether as becomii g th.is, 
as to divert his aim, and retard his steps, 
when he is pressing forwards to this prizs of 
our high calling in Christ Jesus ? 

Aspasio's words are, " When we betake 
ourselves to Christ Jesus, we shall find, that 
as sin and misery have abounded,'' &c 
Please to observe, Sir, how he limits 
discourse, consequently is obliged to defefsd 
nothing but what corresponds with sue)) li- 
mitation. 

Had the Israelites any cause to be dissa- 
tisfied with the provision riiade for their 
sustenance and their cure, when the serpent 
of brass was lifted up on the pole, and when 
the bread from heaven lay round about their 
teiits ? No more have sinners any cause to 
think themselves aggrieved, when the sal- 
vation of God is evidently set before them 
in the gospel — is brought to their very door 
in the preaching of the word — and they 
are allowed, importuned, commanded to re- 
ceive it by faith. This is enough for me. 
Enough this for any transgressors, who 
want, not to gratify curiosity, but to inherit 
life. If they, or you. Sir, choose to pry 
further, and to intrude into the divine se- 
crets, I must leave you to yourselves ; say- 
ing as I depart, " The secret things belong 
unto the Lord our God ; but those things 
which are revealed belong unto us and our 
children," Deut. xxix. 29. 

" The whole world of believers." " iins 
is an expression which never occurs in 
Scripture." It affords me a kind of pre- 
sumptive proof, that solid objections are 
not at hand, when such shadows are listed 
in the service. I should be under no pain 
if you could prove your charge beyond 
contradiction. To what would it amou: 
Why, that Aspasio having occasion tom'^-n 
tion a certain topic, happened not to malcu 
use of the very syllables and letters made 
use of in Scripture. And do you or I, Sir, 
in all our sermons, journals, preservatives, 
and Christian libraries, undertake to use 
none but Scriptural expressions ? Had we 
done this, one benefit might indeed have ac- 
crued to the public : It would considerably 
have reduced our volumes. — But I t ul: 
well as Mr. Wesley. You proceed . 
force your remonstrance by adding, " ^ i 
ther has the expression any countenance • 
Scripture." I am really ashamed to dc. - 
our readers any longer upon so trivia, 
point. Therefore what I am going to i 
ply is only a word to yourself. You, Sir, 



488 



LETTERS TO THE 



can tell who it is that affirms in a certain 
hymn, 

For every man, 'tis finished, 'tis past. 
The world's forgiven for Jesus' sake. 

The world forgiven ? What, all the world, 
every child of Adam ? They who believe 
not on Christ and die in their sins ? This 
you cannot mean ; this you dare not assert ; 
this, I think, no mortal can suppose. You 
yourself therefore, by " the world," must 
intend "the believing world." And are 
you oflfended at Aspasio for commenting on 
your text ? for expressing plainly what is 
implied in your own words ? 

*' In the Lord shall all the house of Israel 
be justified." This text Aspasio quotes, 
and acquiesces in the common version, upon 
which you animadvert : " It ought unques- 
tionably to be rendered hy or through the 
Lord." How hard is Aspasio's lot ! If he 
does not use the exact language of Scripture, 
he is arraigned at your bar — witness the 
preceding objection ; if he does use the ex- 
act language of Scripture, as iit the present 
instance, you indict him for an erroneous 
translation. So that it is next to impossi- 
ble to escape your censure. 

In the Lord^ you affirm, is not the pure 
language of Scripture ; it is a wrong tran- 
slation, " and ought unquestionably to be 
rendered, hy or through the Lord." Yet, 
Quisquis adhuc una \partam colitasse Miner- 
vam. Whoever has learnt Hebrew no more 
than a month, will assure our English rea- 
der, that the prefix h is the very first word in 
<he Bible. Must it there be translated hy or 
through the beginning ? If our young scho- 
lar have only his psalter, he can show the 
same participle occurring three times with- 
in the first verse : In the counsel — in the 
way*-m the seat. Twice in the second 
verse : His delight is in the law — in his 
law will he exercise himself. Three times 
more in the remainder of the Psalm : 
*' Shall bring forth fruit in his season" — 
*' shall not stand in judgment" — " neither 
in the congregation of the righteous." Now 
let the English reader judge for himself, 
whether the Hebrew prefix must " unques- 
tionably be rendered" in all these places 
" by or through."" By or through his season ! 
By or through the congregation ! But I 
stop ; there is no need to apply all the pas- 
sages. Neither is there any need of criti- 
cal skill in languages to determine concern- 
ing any one of them. Common sense in 
this case is sufficiently qualified to be our 
critic and our arbitrator. I only wish. Sir, 
you had produced the evidence for the cor- 
rected version. Then the public might 
have seen on which side the balance were 
likely to turn, and which were the most co- 
gent logic : " Aspasio's doctrine is false, 
therefore the translation is wrong ; or, th( 



translation is fair, therefore his doctrine is 
true." 

By this time, I believe, the unlearned 
reader will begin to discern what degree of 
credit is due to your criticisms upon the 
original, and to your alteration of the com- 
mon version, when they are supported by 
nothing more than your bare assertion. I 
also begin to be apprehensive that our can- 
vassing the sense of words, and sifting the 
dead languages, will be no very agreeable 
entertainment to any reader : I will there- 
fore for the future be more concise in the 
execution of this lJusiness ; especially as 1 
have here given a specimen of what might 
be done. I will try if it is not possible to 
animate what would otherwise be dull, and 
to blend godly edifying with critical disqui- 
sition. 

" Ye are complete in him." With this 
translation also Mr. Wesley finds fault ; 
" The words literally rendered are. Ye are 
filled with him." I am ready to grant that 
places may be found where the preposition 
iv must be understood according to your 
sense. But then every one knows that this 
is not the native, obvious, literal meaning; 
rather a meaning swayed, influenced, mould- 
ed by the preceding or following word. 
The literal signification of tv uvrca is as we 
have rendered it. Nor is there the least 
occasion to depart from the received inter- 
pretation J it is suitable to the context, and 
to the scope of the whole epistle^ 

However, we will suppose your criticism 
to be just. Does this destroy or enervate 
Aspasio's argument ? Would you have one 
meaning contradict or supplant the other ? 
" Ye are filled with him, therefore ye are not 
" complete in him ?" Does the former sense 
include or imply the latter ? Can you, or I, 
or any one, be^filled with every requisite for 
our recovery and happiness, yet not be com- 
plete ? It seems therefore you get nothing 
by this criticism, but the satisfaction of do- 
ing violence to the phrase, without any im- 
provement of the sense, or any advantage to 
your cause. 

" The whole passage, (you affirm) re- 
lates to sanctification, not* to justification." 
Where is your proof, Sir? This we always 
expect. This Mr. Wesley seldom, if ever, 
condescends to give. " Yes, (he says,) 
any unprejudiced reader may observe it." A 
strange kind of proof ! reducible to no fi- 
gure in logic, unless there be a figure styled 
presumption. Was I to answer for the un- 
prejudiced reader, I think he would observe 
the very reverse. The words of the apostle 
are not a little forcible against your sense of 
the passage, as will appear from the transit 
tive adverb also. The next and the subse- 
quent verses, we allow, relate to sanctifica- 
tion : If this verse does the same, such is the 
manner of the apostle's reasoning, " In 



ilEV. MR. 

whom ye are sanctified, in whom also ye are 
sanctified." Whereas, if the first clause de- 
notes the justification of the Colossian con- 
verts through the righteousness of Christ ; 
if the following periods describe their sanc- 
tification, as a consequence of this most hap- 
pily operating privilege ; then the reasoning 
is just, and the transition graceful, " In him 
ye are completely justified, in him also ye 
are truly sanctified." 

The whole passage is calculated to teach 
us, that Christ is the fulness of our suffi- 
ciency. In him, and in him alone, there is 
enough to answer all the purposes of wis- 
dom, righteousness, sanctification, and re- 
demption. It is intended likewise to ad- 
monish us, that we should rest satisfied with 
him alone, in opposition to all the fond in- 
ventions of men, who would introduce some- 
thing else for the ground of our confidence 
and the cause of our consolation j as though 
it was said, — 

If indeed our Lord 3*esus Christ had been 
an ordinary person, or merely a created be- 
ing, ye might well be offended at my doc- 
trine : Ye might then with some colour of 
reason, seek to the maxims of philosophy for 
wisdom, or to the works of the law for 
righteousness. But Christ is an immensely 
glorious person, " for in him are hid all the 
treasures of wisdom and knowledge :" 
Christ is an incomparably exalted sovereign, 
" for he is the head of all principalities and 
powers :" Yea, Christ is the supreme incom- 
prehensible Jehovah, " for in him dwelleth 
all the fulness of the Godhead bodily." Be- 
ing therefore transplanted into him by faith, 
ye are complete partakers of him, ye have 
every blessing and all good. Thought can- 
not imagine, nor desire crave, any thing 
farther, greater, higher. 

Matchless privilege ! Exalted felicity ! O 
may the knowledge, the experimental know- 
ledge of it, fill our hearts as the waters cover 
the abyss of the sea ! Then will we sing 
the hymn which once expressed your senti- 
ments, and still expresses mine. 

Join earth and heaven to bless 

The Lord our righteousness. 

The mystery of redemption this. 
This the Saviour's strange design; 

Man's offence was counted his, 
Our's his righteousness divine. 

In him complete we shine. 

His death, his life is mine. 

Fully am I justified ; 
Free from sin, and more than free ; 

Guiltless, since for me he died. 
Righteous, since he lived for me.* 

The text lately quoted from Isaiah, is part 



* See p. 56 of Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Ano- 
nymous, indeed, but universally ascribed to Mr. 
Wesley. In theseexcellent lines, how strongly marked 
are the sentiments of the gospel ! Our offences so 
fully imputed to Christ, as to be accounted his. His 
righteousness so fully imputed to us, as to be account- 
ed our's. In him we are complete, because his most 
obedient life, and his all-atoning death are ours. We 
are guiltless, not through our repentance, or refor- 
matior.j but because lie has died for us. We are 



WESLEY. i89 

of a paragraph eminent for its dignity and 
usefulness. We then considered a fragment 
of it in a critical view ; let us now examine 
the whole of it with a devotional spirit. 
Thus examined, I trust it will be no longer 
a dry bone, but a feast of fat things full of 
marrow. Permit me to propose a correct 
translation of the original, to add a short il- 
lustration of the meaning, and then take my 
leave for the present. 

*' Look unto me and be saved, all the ends 
of the earth ; for I am God, and there is 
none else.* By myself have I sworn, the 
word of righteousnessf goeth out of my 
mouth, the word shall not return. To me 
every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall 
swear, saying, surely in the Lord have I 
righteousness! and strength. To him shall 
men come, and all that are offended in him 
shall be ashamed. In the Lord shall all the 
seed of Israel be justified, and in him shall 
they glory." 

Here the Son of God presents himself in 
all the glories of his person, and all the rich- 
es of his grace : presents himself as the ob- 
ject of faith, and the avithor of salvation. 
To be received by sinners without any re- 
commending qualities, or any pre-eminence 
of one above another. But hear his graci- 
ous words : — 

" Look unto me," wretched ruined trans- 
gressors, as the wounded Israehtes looked 
unto the brazen serpent. Look unto me 
dying on the cross as your victim, and obey- 
ing the law as your surety. Not by doing, 
but by looking and believing ; not by your 
own deeds, but by my works, and my suf- 
ferings, " be ye saved." This is the myste- 
rious, but certain way of salvation. Thus 
shall ye be delivered from guilt, rescued 
from hell, and reconciled to God — Who 
are invited to partake of this inestimable be- 
nefit ? " All the ends of the earth." Peo- 
ple of every nation under heaven ; of every 
station in life ; of every condition and every 
character, not excepting the chiefest of sin- 
ners. 

Is it possible that the obedience of one 
should save innumerable millions? It is 
not only possible but indubitable. " For I 
am God," infinite in dignity and power; 



righteous, not on account of any graces or attain- 
ments of our own, but because he has lived for us. 
To these truths I most cordially subscribe. This is 
that good old wine that once made Mr. Wesley's heart 
glad. He has since tasted new ; but 1 hope he will 
be brought to say, " The old is better." 

* Not any person, nor any thing. No person able 
to lend an helping hand : No thing- capable of yield- 
ing the least assistance. 

t " The word of righteousness," signifies, if not 
the whole gospel, that precious doctrine which is the 
gospel in epitome. 

t Righteousness. This is the precise signification 
of the original, which being in the plural number, 
seems to denote completeness. A righteousness, per- 
fect, entire, and lacking nothing: Having every 
thing necessary for our pardon, our acceptance, our 
everlasting justification. 



490 LETTERS 

therefore all sufficient, yea, omnipotent to 
save, to save all that come unto me, be the 
multitudes ever so great, or their cases ever 
so desperate. Is nothing to be done by 
transgressors themselves ? Are no condi- 
tions to be fulfilled on their part ? None — 
" there is nought beside me." No person 
can take any share in this great transac- 
tion. Nothing can in the least degree 
co-operate with my merits. Should you add 
to my obedience and death all that saints 
have performed, and martyrs have endured, 
it would be like adding a grain to the sands 
of the ocean, or a moment to the days of 
eternity. 

Such is my compassionate invitation, and 
this my inviolable decree. "I have not only 
spoken, but sworn ;" sworn by myself and 
all my incomprehensible excellencies. " The 
word of righteousness," that which relates 
to the grandest of all subjects, and most im- 
portant of all interests, is planned, adjust- 
ed, and unalterably determined. Now, even 
now, " it goes out of my mouth," is declar- 
ed with the utmost solemnity, and establish- 
ed by veracity itself. The word shall not 
return, either to be repealed by me, or 
frustrated by any other. What is the de- 
cree confirmed by this most awful oath ? 
We are all attention to hear it. " To me 
every knee shall bow." Every soul of man 
who desires to inherit eternal life, shall 
submit to my righteousness, and as an un- 
worthy creature, as an obnoxious criminal, 
obtain the blessing vt'holly through my 
atonement. " To me every tongue shall 
swear." Be man's supposed virtues ever 
so various, or ever so splendid, all shall be 
disclaimed, and my worthiness alone shall 
stand. Renouncing every other trust, they 
shall repose the confidence of their souls on 
me alone, and make public confession of 
this their faith before the wh jle world- But 
we, O Lord, are ignorant, we cannot order 
our speech by reason of darkness. This 
then shall be the form of your oath, such 
the tenor of your confession — 

Surely — It is a most wonderful, yet a 
most faithful saying, extremely comfortable 
and equally certain. Only — not in myself, 
not in a poor frail creature, but in the in- 
carnate Jehovah alone, in his divinely ex- 
cellent deeds, and unutterably meritorious 
sufferings, / have righteorisness, a righte- 
ousness without spot, without defect, and 
in all respects consummate ; such as satis- 
fies every requirement of the law, and most 
thoroughly expiates all my iniquities ; such 
as renders me completely accepted before 
my judge, and entitles me to everlasting 
life. From the joyful knowledge, the per- 
sonal appropriation, and the perpetual im- 
provement of this inestimable privilege, I 
have strength for my sanctifieation. Now 
do I indeed delight myself in the Lord, who, 



; TO THE 

perfectly reconciled, ana intinitely gracioii-s, 
has done so great things for me ; now do I 
cordially love my neighbour, and being so 
happy myself, utifeignedly long for his eter- 
nal happiness, that he may be a partaker 
with me of this great salvation. 

To this sovereign decree the prophet sets 
as it were his seal, or else in a transport of 
joy he foretells the accomplishment of it. 
Yes, my brethern, to him, even to thi* gra- 
cious Redeemer, s7ia// men come. I see them 
flying as clouds for multitude, as doves for 
speed. They believe the report of his gos- 
pel, and receive of his fulness. Whereas, 
all they that are offended in him, that caimot 
away with his doctrine, which pours con- 
tempt upon all human excellency, and will 
allow no righteousness to avail but that 
which is divine ; who refuse to come unto 
him, poor and miserable, and stript of every 
recommendation ; all they shall he ashamed. 
The fig-leaves of their own duties, or their 
own endowments, shall neither adorn them 
for glory, nor screen them from wrath, but 
shall abandon them to vengeance, and cover 
them with double confusion. While, on 
the other hand, all the seed of Israel, every 
true believer, shall be justified in the Lord. 
Against those persons no accusation shall 
be valid ; no condemnation shall take place. 
So magnificent is the majesty, so surpass- 
ingly efiicacious are the merits of their Sa- 
viour, that in him they shall not only con- 
fide, 6m< glory ; not only be safe, but triumph 
ant. Clothed with his incomparable right- 
eousness, they shall challenge every adver- 
sary, and defy every danger. 

To this portion of Scripture I have led 
back your thoughts, that I might not close 
with any disgusting sentiments, but might 
leave a sweet savour on your mind, on the 
reader's mind, and on the mind of, Rev- 
erend Sir, yours, &c. 



LETTER III. 

Reverend Sir,— Let me now resume 
my observations on your epistle ; which I 
do, not for the sake of disputing, but for 
the cause of truth. 

The gospel contains many sublime aiid 
glorious truths. But there is one, which, 
beyond all others, characterises its nature, 
its import, and design ; which makes it 
most eminently to differ from every other 
form of religion, professed or known in the 
world ; — I mean the doctrine of free justifi- 
cation, through the righteousness of Christ. 
This is to the religion of Jesus, what the 
particular features and turns of counten- 
ance are to each individual person. 



l^EV. MR 

■ 1 have sometimes aroused ir,yse!f with 
standing by a painter, and oliservng hi in at 
nis work. Here, I have been siiri)r)sed to 
see, how much a very little stroke would 
alter the aspect of his draught ; would turn 
the gay into a melancholy, or the composed 
7nto a frantic countenance. Several of Mr. 
■Wesley's touches are to appeaj-ance small ; 
but, I fear, they will be found to disfigure, 
more than a little, the heavenly portrait ; 
and give a new, not the native air, to the 
truth as it is in Jesus. But I proceed ; my 
business being to prove, not to blame- 
^ Sinners who betake themselves to the 
I all-sufficient Saviour for redemption, are 
fully accepted by God, for his beloved Son's 
sake. " This is Justification through im- 
puted righteousness," says Aspasio : " that 
remains to be proved," answers Mr. Wes- 
ley. I think it is pretty largely, and I 
would hope, it is satisfactorily proved, 
through the whole book. Nay, I find Mr. 
Wesley himself ere long acknowledging, 
that, " as to the doctrine we are agreed." 
Either therefore you have received the 
proof which you demand, or else you can 
suVimit without conviction, and agree with- 
out cause of agreement. Not to take ad- 
vantage of such slips, I would rather en- 
large upon what may be useful. 

i would ask Mr. Wesley, in what other 
way sinners can be justified or accepted, 
save only through imputed righteousness ? 
Through their own good deeds and holy 
tempers ? This supposes the fruits to be 
good, while the tree is corrupt ; and would 
make salvation to be of works, not of grace. 
Through their own faith standing in the 
law? Then they are justified before a per- 
feet God, by an imperfect endowment ; and 
life eternal is obtained by the exercises of 
their own mind, not by the merits of Jesus 
Christ. Are they justified without any 
righteousness, either wrought by themselves, 
<jr received' from another? This is an 
unworthy thought : this were an insuflfera- 
ble practice — Jehovah himself being judge. 
"He that justifieth the wicked is an abom- 
ination."! 

Say not, God is a free agent, and not 
bound to observe his own law- Say ra- 
ther, the rule of righteousness revealed in 
the law, is his most steadfast will, unchange- 
able as his nature. Consider also what 
this law requires : A satisfaction for sin, 



* " They who receive the gift of righteousness." 
Rom. V. 17. 

t Frov. xvii. 15. This is an invariable maxim. It 
is that word of God which endureth for ever. Yet it 
is no objection to his method of justifying the ungod- 
ly. Because he first imputes his Son's righteousness 
unto them ; thereby renders them triily and perfectly 
righteous ; then pronounces them such ; and as such", 
receives them to pardon, to favour, and eternal life. 
Does not the text, thus considered, afford an incon- 
testable argument for the necessity of an imputed 
righteousness ? 



WESLEY. 491 

not defective, but completely sufficient ; a 
jierfoi'mance of the command, not sincere 
only, but absolutely perfect. Will God, in 
justifying a sinner, disregard, contradict, 
overthrow his own law ? in no wise. Since 
then it insists upon what no mortal can 
yield, must not all flesh perish for ever? 

This would be the unavoidable conse- 
quence, if matters rested upon human abili- 
ties. But here the blessed gospel comes to 
our relief; shewing us, that God in his im- 
mense mercy and unsearchable wisdom, has 
found out a way, at once to satisfy the un- 
alterable law, and save insolvent man ; to 
justify even the chief of sinners, yet with- 
out the least violation of justice, truth, 
or holiness. What is this way ? his own 
Son accomplishes the great work. How ? By 
relaxing the precepts of the law, that we 
may perform them ? By disannulHng the 
sentence of the law, that we may escape it ? 
Heaven and earth shall pass away, before 
any such dishonourable expedient takes 
place. On the contrary, he gives satisfac- 
tion to the sentence, by suff"ering the tre- 
mendous punishment denounced; and he 
fulfils the precept, by yielding the sinless 
obedience required. Because this was to 
be finished in the nature which had trans- 
gressed, therefore he was made man ; be- 
cause this was to .be truly, or rather infin- 
itely meritorious, therefore the man was 
one person with the Godhead. 

Still it may be inquired, how the obe- 
dience of another can relieve my distress ? 
How indeed, but by God's transferring my 
guilt to him, and imputing his obedience to 
me. By this method, the thing is clearly 
and completely effected. Tn this method, 
I see a propriety and an efficacy that silence 
my doubts, and comfort my heart. Accor- 
dingly, it is written in the Scriptures, " God 
was in Christ reconciling the world to him- 
self, not imputingtheirtrespasses unto them." 
God ; the work was too arduous to be per- 
formed by a created agent. Therefore 
God himself loas in Christ. None less 
than the almighty Lord could execute the 
business. But if he undertake it, how suc- 
cessfully must it be carried on, and how 
gloriously finished ! Rc'conciliny the world ; 
not setting poor transgressors to reconcile 
themselves, but himself contriving all, pro- 
viding all, doing and suffering all that was 
needful for this great purpose. Being him- 
self the creditor, the sponsor, and payer of 
the debt, how was all this brought to pass ? 
By not imputing our trespasses unto us j but 
taking them all upon himself ; bearing them 
all, in his own body upon the tree ; and 
sustaining the vengeance due to all our 
crimes. Thus was the Holy One and the 
just "made sin for us ; that we (sinful dust 
and ashes,) might (in the very same man- 
ner) be made the righteousness of God m 



492 



LETTERS TO THE 



him." The former could be only by impu- 
tation, and so onjy can be the latter. 

If men talk of being accepted for Christ's 
sake, yet reject the imputation of righteous- 
ness, they must have very inadequate no- 
tions concerning the relation which Christ 
bears to his people, and the nature of his 
mediatorial undertaking. Does this seem 
obscure ? I explain myself : A person may 
conduct himself so honourably and excel- 
lently, as, on account of his worthy deeds, 
to obtain favour in behalf of another ; and 
this without being his surety, or any thing 
like his proper righteousness. Witness the 
famous instance of the two brothers, Amyn- 
tas and ^schylus. The former was a gal- 
lant hero, who exposed his life, and lost his 
arm, in defence of his country : The latter 
was an abandoned and infamous profligate, 
whose crimes had brought him to the bar 
of public justice. The hero, on the day of 
trial, appeared as an advocate for his bro- 
ther. He spoke nothing, but only lifted up 
to view the maimed and dismembered arm. 
This silent oratory struck the assembly, and 
pleaded so powerfully that the criminal was 
unanimously acquitted. Here was an ac- 
quittal of one, in consideration of the merits 
of another; but then the- obnoxious party 
had no special interest in those merits. 
•I'hey were not acquired or exercised with a 
particular reference to his good. He could 
not say, They are mine. Neither did they 
make him, in any degree or in any sense, 
righteous. Whereas, the reverse of all this 
is true with regard to Jesus Christ and jus- 
tified sinners. This you and I, Sir, have 
asserted. Let us never retract the good 
confession. But, as it is the truth of the 
gospel, let us still and for ever say, 

In him complete we shine ; 

Because 

Ours is rgliteousness divine. 

Theron, speaking of the terms inherent 
and imputed, calls them nice distinctions and 
metaphysical subtilties. Mr. Wesley makes 
Aspasio apply the depreciating remark to 
the active and passive righteousness of Christ. 
Whereas, he says no such thing j he means 
no such thing. He is treating of a subject 
totally different. And were he to maintain 
such a sentiment, every one must observe, 
it would entirely overthrow his whole 
scheme. 

" You oblige us to make use of metaphy- 
sical subtilties, by confounding those very 
different ideas, that is, Christ's active and 
passive righteousness." I could hardly be- 
lieve my eyes for some time, though both 
of them attested that this was produced as 
a quotation from Aspasio. In which place, 
and for a oonsiderable space before and af- 
ter, the subject of debate is the difference 
between inherent and imputed righteousness. 



I was, I own, quite vexed to see Aspasio 
so maltreated ; his discourse so misrepre- 
sented ; and so little regard paid to literary 
justice. And glad I am, that I did not give 
vent to my thoughts just at that instant. I 
might have been too warm, and not have 
spared the rod. But upon cooler considera- 
tion I began to recover, and the prescrip- 
tion of Horace was of service, 

Amara lento temperat risu. 

I began to call your conduct, not artifice 
or slight of hand, but incogitancy or thought 
misapplied. As you had been thinking so 
long upon the other topic, it dwelt upon your 
imagination, kept this from your attention, 
and led you both to mistake and to miscall 
things. Like a certain preacher, who, hav- 
ing lost his fortune in the bubbles of the 
year 1719, and having occasion to mention 
the deliverance of the Israelites from Egypt, 
told his audience, that Pharaoh and his host 
were all drowned in the South Sea ! Poor 
man ! He meant the Red Sea. 

Mr. Wesley proceeds : " We do not con- 
found the active and passive righteousness." 
Does Aspasio, Sir ? he that considers them 
particularly and distinctly ? he that examines 
each with a critical and minute exactness ? 
If this be to confound, order and confusion 
have changed their nature. 

" Neither do we separate them." It is 
somewhat difficult to understand what you 
mean by separating the active and passive 
righteousness of our Lord. Separating them 
as to their influence ? Then you must be 
sensible this is never done by Aspasio. 
You cannot but know, that he disclaims 
such a refinement. He protests against such 
a practice. Do you mean, treating therr as 
things really distinct, though always uniting 
their agency ? Then I am at a loss to re- 
concile Mr. Wesley v.nth himself. For in 
the very next paragraph he thus expresses 
himself: " Through the merits of his life 
and death, every believer is justified." Are 
not the merits of his life here distinguished 
from the merits of his death ? Does not 
the former expression denote his active, the 
latter his passive obedience ? Or would you 
be understood to mean, " Through the me- 
rits of his life, which ave nothing else but 
the merits of his death ?" If you would not 
speak in this manner, so unworthy of your 
better judgment, you do the very thing which 
you blame. This is done stHl more appa- 
rently in one of your hymns, where we see, 
not only a separation, but a distinct use and 
application of the separated subjects : 

Grant this, O Lord, for thou hast died 

That I might be forgiven ; 
Thou hast the righteousness supplied. 

For which I merit heaven. 

I could easily excuse Mr. Wesley for be- 
ing a little inconsistent with himself, did i\<d 
not also venture to confront the apostle by 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



493 



the following' assertion : " Neither have we 
any authority from Scripture, for either 
thinking or speaking of one separate from 
the other." Does not St. Paul in one pas- 
sage speak of the ohedience, in another of 
the death of Christ ? Does he not in one 
place enlarge upon the righteousness, in 
another upon the blood, of Christ ? If so, 
we have an authority from Scripture, we 
have the example of the chiefest apostle, for 
this way of thinking and speaking. 

We have also a concurrent testimony 
from the genius and import of the original 
language. Do not y^raxajj and Sisceciotruv^ 
signify somewhat different from and 
tu.ya.rof ? Are there any approved writers 
who use these words promiscuously, as so 
many synonymous and convertible terms ? 
If not, the voice of grammar will vindicate 
the propriety of our conduct, while We as- 
sign a separate discourse to each subject, 
and exhibit them severally in the most dis- 
tinct view. 

Are not light and heat always united in 
the sun? Is the naturalist to blame who 
considers them distinctly, and examines each 
property in a separate treatise ? You would 
commend this practice in the philosopher, as 
the way to enter thoroughly into the know- 
ledge of his subject ; and why should you 
explode or censure it in the Christian di- 
vine? Are not theological truths as wor- 
thy of a circumstantial and accurate investi- 
gation as philosophical ? Will they not as 
amply reward our diligence, and yield as 
rich advantage to the serious inquirer ? 

" The righteousness which justifies sin- 
ners, is always wrought out," says Aspasio : 
" A crude unscriptural expression," replies 
Mr. Wesley. It may be so. But if the 
expression is plain and true, I will sit down 
content. This, however, you will allow me 
to observe, that it is no new one, and is not 
far from scriptural. Worketh righteousness, 
you know, is a scriptural phrase. Does the 
word out spoil it, or the word already ? I 
suppose the latter may be most oiFensive. 
Yet you speak, in this very paragraph, of 
being " justified by the merits of Christ's 
life and death." Are not these matters al- 
ready transacted ? Is not the merit of them 
already perfect ? Or can any language ex- 
press these things more clearly, and aflSrm 
them more strongly, than those emphatical 
words in one of your own hymns ? 

Let us for this faith contend. 
Sure salvation is its end : 
Heaven already is begun. 
Everlasting life is won. 

Pardon me, then, Sir, if I still suspect, 
that the doctrine and its consequences, ra- 
ther than the expression and its crudity, 
awaken your jealousy. If this doctrine be 
admitted, if the justifying righteousness be 
already wrought, it must absolutely overturn 



all your prerequisites, qualifications, and 
conditions — conditions of repentance, obe- 
dience, and I know not what besides. We 
must say to every one of them, as Jehu said 
to the messengers of Joram, What hast thou 
to do with the grand article of justification ? 
Get thee behind me. Could they be fulfill- 
ed, they would come a day too late ; like 
the siclde, when the harvest is reaped. 
Could they be fulfilled in all their imagina- 
ry dignity, they would, in this relation, be 
needless ; like a proposal for augmenting the 
splendour of the sun. 

" The righteousness which justifies sin- 
ful man, was set on foot when God sent 
forth his Son from the habitation of his ho- 
liness and glory, to be born of a woman, and 
made subject to the law : It was carried on 
through the whole course of our Saviour's 
life, in which he always did such things as 
were pleasing to his heavenly Father : It 
was completed at that ever- memorable, that 
grand period, when the blessed Immanuel 
bowed his dying head, and cried with a 
strong triumphant voice. It is finished."'-'' 
Upon this extract from Aspasio's discourse, 
Mr. Wesley exclaims, " O vain philoso- 
phy !" — Philosophy ! This philosophy, 
Sir? Never did 1 hear, till this moment, 
such doctrines ascribed to philosophy. But 
this I have heard, and this I believe, that 
the world, even the learned and philosophic; 
world, by their boasted wisdom knew not 
God, nor God's method of salvation by the 
sufferings of an innocent, and the obedience 
of a divine person. Their philosophy pre- 
judiced them against it, puffed them up with 
a vain conceit of their own sufficiency, and 
set them at the greatest distance from sub- 
mitting to the righteousness of God. 

I wish. Sir, you would shew .me in which 
of the philosophers I might find these sacred 
sentiments ; or a grain, or a spice, or a savour 
of them. I have for a considerable time 
laid aside my Plato, and have no more in- 
cHnation to turn over my Seneca ; because 
I can see nothing like this divinely precious 
truth adorning and enriching their pages. 
But if you will discover this golden vein in 
their works, I will immediately renew my 
acquaintance with them ; and will do the 
philosophers a piece of justice which Mr. 
Wesley denies them : 1 will not call their 
philosophy vain, but the " wisdom of God, 
and the povrer of God." A righteousness 
wrought out, and a redemption obtained for 
us ! The former divine ! The latter eternal ! 
These, rightly understood, make us, beyond 
all the treasures of literature, wise. These, 
habitually enjoyed, will, more effectually 
than all the delineations of morality, or ex- 
hortations to virtue, render us holy. 

A divine righteousness (pardon me for 
dwelling on my favourite topic) already 
wrought ! A groat redemption perfectly 



494 LETTERS 

finished ! And this by the abasement, the 
ignominy, the indignities — -by the cries, the 
agonies, the blood of our Saviour ; yea, of 
our God, " in fashion as a man !" in the form 
of a servant, a slave, an execrable malefac- 
tor! What like this did a thousand philoso- 
phers teach ? What like this do a thousand 
of their volumes contain, to stab our pride, 
to tame our fury, and to quench our lust ; to 
kindle our benevolence, to inflame our devo- 
tion ; to make us, in a word, " wise unto 
salvation ?" 

" The plain truth is, Christ lived and 
tasted death for ever man." *' To be sure, 
then, since every man is not saved by him, 
he lived and died only to make their salva- 
tion possible." From this, and other hints, 
I guess your opinion to be, that Christ, by 
his life and death, obtained only a possibi- 
lity of salvation ; which salvation is to be- 
come our own, upon performing terms and 
conditions, bringing with us prerequisites 
and qualifications. If I mistake you, Sir, in 
this case, you have nothing more to do, than 
simply to deny my supposition. This ex- 
culpates you at once. I shall rejoice to 
hear you say, as Christ made us, and not 
we ourselves ; in like manner he saves us, 
and not we ourselves. No human endow- 
ments, no human performances, but Christ 
alone, is the author of eternal salvation. 

Should you reply, True, Christ is the au- 
thor of eternal salvation, but to those only 
who obey Him : I must then ask, what obe- 
dience Christ requires ? the law says, Do, 
and live. Christ, the end of the law, says, 
Believe in me, and live. Be verily persuad- 
ed, that I am sufficient for thy salvation, 
without any working of thine at all. Is not 
the Son, the Son of the most high God, 
given unto thee in the divine record ? Be 
satisfied with his doing and suffering, with- 
out wishing for or thinking of any thing more, 
to procure thy final acceptance — Let no 
one account lightly of this obedience. It is 
the obedience of faith ; the obedience suit- 
ed to the name of Jesus ; obedience to the 
first and great command of the gospel. Be- 
yond all other expedients, it excludes boast- 
ing ; and at the same time produces that 
genuine love, that filial fear, which the law 
of works requires in vain. 

Only to make a thing possible, and to 
effect it, are widely different. When our 
king fits out a fleet, and gives his admiral a 
commission to harass the French coasts, and 
destroy the French shipping, he makes the 
thing possible ; but to carry the design into 
execution, to accomplish the enterprise now 
become practicable, is a far more arduous task, 
and a far more honourable achievement. 
How strangely do those writers derogate 
from the dignity and glory of the Redeemer, 
who would ascribe to him what corresponds 



TO THE 

with the former, and attribute to man what 
bears a resemblance to tlie luttei- ! 

If Christ only made our salvation pos- 
sible, then we are to execute the plan ; we 
are to face the enemy, to sustain the charge, 
and silence the battery; we are to climb the 
steep, to enter the breach, and bring off the 
standards ; and so, in all reason, the hon- 
our and praise must be our own. Whereas, 
the gospel gives all the honour to the Captain 
of our Salvation : He bore the heat and 
burden of the dreadful day : He made recon- 
ciliation for iniquity, and brought in ever- 
lasting righteousness : So that all our offi- 
cious attempts, like a pirmace arriving after 
the victory, should be told, ' it is finished 
the great salvation is already wrought. And 
instead of being dissatisfied or disappointed, 
methinks we should rejoice, unfeignedly re- 
joice, in the accomplishment of the glorious 
work. 

If it should occur to the reader's mind, 
that the Christian life is represented as a 
warfare ; and that we ourselves are com- 
manded to fight, though under the banner 
of our divine Leader; To this doubt I 
would answer, the Canaanite is still in the 
land J and we fight, not to gam the country, 
but only to subdue the rebels. 

" Whoever perverts so glorious a doc- 
trine, shows he never believed.'' This may 
be the substance of what Aspasio main- 
tains, though not represented so fully or so 
clearly as he has expressed himself; how- 
ever, such a small wrong we will readily ex- 
cuse. It was done with no sinister inten- 
tion, but for the sake of brevity. 

To this position Mr. Wesley replies, 
Not so ; that is, they did really and truly 
believe ; but after their belief, they aposta- 
tized and fell from the faith : They were 
some time the members of Christ, and tem- 
ples of the Holy Ghost ; but, quickly sev- 
ered from their divine head, they became 
the slaves of the devil, and brands for the 
everlasting burning : Their names were in- 
deed written in heaven ; but it seems the 
heaverdy records were less faithful than the 
parish register : They were quickly erased, 
and their place in the book of life knew 
them no more. Or thus : They did as real- 
ly and truly believe, as those who are wow 
in the mansions of glory; but, after their 
true knowledge of the name of the Lord 
Jesus ; after their full conviction of his 
sufficiency and faithfulness for their salva- 
tion, even such as inclined and enabled * 
them to put their trust in him alone, for 
their acceptance with God, they were dis- ^ 
appointed. Though Christ called them his ; 
sheep, as thus hearing his voice, yet he did 
not give unto them eternal life according to 
his promise, but suffered Satan to pluck them 
out of his hand. 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



495 



These sentiments have no very probable, 
much less have they a pleasing or recom- 
mending aspect. Let us inquire whether 
they comport with St_John's determina- 
tion of the case. Speaking of such back- 
sliders, he says " They went out from us, 
but they were not of us." Mr. Wesley, to 
be consistent with himself, should say on 
this occasion. Not so ; they were of you, 
but they fell away from you. The apostle 
proceeds, " For if they had been of us, no 
doubt they would have continued with us." 
Had they been really converted, they would 
most undoubtedly have continued in our 
doctrine and fellowship. Their revolt from 
our doctrine is a manifest proof that they 
never truly received it, nor with their heart 
believed it. Their departure from our fel- 
lowship, is an evident indication that they 
were, notwithstanding all their professions, 
still carnal, and never renewed by grace. 

Mr. Wesley produces a text from St. 
Peter, with a view to support his objection. 
They who " turn back as a dog to his vo- 
mit, had once escaped the pollutions of the 
world through the knowledge of Christ." 
Here and elsewhere I perceive the cannon 
roar, but without feeling the ball. Before 
this piece of sacred artillery can be brought 
to bear upon us, it will be necessary to 
prove, that the knowledge of Christ, or even 
believing in Christ, always signifies true 
faith. In some places it certainly does ; in 
other places, it signifies no such thing. 
" Though I have all knowledge, says the 
apostle, yet even wiih this specious endow- 
ment I may be nothing." There is a know- 
ledge, says the same author, which, instead 
of edifying, or establishing the soul in godli- 
ness, puffeth up with pride. We are like- 
wise assured, that Simon the sorcerer, 
though in the gall of bitterness and the bond 
of iniquity, yet had "knowledge of the 
things which concern the kingdom of 
God, and the name of Jesus Christ nay, 
that he also believed, yet 'had neither lot 
iiui- portion in the inestimable blessing. 

Let us attend to the apostle's manner, 
and we shall be led to put the same inter- 
pretation upon the phrase, as it is used in 
the passage before us. These people are 
not described like the true believers to whom 
he addresses the epistle. Here is no mention 
of their being " partakers of a divine na- 
ture ; of being born again by the incorrupt- 
ible seed ; or of having their souls purified 
by the Spirit." They are only said to have 
" escaped the pollutions of the world." 
Again, the word expressive of these pollu- 
tions is (jna.(r[j,y.Tc/., which denotes the gross- 
est excesses, and most scandalous iniquities. 
Consequently, their abstaining from such 
abomination^? implies no more than what is 
called a negative goodness, or a mere exter- 
nal reformation. Their lusts had been re- 



strained only, not subdued. Therefore the 
unhappy wretches were easily overcome by 
their old corruptions. It is farther ob- 
servable, that St. Peter never considers 
these persons as new creatures. He calls 
them by no other name than the dog and 
the sow. Such they were at first ; no bet- 
ter, under all their profession of Christiani- 
ity ; and no other, even in their foulest re- 
lapses. When they returned again to their 
vomit, or other filthy practices, they return- 
ed to their own. 

There is, then, a knowledge of Christ, 
which is only superficial and notional, floats 
idly on the understanding, but neither pene- 
trates nor sanctifies the heart. There is also 
a knowledge of Christ, which is wrought out 
by the Spirit, and ingrafted into the soul ; 
which receives the gift of righteousness, and 
brings justification into the conscience : 
the comfort and joy of which mortify the 
love of sin, and produce the life of holiness. 
This knowledge. Sir, may you and 1 teach ; 
in this knowledge may our hearers and read - 
ers abound ; and may the divine power 
give us, by means of this knowledge, all 
things pertaining to life and godliness. 

" The goodness of God leadeth to re- 
pentance." " This is unquestionably true ;" 
says Mr. Wesley ; " but the nice metaphy- 
sical doctrine of imputed righteousness — ." 
Should you not rather have said, the nice 
metaphysical phrase ? since, as to llie doc- 
trine, we are, according to your ow n con- 
fession, agreed; bound, therefore, each of 
us equally bound, to clear it of the conse- 
quences with which it may be charged by 
the author of the Pieservative, or any 
other objector. And as to the phrase, I 
cannot understand by what authority &Ir. 
Wesley calls it metaphysical. Theron, it is 
true, uses the word, and applies it »:o the 
present subject ; but does not Mr. Wesley 
know, that Theron often personates an ene- 
my, and speaks the language of unbelief? — 
Be pleased, Sir, to explain your term, and 
show in what sense it is compatible with 
this article of my faith : " I am acquitted 
and counted righteous before God, only 
through the imputation of my Saviour's obe- 
dience and death ;" which is, both in style 
and sentiment, truly evangelical, but in no 
degree, that I can discern, metaphysical. 

When Mr. Wesley adds, " This leads 
not to repentance, but to licentiousness," 
he speaks what we understand, not what 
we allow. Will any one say, that specula- 
tive reasoning upon the goodness of God, 
or contemplating it barely in our ideas, 
leadeth to repentance ; but when we taste 
and enjoy, when we apply and appropriate, 
his profusely rich liberality in Christ, we are 
thereby prompted to neglect, abuse, aisd 
dishonour our great benefactor ? Or shall 
it be said, the divine goodness, manifested 



496 LETTERS 

in common providence and inferior instan- 
ces, tends to awaken love and work godli- 
ness; but the same divine goodness, shin- 
ing forth in the most illustrious manifesta- 
tion that men or angels ever knew ; shining 
forth with a glory, a richness, a perfection, 
sufficient to transport heaven and earth with 
joy unspeakable — this goodness tends to ex- 
cite contempt of God, and to cherish carnal 
indulgence ? Such an insinuation, so de- 
preciatory to the righteousness of the bless- 
ed Jesus, I had much rather have Heard in 
a Jewish synagogue, than have seen in Mr. 
Wesley's writings. 

No, Sir, this and this alone, leadeth a sin- 
ner to repentance. Not all the munificence 
of the Deity, neither the rain from heaven, 
nor fruitful seasons, neither the fatness of 
the earth nor*the abundance of the seas, can 
take away the enmity of our nature, and re- 
concile our affections to God. Nothing, 
nothing but a sense of pardon and accept- 
ance, through the work finished on Imman- 
uei's cross. If you please to review the 
text, you will not affirm that the apostle is 
asserting the efficacious influence of provi- 
dential goodness on the hearts of men. He 
is evidently inveighing against the gross and 
almost general abuse of such bounty. 
Though it ought, it does not produce grati- 
tude and duty. It would indeed upon up- 
right, but it does not thus operate upon de- 
praved minds. No cause is adequate to 
this effect, but free justification through 
Jesus Christ. 

" The believer cannot but add to his 
faith, works of righteousness." "During 
his first love," says Mr. Wesley, " this is 
often true ; but it is not true afterwards, as 
we know and feel by melancholy experience." 
How, Sir ! Do you yourself feel this ? 
Where, then, is your sinless perfection ? 
Can they be perfect whose love ceases to 
glow, and whose zeal loses its activity ? 
Does Mr. Wesley himself make this con- 
fession ? Let him then say with us, and let 
us say with invariable steadfastness, and 
with increasing gratitude. Blessed be God 
for perfection in Jesus Christ. 

Do you learn. Sir, what is here acknow- 
ledged, by observations made upon others ? 
Then those others, I apprehend, if they do 
not exercise themselves in good works, ei- 
ther have no faith, and deceive both you 
and themselves ; or else they intermit and 
discontinue the exertion of their faith ; 
which neither detracts from the efficacy of 
the principle, nor disproves Aspasio's opin- 
Kon. It is not said the believer never trips 
nor faulters in the course of his obedience ; 
but he always adds to his faith the duties 
and works of obedience. Whenever the 
former acts, the latter constantly ensue. 
So long as we live by the faith of the Son 
of God, we shall not fail to bring forth those 



TO THE 

fruits of righteousness which are through 
Jesus Christ. 

This is strongly maintained by Aspasio 
in another place : " It is as impossible -for 
the sun to be in his meridian height, and 
not dissipate darkness, or diffuse light, as 
for faith to exist in the soul, and not exalt 
the temper and meliorate the conduct." 
This is very forcibly implied in our Lord's 
interrogation to his disciples. Where is your 
faith? It must be dormant and inactive, 
like the sap of the trees in winter, or like 
'the faculty of reasoning in sleep ; other- 
wise, it would banish your fears, even amidst 
the raging storm, and produce an undaunt- 
ed confidence in God your Saviour. The 
design of all this is, to evince the wisdom 
of the gospel, which lays such a stress upon 
faith ; so frequently urges the necessity ot 
faith, above and before all things; repre- 
senting it as the principal work of the divine 
Spirit, and the great instrument of receiving 
salvation. Hence it appears that the sa 
cred plan is not formed in vain ; much less 
is it calculated to suppress or discourage 
real holiness. 

" We no longer obey, in order to lay the 
foundation for our final acceptance : " These 
words I read with pleasure. — " That foun- 
dation is already laid in the merits of Christ ; " 
These I contemplate with still greater sa- 
tisfaction. But when 1 come to the fol- 
lowing clause, " Yet we obey, in order to 
our final acceptance through his merits," 
with disappointment and regret I cry, How 
is the gold become dim ! how is the most 
fine gold changed ! 

A foundation, for what ? Aspasio would 
reply, For pardon, for reconciliation, and for 
everlasting salvation ; for peace of con- 
science, for access to God, for every spi- 
ritual and eternal blessing. A foundation, 
of what kind? In all respects perfect ; in- 
capable of any augmentation ; not to be 
strengthened, enlarged, or improved by all 
the duties and all the deeds of prophets, 
apostles, martyrs ; because it has omnipo- 
tence for its establishment. A foundation, 
for whom ? For sinners ; for the vilest and 
most miserable of sinners ; that all guilty 
and undone wretches may come, and though 
ever so weary, ever so heavy laden, may 
cast their burden upon this Rock of ages, 
in full assurance of finding rest, and obtain- 
ing safety. 

This is cheering ; this is charming. What 
pity it is that such an illustrious truth should 
be clouded, such a precious privilege spoil- 
ed, by that ungracious sentence, " We obey 
in order to our final acceptance !" But is 
this. Sir, your constant profession? I must 
do you the justice to own, that you have 
happier moments, and more becomiiig ap- 
prehensions. When you join in public wor- 
ship, this is your humble and just acknow- 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



497 



ledgment, " Although we be unworthy 
through our matiifold sins to offer unto thee 
any sacrifice; yet we beseech thee to accept 
this our bounden duty and service." When 
you criticise upon Aspasio, the note is 
t-hanged, and this is the purport of your 
strain, " We beseech thee to accept us on 
account of these our services, for we do 
them, O Lord, with a professed view to 
this end." To implore acceptance for our 
duties, confesses them to be mean and 
contemptible; whereas, to expect accep- 
tance on their account, strongly intimates, 
their excellency ; that they are worthy in a 
very high degree, so as to obtain favour, not 
for themselves only, but for a miserable 
creature also, who confesses himself subject 
to manifold sins. 

I said, " on account of ;" for if you obey 
in order to your final acceptance, surely you 
must expect final acceptance and eternal life 
on account of your own obedience. A poor 
object' displays his sores, and relates his 
distress, in order to obtain your alms : Does 
he not then expect your alms on account of 
his sores, his distress, and his piteous tale ? 
What a coalition is here between Mr. Wes- 
ley and the subjects of the triple crown ! 1 
find the whole council of Trent establish- 
ing his sentiments by their anathematizing 
decree. These are their words : *' If any 
one shall say that the righteous ought not 
for their own good works to expect the eter- 
nal reward through the merits of Jesus 
Christ, let him be accursed," De Bon. Oper. 
Can. xxvi. Do you speak of the merit of 
Christ ? So do they. Do you, in some 
sense, allow Christ to be the foundation ? 
So do they. Are your works to rear the 
edifice, and perform the most respectable 
part of the business ? So are theirs. 

By this time, I believe, the thoughtful 
reader will guess the reason why you oppose 
and decry imputed righteousness. You are 
solicitous, it seems, not barely for works of 
obedience, but for their value and credit in 
the affair of salvation ; for their significancy 
and influence in winning the good will of 
Jehovah. Since this is your notion, you 
may well be offended at Christ's imputed 
righteousness. This will admit of no part- 
ner or coadjutor. This, Sir, in the case of 
ustification, pours contempt upon all your 
most laborious exercises, and admired at- 
tainments. Yea, this being divine and in- 
conceivably excellent, pours all around a 
blaze of glory, in which all our puny doings 
are lost, as the stars in the meridian sun- 
.shine. 

" We obey in order to our final accep- 
tance.'* Methinks this discovers no more 
gratitude than wisdom. Is it not an offici- 
ous indignity to that noble goodness which 
has set forth Jesus Christ for a propitiation ? 
Is it not a contemptuous disregard of that 



heavenly voice which said, with so much so- 
lemnity, " in him I am well 'pleased" with 
the children of men ? Does this exalt, does 
it not degrade, the Saviour? Does it mor- 
tify, does it not cherish, the pride of man ? 
According to this scheme, the merits ot our 
Lord are the foundation, not immediately of 
our acceptance, but of that situation only in 
which we are supposed capable of acquiring 
it ourselves. They are, in short, no more 
than a mere pedestal, on which human worth, 
or rather human vanity, may stand exalted, 
and challenge the favour of Heaven. 

Ah, Sir ! Acceptance with God is an 
immensely rich and glorious blessing ; a high 
and transcendently precious privilege : in- 
comparably too high and glorious to be ob- 
tained, in any degree, by such mean obedi- 
ence as yours and mine. The pardon of 
rebels against the King of kings ! The re- 
ception of leprous sinners into the bosom of 
heaven ! Shall such effects — than which 
nothing can be greater ; shall such benefits 
— than which nothing can be richer — be 
ascribed to human obedience ? What but 
the very distraction of our disease can have 
occasioned, or can account for, a thought 
so extreme in absurdity ? [Shall we, sor- 
did wretches, with our ulcerous sores, 
our withered limbs, and a stupor over all 
our faculties ; shall we think ourselves able 
to do something for him who needeth not 
the service of angels ? Nay, to do some- 
thing considerable enough to found a claim 
to that transcendent honour and happiness, 
the light of his countenance ?] Our adora- 
tion ! Our thanksgivings ! Our praises ! 
Our prayers ! Our preaching ! Oui- sa- 
cramental duties ! What are they all but 
filthy rags, Isa. Ixiv. 6, compared with his 
inconceivable holiness and glory? What 
part of his work do we attempt, but we de- 
base it with our deplorable imperfections, or 
pollute it with our very touch ? — Shame 
then belongs to us, shame and confusion of 
face, whenever we look to ourselves or our 
own performances ; while all our comfort, 
all our hope, is to be derived from the only 
righteous one, Christ Jesus. 

If we know not enough of our own mean- 
ness and impotency, let us listen to the 
prophet, Isaiah xl. 15, 16, 17. In order 
to our acceptance with God, he informs us, 
Lebanon with all her stately cedars is not 
sufficient to burn, nor all the beasts that 
range through her extensive shades, suffi- 
cient for a burnt-offering. Nations, whole 
nations, avail no more than single persons. 
Should they unite their abilities, and exert 
all their efforts, to do something which may 
recommend them to Jehovah ; all would be 
mean, ineffectual, despicable. Mean, as the 
drop of a bucket, which falls to the ground, 
and none regards it. Ineffectual as the dust 
upon the balance, which wants even that 
2 K 



498 



LETTERS TO THE 



small degree of impetus necessary to turn 
the most nicely poised scales ; despicable as 
the atom that floats in the air, and has not 
weight enough to settle itself on any object. 
Should you reply, In all these things there is 
some, though very little substance : the 
prophet farther declares, that all nations 
in the world, with all their virtues, accom- 
plishments, and works, would before the 
infinitely majestic God be as nothing, less 
than nothing, yea, vanity itself ; incapable, 
absolutely incapable of winning his favour, 
or doing any thing worthy of his notice. 
Blessed, therefore, for ever blessed be di- 
vine grace, that we have a great High-priest, 
in whom God is pleased, is well please^, 
and his very soul delighteth ; \fhose sacri- 
fice and whose work have merited all the 
good that sinners can want, or the Almigh- 
ty can bestow. 

If we are not yet duly humbled, nor will- 
ing to profess ourselves beholden to divine 
grace alone ; if we still resolve to be princi- 
pals or partners with the one Mediator in- 
the purchase of the inestimable jewel, let 
us fear, lest the Lord our righteousness re- 
sent such a dishonour done to himself, and 
swear in his wrath, that we shall have neither 
lot nor portion in this matter. Of this he 
has expressly warned us by his apostle ; " If 
ye be circumcised, Christ shall profit you 
nothing." What would St Paul teach us 
by this solemn protestation ? that no Jew 
can be saved ? himself was an Hebrew 
the Hebrews, circumcised the eighth day. 
That a Christian would, by receiving cir- 
cumcision after his conversion to Christ, 
forfeit all his orivileges ? No ; for he him- 
self circum<3ised Timothy, to gain him a fair 
hearing from the judaizing bigots. Or is 
cirumcision here used by way of synecdoche 
for the ceremonial law ; teaching us, that as 
the Mosaic rites were now abolished, an at- 
tempt to continue the observance of them 
would be an unpardonable opposition to the 
designs of providence ? The charitable com- 
promise, recorded in the xivth to the Ro- 
mans, leads to a different conclusion. Or 
did those seducing teachers, who required 
this conformity from the Gentile converts, 
require them to renounce Christ, and re- 
lapse into mere Judaism ? Neither is this at 
all supposable. They only required such a 
conformity, " in order to their acceptance 
through his merits ;" which they never re- 
jected, but only placed as a foundation for 
their own. 

What then can be meant by, " Christ 
shall profit you nothing, if ye be circumcis- 
ed ?" If ye make circumcision, or any thing 
whatever besides the righteousness of Christ, 
necessary to your acceptance with God, ye 
shall receive no advantage from all that the 
Redeemer has done or suffered ? This is to 
halt between works and grace, between 



Christ and self : and such divided regard 
be will interpret as an affront rather than an 
acceptable homage. Indeed, this is in 
Christians the grand .apostasy. By this 
they deny the sufficiency of their Saviour's 
most consummate righteousness. They 
cast themselves entirely out of the covenant 
of grace, and must expect no salvation but 
by doing the whole law. 

This is the awful apostolic caution : To 
which let me subjoin the plain apostolic in- 
struction. Ye are accepted, says St. Paul, 
not partially, but entirely ; not ocasionally 
but finally, in the Beloved, All acceptance, 
of whatever kind or whatever da'ie, is wholly 
in him, not in any thing of our own. The 
aifthor to the Hebrews affirms, That Christ 
" hath obtained redemption," not left it to be 
accomplished, either in greater or smaller 
measure, by our diligence and duties. No ; 
he himself hath obtained, both present and 
final, yea, complete and eternal "redenop- 
tion for us." And will, you. Sir, ascribe to 
your ovv'n obedience what the apostle so ex- 
pressly ascribes, and so entirely appropri- 
ates, to the blessed Jesus ? The same writer 
assures us that Christ, " by one oflfering, hath 
perfected for ever them that are sanctified." 
Them that are cleansed with the blood of 
sprinkling, he hath not only discharged from 
the guilt of sin, but rendered them unblam- 
able and unreproveable before the Majesty 
of heaven. He hath done all that is neces- 
sary for their full, perfect, and everlasting ac- 
ceptation. Yes, whether it be in life or 
death ; whether it be at the throne of grace, 
or the tribunal of judgment ; during the span 
of time, or through the ages of eternity, all 
that is necessary for our perfect acceptation 
is done, — done by an infinitely better hand 
than our own, by an infinitely better expedi- 
ent than any human obedience. 

Do I, by these remonstrances, set at 
nought true holiness, or suppose a salvation 
separate from holy obedience ? You, Sir, 
cannot entertain such a supposition ; since, 
in your very last remark, you was dissatis- 
fied with my insisting on the inseparable 
connexion of a living faith and works of 
righteousness. I honour and prize works of 
righteousness. I would incessantly incul- 
cate, both the indispensable necessity and 
the manifold utility of holy obedience. We 
are redeemed, that we may be zealous of 
good works : We are created in Christ Je- 
sus, that we may be able to do good works 
And by good works we are to glorify our 
Father which is in heaven. 

Only I would have good works know 
their proper station and their office. I am 
far from setting at nought the services of the 
hand or the foot ; but I should very much 
disapprove their design, I should utterly des- 
pise their pretensions, if they should offer to 
intrude themselves on the province of the eye, 



REV. MR. 

or act as the organs of sight. Apply this 
simile to the obedience of man, and justifi- 
cation before God, or acceptance with God; 
you will then see in what rank I place, in what 
esteem 1 hold, both the one and the other. 

As I would have obedience know its pro- 
per place, so I would have it take a right 
form. The obedience which you propose is 
the obedience of the bondman, not of the 
free. A slave bought with our money, obeys 
in order to be accepted. A servant hired to 
dispatch our business obeys in order to re- 
ceive his wages, iiut the child obeys be- 
cause he is beloved ; because he is the neir, 
and all things which the father hath are his. 

" Obey in order to acceptance !" Indeed, 
Sir, you quite mistake the principle and 
source of Christian obedience. Nor shall I 
undertake to rectify your mistaken appre- 
hensions, lest you should scorn to learn 
from an inferior. I will refer you to a set 
of teachers, from whom you need not blush 
to receive instruction. But as this may de- 
mand a very particular consideration, I shall 
postpone it to some future opportunity, and 
assign to it a distinct epistle. 

In the mean time, if you should ask, why 
I have been so copious upon this point ? I 
answer, Because it is a matter of the utmost 
importance. An error on this subject, is 
as detrimental to our spiritual welfare as a 
fault in the first concoction is to the animal 
constitution. A mistake concerning ac- 
ceptance with God, must set in a false light 
every religious truth, and shed a malignant 
influence on every religious sentiment. 

If you ask, why I have repeated the ob- 
noxious proposition, almost as frequently as 
the ram's horns sounded the fatal blast on 
the day when Jericho was overthrown ? I 
answer, For the very same purpose. To 
overthrow, if possible, so pernicious a no- 
tion ; to lay it as low as the fortifications of 
that devoted city. And I hope, neither 
Mr. Wesley nor any other, will attempt to 
rebuild it, lest they lay the foundation there- 
of in the dishonour of the blessed Redeem- 
er; and set up the gates of it in the dis- 
tress of precious souls. Both which ef- 
fects, I am persuaded, are very remote from 
your intention. That they may be equally 
remote from your preaching, yoin- writing, 
and all your doctrine, is the sincere wish of, 
&c. 



LETTER 17. 

Reverend Sir, — I had, in the warmth of 
my concern, almost forgot to take notice of 
a text which you produce from 1 Tim. vi. 
17 — 19 ; and, which is somewhat strange, 
produce as a proof that the apostle requires 
Christians " to obey in order to their final 
acceptance." 

Is Paul then become the apostate ? And 



WESLEY. 40J) 

do the curses which he has denounced 
against the seducers of the Galatian con- 
verts, fall at length on his own head ? He 
placed Timothy at Ephesus, as a bulwark 
against the encroachments of other doc- 
trines. Was it with a reserve fur liberties 
of this kind, which he himself should take ? 
Can we think his mind so much altered, 
since he told those very Ephesians, that 
without seeking acceptance through their 
obedience, they were already accepted in 
the Beloved ? Does he now retract the 
blessed truth ; advising the rich to raise a 
cloud of golden dust, that it may cover their 
sins, and waft them to the skies ? at the 
same time, excluding the poor from the fel- 
lowship of this new gospel, and the hope 
of glory ? Is he grown ashamed of that 
righteousness of God, which he assured 
the Romans was the power of God unto 
salvation, only through believing ? And 
are we. Sir, grown weary of that pure doc- 
trine, which was restored to us by our glo- 
rious reformers ? Are we willing to give up 
the depositum, and return to the more than 
Egyptian darkness of friars and monks ; 
with whom, 

Coelum est venale Deus que ? 
But to the point. I shall transcribe the 
text, and add a short paraphrase ; which 
may perhaps explain the meaning, and best 
refute the objection. " Charge them that 
are rich in this woild, that they do good, 
that they be rich in good works, ready to 
distribute, willing to communicate ; laying 
up in store for themselves a good founda- 
tion, that they may lay hold on eternal life." 
Charge them^ those believers among you, 
who are rich in this world, that they dn good ; 
that, as members of Christ, they show kind- 
ness, and exercise beneficence to others. 
That they be rich iii good works, aboiuiding 
in those works and labours of love which 
flow from faith, or a comfortable persuasion 
of their interest in Christ. Ready to dis- 
tribute on all proper occasions, with cheer- 
fulness and delight; as counting it more 
blessed to give than to receive. Willing, 
even without solicitation, to communicate, 
and not only embracing, but seeking every 
opportunity of relieving the necessitous. 
Lightly esteeming all that is called wealth 
here below ; and layijig up in store for them- 
selves anothei: kind of treasure, [even Christ, 
who is the pearl of price, and the true 
riches.] This will be a good foundation of 
hope, of comfort, and joy against the time to 
come i whether it be the trying season of 
sickness, the awful hour of death, or the 
more tremendous day of judgment. That 
placing their afl^ections on him, and having 
their treasure in him, they may be found 
wise merchants ; not grasping uncertainties 
and shadows, but laying fast hold on* sure 

* Take fast hold on— thus I would translate that 



500 



LETTERS TO THE 



and substantial possessions, even on eternal 
Ufe. 

" We establish the law — we provide for 
its honour, by the perfect obedience of 
Christ," says Aspasio. " Can you possi- 
bly think, (replies Mr. Wesley) that St. 
Paul meant this ?" Before I answer this 
question, give me leave to ask another. 
Have you, Sir, done justice to Aspasio? 
Is what you quote the whole of his inter- 
pretation ? Have you not secreted a sen- 
tence, which speaks the very thing you 
blame him for omitting ? 

A member of the house of commons, 
haranguing the honourable assembly, took 
the liberty to assert, " The gentlemen in 
the ministerial interest never propose any 
thing for the good of their country — " This 
was no sooner uttered than a warm partisan 
of the other side starting up, complained 
loudly of calumny and scandal. Hold, Sir, 
for a moment, said the interrupted orator. 
Let me just finish my sentence, and then 
give vent to your vehement invectives. My 
intention was to have added, "—but we in 
the opposition readily agree to their mea- 
sures." Upon hearing this explanation the 
house smiled, and the hasty zealot sat down 
ashamed. 

Let me produce the whole period noAv 



Let the preceding context determiiie. Has 
the apostle been opening the true sense of 
the precepts, that they might be rightly un- 
derstood ? Has he been inculcating the in™ 
violable obligation of the precepts, that they 
might be duly practised ? Has he not been 
asserting a justification absolutely free, ef- 
fected by the righteousness of God, with- 
out any coagency from the righteousness of 
man ? Does he not, in the last words, pro- 
fessedly encounter the objection, which, in 
every age, has been raised against this sa- 
cred doctrine, " Hereby you neglect and 
dishonour the divine law ?" No ; says the 
inspired apologist, the law is hereby esta- 
blished, and shown to be more stable than 
earth or heaven. The grand Legislator 
himself shall be humbled to its obedience ; 
the God who gave the law shall bleed for 
its penalties, rather than a tittle fail of its 
due accomplishment. Magnified thus, the 
law indeed is, and made for ever honoura- 
ble. And though Aspasio does not exclude 
our practical regards, I do verily for my own 
part believe, that the former sentiment 
against which you exclaim, was uppermost 
with the apostle, and is the chief design of 
the text. 

Yes, Sir ; it was the apostle's chief de- 
sign, to shew the perfect consistency of free 



under consideration. Then, I believe, the I justification with the most awful glories of 
reader will allow that Mr- Wesley has imi- 1 the Deity ; and thereby lay a firm founda- 
tated this hasty gentleman in one instance ; I tion for the hope of a sinner. Had justice, 
and whether he has not some reason to imi- j which is the essential glory of God's na- 
tate him in another, I shall leave to his own ture, or the law, which is the revealed glory 
determination. Immediately after the dis- i of his will^had either of these been violat- 
play of free justification, or of " righteous- j ed by the evangelical scheme, benign and 
ness imputed without works," Rom. iv. 6, ! desirable as it is, it must have been utterly 
Aspasio, aware of the possibility of abusing rejected : It could never have taken place 



his doctrine, asserts the indispensable ne- 
cessity of holiness. This done, as quite 
cleared from the accusation, he triumphs 
with the apostle, " ' Do we then make void 
the law through faith' in the imputed right- 
eousness of our Lord? ' God forbid ! Yea, 
we establish the law.' Considered as the 
original covenant of life, we provide for its 
honour, by the perfect obedience of Christ : 
Considered as the invariable standard of du- 
ty, we enforce its observance, by the most 
rational, manly, and endearing motives." 
Here, Sir, was hardly any room for the pre- 
cipitancy of interruption, because the whole 
passage lay before you. And it is a little 
surprising, that you should see and animad- 
vert upon the former clause, yet neither see 
nor regard the clause immediately fallow- 
ing. 

" Did such a thought (of establishing the 
law by the atonement and righteousness of 
Christ) ever enter into St. Paul's mind ?" 



emphatical compound word =?r<XaS«vTa< ; ^vhich 
agrees with the experience of the Christian, ana is not 
without tm: aulliority of the critic. 



the whole world must have perished, rather 
than such an injury be offered to any of the 
divine [perfections. Therefore St. Paul 
most sweetly teaches, and most satisfactor- 
ily proves, that instead of being injured, 
they are most illustriously displayed, by the 
obedience and death of Christ. By this 
means Jehovah is inflexibly just even in jus- 
tifying the ungodly ; and his law is highly 
exalted, even in absolving the transgressor 
that bclieveth in Jesus. 

Here is firm footing ; here is solid rock. 

Solid rock, on which the sinner may rest, 
who is well nigh sunk in despair, while the 
waves and billows of divine indignation go 
over his alarmed soul. Firm footing, on 
which he may proceed who sees the import- 
ance of his eternal interests, and does not 
risk them on the vague notion of mere mer- 
cy ; does not give into the modish religion, 
which leaves such venerable things as the 
justice of the Most High, and the law of 
the Most Holy, destitute of their due hon- 
our : and leaves such impotent creatures as 



REV. MR. 

men to sill ft for tlietnselves by doing the I 
best tbey can. | 
"■ The plain meaning is, we establish both 
the true sense and the effectual practice of 
the law ; we provide for its being both un- 
derstood and practised in its full extent." 
How can you make this provision, if you 
set aside the consummate obedience of 
Christ, "who is the end of the law for 
righteousness for accomplishing that 
righteousness which its precepts describe, 
and its constitution demands ? 

O Sir ! did you consider what that 
meaneth which the apostle styles ro ahwarov 
Tn MOfjiM, you would not use this language. 
Can we, can such miserable sinners as we, 
ever dream of effectually practising, in its 
full extent, that law* which condemns every 
failure, which requires truth in the inward 
parts, which insists upon perfection, abso- 
lute perfection, in every instance, and on all 
occasions ; charging us, 

With act intense, and unremitted nerve. 
To hold a course unfaltering, 

to the very end of our lives, and from the 
beginning of them too ? Attend, I entreat 
you, Sir, to this most sublime sanctity of 
the divine law. Then, instead of saying, 
" we provide for its performance in the full 
extent of its demands," you will probably say, 
with a more becoming modesty. We provide 
for its performance in a way of willing, 
cheerful, sincere obedience ; still looking 
unto him for justification, who has, in our 
name and as our surety, fulfilled it to the 
very uttermost. 

It is, I apprehend, one of your leading 
ci rors, that you form low, scanty, inadequate 
apprehensions of God's law ; that law which 
is a bright re})resentation of his most pure 
nature, a beautiful draught of his most holy 
vv'ill, and never since the fall has been per- 
fectly exemplified in any living character, 
but only in the man Christ Jesus. From 
this error many others must unavoidably fol- 
low : — a disesteem of imputed righteousness, 
and a conceit of personal perfection ; a spi- 
rit of legal bondage, and, I fear, a tincture 
of Pharisaical pride. 

Should Mr. Wesley ask, why I harbour 
such a suspicion concerning his sentiments 
in this particular ? I answer, Because here 
he speaks of practising this law, which is so 
exceedJaig broad, in its full extent. Be- 
cause, elsewhere, he represents the viola- 
tions of this law, whose least tittle is of 
greater dignity than heaven and earth, as 
small matters, as petty offences ; or, to use 
Ms own words, as '•' things not exactly right." 
But more of this hereafter. 

Aspasio, to vindicate the equity of the 
future judgment, declares, " I see nothing 
arbitrary in this procedure, but an admira- 
ble mixture of just severity and free good- 
iiess. On those v.dio reject the atonement, 



WESLEY. 501 

just severity ; to those wno rely on their Sa- 
viour, free goodness." Mr. Wesley, as though 
he would exculpate the ungodly, asks, 
" Was it ever possible for them not to re- 
ject?" What says our infallible counsellor, 
the teacher sent from God ? " They will 
not come to me, that they may have life." 
They rejected his counsel. They would 
not cease from their own works, and betake 
themselves wholly to the righteousness of 
Christ. This method of salvation they dis- 
liked. It was foolishness unto them. There- 
fore, they were disobedient to the heavenly 
call. Does this take away their guilt ? 
Must God be reckoned unjust in punishing, 
because men are obstinate in their unbe- 
lief? 

God does not require me, as you' too in- 
juriously hint, to " touch heaven with my 
hand," in order to escape damnation ; but 
he invites and requires me to accept of 
Christ and his salvation. If, intent upon 
any imaginary accomplishments of my own, 
I overlook the gift ; or if, eager in the pur- 
suit of worldly gratifications, I trample up- 
on it; is not the fault entirely my own ? 
Does it not proceed from the folly of my 
mind, or the bad disposition of my heart ; 
and leave my conduct without excuse ? 

" Justification is complete, the fiJ-st mo- 
ment we believe ; and is incapable of aug- 
mentation." Thus Aspasio speaks. Thus 
Mr. Wesley replies, " Not so." — And has 
he, for his authority, a single text of Scrip- 
ture ? No ; but the whole council of Trent, 
one of whose canons dogmatizes in this 
manner : " If any shall affirm, that righte- 
ousness received is not preserved, and in- 
creased likewise, by good works ; but that 
good works are only the fruits and signs of 
justification obtained, not the means of in- 
creasing it also, let him be accursed ;" Sess. 
vi. Can. 24. I am soriy, Sir, to see you again 
in such company. And I would hope, if it 
were not an unhandsom.e reflection, you did 
not know your associates. Yet it is strange, 
that a Protestant divine should have becii so 
inattentive to the main part of his character ; 
or should be able to forget, that complete 
justification, through the righteousness of 
oitr Lord alone, is the very essence, soul, 
and glory of the Reformation. 

But let us examine the point Justifica- 
tion, I apprehend, is one single act of divine 
grace. It must, therefore, be either done 
or undone. If done, in my very idea of the 
act, it includes completeness. So that to 
speak of incomplete justification is a con- 
tradiction in terms ; like speaking of dark 
sunshine, or a round square. 

An incomplete justification seems, in the 
very nature of things, to be an absolute im- 
possibility; Even an earthly judge cannot 
justify where there is the least dcpnrture 
from integrity. He may overlook, he may 



502 



LETTERS TO THE 



show clemency, lie may forgive ; but he can- 
not, in such a case, pronounce righteous. 
Much less canv/e suppose that justification 
should take place before an infinitely pure 
and jealous God, unless all guilt be done 
away, and the person be rendered complete- 
ly righteous ; 

Besides, can that justification be other 
than complete, which is brought to pass by 
the most majestic Son of God? by his 
perfectly holy nature, by his infinitely pre- 
cious sufferings, and by his inconceivably 
meritorious obedience ? This, if any thing 
in the world, must be absolutely complete ; 
beyond compare, and beyond imagination 
complete ; to speak all in a word, complete 
in proportion to the dignity, perfection, and 
glory of the accomplisher. 

Is any such notion as an incomplete jus- 
tification to be found in the Bible ? St. 
Paul says, " whosoever belie veth is justifi- 
ed ;" to all intents and purposes justified. 
No, says Mr. Wesley ; he may be justified 
only in part, or by halves. " He that be- 
lieveth (adds the apostle) is justified from 
all things." No, replies Mr. Wesley ; 
many that believe, especially in the infancy 
of their faith, are justified only from some 
things. There is no necessity that justifi- 
cation should be complete, when or wher- 
ever it exists. 

Is there no necessity ? Why then does 
the voice of inspiration assert, that the 
righteousness of God is upon them that be- 
lieve ? Can a man have that incomparably 
magnificent righteousness, and yet be in- 
completely justified? Does not the same in- 
spired writer declare, that this perfect and 
divine righteousness is upon all ; not upon 
some only, but upon all believers ; whether 
they be weak or strong, whether in the 
first moments of their conversion, or in the 
last stage of their warfare ? Yes ; and he 
farther assures us, that there is no differ- 
ence ; no difljerence, with regard to the 
righteousness itself, for it is the one ever- 
lasting righteousness of the incarnate God ; 
no difference as to the reality of its impu- 
tation, for it is unto all, and upon all ; no 
difference in the way of receiving it, which 
is by faith in Jesus Christ ; consequently, 
no difference in the fruits or effects ; which 
are pardon and acceptance, free and full 
justification. 

Is Mr. Wesley, like the popish party, an 
advocate for a first, for a second, for I know 
not how many justifications ? According to 
this scheme indeed, justification would be an 
incomplete thing. But the misfortune at- 
tending this scheme is, that it has no foun- 
dation in Scripture. The Scripture knows 
nothing of it ; the Scripture declares against 
it ; and acknowledges, as but one faith, but 
one baptism, so but one justification. 

This is the grand scriptural maxim, " He 



hath, by one oblation, perfected for ever 
them that are sanctified." The oblation is 
one, needing no repetition, and no appen- 
dage. It does not partially accomplish, but 
perfects the business of justification ; per- 
fects it, not at the last only, but from first 
to last, yea, for ever and ever. In behalf 
of all those who are sanctified, or made par- 
takers of this great sacrifice, and this divine 
atonement. 

This is the fine scriptural illustration, 
" The heir, even while he is a child, is lord 
of all." You have, perhaps, a son bom. 
Upon this child you multiply your favours 
and caresses : He grows in wisdom and 
stature : Yet neither your favours, nor his 
growth, add any thing to his sonship, nor 
augment his right to your inheritance. With 
both these he was invested the first moment 
he drew breath. So, we are no sooner jus- 
tified than we are heirs ; " heirs of God, 
and joint heirs with Christ." The percep- 
tion and enjoyment of this privilege may in- 
crease ; but the privilege itself, like the 
birth-right of the first-born, is incapable of 
augmentation. 

Would Mr. Wesley, with the followers 
of Arminius, exclude the righteousness of 
Christ, and introduce something of man's, 
as the efficient, or as a concurrent cause of 
justification? Then, likewise, his notion 
of a gradual, a variable, and incomplete jus- 
tification must ensue. "Whether it be faith, 
which he would introduce for this purpose, 
or repentance, or sincere obedience, or what- 
ever else he pleases, according to the mea- 
sure of these works or graces, must be the 
degree of justification ; and not only as to 
different persons, but as to the same person, 
at different times. 

Farther ; since all these endowments are, 
so long as we continue in the present state, 
imperfect, our justification must, according 
to this plan, unavoidably partake of their 
imperfections. It cannot be entire and 
lacking nothing, till mortality is swallowed 
up of life — But how contrary is this to a 
cloud of witnesses from the Scriptures ! 
" Ye are (even now) justified. He hath 
(even in this present time) reconciled you 
to God." Through the birth and death of 
Immanuel, there is not only peace on earth, 
but good-will towards men ; iv^okiu, favour, 
complacency, and love, from the holy God 
to the fallen soul. And is not this com^ 
plete justification ? 

" There may be as many degrees in the 
favour, as in the image of God." This 
objection turns upon a supposition, that the 
favour of God towards us, is occasioned by 
the image of God in us ; which is the doc- 
trine of the law, the very language of Hea- 
thenism, and has not a savom- of that gos- 
pel, in vi^hich Christ is all. And I think 
myself more concerned to remove such very 



REV. MR. 

prejudicial mistakes, than to sift and adjust 
any nice speculations relating to degrees of 
the divine favour. Aspasio has touched 
this point. Referring you to his observa- 
tion, 1 shall confine myself to a more inte- 
resting subject. 

It is Christ who has redeemed us to God, 
to the faA'Our and fruition of God, by his 
blood ; by his blood alone, wthout any aid 
from oiu: goodness, or any co-operation 
from any creature. His work pleases God ; 
his \A ork magnifies the law ; his work is 
incomparably the noblest of all things in 
heaven or earth. This, therefore, is our 
recommendation to the divine Majesty. In- 
terested in this, we stand perfectly righte- 
ous before the King immortal, and shall be 
eternally acceptable in his sight. It was 
only on account of Abraham's supplication, 
that God showed compassion to Abime- 
lech ; it was only on account of Job's in- 
terccpsion, that the Lord was pacified to- 
wards his three friends ; and it is only on 
account of Christ's righteousness, that the 
higli and holy One beholds any child of 
Adam with complacency and delight. To 
Jesus alone belongs the honour of reconcil- 
ing, justifying, sa\'ing the innumerable mil- 
lions of redeemed sinners. And is not the 
Lamb that was slain worthy to be thus hon- 
oured, and thus exalted ? 

Is, then, our own internal and external 
goodness of no avail in this matter ? — Let 
us hear the eloquent Isaiah, the evangelist 
of the Jewish church : " The lofty looks 
of man shall be humbled, and the haughti- 
ness of men shall be bowed down ; and the 
Lord (the Lord Jesus Christ) alone shall 
be exalted in that day." Does this text, it 
may be said, relate to the gospel, and the 
case of acceptance with God ? Or is it 
possible to make what follows consistent 
with such an interpretation ? Let us see 
whether it be not by the Holy Ghost him- 
self, made perfectly consistent with such a 
sense. 

The day of the Lord of hosts, in the pro- 
phetical Scriptures, generally and principally 
signifies the time of the gospel dispensation ; 
when the Lord puts the finishing hand to 
his revelation, gives the brightest display of 
his grace, and gathers together all things in 
Christ. 

This day, and its influence, shall cause a 
wonderful revolution in what is called the 
religious, virtuous, moral world : It shall fall 
like a thunderbolt upon every idol set up in 
the hearts of men ; shall prove their wisdom 
to be foil}', their ability to be impotence, all 
their works to be w^orthless. 

This prophecy being so repugnant to our 
notions, and so disgustful to our inclinations, 
is asserted and enforced uath the greatest 
particularity, both as to persons and to things. 

As to persons. — " For the day of the Lord ; 



WESLEY, 503 

of hosts shall be upon" — whom ? Upon the 
sordid wretch, or the scandalous sinner ? Ra- 
ther upon " everj one that is proud and lofty 
in his own conceit ;" pluming himself with 
the notion of some imaginary pre-eminence 
over his neighbour. It shall be likewise 
upon " every one that is lifted up" in the es- 
teem of others ; either on account of Roman 
virtue, or Athenian philosophy, or phari- 
saical zeal ; and, notwithstanding his aspiring 
pretensions, or glittering accomplishments, 
" he shall be brought low," shall be degrad- 
ed to the rank of a lost, undone, helpless 
sinner. 

So that none shall have it in his power to 
say, " I am better than thou. I stand upon 
more honourable terms with my Maker, and 
am a fitter object for his favoiur." They 
shall aU be like prisoners confined in the 
same dungeon, and liable in the same con- 
demnation. Every one of them equally des- 
titute of any plea for justification ; and all 
of them, as to acceptance with their Creator, 
without any diflference. No difl?erence, [in 
this respect, between the accomplished gen- 
tleman and the infamous scoundrel ; no dif- 
ference between the virtuous lady and the 
vile prostitute : no difference at all as to the 
way and manner of their obtaining salvation. 
So that the whole may appear to be of grace. 

As to things. — This part of the subject is 
illustrated by a grand assemblage of images, 
comprehending all that is most distinguish- 
able in the visible creation, and denoting 
whatever is most admired or celebrated 
among the sons of men. Oaks and cedars are 
the most stately productions of vegetable na- 
ture : Therefore " the day shall be upon all 
the cedars of Lebanon, and upon all the oaks 
of Bashan." Hills and mountains are the 
most conspicuous and majestic elevations 
of the earth : Therefore " the day shall be 
upon all the high mountains, and upon all 
the hiUs that are lifted up." Towers and 
cities are the most magnificent works of hu- 
man art : Therefore " the day shall be upon 
every high tower, and upon every fenced 
wall." The ships of Tarshish are put for the 
wealth, the advantages, and the various im- 
provements procured by navigation and com- 
merce. Pleasant pictures may represent 
every elegant and refined embellishment of 
civil life. The whole collection of met- 
aphors seems to express all those attainments, 
possessions, and excellencies, which are sup- 
posed to add dignity to our natiu'e, or stabi- 
lity to our hopes ; to constitute a portion in 
which we ourselves may rest satisfied, or a 
recommendation which may entitle us to the 
favour of heaven. 

Yet all these things, before the requii e- 
ments of God\s lavv', and before the revela- 
tion of his righteousness, shall be eclipsed 
and disgraced ; thrown to the bats, and con- 
signed ever to obscurity ; thrown to the 



504. 

moles, and trampled into the dust. So that 
in the pm-suit of eternal life none shall regard 
them, or else regard them only to despise them. 

Thus says the prophet a second time. 
To render the work of humiliation effectual, 
he redoubles his blow. May our whole souls 
feel the energy of his vigorous expressions ! 
Thus " shall the loftiness of man be bowed 
down, and the haughtiness of men shall be 
laid low." All notion of personal excel- 
lency set aside, they shall be base and vile in 
their own eyes, acknowledge the impossibi- 
lity of being reconciled by any duties of their 
own, and place all their confidence on the 
propitiating death and meritorious obedience 
of Jesus Christ : They less than nothing, he 
all in all. 

With this important sentiment I close my 
letter ; not without an ardent wish, that it 
may sink into our thoughts, and dwell upon 
both our hearts. Yours^ &c. 



LETTER V. 

Reverend Sir, — Your last, and several of 
yom: other objections, appear more like 
notes and memorandums, than a just plea 
to the public, or a satisfactory explanation 
of your opinion. They have rather the air 
of a caveat, than a confutation ; and we 
are often at a loss to discern, how far your 
remonstrance is either forcible or apposite. 

Brief negatives, laconic assertions, and 
quick interrogatories, opened by no perti- 
nent illustrations, supported by no scriptur- 
al authority, are more likely to stagger, stun, 
and puzzle, than to settle our notions in re- 
ligion. You seem, Sir, to have forgotten, 
that propositions are not to be established 
with the same ease as doubts are started'; 
and therefore have contented yourself with 
a brevity which produces but little convic- 
tion, and more than a little obscurity. 

This brevity of yours is the cause, and I 
hope will be the excuse, of my prolixity ; 
which, I perceive, is growing upon my 
hands, much more than I intended. If you 
had been pleased to show your arguments 
at full length, and to accompany with proof 
your glosses upon Scripture, the reader 
would then have been able to determine the 
preponderating evidence between yoiurself 
and Aspasio ; and my trouble had been con- 
siderably lessened, perhaps quite spared. 

An instance of the foregoing remark is 
the objection which follows. " St. Paul 
often mentions a righteousness imputed," 
says Aspasio. " Not a righteousness, 
(says Mr. Wesley,) never once ; but sim- 
ply righteousness." St. Paul mentions 
atQiTvw, the rigliteousness which is imputed, 
both with and without the Greek article. 
And do neither of these signify a righteous- 
nt'gs ? This is a piece of criticism, as new 



LETTERS TO THE 

to me, as it is nice in itself. Besides, where 
is the difference between a righteousness, 
and righteousness. Is not every righteous- 
ness a righteousness ? Is not every person 
a person ? and every prodigiOus refinement, 
a prodigious refinement ? I thought Mr. 
Wesley had known how to employ his time 
better than in splitting, or thus attempting 
to split, hairs. 

To what purpose. Sir, is this excessive 
refinement ? Many of your readers, I ap- 
prehend, will find it difficult to conjecture. 
For my own part, I freely confess, that I 
could not for a considerable time discern 
your aim. Nor can I, even now, discover 
any other design, than a forced endeavour to 
exclude the righteousness of Christ, and in- 
troduce a mistaken something of your own 
to officiate in its stead. As the thread of 
your criticism is spun extremely fine, we 
must examine it with the closest attention. 
But first let me just take notice — 

That Aspasio, in consequence of his ob- 
servation deduced from the apostle's lan- 
guage, asks. What or whose righteousness 
can this be ? To which Mr. Wesley an- 
swers, " he tells you himself ; faith is im- 
puted for righteousness." But have you 
never read Aspasio's interpretation of this 
text ? If not, be so impartial as to cast 
your eye upon the tenth Dialogue. There 
he considers this passage at large, and lays 
before you his exposition of the words ; not 
imposing it without assigning a reason ; 
but, together with his exposition, present- 
ing you with the grounds of his opinion. 
If you can overthrow them, try your strength 
and your skUl. They stand ready to re- 
ceive your attack, being at present in full 
possession of the field. 

However, if you will not advert to his 
thoughts, allow me, if I can, to penetrate 
yours. " St. Paul never mentions a right- 
eousness, but simply righteousness." Thus, 
I presume, you argue : — Not a righteous- 
ness ; that might seem to denote some real 
righteousness, ^^some actual conformity to 
the divine law, imputed to sinners for their 
justification. Whereas, if faith be substi- 
tuted instead of this real righteousness ; if 
faith be all that to us, which our own obe- 
dience to the law should have been, and 
which Aspasio supposes the righteousness 
of Christ is appointed to be ; if faith itself 
be all this to us, then we are made righte- 
ous without a righteousness. Something is 
accounted to us for righteousness, which is 
really no such^thing. Then we shall be under 
no necessity of submitting to the righteous- 
ness of our God and Saviour, but may easily 
be furnished out of our own stock. 

Is not this, or something like this, your 
way of reasoning ? Do you not, in this 
manner, understand faith imputed for l ight- 
eousness? Not as deriving all its efficacy, 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



505 



all its significancy, from its most magnifi- 
cent object ; but as being itself the efficient 
of justification, the very thing for which we 
are accepted : in opposition " to the wick- 
ed and vain commentaries of the Calvinists, 
which say, that all this is resident in Christ, 
and apprehended by faith." 

This led me to use that singular expres- 
sion, " a mistaken something since this is 
an egregious mistake of faith — of its nature, 
its end, its import. Of its nature : For it is 
a going out of self, and a flying to Christ, 
for pardon, for peace, and for every spiri- 
tual blessing. Of its end : For it is or- 
dained to preclude all boasting, that itself 
may be nothing; that its owner may be 
nothing; that the gi'ace of God, and tlr 
righteousness of Christ, may be all m ail. 
Of its import ; For it says, according to 
the 'prophet. In the Lord, not in myself, 
have I righteousness. It would expostul- 
ate in the words of the apostle, with its 
overweening and doating admirers. Ye men 
of Israel, why look ye so earnestly on me, 
as though by my own power or dignity I 
had procured your reconciliation, and ren- 
dered you accepted ? The God of Abra- 
ham, Isaac, and Jacob, has glorified his 
Son Jesus, and appropriated this honour 
to his obedience and death. In the matter 
of justification, it is my business, not to 
furnish a contingent, not to supply any 
part, but to receive the whole from his ful 
ness. 

" On Christ's death sinners are to rely 
as the cause of their forgiveness ; on Christ's 
obedience, as the ground of their acceptance 

How does this agree with other places ?" 
Be pleased to turn back. Sir, to the places 
to which you allude ; and, with a very little 
attention, you will perceive the agreement. 
Then let me desire you to turn inward ; and 
you will probably discern more than a little 
disingenuity in yoiu: own procedure ; since 
you resolve to stop your ears against the 
author's explanation, his very particular 
explanation and restriction of his own meaii- 
ing.* If you was examining a mathemati- 
cal system, you would always carry in your 
memory the leading problems or introduc- 
tory axioms. If you did not, your 
judgment would blame you. And 
you neglect to do the same in canvassing a 
theological treatise, does not your own con- 
science reprove you ? 

" Our Lord commends such kinds of be- 



own 
when 



* Aspasio, speaking of the obedience and death of 
Christ, professedly declares, " However, therefore, I 
may happen to express myself, I never consider them 
as acting in the exclusive sense ; but would always 
hare them understood, as a grand and glorious aggre- 
gate. Looking upon our Saviour's universal obedi- 
ence, which commenced at his incarnation, was car- 
ried on through his life, and terminated m his death ; 
looking upon all this, in its collective form, as the 
object of my faith, and the foundation of my hope. 



neficence only, as were exercised to a dis-* 
ciple in the name of a disciple." Here Mr. 
Wesley asks, " Is not this a slip of the 
pen ?" Read the passage, Sir ; and answer 
yourself. What are our Lord's words ? 
" Inasmuch as ye have done it to these my 
brethren." Have you not then as much 
reason to charge our divine Master with a 
slip of the tongue, as to charge Aspasio 
with a slip of the pen ? It is undeniably 
plain, that he does in fact commend only 
such kinds of beneficence as were exercised 
towards his brethren. And I presume you 
will readily grant, that his brethren, the no- 
bler relation, cannot be more extensive than 
his disciples, the inferior. 

" Will not our Lord then commend all 
kinds of beneficence, provided," &c. Ex- 
cuse my cutting short your speech. You 
are rambling from the point. What Christ 
will do, is quite another question. Aspa- 
sio neither denies nor affirms any thing on 
this subject. All that he considers is, what 
appears to be really done, in that particular 
description of the last day, and its awful 
process. Nor will he scruple to affirm, a 
second time, that om- Lord applauds such 
acts of beneficence only as were exercised 
to a disciple, to believers, to his brethren. 

The righteous Judge specifies this sort of 
munificence, because it is a siure indication 
of one begotten by the word of truth. It is 
a test, which none but the saints and faith- 
fid in Christ Jesus will come up to. And 
a Christian is most properly distinguished, 
not by what he does in common with others, 
but by the diflferent principle from which he 
acts. Of this particularity Aspasio takes 
notice, on purpose to warn, as well as to 
exhort his readers : Exhort them, that they 
may abound in works of generosity : Warn 
them, that their works may spring from the 
right source — faith in the divine Redeemer. 

You are not wUling to call works of be- 
neficence, though exercised to a Samaritan 
or a Heathen, " transient bubbles." No 
more is Aspasio, in the sense and manner 
which you would insinuate. He calls them 
such, not absolutely, but relatively : Not in 
themselves, but with respect to an affair in- 
finitely too great for them to transact, either 
in whole or in part. In this view (as rela- 
tive to justification) St. Paul calls them 
dung, which is despicable and sordid. Sure- 
ly then Aspasio may call them bubbles, 
which are shov\7 but insignificant. I do 
not call the desk on which I write, a mere 
egg-shell : Yet I should not hesitate to say, 
it is scanty as an egg-shell, if appointed to 
transport an army to the Indies ; feeble as 
an egg-shell, if set up as a wall of munition 
against a battery of cannon. 

" How must Christians exceed the Scribes 
and Pharisees ?" To this Aspasio replies : 
i " Not only in being sincere, ia having re- 



506 



LETTERS TO THE 



spect unto all God's commandments ; but 
also in possessing a complete righteousness. 
Nor can this be any thing less than the per- 
fect obedience of our great Mediator." — 
" Did our Lord mean this? Nothing less." 
Peremptorily affirmed ; but not so easily 
proved. Yes, you add ; " He specifies in 
the following parts of his sermon the very 
instances wherein the righteousness of a 
Christian exceeds that of the Scribes and 
Pharisees." He does so. But is it not an 
absolutely complete righteousness ? A 
meekness, without the least emotion of re- 
sentment. A purity without the least strain 
of evil concupiscence A love, a long-suf- 
fering, a perfection, such as our Father 
which is in heaven exercises. Now, if this 
does not exceed the righteousness of all the 
Christians in the world, or if this is to be 
found in any character, save only in the 
character of our great Mediator, I retract, 
most freely retract, my opinion. 

The discourse relates to that righteous- 
ness by which we are saved, or by virtue of 
v/hich we enter into the kingdom of heaven. 
And why. Sir, why will you not resign the 
honour of obtaining salvation, to the most 
blessed Immanuel's blood and obedience? 
Why will you hedge up your people's way 
to the immortal mansions, by teaching them 
to depend upon duties and attainments of 
their own ? Should any one, hearing this 
doctrine, that the law of the ten command- 
ments requires perfect, sinless obedience ; 
that none can be delivered from the wrath 
to come, or enjoy eternal life, without this 
imsinning, perfect obedience ; should such 
a one, struck with surprise and anxiety, in- 
quire, " Who then can be saved?" — what 
answer would Mr. Wesley give ? The an- 
swer we would make is obvious, and full of 
consolation : " No man, by his own perform- 
ances. But salvation is to be sought, sal- 
vation is to be obtained, by the righteous- 
ness of another, — even by the consummate 
obedience of our Lord Jesus Christ." 

" He brings this specious hypocrite to 
the test." — " How does it appear, (you ask), 
that this young ruler was a hypocrite ?" It 
appears from his conduct, for he came kneel- 
ing to our Saviour, as one sincerely desir- 
ous of learning his duty ; yet, when instruct- 
ed in it, he would not perform it. It ap- 
pears from your own character of him. You 
say, *' He loved the world." Then the love 
of the Father was not in him. That he 
pretended to the love of God, is evident 
from his own words : That he had no real 
love, is certain from your ovm acknowledg- 
ment. If pretence without reality be not 
hypocrisy, please to inform us what is. It 
is frjj'thei apparent, from your descant on 
the case : " Therefore he could not keep 
f ny of the commandments in their spiritual 
sense." And it is a sure, as well as impoi- 



taut truth, that wnosoever pretends to keep 
the commandments, yet does not keep them 
in their spiritual meaning, is a deceiver of 
himself, a deceiver of others — a hypocrite. 

" The keeping of the commandments, 
(says Mr. Wesley,) is undoubtedly the way 
to, though not the cause of, eternal life." 
How then came it to pass that our Lord 
Jesus Christ should declare, " I am the 
way ?" The way to what ? To the favour 
of God, to the fruition of God, to every 
spiritual blesshig ; or, in other words, to 
eternal life. After such a claim, from such 
a person, may I not, without the imputation 
of undue confidence, deny your assertion in 
your own form of speech ? " The keeping 
of the commandments undoubtedly cannot 
be the way to eternal life ;" since this is a,n 
honour, this is a prerogative, which the all- 
glorious Redeemer has challenged to him- 
self. 

Hence your distinction between the way 
to, and the cause of, appears to have no 
countenance from Scripture. And will it 
not, upon a review, appear to have as little 
support from reason ? Cast your eye upon 
yonder bridge : — It is throv/n over a deep 
and wide river ; it is the way, the only way, 
whereby I cross the water, and arrive at the 
opposite bank. If so, is it not likewise the 
cause of my safe arrival on the other side ? 
There may be, in this case, other causes, 
concomitant or subordinate : but the bridge 
is the grand one ; that which every body 
chiefly regards, and to which my passage is 
always ascribed. 

Christ therefore is the way, the only way, 
to life and immortality. By his precious 
blood, and by his divine righteousness, we 
pass the gulf of wrath and destruction. By 
the things which he has done, by the pains 
which he has endured, we enter the realms 
of peace and joy. Accordingly, w^e are ex- 
horted " to walk in him and are assured, that 
as many as walk in this way " shall renew 
their strength." This is what the apostle 
calls " the new and living way." This is 
what the Psalmist styles " the way ever- 
lasting and though other ways may " seem 
right unto a man, yet the end thereof are 
the ways of death," ; 

A doubt, perhaps, may arise in the rea- 
der's mind, suggested by the words of the 
prophet, " an highway shall be there, and 
a way, and it shall be called the way of ho- 
liness." True. The way is Christ the in- 
carnate God, with all his gifts, privileges, 
and blessings. " It shall be called the way 
of holiness." Isa. xxxv. 8.* None can en- 
ter and advance therein, yet continue car- 
nal a.id unclean. All that travel this road 
renounce the hidden things of darkness, and 



* See a treatise by Dr. Owen, entitled Communion 
with God. 



REV. MR. 

do the works of righteousness. It does not 
indeed find, but it assuredly makes the pas- 
sengers righteous ; and though holiness is 
not their way, yet it is a principal part of 
their business while they walk in Christ. 

Aspasio, having occasion to speak of 
Abraham's faith, quotes the word of the 
apostle, " By works his faith was made per- 
fect." Which he thus explains, " His faith 
hereby answered its proper end, and appear- 
ed to be of the true, of the triumphant, the 
scriptural kind ; since it overcame the world, 
overcame self, and regarded God as all in 
all." To this Mr. Wesley replies, with the 
solemnity of a censor, and the authority of 
a dictator, " No. The natural sense of 
the words is, by the grace superadded, while 
he wrought those works, his faith was lite- 
rally made perfect." Your proof. Sir. 
What have you to make good this interpre- 
tation ? There is not a word in the text 
about grace superadded, this is not assigned 
as the cause of a perfected faith. Nay, the 
sacred writer expressly assigns another : 
" works" says St. James, " his faith Avas 
made perfect." No, says Mr. Wesley ; but 
by grace superadded. St. James affirms one 
thing, Mr. Wesley affirms the contrary ; 
and who am I that I should decide between 
two such disputant's? But I believe the 
reader will, without my interposal, easily 
choose his side. 

Perhaps you wall reply, If this is not the 
true sense, produce a better. One less op- 
posite to the natural import of the words, 
and the apparent meaning of the apostle, is 
already produced. Do you insist upon an- 
other ? I will then refer you to abler judges. 
Shall I send to an expositor whom you your- 
self admire ? Dr. Doddridge thus comments 
upon the text, " His faith was perfected by 
works ; the integrity of it was made fully 
apparent to himself, to angels, to God." 
Shall I remit you to an expositor who can 
neither deceive nor be deceived ? The God 
of glory says, " My strength is made perfect 
in weakness." Made perfect! How? Is 
there any such thing as a supperaddition to 
God Almighty's power, while he exerts it 
in behalf of his people ? This none can ima- 
gine. But it is hereby manifested, to their 
comfort and his glory. The same word is 
used concerning Abraham's faith, and con- 
cerning the God of Abraham's strength. 
Why then should it not be understood in 
the same sense ? Here it is •nXunTcti ; there 
it is iTiXuuSv. And in both places it signi- 
fies, not literally " made perfect," but illus- 
triously displayed. 

Shall I send you to a familiar illustration ? 
I view from my window a young tree. The 
gardener when he planted it, told me it was 
a fruit-tree, a pear-tree, a right heaute de 
roi. It may be such a tree, and have its 
respective seed in itself; but this did not 



WESLEY. 507 

then appear. If, when autumn arrives, its 
branches are laden with fruit, with pears, 
with that delicious kind of pears, this will 
be a demonstration of all those properties. 
This will not make it such a particular tree, 
no, nor make it a good and fruitful tree; 
but only shew it to be of that fine sort, or 
make its nature and perfections evident. 

" St James speaks of the justification of 
our faith ;" thus proceeds Aspasio : and 
thus replies Mr. Wesley ; " Not unless you 
mean by that odd expression, our faith being 
made perfect," I mean, such a perfection 
of faith as is mentioned above. Other per™ 
fection I find not, either in books or men. 
Were faith perfect, in your sense of the 
word, love, joy, and all holiness would be 
perfect likewise. Correspondent to the 
principle would be the state of the produce- 
tion. There would be no longer any cause 
for that petition which the disciples put 
up, "Lord, increase oiu- faith:" Nor for 
that supplication which you and I, so long 
as we continue members of the Church of 
England, must use, " Give unto us the in- 
crease of faith, hope, and charity." 

You call the justification of our faith an 
" odd expression." Is it not founded on the 
tenor of the apostle's discourse ? Is it not 
the native resvdt of the apostle's inquiry, 
" Shew me thy faith ?" Prove it to be real 
and unfeigned -. prove it by such acts as de- 
monstrate you trust in Jesus alone forever- 
lasting life. If it stands this test, we shall 
acknowledge it to be that precious faith 
whose author is God, and whose end is sal- 
vation. Is not that a justification of faith, 
which displays its sincerity, and renders it 
without rebuke ? Somewhat like this would 
be reckoned a justification of any person, or 
of any other thing ; and why not of faith ? 

Something you see. Sir, may be said in 
vindication of this expression. However, if 
it be thought improper ; if it tend to create 
any confusion in our sentiments, or to draw 
off" our attention from that grand idea which 
is peculiar to the word justification, (the 
idea, I mean, of being made righteous before 
God), I freely give it up ; I will alter it in 
my book, and use it no more. 

" He that doeth righteousness, is right- 
eous." He manifests the truth of his con- 
version, and justifies his profession from all 
suspicion of insincerity. " Nay," says Mr. 
Wesley, " the plain meaning is, he alone is 
truly righteous, whose faith worketh by love." 
Your exposition may be true, and Aspasio's 
no less true. 1 leave the reader to deter- 
mine which is most exactly suitable to the 
apostle's arguing. He is speaking of the 
Christian righteousness ; that which renders 
us righteous before God ; that which flesh 
and blood could never have discovered; 
which therefoi'e was graciously revealed in 
the gospel, and is the principal subject of 



508 



LETTERS TO THE 



gospel preaching. As then there were, and 
always would be, many pretenders to the 
noble privilege, St John lays down a maxim 
or a touch-stone, to distinguish the sincere 
from the hypocrite. He that uniformly 
doeth righteousness in a M^ay of sanctifica- 
tion, he, and he only, is to be acknowledged 
by us as truly righteous by way of justifica- 
tion. 

Far be it from me. Sir, to be fond of 
wrangling. Where you hit upon the truth, 
or come pretty near it, I shall never be 
eager to oppose. On the contrary, I shall 
be very desirous to agree, and preserve as 
much as possible, both the unity of opinion 
and the harmony of affection. Your own 
interpretation shall take place ; only let your 
working be the sign and fruit of a righteous 
state, not that which makes or constitutes 
us righteous. The righteousness of fallen 
creatures is not of themselves, but of me, 
saith the Lord. It is brought in and ac- 
complished by him whom God hath set 
forth to be their mediator and surety ; so 
that we are made righteous, not by doing 
any thing whatsoever, but solely by be 
lieving in Jesus. Our character as the re- 
deemed of the Lord, is oi s* -pfi^-ios ; men 
having their existence, their subsistence 
their all, by faith. Hence it comes to pass, 
that we really are what the apostle affirms 
in the following words, "righteous, even 
as he is righteous ;" not barely righteous, as 
the moral Heathens, by dint of human reso- 
lution ; not barely righteous, as the reputa- 
ble Jews, by the influence of their legal 
sanctions ; but righteous with that very 
righteousness which adorns, and exalts, and 
will eternally distinguish the only begotten 
Son of God. 

It remains to be inquired, what faith is 
most likely to operate in this excellent and 
happy manner ? I mean, to work by love. 
Let me illustrate the point by a short apo- 
logue ; then release the reader from his at- 
tention, and the writer from his task. 

A certain king had two favourites, whom 
he honoured with his peculiar regard, and 
enriched with a ceaseless liberality. They 
both, insensible of their vast obligations, 
became traitors and rebels. Being convict- 
ed of treason against their sovereigv, he was 
determined to evercome their evil with good. 
Accordingly, when they had nothing to 
plead in their own behalf, he generously 
forgave them both -. The one he dismissed 
from prison, and suffered to live unmolest- 
ed on his private inheritance ; the other he 
restored to all his high preferments, and 
public employs — he adorned him again with 
the robe of honour, and admitted him again 
into the bosom of favour. — Which of them 
now will feel the warmest affection for 



need be, to hazard even life in his defence ? 
He, doubtless, on whom most was bestowed. 

And is not that person most likely to 
work and obey from a principle of love, 
who believes that his divine Lord has not 
only borne the curse, but fulfilled the di- 
vine law for him ? has given him not barely 
an exemption from punishment, but a title 
to eternal life ? Yea, has clothed him with 
his own most perfect and glorious righte- 
ousness ; by virtue of which he will, ere 
long, be presented faultless before the 
throne of judgment, and have an abundant 
entrance into the everlasting kingdom. Will 
not the faith of such unspeakably rich grace 
pacify the conscience, and purify the heart ? 
Awaken gratitude to our heavenly benefac- 
tor, and enkindle zeal for his glory ? Cause 
us to discharge all the duties of our station 
cheerfully, and withstand every allurement 
to evil resolutely ? 

Surely we may say of this faith, what 
David said of Goliath's sword. There is 
none, there is nothing like it. For all 
these blessed purposes it is beyond com- 
pare, and, I should think, beyond dispute 
efficacious. That you, Sir, may know more 
of this faith, and dispute less against it, is 
the sincere and fervent wish of, &c. 



LETTER VL 



their sovereign ? which of them will be most 
ready to serve him on all occasions, and, if 



Reverend Sir, — As this Letter may 
probably be pretty long, I shall not increase 
the prolixity by a preface, but enter upon it, 
without any farther introduction. 

" Whoso doeth these things (saith Da- 
vid) shall never fall." Which Aspasio thus 
interprets, " Shall never fall into final apos- 
tasy." You are pleased to reply, " David 
says no such thing ; his meaniiig is, whoso 
doeth these things to the end, shall never 
fall into hell." It would be a great won- 
der, I must own, if he should j but if he 
happens to fail at some times, and in som.; 
instances, what becomes of him then ? How- 
ever, let you and I, Sir, be at as little vari- 
ance as possible. Where is the extraordi- 
nary difference between yourself and Aspa- 
sio ? If a professor of religion falls into hell, 
must he not previously fall into final apos - 
tasy? And if he falls into final apostasy, 
must he not inevitably fall into hell ? 

When you insert the clause, " to the 
end," do you interpret ? do you not rather 
interpolate the sacred text ? The words of 
the Psalmist relate to the present time, 
doeth, not shall do. They contain an en^ 
couragement to those who, at this present 
instant, bring forth the fruits of evangelical 
righteousness. The encouragement is de- 
duced from the comfortable doctrine of final 
perseverance. It carries this cheering im- 
port, ^' Whosoever believes in Jehovah^ as 



REV. MR. ■ 

laying all his sins upon Christ, and giving 
hinri eternal life freely ; whosoever, from 
this principle of faith, sincerely loves, and 
willingly obeys God, he shall never fall." 
The words are, " he shall never be moA-ed." 
A phrase common among the Hebrews to 
denote the stability of a man's happiness. 
An immoveable thing never falls, either one 
way or Other ; so this righteous person shall 
never fall, either into final apostasy, which 
is the greatest misery here, or into hell, 
which is the consummation of misery here- 
after. 

But I begin to apprehend what you mean, 
and of what you are jealous. Your excla- 
mation unravels all, " How pleasing is this 
to flesh and blood !" Under favour, Sir, I 
cannot conceive how this doctrine should 
be pleasing to flesh and blood. Flesh and 
blood, or corrupt nature, is proud. Any 
scheme of perseverance to be accomplished 
by our own strength, would indeed be agree- 
able to the vanity of our mind ; but a per- 
severance founded on the fidelity and the 
power of God — a perseverance which ac- 
knowledges itself owing, not to any human 
sufficiency, but to an union with Christ, and 
the intercession of Christ — this is a disgust- 
ing method — that is what the natural man 
cannot away with. You will find the ge- 
nerality of people utterly averse to it. 
Flesh and blood will not submit either to 
be made righteous before God by the im- 
puted righteousness of Christ, or to be made 
faithful unto death by the never-failing 
faithfulness of Christ. Try your friends, 
try your followers, try your own heart on 
this' point. 

To the humble believer, I acknowledge, 
this is a most pleasing and consolatory doc- 
trine. He who feek his own impotence, 
who knows the power of his inbred corrup- 
tions, and is no stranger to the wiles of his 
spiritual enemy : he will rejoice in the 
thought that nothing shall pluck him out 
of his almighty Redeeemer's hand ; that 
his advocate with the Father will suflfer 
neither principalities, nor powers, nor life, 
nor death, nor things present, nor things to 
come, nor any other creature, to separate 
him from the love of God. Without such 
a persuasion, we might too truly say of the 
Christian's joy, what Solomon said of world- 
ly merriment, " 1 said of laughter, it is mad ; 
and of mirth, what does it ?" If he who 
is to-day basking in the divine favour, may 
before the morrow be weltering in a lake of 
fire, then joy, even joy in the Holy Ghost, 
is unreasonable ; and peace, even that peace 
which passeth all understanding, is chimer- 
ical, — a building without a basis ; at least, 
a bowing wall, and a tottering fence. 

Let us examine the doctrine which Mr. 
Wesley says is so pleasing to flesh and 
blood ; or, in other words, to carnal people. 



WESLEY. 509 

What is the thing which the Psalmist 
teaches, and Aspasio professes ? That the 
persons who are described in the Psalm,* 
shall never apostatize from the true faith, 
or from true obedience. Is this so agreea- 
ble to carnal people ? Is it not rather un- 
warrantable in Mr. Wesley to suppose that 
carnal people either possess true faith, or 
perform true obedience, or can be pleased 
with either ? Especially since the apostle 
assures us that the " carnal mind is not sub- 
ject to the law of God, neither indeed can 
be." 

Besides, are not the duties mentioned by 
the Psalmist offensive to flesh and blood ? 
Do they not require, or imply, the mortifi- 
cation of our carnal appetites, and the disci- 
pline of our unruly affections ? Can it be 
a welcome piece of news to flesh and blood, 
that this mortification shall take place ? in- 
stead of being remitted, shall increase ? and 
never, never be discontinued, till mortality 
is swallowed up of life ? If so, the old man 
which is corrupt must be pleased with the 
curb, and the dagger must delight in its own 
restraint, and its own destruction. Such a 
paradox we must believe before we can es- 
pouse Mr. Wesley's notion. That flesh and 
blood are pleased with the doctrine of a fin- 
al perseverance in self-denial, in righteous- 
ness, and true holiness. 

" Should your repentance be vidthout a 
failure, and Avithout a flaw, I must still say 
to my friend, as our Lord replied to the 
young nfler, * One thing thou lackest.' In 
all these acts of humiliation, you have only 
taken shame to yourself ; whereas, a righte- 
ousness is wanting, which may magnify the 
law, and make it honourable." These are 
Aspasio's words ; upon which Mr. Wesley 
animadverts : " One thing thou lackest, the 
imputed righteousness of Christ ! Yon 
cannot think this is the meaning of the text." 
Neither does Aspasio affirm this to be the 
meaning ; he only uses the words by way of 
accommodation. Could you demonstrate 
that our Lord intended no such thing, yet 
the sentence may not improperly express 
Aspasio's opinion ; and if so, be not unfit 
for his use. 

However, let us inquire into the exact 
meaning of the text. A very little search 
will yield the desired satisfaction. — " Sell 
all thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou 
shalt have treasure in heaven." Treasure 
in heaven was what the young gentleman 
lacked. Could this be any other than 
Christ himself? Is not Christ the treasure 
hid in the field of the gospel ? Is not Christ 
the inheritance reserved in heaven for us ? 
Is not a communion with Christ, and an en- 



* The xvth Psalm, I apprehend, describes the per- 
fect character : That perfection which Christ really 
fulfilled ; and is the righteousness in which Grod is 
well pleased. 



510 



LETTERS TO THE 



joyment of Christ, the supreme felicity of 
our nature ? David was of this mind when 
he publicly declared, " Whom have I in 
heaven hut thee ?" St. John was of this 
mind when he solemnly averred, " He that 
hath the Son, hath life." Whoever is of 
another mind, has very inadequate, very un- 
worthy notions of heaven and its happiness. 
Now, if Christ himself was the one thing 
needed, surely his righteousness could not 
be secluded. His blood and obedience in- 
separably accompany his person. He that 
hath the bridegroom, hath his riches also. 
In opposition to this sense it is affirmed, 
Certainly the one thing our Lord meant 
was the love of God." The love of God 
is certainly an eminent blessing ; possess- 
ed, I should imagine, only by those who 
have first obtained eternal life, by knowing 
the true God, and Jesus Christ. But does 
our love of God magnify the law, satisfy 
justice, or obtain heaven? Are we par- 
doned, are we reconciled, are we justified, 
on 'account of our love of God ? The 
young ruler wants that which may open to 
him the kingdom of heaven, and that where- 
by he may inherit eternal life. Mr. Wes- 
ley, setting aside pardon, reconciliation, jus- 
tification, together with the one perfect 
righteousness which procures them, ascribes 
all to our love of God ; and, by this means, 
not to the true love arising from the know- 
ledge of him as manifested in the gospel, as 
having first loved us, in granting us remis- 
sion of sins freely through Jesus Christ. 
This notion may pass current at Rome, not 
among the Protestant churches. Our own 
church has most expressly disclaimed it. 
Speaking of Christ and his precious blood- 
shedding, she adds, " Whereby alone we 
are made partakers of the kingdom of hea- 
ven." 

" Is tYie obedience of Christ insufficient 
to accomplish our justification ?" Here you 
would correct both the language and the 
doctrine. TTie language ; for you say, " ra- 
ther I would ask, is the death of Christ in- 
sufficient to piu-chase it." To pwrcAase jus- 
tification, you suppose, is more proper and 
expressive than to accomplish. As this may 
seem a strife of words, I shall dismiss it 
without much solicitude ; only I would 
transiently observe, that to accomplish de- 
notes more than to purchase. It denotes 
the constituent cause ; what the schoolmen 
call the matter of justification, or the very 
thing which effects it. If your favourite 
phrase implies aU this, let it have the pre- 
eminence. 

Next you correct the doctrine by saying, 
" I would rather ask, is the death of Chr" st 
insufficient to purchase justification?" 1 an- 
swer, if you consider the death of Christ as 
exchisive of his obedience, it is insufficient. 
If you do not, there is no great reason for 



your starting a doubt where we both are a- 
greed ; and indeed, it is scarce worth my 
while to take notice of it. I will, therefore, 
return to the distinction which you think 
proper to make between accomplishing and 
purchasing justification. Why, Sir, would 
you set aside the former phrase ? Does it 
not imply, that which justifies ; that very 
thing which commends us to God ; that 
very righteousness in which we stand accept- 
ed before him ? Does not this way of ex- 
pressing guard most effectually against the 
errors of Popery, and exclude all co-efficien- 
cy of faith, of works, or any thing else what- 
ever ? I said, the errors of Popery : For a 
Popish synod will allow that we are not jus- 
tified without the righteousness of Christ, by 
which he hath merited justification for us ; 
but declares at the same time. If any man 
shall say we are formally righteous by that 
very righteousness, let him be accursed. Ac- 
cording to this, which is no very good con- 
fession, the righteousness of Christ pur- 
chases, but does not accomplish ; it merits 
our justification, but does not constitute our 
justifying righteousness. See, Sir, whither 
your refinements are leading you. 

" The saints in glory," says Aspasio, " as- 
cribe the whole of their salvation to the 
blood of the Lamb." " So do I," replies 
Mr Wesley ; *' and yet I believe he obtain- 
ed for all a possibility of salvation." Is this 
objection pertinent? Does Aspasio's asser- 
tion contradict your belief? Does it not com- 
prise all that you avouch, and much more ? 
Is it possible that Mr Wesley, who is such 
a master of logic, should argue in this man- 
ner, " The saints in glory ascribe all their 
salvation to Christ's blood ; therefore he 
did not obtain a possibility of salvation for 
all men ?" What a forced conclusion is this ! 
What wild reasoning is here ! Such pre- 
mises, and such an inference, will probably 
incline the reader to think of a sunbeam and 
a clod connected with bands of smoke. 

If you was determined to make this pas- 
sage faulty, you should have opposed it with 
the following declaration of your faith : " Yet 
I believe that Christ obtained no more than 
a possibility of salvation for any." Then 
you would have something suited to your 
purpose ; but not agreeable either to sound 
sense or sound doctrine. Not to sound 
sense : Your possibility of salvation is, if 
people perform the conditions. How then 
can they ascribe the whole glory to Christ ? 
At this rate, they do a piece of injustice to 
their own resolution and diligence ; as these, 
by fulfilling the conditions, had a hand in 
obtaining the reward, these ought to hav^e a 
share in receiving the honour. Not to sound 
doctrine : Aspasio believes muck more than 
a possibility of salvation by Jesus Christ. 
He believes a full and complete salvatiot>, 
according to that noble text, " It is finished." 



REV. MR. 

A salvation not to be acquired, but absolute - 
ly given, according to that precious Scrip- 
ture, " God hatli given to us eternal life 
not upon some terms or prerequisites, but 
without any condition at all, according to 
that most gracious invitation, " Whoever 
will, let him take of the water of life freely." 
This i look upon as sound doctrine. But 
will your notion of a conditional salvation, 
proposed by way of bargain, and granted up- 
on terms, comport with this gift of grace ? 

No more than a possibility of salvation ! 
Yes, Sir, Christ obtained a great and a free 
salvation. Great: for it comprises the par- 
don of all sin, original and actual; a restora- 
tion to entire and unalterable favour, together 
with a title to everlasting life and glory. 
This is such a provision for our happiness 
as becomes the immense goodness and in- 
conceivable majesty of an incarnate God ; 
such as not only supplies our wants, and 
satisfies our desires, but surpasses our very 
wishes — transporting us with wonder, and 
filling us with joy. To accomplish all this, 
we may reasonably suppose, nothing less 
could be sufficient than the active and pas- 
sive righteousness of him who is gone into 
heaven ; angels, and authorities, and powers 
being made subject unto him. Since this 
matchless ransom has been paid, since these 
grand conditions are performed, there is no 
obstruction from the divine justice, or the 
divine truth. All that ineffable and eternal 
blessedness is now become free ; is granted 
to sinners, to rebels, to the most unworthy ; 
they are allowed, yea, invited to receive it, 
to possess it, to rejoice in it as their own 
portion ; and without the proviso of any 
good thing in themselves, purely on account 
of their Saviour's all-sufficient work. 

I read in sacred history of Eleazar, the 
son of Dodo the Ahohite, one of the three 
mighty men with David ; how he arose and 
smote the Philistines, until his hand was 
weary, and his hand clave unto his sword : 
and the Lord wrought a great victory that day ; 
and the people returned after him, only to 
spoil. And were not these mighty men typi- 
cal, faintly typical, of our almighty Redeemer? 
Did not Jesus also arise and w^ork a great 
victory ? Has he not triumphed gloriously 
over sin, and all our enemies ? And what 
have we to do but only to return and divide 
the spoil, and share the benefits of his con- 
quest ? May we not boldly say, " My sin is 
done away, because Christ has borne it on 
the ciu'sed tree. I stand accepted before 
God, because Christ has finished the right- 
eousness which renders me unblamable and 
unreproveable. I shall receive the Holy 
Ghost, because Christ is ray advocate, and 
prays the Father that he will give me an- 
other Comforter. This sacred Comforter, 
by shewing me the riches of Christ, will more 
and more sanctify ray nature. To think 



. TOSLEY, 511 

and live in this manner, is to take the spoil 
after our victorious Leader." 

Let me close and confirm this sentiment 
with a passage from that inimitable penman, 
the prophet Isaiah ; who, for his remarkably 
clear views of Christ, may almost be admit- 
ted into the number of evangelists ; and 
for his exquisitely fine descriptions of Christ, 
greatly exceeds all orators' and all poets ; 
" Who is this that cometh from Edom, with 
dyed garments from Bozrah ? This, that 
is glorious in his apparel, travelling in the 
greatness of his strength ? — I that speak in 
righteousness, mighty to save. — Wherefore 
art thou red in thine apparel, and thy gar- 
ments like him that treadeth in the wine- 
fat ? — I have trodden the wine-press alone, 
and of the people there was none with me." 

The prophet, like one thrown into a sud- 
den surprise, with a beautiful abruptness 
cries out, Who is this ? What extraordinary 
appearance discovers itself to my sight ? Is 
it a human or a divine form that I behold ? 
He cometh from Edom, the country — from 
Bozrah, the capital — of our professed nation- 
al enemies. Is he for us, or for our adver- 
saries ? The first question seems to proceed 
from a distant and indistinct view. He then 
takes a nearer survey, and describes the won- 
derful personage with greater particularity. 
This that cometh with dyed garments, like 
some terrible and victorious warrior that 
has scarcely sheathed the sword of slaugh- 
ter ; who is all encrimsoned, and still reek- 
ing with the blood of the slain. 

The vision becomes clearer and clearer. 
I see him, adds the rapturous prophet, glori- 
ous in his apparel ; highly graceful, as well 
as extremely^ awful : Bearing in his aspect, 
in his whole person, in his very dress, the 
marks of transcendent dignity. Travelling 
in the greatness of his strength ; not faint with 
toil, nor wearied with the fatigue of the 
dreadful action, but like one that is inde- 
fatigable in his zeal, and irresistible in his 
power ; and therefore still pressing forwards 
to new victories, still going on from con- 
quering to conquer. 

The majestic object is all this while 
advancing. At length he approaches near 
enough to hold a conference with this de- 
vout inquirer. One would naturally ex- 
pect that his speech should be, like his as- 
pect, alarming and tremendous. But grace 
is on his tongue, and his lips drop balm. 
I that speak in righteousness; all whose words 
are faithfulness and truth — an immovea- 
ble foundation for the faith of my people. 
That speak of righteousness ; of that mys- 
terious righteousness which is the delight 
of my Father, and the life of the world : 
To bring in which, is the design of my ap-=. 
pearance on earth, and to reveal it, is the of- 
fice of my Spirit. By means of this right« 
eousness I am mighty to save ; to save thee, 



LETTERS TO THE 



512 

to save any lost sinner ; to save them, as 
with the arm of Omnipotence, beyond all that 
they can think, even to the very uttermost. 

Here the prophet seems to be somewhat 
at a loss, and takes leave to renew his in- 
quiry. If thou art come not to destroy 
men's lives, but to save, " Wherefore art 
thou red in thine apparel, and thy garments 
like him that treadeth in the wine fat ?" 
These indicate, not deliverance, but de- 
struction ; these are tokens, not of forbear- 
ing mercy, but of inexorable vengeance. It 
is true, replies the illustrious Hero, I have 
trodden the wine-press ;* I have crushed my 
oes, I have trampled them under my feet, 
snd repentance was hid from mine eyes. 
But thy enemies were the objects of mine 
indignation : Sin, and death, and hell, are 
the vanquished adversaries. It is their 
blood that is sprinkled upon my garments, 
and that stains all my raiment. This vic- 
tory I have gained by myself alone ; being 
infinitely too great in my power to want an 
associate, and infinitely too jealous of my 
honour to accept of any assistance. Of the 
people, whether in heaven or on earth, there 
was none with me, to aflJbrd the least succour 
or to take the least share in the glorious 
work. The salvation of sinners, their de- 
liverance from wrath, and their redemption 
to God, is, in all its parts, my act, even 
mine, and mine only. Yours be all the 
benefit, mine all the glory. 

" The terms of acceptance for fallen man 
were, a full satisfaction to Ihe divhie jus- 
tice, and a complete conformity to the 
divine law." — " This," says Mr. Wes- 
ley to Aspasio, "you take for granted, but 
I cannot allow." That Aspasio does not 
take these points for granted, I thought even 
his enemies would confess : That he has 
attempted, at least, to make good his opin- 
ion, all the world, besides yourself, Sir, will 
acknowledge. What else is the design of 
Dialogue third and fourth ? What else is 
aimed at in Dialogue the seventh, eighth, 
and ninth ? The former treat largely of the 
full satisfaction given to divine justice ; the 
latter treat still more largely of the conform- 
itv demanded by the divine law, and yield- 
ed by the divine Jesus. 

These things, however, " you cannot al- 
low.*' Not allow a full satisfaction of di- 
vine justice to be necessary ! Are you not 
then acceding to the Socinian ? Not allow 
a complete conformity to the dirine law to 
be necessary ! Are you not then warping 
to the Antinomian ? See, Sir, how you 
approach the rocks, both on the right hand 
and on the left. May the keeper of Israel 



* This phrase evidently denotes conquest and tri- 
umph ; enemies vanquished and totally destroyed. 
J t should never, therefore, be applied to the agoniz- 
ing, but to the triumphant Saviour; not to Jesus 
prostrate on the ground, but to Jesus making his 
foes his footstool 



preservfc yourself and your followers from 
suflfering shipwreck ! Every one, I think, 
must allow what you deny, who believes the 
divine justice to be infinite, and the divine 
law to be unalterable. A justice that v/ill 
admit of any satisfaction less than complete, 
can never be deemed infinite. And if the 
divine law can rest satisfied with an obedi- 
ence that^is defective, it is not so venerable 
as the law of the Medes and Persians. 

" The terms of acceptance for fallen man," 
you say, "are repentance and faith." I 
must ovnv I do not much like the expression 
terms, unless it be referred to the mediation 
of Christ. And you yourself, if you would 
act consistently, should not be overfond of 
it, because it is not scriptural ; though, for 
my own part, I have no quarrel against tlie 
word because it is not the exact phraseolo- 
gy of Scripture, but because I dislike the 
idea it conveys. Shall we treat Math the 
Deity, as free states or sovereign princes 
treat with each other ? The one obtaining 
from the other peace, or some advantageous 
concession, by complying with his terms ? 

To confirm your opinion, that " the terms 
of acceptance for fallen man are repentance 
and faith," you produce the following text, 
" Repent ye, and believe the gospel." 
Here you write like a man of sense, who 
knows what just disputation means. You 
lay aside you certainlies, your undoubted- 
lies, your unquestionablies, and urge a proof 
from Scriptiu'e. Whether you rightly un- 
derstand and duly apply this proof, must 
now be inquired. 

" Repent ye, and believe the gospel." 
This may be the meaning of the exhorta- 
tion : — Repent ; relinquish all your wrong 
notions relating to the way and manner of 
finding acceptance with the Deity. Believe 
the gospel; which opens a most unexpected 
avenue for the communication of this bless- 
ing ; which brings you tidings of a salva- 
tion, fully procured by the incarnate God, 
and freely offered to the unworthy sinner. 
The word, you know, is ^'.Ta^oim, which, 
in its primary signification, denot s not so 
much a reformation of conduct as a change 
of sentiment. 

Suppose it to signify a reformation of 
conduct. The meaning then may be as fol- 
lows ; — Repent ; forsake all your vices, and 
all your follies ; mortify every evil temper, 
and renounce every evU way. In order to 
render this practicable, believe the gospel; 
wherein a Saviour is preached and display- 
ed, who makes peace for such oflfenders, re- 
conciles them to God, and obtains eternal 
redemption for them. This will sweetly 
withdraw your afl^ections from iniquity, and 
sweetly attach them to the blessed God : 
Whereas, without this powerful expedient, 
you will never be delivered from the pleas- 
ing witchcraft of your lusts ; sin v^'ill al- 



REV. ME. 

ways have dominion over you, so long as 
you are under the law and not under grace. 
Repentance, thus understood, is not the 
condition of obtaining salvation, but the 
fruit of salvation obtained. 

Besides, if repentance be a gift, it can- 
not be a term or condition. He must be a 
stranger to the import of language, and the 
common ideas of mankind, who wdU take 
upon him to affirm the latter ; and he must 
be yet a greater stranger to the holy word of 
God, who will offer to deny the former. 
** Christ is exalted," saith the apostle, " to 
give repentance." Not to require it as a 
condition of blessedness, but to give it as a 
most eminent blessing. Not require re- 
pentance of fallen man, who is not able to 
think a good thought ; but give it from his 
unsearchable riches, and work it by his al- 
mighty power. 

You say, " The terms of acceptance for 
fallen man are," &c. Methinks I should be 
glad to know what you mean by fallen man. 
JDo you mean (as you tell us in your collection 
of sermons) " one dead to God, and all the 
things of God ; having ho more power to 
perform the actions of a living Christian, 
than a dead body to perform the functions 
of a living man ?" What terms, I beseech 
you, can such a one fulfil ? Be they ever so 
difficult, or ever so easy, it maketh no dif- 
ference. The band, stiff in death, is no 
more able to move a feather than to remove 
a mountain. Whatever, therefore, others 
m.ay affirm, you, Sir, cannot talk of repentance 
to be exercised by fallen man, until he is 
quickened and enabled by fellowship with 
Christ, the living and life-giving head ; un- 
less you choose either to contradict your 
own assertion, that fallen man is absolutely 
dead to all good ; or else think proper to 
maintain, that the dead may not only act, 
but perform some of the most excellent acts 
and important offices. 

You should likewise, Sir, if you would 
write correctly and argue forcibly, have told 
us what you mean by faith ; otherwise, you 
may intend one thing and I another, even 
while we both use the same word. In this 
case, our dispute might be as endless as it 
must be fruitless. 

By faith I mean, what St John calls, a re- 
ceiving of Christ ; a receiving of him and his 
benefits, as they are freely given in the word 
of grace and truth. If this, which is the a- 
postolical, be a proper definition, then it 
seems not to come under the denomination 
of a condition. They must be excessive re- 
finers indeed, who would call my receiving 
a rich present, the terms or conditions of 
possessing it; or would esteem my eating at 
a plenteous feast, the terms and conditions 
of enjoying it. Is not this to subtilize till 
sound sense is lost ? 

I^aith, according to St Paul, is a persua- 



WESLEY. 513 

sion that Christ loved me, and gave himself 
for me. VV^here is any trace, or any hint of 
conditionality in this description? I do not 
hear the apostle saying — he loved me, pro- 
vided I repent ; he gave himself for me, in 
case I think this or do that ; — but, he gave 
himself for me when I was ungodly, and had 
performed no conditions ; when I was with- 
out strength, and could perform no condi- 
tions. Thus he gave himself for me, that I 
might have remission of sins through his 
blood, and eternal life through his righteous- 
ness. Believing these delightful truths, and 
receiving these heavenly privileges, I love 
my most adorable Benefactor ; and abhor 
those iniquites for which he wept, and groan- 
ed, and died- That love of Christ is vital holi- 
ness ; and this abhorrence of sin is practical 
repentance ; and both are the fruits, there- 
fore cannot be the conditions, of salvation 
by Jesus. 

Some holy men and excellent writers, I 
confess, have not scrupled to call faith and 
repentance the conditions of our salvation. 
Yet I cannot prevail on myself to admire or 
approve the language. I fear it tends to em- 
barrass the sincere soul ; to darken the lustre 
of grace ; and to afford too rcuch occasion 
for boasting. 

To embarrass the sincere soid. — For, if I 
am saved on conditions, this will naturally 
divert my attention from the grand and all- 
sufficient cause of justification, — the right- 
eousness of Christ, which alone gives solid 
comfort. Instead of delighting myself in 
the Lord Redeemer, I shall be engaged in 
an anxious concern about the supposed con- 
ditions : Whether I have performed them ? 
Whether I have performed them aright ? 
Whether there may not be some latent de- 
fect, that spoils all, and renders my labour 
fruitless ? The more serious our minds are, 
and the more tender our consciences, the 
more shall we be liable to perplexity and dis- 
quietude on this head. 

It eclipses the lustre of grace. — " Ye are 
saved by grace," says the oracle of Heaven. 
But if salvation be upon conditions, it can- 
not be of grace. It must, in some measure 
at least, be of works. Since it depends 
upon working the conditions, it is obtained 
by working the conditions ; and the candi- 
date has reason to look principally unto his 
performance of the conditions. They are 
to him, by incomparable degrees, the most 
important point; because, without their all- 
significant interposition, every thing else is 
as nothing. tven God's everlasting love, 
and Christ's everlasting righteousness, are, 
till the conditions are fulfilled, but cyphers 
without the initial figure- 

It ajfords too n.uch occasion for boasting. — 
IMay 1 not, in this case, thank my own i\p- 
})lic'ati(jn and in iustry? They, they exerted 
themseh'L's succc'^sfully ; and behoiJ ! the 



514. 



LETTERS TO THE 



promised reward is mine/ What then 
should hinder me , from sacrificing unto my 
own net, and burning incense unto my own 
drag ? At this door the notion of merit 
will unavoidably creep in ; because my per- 
formance of the condition is meritorious of 
the covenanted reward, — so far meritorious 
that the reward is my due ; I may demand 
it as a debt ; and it will be an act of appar- 
ent injustice to withhold it. But shall these 
things be said unto the Almighty? Will 
these tilings redound to " the praise of the 
glory of his grace ?" Do these things hide 
vanity from man, or consist with a salvation 
that is " without money or without price ?" 
Not quite so well, I believe yourself will 
acknowledge, as the following lines : 

Let the woild their virtue boast, 
Their works of righteousness; 

I, a wretch undone and lost, 
Ain freely saved by grace ; 

Other title I disclaim. 

This, only this is all my plea; 

1 the chief of sinners am. 
But Jesus died for me. 

" Fallen man (you say) is justified, not 
jy perfect obedience, but by faith." Not 
by perfect obedience! Ah, Sir, if you had 
remembered the immutability of God, and 
the spirituality of his law, you would not 
have challenged this expression. — " But by 
faith." Here, it is true, you use the lan- 
guage of Scripture. Nevertheless it be- 
hoves a watchman in Israel to shew how 
the language of Scripture may be abused. 
Faith, you allow, is imputed to us for right- 
eousness : therefore (you infer) not the 
riirhteousness or perfect obedience of Christ. 
This, if you mean any thing, or would speak 
any thing to the purpose, must be your way 
of arguing. So you would set faith and 
Christ's righteousness at variance. The 
former shall exclude the latter from its of- 
fice : Whereas, the former is only the pit- 
cher at the fountain, while the latter is the 
very water of life — is that blessed, glorious, 
heavenly expedient, which, received by faith, 
justifies, sanctifies, saves. 

According to your gospel, faith will say 
to the righteousness of the Redeemer, 
Depart hence, I have no need of thee. I 
myself act as the justifying righteousness. I 
stand in the stead of perfect obedience, in 
order to acceptance with God."* To this 
may we not reply. Was faith then crucified 
for you? Has faith magnified the divine 
law ? Or is it by means of faith, that not 
one jot or tittle of its precepts pass unful- 
filled? 

If faith, in this sense, is imputed for 
righteousness, how can you subscribe that 
emphatical article which declares, " We are 
accounted righteous before God, only for 
the merit of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ ?" Surely, Sir, you are accounted 

* These are Mr. Wesley's own words, in his expli- 
cation of this very doctrine. See liis Sermon ou the 
Righteousness of Faith, vol. i. p. 111. 



righteous for the sake of that, whateve? it 
be, which stands in the stead of perfect 
obedience. That, whatever it be, may 
claim the honour, and to that justice itself 
cannot but award the prize. 

If your notion be true, the believer ought 
to have his own faith principally in view. 
Whatever presents me perfectly obedient 
before God, is my greatest good — is my 
choicest portion — the best foundation for 
my hope, my peace, my joy. To this, 
therefore, so long as I know my own inter- 
est, I must chiefly look. Whereas, look un- 
to Jesus is the direction of the Holy Ghost. 
Look unto his perfect atonement and com- 
plete righteousness, and be saved, is the 
grand unchangeable edict issued from the 
throne of grace. 

Perhaps you will say. Are not the words 
of Scripture expressly on my side? " Faith 
is imputed for righteousness." True. But 
is the sense of Scripture on your side ? 
Suppose I should undertake to prove, that 
David was purged from guilt by the hyssop 
which groweth on the wall ; this you would 
think a wild and impracticable attempt. 
But should I not have the v. ords of Scrip- 
ture expressly on my side ? " Purge me 
with hyssop, and I shall be clean." Yet 
should I not have the least countenance 
imaginable from the spirit and sense of those 
sacred v/ritings. Has the hyssop, a mean 
worthless shrub, any kind of fitness to stand 
in the stead of the sacrificial blood, and 
make the atonement for sin ? No more fit- 
ness has faith to stand in the stead of per- 
fect obedience, to act as our justifying right- 
eousness, or procure our acceptance with 
God. 

" What Christ has done." Here Mr. 
Wesley himself speaks of what Christ has 
done. He represents it by a very magnifi- 
cent image. He lays it as the foundation 
of that first and most comprehensive bless, 
ing, justification. In this I most cordially 
agree with him ; hoping that we shall un- 
animously join to defend this important 
sentiment against all opposition, and endea- 
vour to display the Redeemer's work, as 
well as his passion, in all its glorious ex- 
cellency. 

" What Christ has done, is the founda- 
tion of our justification, not the term or con- 
dition." The prophet Isaiah had other no- 
tions of this matter ; " If thou shalt make 
his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his 
seed." If \s the hypothetic language ; de- 
notes a term, expresses a condition, on the 
performance of which the Messiah should 
see his seed ; should have a numberless mul- 
titude of sinners pardoned and renewed, 
born again of the Spirit, and made heirs of 
salvation. The grand term on wln'ch all 
these blessings depend, and by which they 
are made sure to believers, is, the pouring 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



515 



owt of the Messiah's soul, as a sacrifice for I 
their sins and a ransom for their persons. 

" The foundation, not the condition." 
Methinks you should offer some reason for 
this distinction ; especially since St. Paul 
assures us, that Christ is, in the work of 
salvation, not this or that only, but he is 
All; especially since Christ himself declares, 
/ am, in that grandest of all affairs, the re- 
demption of sinners, the beginnvig and the 
ending. And well he may be so, since he 
is, as it follows in the text, the Almighty. 

Your meaning, I presume, is, What 
Christ has done is a foundation for the in- 
fluence and significancy of our o\\^ doings ; 
that they, under the notion of terms and 
conditions, may come in for a shai'e, and be 
his coadjutors in the great work. This was 
the doctrine established by the council of 
Trent ; this is the doctrine still maintained 
in the conclave of Rome ; and is, perhaps, 
of all their abominations, the most refined, 
yet not the least dishonourable to our Sa- 
viour. It bears the greatest opposition to 
the truth of his gospel, and the freeness of 
his redemption. 

I have heard it insinuated, that Mr. Wes- 
ley is a Jesuit in disguise. This insinuation 
1 rejected, as the grossest calumny — I ab- 
horred, as falsehood itself. I acquit you, 
Sir, from the charge of being a Jesuit or a 
Papist ; but no body, I apprehend, can ac- 
quit your principles from halting between 
protestantism and popery. They have 
stolen the unhallowed fire, and are infected 
with the leaven of antichrist. You have 
unhappily adopted some specious papistical 
tenets, ond listened to the mother of abom- 
inations more than you are aware. 

Amidst all your mistakes (and from mis- 
takes who is exempt) I verily believe your 
principal aim is, the honour of Christ and 
the edification of souls ; therefore I speak 
the more freely. Was you a bigot to sel- 
fishness, or a devotee to vain-glory, such 
liberty might be disjdeasing. But 1 am 
persuaded better things of Mr. Wesley. 
He has publicly declared, that " wherein- 
soever he is mistaken, his mind is open to 
conviction ; and he sincerely desires to be 
better informed." This is written in the true 
spirit of a Christian. To this spirit I address 
myself; begging of you, Sir, with the sin- 
cerity and tenderness of a brother, to consi- 
der these hints impartially; lest, being mis- 
led yourself, you mislead your thousands 
and ten thousands. 

In the mean time, I hope, you will not 
take it amiss, if to my affectionate entrea- 
ties I add my earnest prayers, that you. Sir, 
and your people, may be in the number of 
those " blessed men, unto whom God 
imputeth righteousness without works." 
Which I take to be the first and great evan- 
gelical orivilege ; as I am very sure it is the 



richest benefit I know liow to crave, either 
for you, or for your most, &c. 



LETTER VIL 

Reverend SiR,--Persons skilled in the 
dissection of animal bodies frequently men- 
tion Comparative Anatomy. ]\Iay I bor- 
row the term, and apply it to theology ? I 
do then freely declare, that in case you cen- 
sured Aspasio for points of divinity com- 
paratively small, you should have no oppo- 
sition nor any check from this pen. 

Some people, for instance, are of opin- 
ion, that the belief of a parent is considera- 
bly beneficial to his children. That when 
St. Paul says to the anxious jailor, " be- 
lieve on the Lord Jesus, and thou shalt be 
saved and thy house," he promises some 
special good that should redound to the 
man's household from his own receival of 
Christ. It seems, indeed, that the apostle 
must intend somethhig of this nature, more 
than barely to say. Thy family also, provid- 
ed they follow thy example, shall obtain 
salvation with eternal glory. If this were 
the whole of his meaning, he need not have 
confined it to the jailor's domestics, but 
might have extended it to all the inhabitants 
of Philippi. 

Such tenets, whether admitted or reject- 
ed, affect not the main pohit. IMen may 
embrace which side of the question they 
think proper, and yet be sound in the faith 
of our Lord Jesus Christ. But errors re- 
lating to that righteousness which is the 
one efficient cause of justification, in which 
alone God is well pleased, and all his pei- 
fections glorified, which is the only spring 
of solid peace aj)d true godliness — such er- 
rors are extremely pernicious. These we 
must withstand with resolution and zeal. 
We may not give place to their encroach- 
ment, no, not for an hour. The former 
ma}'~ be compared to a fly settled on the dish, 
the latter are more like poison mixed with 
our food. To dislodge that, may not be 
amiss ; but to prevent, or expel, or anti- 
dote this, is absolutely necessary. In the 
former number, perhaps the reader will rank 
your observation which follows. But as I 
have undertaken to follow you step by step, 
I must not disregard it. 

Aspasio, speaking of DaN-id, expresses a 
high esteem for that hero, king, and saint. 
Allowing that his esteem were carried a 
little too far, v»'liere would have been the 
great hurt or the grievous offence ? Hov/, 
Sir, could this have led to "unsettled no- 
tions in religion P" '^ I was inclined to an- 



* T e rsp.'ler wi 1 please to rememVor, t'.iat the 
pamphlei. which contains the remarks umkr consider- 



516 LETTERS 

swer your reflections, as the hero himself 
answered his censorious brother, " Is there 
not a cause ?" then passing on to another 
subject, as he, perfectly master of himself, 
and nobly superior to the affront, turned to 
another person. But as you seem to have 
injured David, and not done justice to the 
truth, I shall hardly be excused if 1 dismiss 
the matter vi^ithout some more particular 
notice. 

" God himself dignifies David with the 
most exalted of all characters," says Aspa- 
sio. " Far, very [fav from it, (says Mr. 
Wesley) ; we have more exalted charac- 
ters than David's." Where, Sir? Shew me, 
in any of the saints, or in any of the sacred 
writers, a more devout, or a more divine 
spirit, than that which breathes in the pen- 
man of the Psalms. For my own part, I 
know nothing superior to it, in any author, 
or in any language : Neither can I conceive 
a more exalted character than the character 
given of David, " a man after God's own 
heart." If God be an unerring judge, if 
his approbation be the infallible standard, 
this description must express the most con- 
surumate human worth. Say whatever you 
will of a person, it does not, it cannot, ex- 
ceed this most illustrious testimony. 

"But this is said. of David in a particular 
respect." Ay ! notwithstanding the Hoiy 
Spirit has declared 'concerning him, " a man 
after mine own heart, who shall perform all 
my will ?" If you was expounding this text, 
would you think it right to say. He shall per- 
form all my will, that is, he shall serve me in 
some particular respect! " It was not said 
with regard to his whole character." No ! 
not when the Spirit of inspiration has borne 
this witness to David, " His heart was per- 
fect with the Lord his God !" Could his 
heart be perfect, yet not influence his whole 
conduct ? But it was said in the second or 
third year of Saul's reign ; therefore it was 
not applicable to him during the future years 
of his life. This is the inference you would 
draw. But can you really think it a just 
one ? Or would you call that person a man 
after God's own heart, M'^ho is singularly 
pious in the days of his youth, but swerves 
and declines in his advanced age ? 

Notwithstanding all these remonstrances, 
you push matters to the utmost ; as though 
it was a point Cif the last importance to prove 
David an errant backslider. With this view 
you add, " But was he a man after God's 
own heart all his life, or in all particulars ? 
So far from it, that" — Stop, Sir, I beseech 
you ; and, before you speak unadvisedly with 
your lips, hear what the Lord himself replies 
to both your interrogatories : " David did 
that which was right in the eyes of the Lord, 



ation, is entitled, A Pressrvative agaipst Unsettled 
Notions in Religion. 



TO THE 

and turned not aside from any thing that he 
commanded him all the days of his life, save 
only in the matter of Uriah the Hittite." 
Surely you was not aware that such things are 
written in the book of God ; otherwise, you 
would not have contradicted them with so 
much boldness. I will therefoi'e put the 
most charitable construction upon your pro- 
cedure, and say w^ith the apostle, " I wot, 
that through inadvertence you did it." 

" There is not a just man upon earth, that 
sinneth not," is a text quoted by Aspasio. 
Upon which Mr. Wesley observes, *' Solo- 
mon might truly say so, before Christ came." 
According to this insinuation, what Solomon 
said in his Proverbs and other books, was 
said only by a short-sighted mortal, who 
might adapt his instructions to the present 
economy, but was not able to plan a system 
of morals for futurity ; whereas I always sup- 
posed, that his writings were dictated by 
that infinitely wise Spirit, before whom all 
times are present, and to whom all events 
are known. Agreeably to this supposition, 
St. Paul informs us, that "whatsoever things 
were written aforetime, (whether by Solo- 
mon or any other prophet), were written 
for our learning." No, suggests Mr. Wesley: 
Here is something written, which apper- 
tains not to us Christians : We are above it. 
Are you so ? Your reason for these lofty 
apprehensions? Why, St. John affirms, 
" Whosoever is born of God, sinneth not." 

True, he sinneth not habitually ; it is not 
his customary practice. Thus the passage 
is explained by another apostle ; " Sin 
(though it may make insurrection) does not 
reign in his mortal body :" Though it may 
assault him, yet it "has no dominion over 
him." 

Again, " he sinneth not," is the same 
way of speaking, and to be understood with 
the same limitation, as that text in Job, " he 
giveth not account of any of his matters." 
How, Sir, would you interpret these words ? 
It is undeniably certain, that sometimes God 
giveth account of his matters ; he gave it to 
Abraham, when Sodom and Gomorrah, and 
the cities about them, were to be destroyed 
with brimstone and fire from heaven. You 
would therefore, I presume, in some such 
qualified sense, expound the passage : " He 
giveth not account; it is not his usual way, 
not a customary procedure with the supreme 
Disposer of things : He generally requireth 
his creatures to transact with him upon trust; 
to give themselves up, with an implicit re- 
signation, to the veracity of his word, and 
the good pleasure of his will." The har- 
mony of Scripture, and the necessity of the 
case, call upon you to give the same expo- 
sition of the text before us. 

I said, the necessity of the case ; for you will 
please to observe, thethingaffirmedis affirm- 
ed in such a manner, that it must be applied 



REV. MR. 

to every individual Christian, and at the very 
instant of his commencing a true Christian. 
The apostle says not, a saint of the first rank, 
but whosoever. He says not, after such a 
one has been for a considerable time born 
of God ; but whosoever is born, is but just 
entered upon the desirable state, sinneth not. 
The character belongs to the very weakest 
believer : The description is suited even to 
babes in Christ. To suppose, therefore, 
that it implies an entire freedom from sin, 
infirmity, and defect, is to suppose that all 
the children of the regeneration are born in a 
state of manhood ; or rather, are more than 
men, even while they are infants of a day. 

Our sense of the passage is free from this 
impropriety, yet gives no countenance to 
immorality. " Whosoever is born of God 
sinneth not." He does not, he cannot sin, 
like the devil, or one actuated by the dia- 
bolical nature. This interpretation is ren- 
dered probable, by the apostle's antithesis, 
he that committeth sin is of the devil." 
It is rendered necessary, by the preceding 
remark, and by the experience of Christians. 
The text, thus interpreted, is applicable to 
the babe in Christ as well as to the adult. 
Though either of them may fall through the 
violence or surprise of temptation, yet nei- 
ther of them can live and die in allowed ini- 
quity, whether of omission or commission. 
They cannot have a settled love to any 
known sin, nor can they commit it with the 
full consent of their will. 

Solomon, when he uttered those hum- 
bling words, Eccl. vii. 20, had his eye upon 
what you somewhere call, " the inconceiva- 
ble purity and spirituality of the sacred 
precepts ;" upon that universal obedience 
which they require, in every the minutest 
instance : That we do nothing, great or 
small, which they forbid: I.eave nothing 
undone, in heart or life, which they enjoin : 
That we do all this in the most perfect de- 
gree ; not only serving the Lord, but serv- 
ing him with all our strength; not only 
loving our neighbour, but loving him as our 
own soul ; ever exercising the utmost re- 
gularity of affection and desire ; ever mailer 
taining the utmost rectitude of temper and 
thought. If you also. Sir, had your eye 
fixed upon the same law, as it delineates 
and demands this " inconceivable purity and 
spirituality," you would not scruple to ac- 
quiesce in the wise man's confession, nor 
think much to adopt it as your own. You 
would acknowledge it calculated, not only 
for the Mosaic era, and the meridian of Ju- 
dah, but for all times and all places ; till 
those new heavens, and that new earth ap- 
pear, wherein dvvelleth consummate righte- 
ousness. 

" In many things we offend all." " That 
St. James does not speak this of himself, 
or real Christians, will clearly appear to all 



WESLEY. 517 

who impartially consider the context." I 
wish. Sir, you had made this appear to one, 
even to him whom you honour with this ad- 
dress ; then I should not have been obliged 
to ask. Of whom speaketh the apostle ? He 
says, " My brethren :" Does not this im- 
ply true believers, and real Christians ? 
He says, " We teachers :"* Does not 
this conjprehend himself, and describe his 
office ? He adds, " We all :" If he himself, 
and real Christians, are not included in this 
most comprehensive clause, I would desire 
to know in what terms they could possibly 
be comprised. 

According to this interpretation, the ar- 
guing is just, and the conclusion forcible. 
As though he had said, " My dear bre- 
thren, though you are truly converted to 
Christianity, yet do not unadvisedly engage 
in the arduous and awful work of the min- 
istry : remembering, that we ministers of 
the gospel shall be subject to a stricter judg- 
mentt than Christians in ordinary life ; and 
if, upon trial, we are found faithless, shall 
receive a heavier condemnation, f The 
danger, let me add, is very considerable ; 
because, such is the frailty of our mortal 
state, that the very best among us, and those 
conversant in sacred things, cannot always 
walk uprightly ; but in many instances we 
trip, we stumble, we offend." 

Whereas, if neither the apostle himself, 
nor real Christians be meant, I can see no 
propriety nor force in the reasoning. Nay, 
I can see no reasoning at all, (though the 
illative particle for evidently requires it,) 
nothing but a most insipid and frivolous as- 
sertion. " For, in many things, we that 
are not real Christians offend !" Is this a 
discovery worthy of apostolical wisdom ? Is 
this aU that the inspired St. James meant 
to declare ? You and I could have told him 
and his people a great deal more. Whoso- 
ever is not a real Christian offends, not in 
many things only, but in eveiy thing. To 
such a one, nothing is pure ; his mind and 
conscience are defiled j his whole life is 
sin. 

We have examined this objection as it 
stands in itself. Let us now take a view 
of it as it may appear in its consequences. 
" In many things we offend aU." — " The 
apostle speaks not of himself, nor of real 
Christians." What fine work would our 
adversaries make with the Scriptures, if we 
should allow them Mr. Wesley's liberty of 
interpretation ! Tell a Pelagian, theft all 
mankind is depraved ; prove the universal 
depravity by that abasing text, " All we, 
like sheep, have gone astray." How easily 



» The original is, not «.v^toi, masters, but ^<5a<r- 
xaXoi, teachers. 

f Judgment, condemnation. The word n.^t-J-CC 
may be taken in both these signification.-. 



5^8 LETTERS 

may he reply. All we, does not mean all 
mankind ; the prophet speaks not of him- 
self, nor of virtuous persons ; hut only of 
profane people, and men of the haser sort. 
Tell an Arian, that our Lord Jesus Christ 
is very God : confiiTO the glorious truth by 
that most cogent text, " In him dwells all 
the fulness of the Godhead : " The heretic 
has nothing more to do than, in Mr. Wes- 
ley's manner, to answer, All fulness does not 
mean all the divine perfections, but only 
some pittance or portion of them. Dear 
Sir, whenever you are disposed to criticise 
again, let me beseech you to consider a lit- 
tle the import of language, and the conse- 
quences of things. 

Had the words been, " In many things 
we offend," you might, by disregarding the 
context, have borrowed some slight seem- 
ing countenance for your criticism from the 
ninth verse, where the apostle is supposed 
to personate the wicked, " Therewith curse 
we man." But in the place under consi- 
deration, he enlarges the sentiment, and 
strengthens the language : though free from 
that particular crime, he was not free from 
this general charge. Here therefore he 
spares not himself ; he takes shame to him- 
self ; and teaches the most upright of the 
human race, to plead guilty before their 
Judge. We the servants of God ; w^e the 
ambassadors of Christ ; we all, not one ex- 
cepted, in many things offend. Where then 
could they, and oh ! where can you and /, 
look for our perfection, but only in our di- 
vinely gracious Surety, Bridegroom, Head ? 
There let us seek, where some excellent 
lines (whose author you may probably know) 
have taught us to find it : 

Now let me climb perfection's height. 

And into nothing fall ; 
Be less than nothing in thy sight. 

While Christ is all in all. 

In the paragraph which begins, " O chil- 
dren of Adam," you do not distinguish what 
the law is made to speak, according to a 
new scheme of divinity ; and what it really 
does speak to true believers, on the princi- 
ples of the gospel. Give me leave to rec- 
tify your mistakes, and to po-int out the 
manner in which you should have express- 
ed yom-self. 

To rectify your mistakes. — You suppose 
the law, upon Aspasio's plan, speaking to 
this effect : " O children of Adam, you are 
no longer obliged to love the Lord your God 
with all your heart." Indeed you are. The 
obligation remains, and is unalterable ; but 
it has been fully satisfied, as the condition 
of life and immortality, by the believer's 
glorious Surety. " Once I insisted on ab- 
solute purity of heart ; now I can dispense 
with some degrees of evil desire." No such 
thing. Every degree of evil desire I con- 
demn with inexorable rigour; but every 



TO THE 

such offence has been thus condemned, and 
thus punished, in the flesh of your erucilied 
Lord. " Since Christ has fulfilled the law 
for you, you need not fulfil it :" Rather, you 
need not fulfil it in order to the justification 
of your persons, or to obtain eternal life and 
glory. This, to you the greatest of impos- 
sibilities, has been perform.ed in your be- 
half by a Mediator and Redeemer, to whom 
nothing is impossible. " I will connive at, 
yea, accommodate my demands to your 
weakness." Not this, but what is much 
better : I see no sinful weaknesses in you ; 
because they are all covered with the re- 
splendent robe of your Saviour's righteous- 
ness ; therefore, I no longer curse, but bless 
you, and sign your title to everlasting hap- 
piness. Thus the enmity of our nature is 
slain ; thus the precepts, even the strictest 
precepts, become amiable and desirable. 
We love the law, which, through our dear 
Redeemer, is no longer against us, but on 
our side ; is a m.essenger of peace, and bears 
witness to our completeness in Christ. 

The manner in which you should have ex- 
pressed yourself. — This is what the law 
speaks, according to Aspasio's doctrine ; 
" O believers in Christ, I am, like my di- 
vine Author, consummate and unchangea- 
ble. I did require, I do require, and ever 
shall require perfect love to God, perfect 
charity to your neighbour, and perfect holi- 
ness both in heart and life. Never abating 
one tittle of these my requirements, I shall 
denounce the curse upon every disobedience, 
upon the least departure from absolute per- 
fection. But this is your comfort, believei-s, 
that the curse is executed upon your most 
holy Surety ; This is your comfort, believers, 
that my precepts have been fully obeyed by 
Jesus your Saviour. As this was done in 
your nature, and in your stead, I am satisfi- 
ed, and you are justified. Now, though I 
can never dispense with any fault, nor con- 
nive at any infirmity, yet I behold all your 
faults laid upon Immanuel ; I behold all his 
righteousness put upon you ; and on his 
account I acquit you, I accept you, and 
pronounce you righteous."* 

This is the language of the law to the 
faithful, as they are in Christ Jesus : This 
is the Spirit of Aspasio's conversation with 
his friend Theron. The native tendency 
of this doctrine, and its powerful agency iu 
producing true hohness, are professedly dis- 
played in the tenth letter, and not obscurely 
hinted in various other places. If you can 
prove that it has a contrary tendency, you 
will prove that the grace of God does no 
longer teach us to deny, but prompts us to 



* I think it is no misrepresentation to suppose the 
law speaking in thism:inncr to the believers; because 
to thorn " aii things a. c become new;" Consequeut- 
ly, thr' voice of the !aw is ao'n : because " all thini^s 
ate llijir'b." 



REV. MR 

commit ungodliness ; An attempt in which, 
with all my esteem to your person, and de- 
ference for your abilities, I cannot wish you 
God speed. 

" Does the righteousness of God ever 
mean (as you affirm) the merits of Christ ?" 
Where do I affirm this, Sir ? Be pleased to 
produce the passage ; at least refer us to the 
page. Aspasio, in the place which offends 
you, speaks of what Christ has done and 
suffered — of his active and passive obedi- 
ence. These expressions you change into 
" the merits of Christ j'' which being an 
ambiguous phrase, may serve to perplex the 
cause, rather than clear up the difficulty. 
Give me leave, therefore, to restore Aspa- 
sio's words, and to state the question fairly. 

"Does the righteousness of God ever 
signify the active and passive obedience of 
Christ ?" To this Mr. Wesley replies, " I be- 
lieve not once in all the Scripture." Why then. 
Sir, do you not disprove what Aspasio has 
advanced in support of this interpretation ? 
You believe one thing, he believes another. 
And there is this little difference in the 
ground you respectively go upon : He ap- 
peals to argument and Scripture ; you l est 
the whole matter upon this single bottom, 
»^ i believe so." 

You proceed : " It (that is, the righte- 
ousness of God) often means, and particu- 
larly in the Epistle to the Romans, God's 
method of justifying sinners." Suppose I 
should say in my turn, This phrase never 
means, no, not in the Epistle to the Ro- 
mans, God's method of justifying sinners ; 
I should then argue in your own way — 
bring a shield suited to your sword : Just 
as good an argument to defend, as you have 
brought to destroy my opinion. What would 
the judicious reader say on such an occa- 
sion ? Would he not smile and cry, " A 
goodly pair of disputants truly !" 

But let me ask, Does the holiness of 
God signify his method of sanctifying sin- 
ners ? Does the wisdom of God signify his 
method of making sinners wise? This no 
mortal has suspected -. This you yourself 
will hardly venture to assert. Why then 
should we take your word, when, without 
assigning the least reason, you dictate and 
declare, " The righteousness of God means 
his method of justifying sinners ?" You 
must pardon us, Sir, if we prefer St. Peter's 
judgment : His judgment in thit memora- 
ble passage, " Who have obtained like pre- 
cious faith in the righteousness of our God, 
even of our Saviour Jesus Christ." This 
sentence is a key to all those texts in the 
New Testament, and many of those in the 
Old, which mention the righteousness of 
God. Here it necessarily signifies the 
righteousness of Christ ; because none else 
is our God and Saviour : Here it confess- 
edly signifies the object of justifying faith; 



WESLEY. 519 

which cannot be the essential righteous- 
ness of an absolute God, but must be 
the vicarious righteousness of an incar- 
nate God. And why should you scruple 
to call the righteousness of Christ the right- 
eousness of God, since his blood is called 
the blood of God : his life, which he laid 
down for us, is called the Hfe of God ; and 
he himself, as the Author of our salvation, 
is called Jehovah (or God self-existent and 
everlasting) our righteousness ? 

It is possible you may produce some com- 
mentators of eminence, who coincide, or have 
led the way, in this interpretation ; but may 
we not ask them, as well as yourself. On 
what authority they proceed? Is this the 
plain and natural signification of the words ? 
No ; but an apparent force upon their natui al 
import. Does this tend to fix and ascertain 
the sense of the passage ? No ; but it gives 
the passage such a rambling turn as will ac- 
commodate itself to the sentiments of Arians 
or Socinians, Arminians or Papists. Is this 
reconcilable with the tenor of Scripture? 
" He hath made him to be sin for us, who 
knew no sin, that we might be made the 
righteousness of God in him." Make a trial 
of your interpretation upon this distinguish- 
ed text : See how it will accord with com- 
mon sense, or the analogy of faith. Tltat 
ice miylit he made the ligliteousness of God ; 
that is. That we might be made God's me- 
thod of justifying sinners. Can you your- 
self, Sir, upon an impartial review, be pleased 
with such interpretations of sacred writ? 

How much more noble, and how much 
more comfortable, is the easy and obvious 
sense which the words, in a most beautiful 
climax, afford ! He made Christ — who was 
perfectly free from sin, both in heart and life, 
God made him — to be sin, justly chargeable 
with it, and justly punishable for it ; that 
we, who are full of sin, both original and ac- 
tual, might be made righteous ; and not bare- 
ly righteous, but, which is a much stronger 
expression, righteousness itself , yea, that we 
might be made, what exceeds all parallel, 
and passes all understanding, the righteouS' 
ness of God! Might have that very righteous- 
ness for our justification, which the God of 
all perfection, uniting himself to our nature, 
wrought, finished, and infinitely ennobled. 

Mr. Samuel Clark, in his annotations on 
this verse, on Rom. i. 17, on Rom. x. 3, 
writes in the same vague and unsatisfactory 
manner as yourself. I could mention another 
celebrated commentator, who leans to this 
timid and trimming scheme. I speak thus 
freely, because 1 look upon the article of 
justification through the righteousness of 
our God and Saviour, to be the supreme 
distinguishing glory of Christianity ; because 
I consider it as the richest, incomparably the 
richest, privilege of the Christian. To have 
a righteousness, a consummate righteous- 



520 LETTERS 

ness, the very righteousness of the incarnate 
God, dignified with all the peitections of the 
divine nature — to have this righteousness 
imputed for our justification ! Matchless, in- 
conceivable blessing ! This fills the believer's 
heart with inexpressible comfort and joy ; 
this displays the grace of God in the most 
charming and transporting light ; this con- 
stitutes the most engaging motive to love, to 
holiness, and to all willing obedience. 

Let us not then treat of it in such [dilut- 
ing terms, or in such a compromising strain, 
as shall defeat the efficacy of the heavenly 
cordial, or deliver up the precious depositum 
to the enemies of the gospel. Let us rather, 
by a clear and full manifestation of the truth, 
of this capital and leading truth especially, 
commend ourselves to every man's con 
science. Their humour may dislike it, 
their prejudice may reject it, but their con- 
science, whenever it awakes, and gains the 
ascendant, will embrace it, will cleave to it, 
and rejoice in it. 

But stay. Let me proceed cautiously ; 
not triumph immaturely. You rally your 
forces, and prepare for a fresh attack. As- 
pasio tolls his friend, That the righteous- 
ness of God signifies a righteousness of the 
most super-eminent dignity ; such as is wor- 
thy to be called by his name, and may justly 
challenge his acceptance. To this you re- 
ply, " 1 cannot allow it at all." Aspasio 
supports his opinon by Scripture, by reason, 
and by a very respectable authority. All 
which Mr. Wesley would confront and over- 
throw, by that one irrefragable proof, " I 
cannot allow it at all." Surely, said I, up- 
on reading such controversial triflings, de- 
livered with the air of oracular responses, 
surely this letter must have stolen its way 
into the world; it was designed as a preser- 
vative for Mr. Wesley's private societies 
Oiily ; it could never be intended for public 
view, and general examination ; since every 
reader is treated, not as his judge, no, nor 
as his equal, but as his pupil: Not as one 
that is to be addressed with argument, and 
convinced by reasoning, but as a tame dis- 
ciple, that is to acquiesce in the great pre- 
ceptor's solemn say so. 

To your next paragraph I have no mate- 
rial objection. I might indeed complain of 
an unfair quotation ; but I shall only ob- 
serve, that you would discard the expression, 
imputation of righteousness, and insert in its 
stead, interest in Christ. You had not al- 
ways, Sir, such an aversion to the "phrase 
imputed. Witness that stanza in one of your 
hymns. 

Let faith and love combine 

To guard your valiant breast. 
The plate be righteousness divine, 
Imputed and imprest. 

However, in this place I am willing to 

gratify you; because it will be difficult to 

shew how u sinner can have a real interest in 



TO THE 

Christ, in what he has done and what he 
has suffered, any other way than by imputa- 
tion. I am vt^illing to gratify you, provided 
you do not entertain that strange conceit, of 
an incomplete interest, or an interest in 
half the Redeemer ; but look upon the holi . 
ness of his nature, the obedience of his life, 
and the atonement of his death, as the one 
undivided ineflable treasure, in which every 
believing sinner is interested ; as that which 
is the all-sufficient cause of his justification ; 
rendering acceptable, first his person, then 
his performances, and, at the last, introduc- 
ing him, with dignity and triumph, into ever- 
lasting habitations. 

Here I lay down my pen ; unless you will 
permit me to relate a little piece of history, 
not foreign to your last sentiment. — A cer- 
tain general happened to observe a common 
soldier distinguishing himself, on the day of 
battle, with uncommon activity and courage. 
Determined to reward merit wherever it was 
found, he advanced the brave plebeian to a 
captain's post ; who had not long enjoyed the 
honour, before he came to his benefactor, 
and, ^with a dejected countenance, begged 
leave to resign his commission. The general, 
surprised at such an unexpected request, ask- 
ed him the reason. Your officers, said the 
petitioner, being gentlemen of family and 
education, think it beneath thein to associate 
or converse with a rustic. So that now I 
am abandoned on every side ; and am less 
happy, since my preferment, than I was be- 
fore this instance of your highness's favour. 
Is this the cause of your uneasiness ? replied 
the general ; then it shall be redressed, and 
very speedily. To-morrow I review the 
army, and to-morrow your business shall 
be done. Accordingly, when the troops 
were drawn up, and expected every moment 
to begin their exercise, the general calls the 
young hero from the ranks, leans his hand 
upon his shoulder, and in this familiar en- 
dearing posture, walks with him through all 
the lines. The stratagem had its desired 
effect. After such a signal and public token 
of his prince's regard, the officers were desir- 
ous of his acquaintance, and courted, rather 
than shunned his company. 

And will not the favour of the blessed 
Jesus give us as great a distinction, and as 
high a recommendation in the heavenly 
world ? Will not the angelic hosts respect 
and honour those persons who appear wash- 
ed in his blood, clothed with his righteous- 
ness, and wearing the most illustrious to- 
kens of his love that he himself could pos- 
sibly give ? In these tokens of his love may 
we and our readers be found ! Then shall 
we meet one another with courage and corn- 
fort at the great tribunal ; with honour and 
joy amidst the angels of light ; with ever- 
lasting exultation and rapture around the 
throne of the Lamb. 



REV. MK. 

Under such pleasing hopes, I take my 
leave at present, and remain yours, &c. 



LETTER VIII. 

Reverend Sir, — You introduce the 
paragraph that comes next under our consi- 
deration by a very just distinction. Aspasio 
had observed, that a rebel may be forgiven, 
without being restored to the dignity of a 
son. To which you reply, "A rebel against 
an earthly king may, but not a rebel against 
God. In the very same moment that God 
forgives, we are the sons of God." This is 
perfectly right. But hence to infer, that 
the conversation of our two friends is no 
better than "an idle dispute," is not very 
polite, and not at all conclusive ; because, 
remission of the offence, and restoration to 
favour, may come in the same moment, and 
yet be different blessings. That afflicted 
patient, mentioned in the gospel, had, at 
the same instant, his ears opened and the 
string of his tongue loosed. Were these 
effects, therefore, one and the same kind of 
healing? Besides, why are forgiveness 
and sonship united in the divine dona- 
tion? Because the sufferings of a sinner, 
and the obedience of a son, were united in 
the divine Redeemer. So that we must 
still have our eye, our believing and adoring 
eye, upon the meritorious righteousness of 
our Lord. 

" Pardon and acceptance through," &c. 
Here I see nothing but the crambe repetita. 
— " The words of Job," &c. Here I see 
nothing but the usual argument, our master's 
ipse dixit. Therefore we will pass on to 
the next period. 

Two texts of Scripture are produced. 
You set aside Aspasio's interpretation, to 
make way for one of your own ; which 
might have passed without suspicion, if it 
had appeared in your sermons, or been de- 
livered from your pulpit ; where a person 
may be content with the general sense, with- 
out entering upon a critical nicety. But, 
by rejecting Aspasio's exposition, you seem 
to intend a peculiar degree of accuracy. 
Let us then examine the passages with such 
a view. " Grace reigneth through righte- 
ousness unto eternal life ; that is, the free 
love of God brings us through justification 
and sanctification to glory." 

In this, I question. Sir, whether you are 
exactly orthodox. You lead the reader to 
suppose, that sanctification is as much the 
cause of glory as justification ; that Christ's 
work, and our graces, have just the same 
weight, act in the very same capacity, have 
at least a joint influence in procuring eter- 
nal life. You should rather have exjjressed 
vourself in some such manner ; " The free 



WESLEY. 521 

grace of God brings us, through the joyful 
privilege of justification, first to sanctifica- 
tion, or the love of his blessed self, then to 
glory, or the enjoyment of his blessed self." 

Besides, you neglect the significaiicy of 
that beautiful and emphatical word, reigneth. 
On this much stress ought to be laid in 
reading the sentence ; therefore it ought 
not to be totally overlooked in explaining 
the sentence. Grace is discovered in other 
instances ; grace is exercised in other bless- 
ings ; but by giving us eternal life, by giv- 
ing it freely, even when we are undeserving 
guilty creatures, this ever-amiable attribute 
reigneth. It is manifested with every grand 
and charming recommendation. It appears 
like the illustrious Solomon, when seated 
on his inimitably splendid throne of ivory 
arid gold, or like the magnificent Ahasuerus, 
when he " showed the riches of his glorious 
kingdom, and the honour of his excellent 
majesty." 

Another particular I caimot persuade 
myself to admire. You change the word 
righteousness into justification. Instead of 
saying, " Brings us through righteousness," 
you say, Brings us through justification." 
By this language you scarcely distinguish 
yourself from any heretic. You ni;iy rardc 
with the Arian, or with the sectarist of any 
denomination. They will, every one, allow 
the necessity of justification in order to final 
felicity ; but not the necessity of a righte- 
ousness adequate to the demands of tiie 
law, as a foundation for this blessed hope. 
You do just the same injury to Christ and 
his righteousness, which obtain this incon- 
ceivable recompense of reward, as you 
would receive from a messenger who car- 
ries a rich present to your friend, but will 
not acknowledge from whom it comes : It 
comes, he confesses, from some man, but 
obstinately refuses to say from Mr. John 
Wesley. W^hereas, Aspasio scruples not 
to own, Tiay rejoices to declare, from whence 
the invaluable benefit of justification pro- 
ceeds. Not from works of the law, no, nor 
from works of the sj)irit ; from nothing 
done by us, from nothing wrought in us ; 
but wholly from the blood and obedience of 
Jesus Christ. 

The next passage on which you descant 
is, " That they may receive forgiveness, and 
a lot among the sanctified." Thus you 
translate the original. Aspasio, not affect- 
ing needless novelty, is content with the * 
common version : " That they may receive 
forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among 
all them that are sanctified, by faith' that is 
in me." Why do you omit the word sins ? 
Forgiveness, I own, implies it; but the 
apostle chooses to express it ; by which 
means, the sentence becomes more full and 
emphatical ; grace is more highly honoured, 
and man more deeply abated. I wonder 



522 



LETTERS TO THE 



also, why you should prefer lot to inheritance, 
which is the usual translation. The latter 
word conveys a much more noble and pleas- 
ing idea to the English reader, than the 
former. — Receive forgiveness of sins not 
earn it (let us mark this) by performing j 
conditions, but receive it as an absolute 
gift ; just as Joseph's brethren received the 
portions sent them from the viceroy of 
Egypt's table — Receive an inheritance : 
consisting of all spiritual blessings here, and 
a title to everlasting blessedness hereafter. 
All which are bestowed as freely, as the 
several portions of land in Canaan were, by 
Moses and Joshua, consigned over to the 
tribes of Israel for a possession. — Among 
those that are sanctified. If you should in- 
quire, how sinners are sanctified ? the an- 
swer is added, by faith which is in me ; not 
for faith, as your conditional scheme sup- 
poses, but hy faith. By accepting the bless- 
ings mentioned, by looking upon them as 
your own through the divine gift, and by 
living in the delightful enjoyment of them ; 
thus our hearts are won to God, and filled 
with his love ; thus they are weaned from 
vanity, and renewed in true holiness. 

Is the satisfaction made by Christ's death 
sufficient to obtain both our full pardon and 
our final happiness ? Aspasio has answer- 
ed this question in the negative. He has 
confirmed his opinion by the authority of 
Scripture and the testimony of reason. Mr. 
Wesley thinks it enough to reply, " Un- 
questionably it is sufiicient, and neither of 
the texts you cite prove the contrary." 
How easy, by this way of arguing, to over- 
throw any system, and silence demonstra- 
tion itself! But pray, Sir, be pleased to 
recollect yourself : Did you not, a little 
while ago, extol Aspasio as " unquestiona- 
bly right," because he made the universal 
obedience of Christ, from his birth to his 
death, the one foundation of his hope? Yet 
here you condemn him as " unquestionably 
wrong," because he does not attribute all 
to Christ's death exclusively. Will Mr. 
Wesley never have done with self-contra 



dicti( 



Why will he give me such re- 



peated cause to complain, Quo teneam vul- 
tus, &c. ? 

If It was requisite for Christ to be bap- 
tized, argues Aspasio, much more to fulfil 
the moral law. " I cannot prove (replies 
Mr. Wesley,) that either the one or the 
other was requisite, in order to his purchas- 
ing redemption for us." Why then do you 
admit his obedience to the moral law as an 
essential part of the foundation of your 
hope ? A tottering foundation methinks, 
which is laid in a doctrine you cannot prove. 

But if you cannot prove it, may not 
Others prove it for you ? You are not call- 
ed to prove this point. Sir, but only to dis- 
prove what Aspasio has advanced in con- 



firmation of it. That it was requisite for 
our Lord to be baptized, he himself acknow- 
ledges. Speaking of that sacred rite, he 
says, " Thus it becometh us to fulfil all 
righteousness." It becometh : was it not 
requisite for Christ always to act the be- 
coming part ? in every circumstance to de- 
mean himself according to the utmost de- 
corum and highest dignity of character ? 
" This was not requisite to purchase re- 
demption for us." For what then was it re- 
quisite ? Not to wash away any stain from 
the holy Jesus ; not to obtain any blessed- 
ness for the Son of the highest : since, as 
the Son of the eternal God, he had an un- 
doubted right to all the blessings of heaven 
and earth, of time and eternity. 

" But it was not requisite that he should 
fulfil the moral law." No ! Do you then 
establish the law ? Are not you the Anti- 
nomian, who would have sinful man saved, 
yet the divine law not fulfilled either by 
them or their Surety? This is a strange 
way of magnifying the great standard of all 
righteousness ! Rather, it is the sure way 
of dishonouring and debasing it. What 
says our Lord ? "I came, not to destroy 
the law, but to fulfil," Matth. v. 17. Did 
this signify, as some expository refiners sug- 
gest, only to vindicate and illustrate the 
law, to explain its highest meaning, and res- 
cue it from the false glosses of the Scribes, 
the business might have been done by the 
prophets and apostles : No occasion for the 
King of heaven to appear in person : His 
ambassadors might have transacted the 
whole affair of vindication a'nd explanation. 
But to fulfil every jot and tittle prescribed 
in its commands, to suffer all the vengeance 
and the whole curse denounced in its pe- 
nalty — this was a work worthy of the Son of 
God — practicable by none but the Son of 
God — and, being executed by him, is truly 
meritorious of pardon and life for poor sin- 
ners ; of their restoration to the divine fa- 
vour, and of their admission into the hea- 
venly kingdom. 

The moi al law is inviolable in its nature, 
and of eternal obligation. This is a truth 
of great importance : With this is connect- 
ed, and on this depends, the absolute ne- 
cessity of a vicarious righteousness. I am 
no longer surprised that you dispute against 
the latter, since you question or deny the 
former. But consider what our Lord says 
farther upon this subject, in the fifth of St. 
Matthew and the eighteenth verse. Per- 
haps you will reply, " I have both consi- 
dered it, and expounded it in my Sermons." 
You have ; but in such a manner as I hope 
you will live to retract. Thus you expound 
the awful text, and turn it into a piece of 
unmeaning tautology. " One jot or one 
tittle shall in no wise pass, till heaven and 
earth pass ; or as it is expressed immediate- 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



523 



ly after, till all (oi rather, all fhinys) be ful- 
filled, (till the consummation of all things)." 
You would make ecu; av Tx^tXf/i o n^avos Kxi 
V yn and lut «v -n'oivra, yivr,ra.i, synonymous 
})hrases, expressive of the same thing. 
Thus stands the passage, interpreted ac- 
cording to your criticism ; " Till the con- 
summation of all things, one jot or one tit- 
tle shall in no wise pass from the law, till 
the consummation of all things." See to 
M hat miserable subterfuges a man of learn- 
ing is driven, in order to evade the force of 
a text which militates strongly for the me- 
ritorious obedience of Christ. 

How much more just, more noble, more 
useful, is the common exposition, and the 
obvious meaning? Which we may thus in- 
troduce, " These are the terms of life and 
happiness to man ; whosoever falls short, 
God iiimself pronounces accursed." And 
will the Unchangeable go back from his 
purpose, make abatement in his demands, 
or come to a composition with his crea- 
tures ? No, verily. " He is of one mind, 
and who can turn him, Job xxiii. 13. It 
were easier for heaven and earth to pass," 
for all nature to be unhinged, and the uni- 
verse to drop into dissolution, " than for 
one jot or tittle of this unalterable law to 
pass without a perfect accomplishment"t in ' 
every the minutest instance. 

" By Christ's suflferings alone the law was 
not satisfied," says Aspasio. Yes, it was," 
replies Mr. Wesley. Then all the indefa- 
cigable and important labours of his life, all 
his exemplary and shining graces, must be 
mere superfluities. At least they could 
have no merit, but were necessary only by 
way of setting us an example. 

The prophet was of another mind ; " The 
Lord is well pleased for his righteousness 
sake." By this righteousness, not barely by 
his sufferings, "he will magnify the law, 
and make it honourable," Isa. xlii. 21. The 
aposlle was of another mind : " God sent 
forth his Son made of a woman, made un- 
der the law." What? Only to bear its 
curse ? Only to undergo its penalty ? Not 
to fulfil its preceptive part ? which is con- 
fessedly the principal part in every law ; 
arid to enforce which all penalties are add- 
ed. You yourself ought to be of another 
mind ; for you have already, and truly ob- 
served, that pardon and acceptance always 
go together. " In the same moment that 
(lod forgives, we are the sons of God." 
And wherefore? The reason is, because 
the sufferings of a sinner, and the obedience 

* Sermons by John Wesley, vol. ii. p. 173. 

t " The word all (says Mr. Wesley) does not mean 
all the law, but all things in the universe." How forc- 
ed a construction ! How contrary to grammar ! since 
tiie law, and the things which it comprehends, are 
the immediate antecedent. How much more proper- 
ly and consistentlv has Dr. Doddridge explained the 
))assage ! " Till ai"l things which thelaw r'jiiuires, or 
I'oiL'telia, shall &e i\ih'ctL\i." 



of a Son, went together in the Redeemer; 
and without this union the redemption of 
man had not been complete. 

" The law required only the alternative 
— obey or die." Some of your eiTors are 
less considerable ; this I take to be a first- 
rate mistake. Accordijig to this supposi- 
tion, Cain, and Judas, and all the damned, 
are righteous. Because they die, they bear 
the curse, they suffer evei lastingly ; and 
thereby conform to one of the law's alterna- 
tives. One of the law's alternatives ! No. 
Here I am wrong : It is one of your alter- 
natives. The divine law knows no such 
thing. No law on earth knows any such 
thing. Sanctions and penalties annexed to 
a law, are never looked upon as equivalents 
to obedience ; but only as preservatives from 
disobedience. In all the compass of your 
reading, have you ever met with a law that 
makes such proposals to its subjects : " Con- 
form to the regulations established, and you 
shall enjoy my privileges, you shall share 
my honours ? Or, if you choose to violate 
all my wholesome institutions, only aubmifc 
to the penalty, and you shall have an equal 
right to the immunities and preferments?" 

" The law required no man to obey and 
die too." But did it not require a trans- 
gressor to obey and die ? If not, then trans - 
gression robs the law of its right, and vacates 
all obligation to obedience- Did it not re- 
quire the Surety for sinful man to obey 
and die ? If the Surety dies only, he 
only delivers from punishment ; but this 
afibrds no claim to life, no title to a re- 
ward, unless you can produce some such 
edict from the court of heaven, " Suffer this, 
and thou shalt live." I find it written, " In 
keeping thy commandments there is great 
reward." Nowhere do I read, " In under- 
going thy curse, there is the same reward.'' 
Whereas, when we join the active and pas- 
sive obedience of our Lord, the peace-speak- 
ing blood with the life-giving righteousness 
— both made infinitely meritorious and in- 
finitely efficacious by the divine glory of his 
person, — how full does our justification ap- 
pear ! How firm does it stand ! It has all 
that the law can demand, both for our exemp- 
tion from the curse, and for our title to bliss. 

Before I take my leave of this topic, let 
me make one supposition, for which your 
way of thinking affords the juster ground. 
Suppose our Lord Jesus Christ had yield- 
ed a perfect conformity to the precept, 
without ever submitting to the penalty; 
would this have been sufficient for the jus- 
tification of a sinner ? Here is one of your 
alternativ-es performed- Upon the foot of 
your principles, therefore, it would, it must 
have been sufl:icient. But this is so wild an 
opinion, so contrary to the whole current of 
Scripture, that to produce it, is to refute it, 
\A'hcre Scripture ascribes the whole of 



our salvation to the death of Christ, a part 
of his humiliation is put for the whole. To 
this Mr. Wesley objects, " I cannot allow 
it without proof." I wish you would re- 
member the golden rule, of doing as you 
would be done by ; and since you insist upon 
proof from others, not be so sparing of it in 
your own cause. |I wish hkewise you would 
impartially consider what Aspasio has ad- 
vanced upon the subject. Has he not given 
you the proof you demand ? No ; " He was 
obedient unto death" is no proof at all. 
But is that the only thing urged ? If one 
argument is inadequate, must all be incon- 
clusive ? Because you have routed one de- 
tatchment, have you therefore conquered 
the whole army ? However, let us see,^ whe- 
ther this detachment, weak as you suppose 
it, may not be able to sustain your attack. 

Does not the Scripture ascribe the whole 
of your salvation to the death of Christ ? 
To this question Aspasio replies, " This 
part of our Lord's meritorious humiliation 
is, by a very usual figure, put for the whole. 
The death of Christ includes not only his 
sufFerings, but his obedience. The shed- 
ding of his blood was at once the grand in- 
stance of his sufferings, and the finishing 
act of his obedience : in this view it is con 
sidered, and thus it is represented by his 
own ambassador, who, speaking of his di- 
vine Master, says, ' He was obedient unto 
death, even the death of the cross.' " " This 
(you reply ) is no proof at all, as it does not 
necessarily imply any more, than that he 
died in obedience to the Father." 

How do some people love to cramp the 
enlarged, and debase the magnificent sense 
of Scripture ! Surely this text implies, and 
not implies only, but forcibly expresses, 
both the active and passive obedience of 
Christ. It is not a*e^«v£v, he died ; but yi- 
vof^ivo; vTvxoo:, he became obedient. Can you 
see nothing of his active righteousness in 
these words ? For my part, I can see very 
little besides. This is what the following 
clause confirms (let common sense be judge) : 
Obedient, not barely in death, but unto 
death ; like that expression of Jehovah by 
the prophet, " Unto hoary hairs will I carry 
you." Does not this give us a retrospect 
view of youth and manhood, as well as lead 
our attention forward to old age ? In like 
manner, obedient unto death : Does not this 
refer us to all the previous duties and vir- 
tues of a righteous walk; while it leads us 
to the closing scene of all, a resigned exit ? 
Does it not most naturally mean, obedient 
through the whole course of life, even to the 
last all-completing instance, a voluntary sub- 
mission to death ? How easy and obvious 
is this interpretation ! How grand and 
graceful is this meaning ! 

1 can no more admire your taste, consi- 



LETTKRS TO THE 



dered as a critic, than I can admire youf 
doctrine, considered as a divine. Give me 
the expositions of Scripture which act, not 
like the nocturnal damp, but like the morn- 
ing sun ; not shrivelling and contracting, 
but opening and expanding those flowers of 
paradise, the truths of the gospel, that they 
may display all their charming beauties, and 
breathe out all their reviving odours. I 
think, upon the whole, we have very suffi- 
cient cause to assert, and to abide by our 
assertion, that when the Scripture ascribes 
the w^hole of our salvation to the death of 
Christ, a part of his humiliation is put for 
the whole ; and, in thus speaking, the Holy 
Spirit copies after himself : For if the death 
inflicted on the first Adam included every 
evil consequent upon the fall — the depravity 
as well as the misery of the creature — it was 
meet that the death to which the second 
Adam submitted should include every good 
needful for our recovery ; the obedience as 
well as the sufierings of the Redeemer. It 
was meet that the price, expressed by the 
same word, should be as extensive as the 
punishment. 

But how does it appear that he imdev- 
took this before the foundation of the world?" 
At what time does Mr. Wesley suppose 
that Christ undertook the work ? Not till 
sin entered and man apostatized ? W^as it 
then an incidental upstart expedient, fetched 
in to remedy some unforeseen disaster ? Was 
it a device which owed its birth to some un- 
expected contingency, occasioned by the 
perverseness of the creature ? Far, far from 
it : It was the grand, original, all-compre- 
hending plan ; the way in which God, long 
before time commenced, decreed to mani- 
fest the glory of his grace, and the lustre of 
all his perfections. The world was made as 
a proper theatre on which to display and ex- 
ecute this most magnificent scheme ; and all 
the revolutions of human 'affairs, like so 
many under-plots in the drama, are subser- 
vient to the accomplishment of this capital 
design. " Known unto God are all his 
works;" determined by God are all his 
counsels. " from the beginning of the world;" 
more especially this grandest of all the di- 
vine dispensations, this masterpiece of his 
unsearchable wisdom. 

"But was this by a positive covenant be- 
tween Christ and the Father ?" Aspasio 
proceeds to illustrate and confirm the doc- 
trine of an everlasting covenant between 
the almighty Father and his co-equal Son. 
He produces several texts of Scripture, to 
each of which you object as insufficient for 
his purpose. Each of your objections I 
hall answer only by adding a short com- 
ment, exj)lanatory of their spirit and force. 

This proves no previous contract :" That 
is, I deny it; and therefore you cannot 



REV. MR. 

prove your point. " Neither does this 
prove any such thing:" Th.ic is, I cannui 
or v.'ill not see the proof; and therefore 
tiiere is none. " That expression does not 
necessarily imply any more" — than I please 
to allow. " In the way or method he had 
• hosen ;" of which I am the sole complete 
judge, and my judgment ought to be deci- 
sive in the case. Tluis would Mr. Wesley 
have, not Aspasio only, but the public also, 
receive his dictates ( tanqmnn a tripode ) as 
absolute oracles ; for here is only bare as- 
sertion, or bare denial, without any vouch- 
ers but his own word, without any authori- 
ty but his own declaration. 

In Psalm the xlth, the conditions of the 
covenant are circumstantially recorded, 
which were the incarnation and obedience 
of the eternal Son : " A body hast thou 
prepared me : Lo ! I come to do thy will." 

Nay, here is no mention of any covenant, 
nor any thing from which it can be inferred." 
How many times shall I adjure thee, said 
Ahab to Micaiah, that thou tell me no- 
thing but that which is true ? And how 
many times shall I entreat Mr. Wesley to 
object nothing, without assigning some rea- 
son for his objection ? At least not to 
think of convincing my judgment, and con- 
verting me to his opinion by a bare saij so. 
But I have done. Perhaps I have tres- 
passed upon the patience of the reader in 
expressing my disappointment so frequent- 
ly • perhaps I may also bear too hard upon 
Mr. Wesley in asking for proofs, when it 
may be no small difficulty to produce them. 
To return : " Nay, here is no mention of 
any covenant, nor any thing from w^hich it 
can be inferred." That the word covenant 
is not mentioned is very true ; that there is 
no reference to any such thing, is not sO 
certain. Let us consider the whole pas- 
sage : " Sacrifice and bumt-oflfering thou 
didst not require." If sacrifices and slain 
beasts are not the object of the divine com- 
placency, in what will the Lord delight? 
The next words declare, " A body hast thou 
prepared me :" Since the law cannot be ful- 
filled without doing, nor justice satisfied 
without dying, " Lo ! I come," (says the 
second person in the Trinity,) " to under- 
take both : Since this undertaking must be 
accomplished by one who is finite, that he 
may die, and infinite, that he may conquer 
death, 1 will accomplish it in the divine and 
human nature. For this purpose, a body 
hast thou prepared me : in this body, lo ! 1 
come, willingly and cheerfully I come, to 
perform, to sustain, to fulfil all ; and so to 
do thy great, thy gracious will." May we 
not rationally suppose this spoken by way 
of re-stipulation, or compliance with the 
Father's demands ? that the matter is 
thereby brought to a solemn contract ? 

Dr. Hammond thought this no irrational 



WESLEY. .52,5 

supposition ; therefore c:ivec us upon the 
following words a perfectly cciresponding 
connment. In the volume of the hook it ia 
written of me : — " Which is no other than a 
:>ill or roll of contract between the Father 
and Christ, wherein is supposed to be writ- 
ten the agreement preparatory to that great 
work of Christ's incarnation ; wherein he, 
undertaking to fulfil the will of God, toper- 
form all active, and also all passive obedi- 
ence, even unto death, had the promise from 
God that he should become the author of 
eternal salvation to all that obey him." 

Thus says our learned countryman. And 
what says the blessed apostle ; whose ex- 
position and application of the passage you 
seem to have forgotten, at least not to have 
thoroughly weighed ? Having quoted the 
passage, argued from it, and displayed the 
benefits obtained by this all-sufficient pro- 
pitiation, he adduces a text from Jeremiah 
relating to this very subject, and explaining 
its nature : " Whereof the Holy Ghost al- 
so is witness." Of what? Of the justifica- 
tion and sanctification of sinners, both found- 
ed on, both effected by, the sacrifice of the 
dying Jesus : Transactions which both the 
prophet and the apostle consider under the 
notion of a covenant, as is plain from the 
following quotation : " For after that he had 
said before. This is the covenant which I 
will make with them in those days." Heiice 
it appears that the author to the Hebiews 
saw something in the words of the Psalmist 
from which the doctrine of a covenant might 
be inferred. 

Another copy of this grand treaty is re- 
corded, Isaiah xlix. from the first to the 
sixth verse. *' I have read them, but can- 
not find a word about it in all those verses ; 
they contain neither more nor less than a 
prediction of the salvation of the Gentiles." 
They contain a prediction, and somewhat 
more ; they describe the way whereby this 
most desirable event shall be brought to 
pass. This the Lord himself declares shall 
be by way of covenant -. " I will give thee 
for a covenant to the people." This verse 
we may look upon as a key to the preced - 
ing. It teaches us to consider them as de- 
scriptive of the august covenant ; of its es- 
tablishment, its parties, and its terms. In- 
deed the verses themselves lead us to the 
same view : For what is a covenant ? A 
contract wherein a condition is prescribed, 
a promise is made, and both are ratified by 
a mutual agreement. The condition is pre- 
scribed in those words : " Thou art ray 
servant, O Israel,* in whom I will be glori- 



» Israel is the name of the church, often given to 
her in this prophecy. Christ and his church, by vir- 
tue of the union between them, have the same names. 
As she is sometimes called by his name, " The Lord 
our righteousness," so he is here called by her name, 
Israel." See Jer. xxxiii. 16. 



526 



LETTERS TO THE 



fied." The promise is made in those words : 
" Thou shalt raise up the tribes of Jacob, 
restore the preserved of Israel, and be my 
salvation unto the ends of the earth." The 
agreement is specified or implied in those 
words • I have spent my strength for 
nought; yet surely my judgment is with 
the Lord, and my work with my God." 

The great Vitringa, after having expound- 
ed the whole clause, concludes in this man- 
ner : " Antequam ab his verbis, sensu foe- 
cundlssimis, summam doctrinai evangelicas 
complexis, discedam, monere vellim, eadem 
clarissime deformare totum mysterium con- 
ventionis pacis, inter Deum patrem et Mes- 
siam filiam ejus, in humana carne apparitu-- 
rum, init?e, perinde ac in locis quae ex aliis 
excerpo ; Psalm xl. 7; Zech. vi. 13. Pa- 
ter ut Dominus, filio ut Messise, offert glo- 
riam longe amplissimam, meditationis et 
salvationis Judseorum et gentium, quje glo- 
ria, omnium quae mente concipi possunt, 
est maxima, sub lege sive sub conditione 
profundissimi obsequii servilis ; eaque sti- 
pulatio utrinque ratihubetur."* 

If, upon a stricter review, this prophecy 
be found to express no such thing as a co- 
venant, I am very willing to give up the 
proof : So much the rather as it makes no 
part of Aspasio's discourse ; is only just 
mentioned in a note ; and stands not in 
the main body, but only as a corps de reserve. 

" By the covenant of works, man was 
bound to obey in his own person." Here 
you take Aspasio up very short, and reply, 
" So he is under the covenant of grace, 
though not in order to justification." This 
is the very thing he means : Nor could you 
easily have mistaken his meaning, if you 
had only done him so small a piece of jus- 
tice as to read the whole paragraph ; of 
which, since you seem either willingly, or 
through inadvertence, to be ignorant, I will 
beg leave to transcribe it : — " Between the 
covenant of works and the covenant of grace, 
this, I apprehend, is the difference : by the 
former, man was indispensably bound to 
obey in his own person ; by the latter, the 
obedience of his surety is accepted instead 
of his own. The righteousness required 
by both is not sincere, but complete ; not 
proportioned to the abilities of fallen man, 
but to the purity of the law, and the majesty 
of the lawgiver." You see the whole argu- 
ment turns upon a complete righteousness, 
such as satisfies the law, and is an adequate 
ground for justification. This, I imagine, 
fallen man is not obliged by the covenant of 
grace to perform ; if so, we shall be at a 
loss to find any such a thing as grace ; if 
so, we can have no hope of obtaining salva- 
tion with eternal glory. There will be too 
much reason for applying to all mankind 



* ViTRiNG. in Ivc 



those awful words of the prophet, " In the 
day thou mayest make thy plant to grow, 
and in the morning thou mayest make thy 
seed to flourish ; but the harvest shall be a 
heap, in the day of grief and desperate sor- 
row." 

Blessed be God, the melancholy strain is 
superseded. Though the terms in the first 
covenant were a perfect obedience, though 
the terms once fixed continue unalterable, 
yet in the new covenant there is a change 
and substitution as to the performer, without 
any relaxation as to the performance. In- 
stead of personal obedience, we are justified 
through the obedience of our Mediator, 
" we are made the righteousness of God in 
him :" That is, we are furnished with a plea 
as prevalent for our justification and ad- 
mission into the divine favour, as if we had 
retained our innocence untainted, and in 
every respect conformed ourselves to the 
righteousness which the law of God re- 
quires.* Thus, the salvation of sinners 
neither clashes with the truth, nor interferes 
with the justice of the supreme Legislator : 
On the contrary, it becomes a faithful and 
just procedure of the most high God, to 
justify him that believeth on Jesus. 

" The obedience of our Surety is ac- 
cepted instead of our own." " This is 
neither a safe nor a scriptural way of speak- 
ing." That the obedience of Christ is ac- 
cepted for our justification, is a doctrine 
warranted by Sci'ipture; it may, therefore, 
very justly be reckoned a scriptural way of 
speaking. And if his obedience is accept- 
ed for this purpose, our own, were it ever 
so considerable, could come in for no share 
of the work ; our own, though ever so gor- 
geously arrayed, must stand aside, or be 
cast into shades, just as the stars hide their 
diminished, or rather extinguished heads, 
when the sun appears in his meridian splen- 
dour : Because the obedience of Christ is 
of infinite dignity and value ; and infinite 
value is such as not only transcends all 
other services, but renders them mere no- 
things in the comparison. For this rea- 
son the apostle counted all endowments but 
loss for Christ ; and the prophet represents 
all nations as nothing before God. 

" I would simply say, we are accepted 
through the Beloved." If you rightly un- 
derstood what is meant when the apostle 
speaks of being accepted in the Beloved, 
you would have no fault to find with Aspa- 
sio's comment. St. Paul means we are ac- 
cepted, not by any obedience performed in 
our own persons, but solely by the obedi- 
ence of that infinitely excellent, and iiifitiite- 
ly beloved one, Christ Jesus ; whose righte- 
ousness being imputed to us, and put uy,on 

* 2 Cor. V. 21. This is Dr. Doddridge's interpreia- 
tion of the passage ; and it speaks a noble, a joyful 
tnuh. 



REV. MR. 

us, causes us not only to be pardoned, but 
to be highly esteemed, dearly beloved, and 
blessed with all spiritual blessings. 

Here I cannot but observe that you have 
changed the apostle's expression. He says, 
" Accepted in the beloved ;" you say, " Ac- 
cepted through the beloved." I am willing 
to believe this was an oversight ; you had 
no sinister design ; but still I think you 
should take more heed to your pen, and not 
alter the inspired word, lest you blemish the 
language, or injure the sense. Perhaps you 
will ask, what difference is there between 
accepted through, and accepted in, the Be- 
loved? I will illustrate the difference by a 
similitude. A creditable housekeeper gives 
a good character to a servant that leaves 
him, by virtue of which he is accepted, and 
admitted into some other valuable employ. 
This character is his introduction, yet this 
makes no addition to his real value- Ac- 
ceptance through the Beloved, may import 
no more than such an admission through 
such a recommendation ; whereas, accepted 
in the Beloved implies not only a recom- 
mendatory passport from Christ, but a real 
union with Christ; whereby we are incor- 
porated into his sacred body, and partake as 
truly of his righteousness as the members 
partake of the life which animates the head. 
By this our persons are really ennobled ; 
this imparts the highest dignity to our na- 
ture : We are not only recommended to, 
but rendered meet for the favour, the com- 
placency, the beatific presence of God, be- 
ing one with Jesus, and therefore loved even 
as Jesus himself is loved.* 

" The second covenant was not made with 
Adam or any of his posterity, but with 
Christ in those words." "For any autho- 
rity you have from these words, you might 
as well have said it was made with the Ho- 
ly Ghost." No: Christ, not the Holy 
Ghost, was the seed of the woman. This 
is an answer much in your own strain. But 
let us consider farther. 

You allow, I presume, that the first co- 
venant was made with Adam, as our public 
federal head ; that all his posterity were in- 
cluded in it, being to stand or fall together 
with him Herein, says the apostle, " Adam 
was a figure of him that was to come." If 
so, the second covenant must be made with 
Christ, as our public federal head : He and 
all his seed are included in it ; and as it was 
impossible for him to miscarry, they must 
be joint partakers of the benefits. Accord- 
ingly, he is styled the Mediator of the new 
covenant, by whose most acceptable and pre- 
vailing interposition all its blessings are ob- 
tained : He is styled the Surety of the co- 



* Johnxvii. 23. " They in me," says our Lord. 
Therefore, on this account, or viewed in this relation, 
Tliou hast lox-ed them, as t .ou hast loved lire.'' 



WESLEY. 527 

venant, engaging to pay the whole debt for 
poor insolvent creatures — the debt of penal 
suffering, and the debt of perfect obedience : 
The Testator of the covenant, whose are 
its riches, and whose are its privileges ; who 
has also of his unbounded goodness bequeath- 
ed them as so many inestimable legacies to 
indigent men. Methinks those are such 
charming truths, such divinely comfortable 
doctrines, that you should consider them 
thoroughly before you oppose them, lest you 
do a greater act of unkindness to your read- 
ers, than that which is charged, though very 
injuriously, upon Job : "■ Thou hast stripped 
the naked of their clothing, and sent widows 
away empty." And when you are disposed 
to consider these points thoroughly, ask 
yourself this question : Is it possible to con- 
ceive that Christ should be the Mediator, 
the Stirety, the Testator of the covenant, if 
it was not made with him, and the execu- 
tion of it undertaken by him ? Or is it pos- 
sible to suppose that the all-glorious Son of 
God should be the Mediator, the Surety, 
the Testator of the covenant, yet leave others 
to perform the tonditions; which are in- 
comparably the most important, interesting, 
and difficult parts of the transaction ? 

" These words were not spoken to Christ, 
but of him." True, of him as given for a 
covenant of the people. " There is not the 
least intimation of any such covenant." You 
will not deny that Christ is signified by 
" the seed of the woman." It is said, He 
shell!; a language expressing authority, and 
requiring conformity. As Christ is the su- 
preme uncontrollable God, this could not 
be required, and would never have been 
said without his actual consent : here then 
is implied his approbation of the ofbce. It 
is farther said, " The serpent shall bruise 
his heel ;" he shall become incarnate, and 
after a life of much sorrow, and many tribu- 
lations, shall be put to a most tormenting 
death : here is the condition of the covenant. 
It is added, " He shall bruise the serpent's 
head ; shall destroy the works of the devil, 
and repair the ruins of the fall ; shall deliver 
from the wrath deserved, and recover the 
inheritance forfeited :" here is the recom- 
pense or reward of the covenant- 

Shotild you ask, Is it supposable that 
Adam understood the words in this compass 
of meaning ? Perhaps not. But if we do 
not understand them in a more exalted and 
extensive sense than our first father, what 
advantage do we reap from the full revela- 
tion of the gospel ? The full revelation of 
the gospel pours as much light upon this, 
and other of the ancient oracles, as the ex- 
periments of our modem anatomists have 
poured upon the structure and economy of 
the human body. This grand original text, 
read with the comment of the New Testa- 
ment, speaks all that Aspasio has suggested • 



528 LETTERS 

all that our ftilleH state could want, or our 
very hearts can wish. 

You have mustered up several objections, 
yet there is room for more ; T will therefore 
for once act as your auxiliary, and turn 
against Aspasio. He supposes the coven- 
ant to be made with Christ ; whereas the 
Scripture represents the covenant as made 
with various men, particularly and personal- 
ly, in various ages. True, it is recorded 
that God made a covenant with Abraham, 
with Isaac, with Jacob, and with David the 
father of Solomon : But were they in a 
capacity to enter into covenant with their 
Maker ? to stand for themselves, or be sure- 
ty for others ? I think not : the passages 
mean no more than the Lord's manifesting, 
in an especial marmer, the grand covenant 
to them ; ratifying and confirming their per- 
sonal interest in it ; and farther assuring 
them that Christ, the great covenant head, 
should be of themselves, and spring from 
their seed. 

This accounts for that remarkable and 
singular mode of expression, which often oc- 
curs in Scripture, " I will make a covenaiit 
with them ;" or, " This is my covenant with 
them." Yet there follows no mention of 
- any conditions, only a promise of uncondi- 
tional blessings; because the former have 
already been performed, and nothing re- 
mains but to confer the latter ; so that the 
meaning of the divine speaker is — I will ad- 
mit them to an interest in this covenant, 
and make them partakers of its privileges. 

I should now conclude, but Mr. Wesley 
will not suffer me to quit the subject. He 
farther insists, " The words manifestly 
contain, if not a covenant made with, a pro- 
mise made to Adam and all his posterity." 
If not : He begins to hesitate in his asser- 
tion, to fluctuate in his opinion, and, I 
could hope, to see his mistake. " The words 
contain a promise." And have you never 
read, that the covenant of God, or the va- 
rious renewals and ratifications of the cove- 
nant of grace, are styled covenants of promise? 
which consist of pure promises, and dis- 
pense free gifts. 

Observe the tenor of the new covenant, 
as it stands engrossed by the pen of inspira- 
tion : " This is the covenant which I will 
make with the house of Israel after those 
days, saith the Lord : I will put my laws 
into their mind, and on their hearts will I 
write them ; and I will be to them a God, 
and they shall be to me a people. And 
they shall not teach every man his neigh- 
bour, and every man his brother, saying, 
Know the Lord ; for all shall know me, 
from the least of them even unto the great- 
est of them For 1 will bs merciful unto 
their uiirighteousrsess, and their sins and 
their iniquities will I reme.nber no more." 
Where are your conditions in this draught ? 



TO THE 

Where are any terms required of impotent 
man ? Is it not all promise from the be- 
ginning to the end ? That repentance, and 
that faith, for whose conditionality you plead, 
are they not both comprehended in this 
heavenly deed? and comprehended under the 
form of blessings vouchsafed, not of tasks 
enjoined ? Does the contract run in this 
manner, I require and command? or in this 
strain, I grant and bestow? The Lord says, 
" I will put my laws, I will write them." 
The work shall not be laid on my creatures, 
but done by myself. " They shall be ray 
people, and I will remember their sins no 
more." What ! Provided they perform 
such and such duties ? I read no such 
clause : I see no such proviso. All is ab- 
solutely free ; dependent on no performances 
of ours ; but flowing from sovereign, su- 
preme, self-influenced goodness. 

Just such is that delightful declaration, 
" I will make an everlasting covenant with 
them, that I will not turn away from them 
to do them good ; but I will put my fear in 
their heart, that they shall not depart from 
me." What you call conditions, must be 
comprised in mi/ fear. This is represented 
as a singular benefit which God imparts, 
as a gracious temper which God implants ; 
and both as dependent, not on the fidelity 
of man, but on the power and veracity of 
God. Another of your conditions, I pre- 
sume, is perseverance unto the end. This, 
in the covenaiit of grace, is not enjoined, 
but secured ; secured, not by a strict pro- 
hibition of apostasy, but by the omnipotent 
interposition of Jehovah : " I will put my 
fear (so put my fear) into their hearts, that 
they shall not depart from me shall never 
draw back into perdition. Thus the coven- 
ant becomes not transient, but everlasting ; 
thus the promise is not precarious, but sure 
to all the seed. There seems to be as 
great a dift'erence between this evangelical, 
and your legal method of stating the coven- 
ant; between suspending the benefits on 
human endeavours, and grounding them on 
divine agency ; as between hanging the an- 
chor on the top of the mast, and fixing it at 
the bottom of the sea. 

Let me add one more text, which now 
occurs to ray thoughts : " Ye are the chil- 
dren of the prophets, and of the covenant 
which God made with our fathers, saying 
unto Abraham, And in thy seed shall all 
the kindreds of the earth be blessed," Acts 
iii. 25. Here the covenant is first men- 
tioned in general ; then particularly specifi- 
ed. " In thy seed shall all the kindreds of 
the earth" — be laid under conditions ? be 
obliged to execute terms ? No ; but " shall 
be blessed," blessed with all blessings, tem- 
poral, spiritual, eternal. In thy seed : that 
is, in Christ ; without any regard to qualifi- 
cations or deeds of their own ; entirely by 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



529 



virtue of an interest m his consummately 
excellent actions, and consummately pre- 
cious sufferings. Then the apostle sin- 
gles out one special and distinguished bless- 
ing of the covenant — a conversion from 
" darkness to light, and from the power of 
Satan to the service of God or, as it is 
expressed in the following verse, " a turn- 
ing from all iniquity." This is still exhi- 
bited to our contemplation as the fruit of 
the covenant of grace ; as the thing for 
which it makes provision, not introductory jto, 
but consequent upon, our participation of it. 

If, therefore, in speaking of holiness and 
obedience, we represent them as the pro- 
mises, rather than the demands of the cov- 
enant, we evidently follow the apostle's ex- 
ample. Were we to take the contrary 
course, we should act as prudently as the 
sportsman, who, entering his horse for a 
plate, chooses to have him walk backwards, 
rather than run forwards. Would this in- 
crease his speed ? VV^ould this help him 
to outstrip his rivals, or enable him to win 
the prize ? Shall we, in order to avoid the 
charge of Antinomianism, rush into this 
absurdity ? I am persuaded you could not 
wish to see so egregious a piece of folly 
even in your enemy, much less in yours, 
&c. 



LETTER IX. 

Reverend Sir, — I wish you would consi- 
der with some attention that emphatical 
memento of the apostle, " Since ye knew 
the grace of God in truth." Here he in- 
timates, that we may have a knowledge of 
grace which is not genuine; not free from 
corrupt mixtuie ; not true. It may be so 
discoloured with error, or blended with so 
much of the law, as no longer to appear like 
itself. The language of such persons is 
somewhat like the language of the Israelites 
aftei- their return from captivity, who spoke 
neither the Hebrew nor the Heathenish 
dialect ; but expressed themselves half in 
the speech of Ashdod, and half in the speech 
of Sion. 

" It is true," says Aspasio, " I cannot 
perform the conditions." " It is not true," 
says Mr. Wesley. This is pretty blunt, 
and pretty bold too ; for it is in effect afhrm- 
ing, that a man dead in trespasses and sins 
is able to perform conditions. Mr. Wesley 
is not aware, that " Christ strengthening 
us," is one of the benefits of the covenant, 
comprehended in these words, " I will put 
iny laws into their minds." 

" The conditions of the new covenant 
are, Repent and believe." It has been al- 
ready shewn, that they are represented by 
the Holy Ghost, not as conditions, but as 
blessings ; not as conditions required, but as 



blessings bestowed ; not as conditions on 
which depends the accomplishment of the 
covenant, but as happy fruits, or precious 
effects of the covenant, m.ade, and making 
good to sinners, who are wholly without 
strength. 

" It is equally true," says Aspasio, " this 
is not required at my hands." " It is equal- 
ly true," says Mr. W^esley, " that is, abso- 
lutely false." This is, doubtless, a home 
thrust. It behoves us to provide some ar- 
mour of proof for our defence ; and this the 
Scripture furnishes abundantly. It fur- 
nishes us with more than rohur et as triplex. 
The Scripture sets forth justification, salva- 
tion, and all blessedness, as things perfect- 
ly free ; detached from all works, dependent 
on no conditions, but the gifts of sovereign 
goodness and infinitely rich grace. 

Though you, Sir, treat Aspasio in so im- 
ceremonious a manner, we will be more 
complaisant ; you shall receive such enter- 
tainment from us, as the King of Babylon's 
ambassadors received from Hezekiah. We 
will, on this occasion, shew you " the house 
of our precious things, the silver and the 
gold, the spices and the precious ointment, 
and if not all, yet some of the house of our 
armour." 2 Kings xx. 13. 

We are saved, that is, we have all the 
benefits of the new covenant by grace , 
" By grace ye are saved. It is of grace, 
and no more of works. Who hath saved 
us, not according to our works, but accord- 
ing to his purpose and grace." Eph. ii. 5. 
Rom. X. 6. 2 Tim. i. 9. 

Freehj : "Being justified freely. The 
things that are freely given to us of God. 
Whosoever will, let him take the water of 
life freely." Rom. iii. 34. 1 Cor. ii. 12. 
Rev. xxii, 19. 

JBy way of gift : " If thou knowest the 
gift of God. The gift of God is eternal 
life. The free gift came upon all men, to 
justification of life." John iv. 10. Rom. 
vi. 23; v. 18. 

Without the laiv : " The righteousness of 
God without the law. That we might be 
justified, not by the woiks of the law. If 
the inheritance were of the law." Rom. 
iii. 21. Gal. ii. 16 ; iii. 18. 

Not by tvorhs : " Not of works, but of 
him that calleth us. Not by works of 
righteousness which we have done, but ac- 
cording to his mercy he saved us. Not hav- 
ing mine own right^eonsness, which is of the 
law." Rom. ix. 11. Tit. iii. 5. Phil. iii. 9. 

By riyhteous7iess, not performed, but im- 
puted : " Faith (in Christ, as our all) is im- 
puted for righteousness. God imputeth 
righteousness without works. To whom it 
(that is, the merit of a dying and rising Sa- 
viour) shall be imputed." Rom. iv. 5, 6, 23, 
24, 26. 

Not by guiltless behaviour, but by re- 
2 u 



630 



LETTERS TO THE 



mission of sins : "Blessed are they whose 
iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are 
covered. God was in Christ, reconciling 
the vi^orld unto himself, not imputing their 
trespasses unto them. To give knowledge 
of salvation by the remission of their sins." 
Psalm xxxii. 1. 2 Cor. v. 19. Luke i. 77. 
- Not each by himself, but all by one : 
They shall reign in life, by one Christ 
Jesus. By the obedience of one, shall 
many be made righteous. By one offering, 
he hath perfected for ever those that are 
sanctified." Rom. v. 17, 18, 19. Heb. 
X. 14. 

By faith alone " Being justified by 
faith. A man is justified by faith, without 
the deeds of the law. Through him, all 
that believe are justified from all things." 
Rom. V. 1 ; iii. 28. Acts xiii. 39. 

Not on account of faith, as a condition 
performed^ but on account of Christ, the 
pearl of inestimable price ; which faith re- 
iieives, applies, and uses : " Who has by 
himself purged away our sins, by himself 
finished our transgressions, made reconcili- 
ation for our iniquities, and brought in an 
everlasting righteousness." Heb. i. 3. 
Dan. ix. 24. 

This is the doctrine of Scripture. Be- 
cause it is of the greatest importance, you 
see with what care it is stated, and with 
what copiousness displayed ; with what 
zeal it is urged, and with what vigilance 
guarded. How solicitously the sacred wri- 
ters use every form of speech that may ex- 
clude all human works, may set aside all 
conditions and pre-requisites, fin order to 
supersede all glorying, and ascribe the whole 
of our justification to the free grace of God, 
and the sole merits of Christ. 

After all these testimonies of Scripture, 
shall we still maintain, that the covenant of 
grace consists of conditions, depends upon 
conditions ; is such as we cannot expect to 
have made good till certain conditions are, 
by us, duly and truly fulfilled ? Dagon 
may as well stand in the presence of the 
ark, as such a notion in the face of these 
evangelical texts. 

All, all is free to us sinners, though it 
was not free to Christ our Saviour : He 
paid the price ; he performed the conditions. 
If you would know what price was paid, 
what conditions were performed, and on 
what terms we inherit the blessings, you, 
Sir, may receive information from Mr; John 
Wesley, who says la his comment, " All the 
blessings of the new covenant are secured 
to us by the one offering of Christ." Ac- 
cording to this commentator, they are not 
only procured f^ us, but secured to us. 
How could either of these be true — much 
more, how could the latter be fact — if the 
blessings were suspended on any perform- 
ance or any acquisition of ours ? If I am 



not to enjoy them until I dischargie this dr 
that duty, they are not procured for me ; 
if I am not to enjoy them unless I become 
possessed of this or that quality, they are" 
not secured to me ; — not secured to me as^ 
the estate is to an heir, even whilst he is 
minor, but only as a prize is to a racer, iiriF 
case, by exerting his speed and his strengtl^^^ 
he arrives first at the goal ; which was never 
yet called security, but allowed to be mei^ 
uncertainty. ''x. 

As to this point, others may receive in- 
formation from the prophet Zechariah'i* 
" By the blood of thy covenant I have setii^ 
forth thy prisoners out of the pit, whereitt, 
was no water," Zech. ix. 11. Th^/ prisohi^ 
ers : Those M^retched creatures who were 
in a state of guilt, and under the sentence 
of death ; subject to the tyranny of the de- 
vil, and liable to the damnation of hell. In 
this dismal state they were as in a pit unfa- 
thomably deep ; from which there seemed 
no possibility of escape, nor any method of 
deliverance : A pit in which there is 
no water; nothing but absolute misery, 
without a gleam of hope, or a drop of com-^;^ 
fort. / have sent them forth into a place of 
liberty, where they obtain pardon, and en- 
joy peace ; are satisfied with the plenteous- 
ness of my house, and drink of my plea- 
sures as out of a river. All this by the 
blood of thy covenant. Blood was the right- 
eous term, blood was the dreadful require- 
ment; even that infinitely precious blood of 
Christ, on which the covenant of our free- 
dom was established, and by which its rich 
blessings are procured. Which is called 
" thy covenant,* O daughter of Sion," thOu"! 
church of the first-born ; because it wa's 
made in thy name, made with thy divine. 
Surety, and for thy unspeakable good. t! 

This is not only false, but " most danger- ' 
ously false. If we allow this, Antinomian-^ 
ism comes in with a full tide." Pray, Sir, 
what do you mean by Antinomianism ? Such 
a contrariety to the law as debases its digni- 
ty, deprives it of its proper honour and pro-' 
per end ?f 

Surely then, not Aspasio's, but Mi^.H 
Wesley's tenets, are chargeable with this; 
kind of heterodoxy ; since they would cause 
the law to be put off with a mite, wheu ' 
millions of talents are its due ; oblige it to 
be content with errant deficiency, when the 
most sinless obedience, and the most exalted 
perfection, are what it demands. 

Do you mean by Antinomianism^ such a 



* Thy covenant. The words are not addressed to 
Christ, but to his church ; as the Hebrew word, being 
in the feminine gender, intimates. 

t The end of the commanding law is righteousness* 
Rom. X. 4. The end of the violated law is pxmish-. 
ment. Gal. iii. 10. Both these ends are answered by 
the interposition of an obedient and crucified Re- 
deemer, but on no other scheme, and in no other 
manner whatever. 



REV. ME. ' 

contrariety (o the law as disregards its (]u- j 
ties, and violates its piecejjts? Then the 
apostle Paul shall reply, " The grace of 
God, which bringeth salvation, hath appear- 
ed unto all men ; leaching us, that denying 
ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live 
soberly, righteously, and godly." The grace 
of God, his infinitely free favour, of which 
we have a specimen in the preceding text, 
which scorns to be shackled with conditions, 
or meanly dependent on human endeavours. 
This grace, requiring nothing of the crea- 
ture, but bringing salvation, spiritual and 
eternal salvation, finished by the incarnate 
Creator, and free for the chiefest of sinners : 
This grace, being revealed in the gospel, 
being discerned by faith, and thus appear- 
ing in lustre, and with power, to all men ; 
to men of every rank, every age, every cha- 
racter ; making no difference between the 
servant and the master, between the ruddy 
strippling and the hoary sire, between the 
vile prostitute and the chaste vestal, but op- 
ening its inexhaustible treasures to be re- 
ceived by one as well as 'the other : This 
grace does what ? " Cause Antinomianism," 
or practical ungodliness, " to come in with 
a full tide ?" Quite the reverse : It repress- 
es it like an immoveable barrier : It teaches 
us to deny, to renounce ungodliness, all un- 
godliness ; not only external gross abomina- 
tions, but loorldly lusts, also every vicious 
inclination, and every iiTegular desire. Far- 
ther, it teaches us to live soberly, with re- 
gard to ourselves, righteously towards our 
neighbours, and godly to our great Creator. 

The original word is particularly beautiful 
and sigin"ficant; it is not racrmi — prescribeth, 
by way of rule, nor I'Ttirusau — enjoineth, by 
w ay of authority ; but 'Trct^hiwira. — teacheth, 
by way of instruction, pointeth out the ef- 
Ic ctual method of obeying the precepts, and 
conforming to the rule. A tjn-ant may com- 
mand his slave to write, or make a profi- 
ciency in writing ; a kind tutor forms him 
to it, shows him how to do it, and renders 
what otherwise would be an irksome, per- 
haps an impracticable task, both easy and 
l)leasant : So this grace, clearly manifested 
in the understanding, and cordially appre- 
hended by the will, renders every duty of 
holiness both practicable and pleasant ; it 
gives us a heart, and a hand, and ability to 
exercise ourselves unto universal godhness. 

Chrisi has performed all that was condi- 
tionary for me, says Aspasio. " Has he 
)e]!ented and beheved for you?" says Mr. 
^Vesley ; a question already answered in 
the Dialogues. " No," replies Mr. Wesley, 
" not answered, but evaded. * He perform- 
r<l all that was conditionary in the covenant 
of works,' is nothing to the purpose ; for we 
!ue not talking of that, but of the covenant 
of grace." Give me leave to tell you, Sir, 
Vhiit you are greatly mistaken here ; we are 



^VESLEY. 531 

j talking, at least we ought to be talking, of 
the covenant of works, when we talk of the 
covenant which Christ came under. It was 
a covenant of works to him, which by his 
execution of it, became a covenant of grace 
for us : He became answerable for our debt ; 
the debt was exacted without the least 
abatement. In this respect " God spared 
not his own Son." And is not this the te- 
nor, are not such the effects, of a covenant 
of works ? 

Christ is called the " Surety of a better 
covenant that is, a surety provided and 
admitted by a better covenant. In this pe- 
culiarity, infinitely momentous and comfort- 
able, the new covenant is better, because it 
brings in a substitute to discharge what was 
contracted under the old, which neither pro- 
vided, nor allowed, nor knew any such thing. 
It is written, " Christ was made under the 
law," therefore, not under a covenant of 
grace. If you can show me, in the construc- 
tion of the law, any hint of faith in the me- 
rits of another, or any mention of repentance 
unto life, 1 will retract my opinion, that 
Christ performed whatever was conditiona- 
ry ; I will do honour to those genteel ex- 
pressions, and submit to those cogent argu- 
ments, " It is not true — it is nothing to the 
purpose — it is absolutely false." 

" If Christ's perfect obedience be ours, 
we have no more need of pardon than Christ 
himself. The consequence is good ; you 
have started an objection which you camiot 
answer." It is answered in the Dialogues, 
whether in a satisfactory or insufficient man- 
ner, the reader must determine. But sup- 
pose we admit the consequence, it implies 
no more than the apostle affirms, " By one 
offering he hath perfected for ever them that 
are sanctified." Let me transcribe your 
own* explication of this passage : " He 
hath done" (observe, you yourself speak of 
Christ's doing ; in this place only of Christ's 
doing ; yet I would not be so injurious 
to your good sense, as to imagine that 
you exclude his suffering) " all that was 
needful, in order to their full reconciliation 
with God." This exposition I approve, as 
far as it goes ; only you have omitted one 
very weighty circumstance, comprehended in 
the w^ord ever : By this doing and suffering, 
believers are fully and perfectly reconciled ; 
not for a day only, or for any particular time, 
but for ever. The pardon is irrevocable ; 
the blessing inalienable. Not like the moon, 
which now waxes, and anon wanes ; but 
like the sun, which is always the same, ever 
shines with the same plenitude of rays, and 
needs only to appear, in order to appear un- 
changeably briglit. 

This reminds me of a more direct answer 



532 



LETTERS TO THE 



to your difficulty. The re|)eated pardon 
which believers implore, is only a witness- 
bearing to the truth, or a repeated manifes- 
tation of it to our consciences. Will you 
find fault with this doctrine ? Might you 
not, for the very same reason, say, if the 
atonement of Christ's death was absolutely 
perfect, there could be no need of his inter- 
cession at God's right hand ? Yes, for the 
actual application of the great atonement, 
and the continual communication of its hap- 
py fruits, their intercession is necessary. So, 
though our justification is complete, though 
our sins have all been laid upon our Lord, 
and are not to be done away by some duties 
of our own, but already done away by the 
sacrifice of himself; yet the application of 
this blessing, the reVelation of it to our 
hearts, is daily, hourly, incessantly needful : 
Therefore he saith, speaking of his vineyard 
the church, " I will water it every moment." 
Whereby ? In what manner ? What spiritu- 
al blessings correspond with watering the 
thirsty soil ? The discovery of complete 
pardon, of complete acceptance, of complete 
salvation in Christ. This will make the 
soul like a watered garden ; this will cause 
joy and holiness to blossom as a rose. 

Both the branches of the law, the precep- 
tive and the penal, in the case of guilt con- 
tracted, must be satisfied. "Not so." If 
not, one of them must pass unsatisfied, and 
unfulfilled ; whereas our Lord declares, that 

heaven and earth shall pass away, sooner 
than one jot or one tittle of the law shall 
fail" of its accomplishment. Will you un- 
dertake to prove, either that the preceptive, 
or else that the penal part of the law, does 
not constitute so much as one jot or one tit- 
tle of its contents ? Then, and then only, 
your assertion may consist with our Lord s 
declaration. This will be an undertaking as 
adventurous as your next is disingenuous. 

" Not so ; Christ by his death alone (so 
our church teaches) fully satisfied for the 
sins of the whole world." By his death 
alone, that is, in contradistinction to all hu- 
man works as efficient or adjutant causes. 
FuUi/ satisfied, that is, without having, and 
without needing the concurrence of any hu- 
man satisfaction. It is spoken in opposition 
to our endeavours, not to his own most glo- 
rious obedience. But do you really want to 
be informed, that our church means no such 
thing as you would insinuate? Have you 
never heard her profess, and require to be- 
lieve, what Aspasio maintains? If not, be 
pleased to read the quotations from her Ho- 
milies, which he has produced, (pp. 328, 
329.)* Read these, and I cannot but 



• As this pamphlet may possibly fall into the hands 
of some persons who have not the book entitled The- 
ron and Aspasio; I will, fjr their sakes, transcribe 
one of the testimonies to which we are referred. 

lu the Ilouilly concerning the salvation of mankind. 



think you have modesty enough to blush at 
an attempt to palm upon the public such an 
apparent misrepresentation of our venerable 
mother. 

" The same great truth is manifestly 
taught in the 31st Article." What? That 
Christ, by his death alone, or by shedding 
his blood alone, without fulfilling the law 
perfectly, satisfied for the sins of the world ! 
Then the Articles and the Homilies most 
flatly contradict one another. Upon this 
you ask, '* Is it therefore fair, ds it honest, 
for any one to plead the Articles of our 
church in defence of absolute predestina- 
tion ?" Indeed, Sir, I know not what you 
mean by this interrogatory, or at what you 
aim. Does Aspasio plead the Articles for 
any such purpose ? Not that he should be 
afraid, in case there was an evident occa- 
sion to advance such a plea, and perhaps 
might put Mr. Wesley to greater difficulty 
than he is aware of, in order to elude the 
force of it. But he does not in this phice 
come within view of the point, nor so much 
as remotely hint at it : No, nor in any part 
of the two volumes does he once touch upon 
absolute predestination, much less does he 
plead the Articles of our church in its de- 
fence : So that your iiiferential word there- 
fore, is a conclusion without premises. 

Absolute predestination is a phrase not to 
be found in all the Dialogues, or in any of 
the Letters ; but it is a phrase which Mr. 
Wesley thinks to be alarming and disgust- 
ing ; on which Mr. Wesley has learned to 
say many horrible and shocking things ; 
therefore, be it right or wrong, be it true or 
false, Aspasio shall be charged with the ob- 
noxious expression. When he mentions 
predestination, it is in the very words of 
Scripture ; without dwelling upon the sub- 
ject ; without resting his cause upon it ; 
without attempting either to explain or to 
establish it. This he leaves, and ever will 
leave, to clearer heads and abler pens. As 
to your absolute, this is not what Aspasio 
speaks, but what Mr. Wesley would make 
him speak ; a word, which in this coimexion 
he never used, nor so much as dreamt of 
using ; for which reason, I call it not his 
but yours. May I not then retort your own 
question ; and ask, Is it fair, is it honest, to 



we read the following words : " The apostle toucheth 
three things, which must go together in justification. 
On God's part, his great mercy and grace: On Christ's 
part, the satisfaction of God's justice, or the price cf 
our ledemption, by the offering of his body and shed- 
ding of his precious blood, with fulfilling of the law 
perfectly ; On our part, true and lively faith in the 
merits of Jesus Christ, which yet is not ours, but by 
God's working' in us," You see, according to the 
judgment of our reformers, not only the ottering of 
Christ's body, and the shedding of Christ's blood, but 
also his perfect fulfilling of the law, are the adequate 
price of our redemption. Yet Mr. Wesley is pleased 
to exclude the latter ; and ventures to affinn that he 
has the authority of our church for such an ojnnion, 
and for such a practice. 



HEV. MR. 

put into your friend's mouth words wliich 
he never used, and then exclaim against 
them ? 

What follows in this paragraph is pro- 
digious indeed. " Seeing the 17th Article 
barely defines the term ;" that is, the church 
does not believe the doctrine, nor require 
any such belief from her members ! Why 
then does she select it for one of the Ar- 
ticles ? Why pronounce it agreeable to 
God's word? Why forbid disputation against 
it ? Pity but we had been acquainted with 
this fine distinction when we were students 
at Oxford : We then declared our appro- 
bation of the academical statutes ; we en- 
gaged to observe them all, and confirmed 
our engagement with an oath. But how 
easily might we have eluded the obligation, 
if, when called upon for conformity and 
obedience, this salvo had come into our 
heads : — The university does not, in these 
statutes, set forth our duty, but barely de- 
fines the terms ; she does not insist upon a 
conformity, but only flourishes a little upon 
terms, and leaves us to obey or disobe^i as 
we shall find ourselves inclined. 

"Barely defines the term, without either 
affirming or denying the thing." How ! 
Does she not affirm the thing, when she 
styles it an "excellent benefit of God?" 
Declares it to be " full of sweet, pleasant, 
and unspeakable comfort" to the gcdly ? 
That it " greatly establishes and confirms 
their faith of eternal salvation, and fervently 
kindles their love towards God?" "Not 
affirm the thing !" when she expressly as- 
cribes such fruits and consequents to it ! 
This is not only affirming, but affirming 
with the highe!^t approbation, like proclaim- 
ing the king, and placing the crown upon 
his head. 

In one part of your Preservative you 
enumerate, and very properly display, what 
you call "The five benefits of baptism." 
Suppose a Quaker, upon reading this pas- 
sage, should say, " Friend Wesley, thou 
barely definest the term, thou neither af- 
firmest nor deniest the thing. This is no 
proof that thou thyself believest a tittle of 
water-baptism,_or wouldest have thy readers 
believe the reality of any such ordinance." 
Should the Quaker argue thus, he would 
argue just like yourself. But I apprehend 
he would not be so boldly disingenuous ; he 
would rather confess, " Friend John doth 
certainly maintain and believe these things ; 
but his opinion is mistaken, and his argu- 
ments are inconclusive." " The 31st Ar- 
ticle totally overthrows predestination, and 
razes it from the foundation." If so, it 
makes one Article contradict another ; con- 
sequently, weakens the authority, and un- 
dermines the credibility of them all. In 
this Article are two points more particularly 
proper for oiu* inquiry : " The great salva- 



WESLEY. 533 

tion, and the numoer of the saved. I can- 
not but query, whether you believe the 
former, or rightly understand the latter. 

The great salvation, expressed in the fol- 
lowing words : " The off'ering of Christ 
once made, is that perfect redemption, pro- 
pitiation, and jatisiaction for all the sins of 
the whole world, both original and actual." 
If I take these words as I am enjoined, in 
the literal and grammatical sense, I must 
believe, that Christ engaged to satisfy of- 
fended justice for every sin which I have 
committed, or shall commit, throughout my 
whole life : My past sins, at that time, had 
no more existence than my future sins have 
at this hour, but both were eoually laid upon 
my Lord. . 

Having undertaken this greatest of all 
works, I must believe that he fully accom- 
plished it ; and actually satisfied for all my 
transgressions, of every kind and every date. 
A possibility, or mere chance of being re- 
deemed, can never be reckoned a perfect 
redemption : Neither would our Saviour 
have paid down a positive price for a pre- 
carious conditional good ; much less would 
he have paid an immense, an infinite price, 
upon a bare uncertainty whether it should 
rake any effect, or ever obtain its desired 
end. I believe, therefore, that the satisfac- 
tion is made for me ; that God has received 
the fill- sufficient atonement in behalf of all 
my provocations ; and that there is no more 
ground of condemnation for me, a vile sin- 
ner, than there is room for the prosecution 
of an insolvent, all whose debts are defray- 
ed, even to the very last mite. 

The mimher of the saved, expressed in 
those words, *' The sins of the whole 
world. " This I acknowledge to be the lan- 
guage of Scripture ; and I promise myself 
you will bear with me, while I offer my 
thoughts concerning the occasion and the 
import of such language. 

In the antediluvian and patriarchal ages, 
the Lord Jehovah confined his favour to a 
few particular families. When he formed 
his Israel into a commonwealth, he chose 
them to himself, and separated them from 
all other nations. To them he gave his 
oracles, his ordinances, and his covenants, 
yea, he honoured and indulged them with 
his divine presence. In this the Israelites 
gloried ; they appropriated this privilege 
to themselves, and held other people at a 
distance, looking upon them as strangers, 
and without God in the world : hence that 
chosen seed spares not to say, " We are 
thine ; thou never barest rule over them ; 
they were not called by thy name."— -At the 
commencement of the Messiah's kingdom, 
the Lord purposed to change the scene, and 
vary the dispensation, by admitting both 
Jews and Gentiles to an interest in the 
great salvation : as they were e<jually 



LETTERS TO THE 



chargeable with sm, and equally liable to 
the curse, they should now stand upon a 
level ; be equally sharers in that divine Sa- 
viour, who submits to be made sin, and to 
be made a curse for both alike. This the 
Holy Ghost expressly and repeatedly pro- 
mised, " He (that is, the Redeemer which 
is to come) shall speak peace unto the Hea- 
then ; his dominion shall be from sea even to 
sea, and from the river even to the ends of 
the earth." 

Notwithstanding such prophecies and 
such promises, our Lord himself, when he 
entered upon his ministry, acted a discri- 
minating part, and kept up the partition wall, 
in pursuance of that declaration, " I am not 
sent, but unto the lost sheep of the house of 
Israel." When he sent forth his disciples 
to preach and to teach, he gave them also 
a command to show the same partial re- 
gard, " Go ye not into the way of the Gen- 
tiles." This conduct of our Lord, both 
under the Old Testament and the New, 
confirmed the Jews in their self-flattering 
notion, that they were, and ever should be, 
a favourite nation and a peculiar people. 
The Gentiles, on the oth.er hand, were no 
less discouraged ; apprehending that as they 
were, so they ever should be, " aliens from 
the commonwealth of Israel." But in or- 
der to convince the Jews of their mistake 
in claiming the blessing of Abraham to 
themselves ; and in order to assure the poor 
discarded Gentiles that they should be 
" fellow-heirs and of the same body ;" our 
Lord in his last charge to his apostles, al- 
ters the style of his commission, and en- 
larges the sphere of their several depart- 
ments- It is now no longer, " Go not in- 
to the way of the Gentiles," but quite the 
reverse : Go teach all nations of the 
world," yea, and every creature : who- 
soever believeth (whether Jew or Gentile) 
shall be saved." 

Still the Jews were hardly induced to 
give the right hand of fellowship to their 
brethren the Gentiles: For St. Peter cries, 
with some indignation, " Not so, Lord.'' 
Still the Gentiles, hardly persuaded that 
thc-y should be partakers of the grace, rea- 
soned against themselves, " The Lord hath 
utterly separated me from his people." 
Therefore the Lord, to intercept all the de- 
sponding objections of the latter, and to 
bring down the high disdainful imagina- 
tions of the former, declares in a variety of 
places, that the difference no longer subsists; 
that Christ has thrown down the partition 
wall, and laid all plain, and common, and 
free. Though the giving of the law per- 
tained to Israel only, the Lord Jesus gave 
himself a ransom for all people. Though 
the paschal Lamb extended its influence 
only to the circumcision, the Lamb of God 
is a " propitiation for the sins of the whole 



world," even though it be not cnrunicised. 
And now God would have all men, v/he- 
ther bond or free, Jews or Gentiles, Greeks 
or Barbarians, to be saved, by coming unto 
the knowledge of the faith. 

This account gives us the true cause, and 
points out the intended use, of such univer- 
sal phrases. They are calculated to abate 
the pride of the Jews, to encourage the de- 
spised Gentiles, and, by excluding none, 
they give encouragement for all to come ; 
because, though every individual person will 
not be saved, yet " whosoever cometh shall 
in no wise be cast out." By this interpre- 
tation, the phrase is neither inconsistent 
with other texts, neither does our own 
church contradict herself. 

Upon the whole, you will please to ob- 
serve, that I should never have touched up- 
on this subject, had not your objections, far- 
fetched and forced as they are, given me a 
kind of challenge. And now 1 have touch- 
ed upon the subject, it is not as a champion 
for the cause, but only to show the weak- 
ness and the inconsistency of your arguing; 
how little you avail yourself, even on a 
point where you think opposition vain and 
your arm irresistible. 

" Believers, who are notorious transgres- 
sors in themselves, have a sinless obedience 
in Christ." This passage you select as 
faulty, I presume because it is opposite to 
your favourite tenet, " Perfection 'm personal 
holiness." By notorious, I inean acknow- 
ledged, confessed, indisputably such. If 
you are not such a transgressor, why do you 
daily confess yourself a miserable sinner? 
Why do you acknowledge that you are 
" tied and bound with the chain of your sins," 
and declare before all men " that there is no 
health in you?" All this Mr. Wesley speaks 
with his lips, and I would hope believes in 
his heart. Yet all this does not amount 
" to a notorious transgressor ■" Pray then, 
good Sir, inform us what sort of transgres- 
sor is described by all these exj)ressions. 

You cry out, " O syren song !" The 
Psalmist woidd have taught you a better- 
exclamation. If this is the case, " let us 
rejoice with trembling." Are we noto- 
rious transgressors in ourselves ? The con- 
sciousness of this is the strongest motive to 
humility. Have we a sinless obedience in 
Christ? The belief of this is an abundant 
source of joy. When you add, " pleasing 
sound to James Wheatly ! Thomas Wil- 
liams ! James Feily !" lam quite asham- 
ed of your meanness, and grieved at your 
uncharitable rashness. How unworthy is 
such a procedure, either of the gentleman, 
the Christian, or the man of sense ? Un- 
worthy the gentleman, to stigmatize by 
name, and expose to the most public infa- 
my. Unworthy the Christian, whose cha- 
rity concealeth, rather than divulgeth and 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



proclaimetn upon the house-tops. Unwor- 
thy the man of sense, who knows that the 
miscarriages of a professor are no argument 
against the soundness of a doctrine : if they 
were, would not your own principles totter, 
nay, how could Christianity itself stand ? 

"Elijah failed in his resignation, and 
even Moses himself spake unadvisedly with 
his lips." " It is true, (says Mr. Wesley). 
But if you could likewise fix some blot 
upon venerable Samuel, and beloved Dan- 
iel, it would prove nothing." 1 have no 
desire to fix a blot ; but if 1 find it in the 
most accomplished character, this proves 
the proposition which Aspasio maintains, 
" That the very best of men fall short ; that 
the very best of men will be found guilty, if 
tried by the righteous law ; that the very 
best of men have nothing more to plead for 
acceptance with the High and Holy One, 
than the criminal who yesterday murdered 
his benefactor, to-morrow is to be executed 
for his crime, and is now flying to the re- 
demption that is in Christ Jesus for the 
chief of sinners," 

" No Scripture teaches that the holiness 
of Christians is to be measured by that of 
any Jew." I should be afraid to advance 
such a position, after having read that gen- 
eral exhortation, " Be ye followers of them 
who through faith and patience inherit the 
promises and those more particular refer- 
ences to the ancient saints, comprised in 
the eleventh chapter to the Hebrews. 
Were not they Jews ? Does not the apos- 
tle propose them as patterns for our imita- 
tion ? Is not this his language. Let us act 
in conformity to their practice? " The 
Spirit of Christ was in them," and " they 
obtained (even from the supreme Judge) a 
good report." Agreeably to this divine tes- 
timonial, we ai'e directed to learn from Abel 
a fiduciaiy dependence on the great atone- 
ment ; and from Enoch, a life of commun- 
ion with a reconciled God. The prophets 
are recommended to our contemplation, 
as " examples of suffering affliction, and of 
patience." Elijah is set before us as an in- 
stance of persevering and successful prayer ; 
and we are directed to walk in the steps of 
our father Abraham's fSith. This was the 
counsel of an apostle to others ; this was 
the aim of an apostle with regard to him- 
self ; therefore I think, it can never be un- 
worthy of you, or unfit for the most advanc- 
ed among your disciples. For my part, I 
shall reckon myself truly happy, I shall bless 
the day whereon I was born, if I may but 
be enabled to follow the footsteps of these 
illustrious leaders, though — Non passibus 
cequis. That Christians ought to rise above 
the level of the common Jews, I freely own. 
Mr. Wesley's mistake seems to lie in con- 
founding the common with the uncommon; 
MisOQfe^ifcerning the difference between any 



and evert/, between some and all Some 
Jews were blessed with extiaordinary en- 
dowments ; they had distinguished commun- 
ications of the Spirit of wisdom and holi- 
ness. They were as the " stones of a 
crown, lifted up as an ensign upon his 
land." Their great achievements and emi- 
nent attainments are described in the afore- 
mentioned chapter, which may truly be 
styled the golden legend ; great things, im- 
possible to flesh and blood, they both per- 
formed and suflfered ; such as characterise a 
saint of the highest rank. To imitate these 
is the duty of all Christians ; to equal them 
is the privilege of few. 

Let me illustrate this sentiment: the 
reader, I apprehend, will hardly think it 
needs confirmation. Every graduate in the 
university, much more every minister of the 
gospel, ought to exceed the schoolboy in 
learning and knowledge. Yet there have 
been schoolboys with whom few ministers, 
and fewer graduates, will venture to com- 
pare themselves. A recent instance of this 
kind we have in the famous Baratiei-. This 
wonderful youth, when he was but four 
years old, spoke French to his mother, La- 
tin to his father, High-Dutch to his maid. 
At the age of six, he explained the Hebrew 
text as readily as if it had been his native 
German. When other lads are scarce able 
to read with fluency and propriety their mo- 
ther tongue, he was not only acquainted 
with, but master of five several languages. 
In his eleventh year, he published a learned 
Latin dissertation, and translated a book of 
travels out of Hebrew into French. While 
a mere boy, he was qualified to dispute with 
professors of the sciences, was honoured 
with a seat at an ecclesiastical synod, and 
admitted to the degree of doctor in philoso- 
phy. Upon this narrative I shall only ob- 
serve, that many of the Jews, whose names 
are immortalized in Scripture, were, in faith, 
in godliness, and all that is exemplary, so 
many Baratiers. 

" Do not the best of men frequently feel 
disorder in their affections ? Do they net 
often complain. When I would do good, evil 
is present with me ?" " I believe not." 
What a proof is here ! How well suited to 
its office ; which is to control the current, 
and overrule the evidence of ancient and 
modem consent. But why do not you be- 
lieve what Aspasio supposes ? Is your dis* 
belief grounded on fact ? Are you acquaint- 
ed with any people who feel no disorder in 
their affections ? who always do good in the 
completest manner? and never have evil 
present with them ? If so, what are their 
names ? where do they live ? We would go 
many miles to see them. You have no 
aversion to the mention of names, when 
censure is the motive, and public disgrace 
the effect ; why should you be so reluctant. 



536 



LETTERS TO THE 



when honour and distinguished respect 
would be the consequence ? 

Do they not say, " We groan, being bur- 
dened with the workings of inbred corrup- 
tion ?" — " This is not the meaning of the 
text. The whole context shows the cause 
of that groaning was their longing to be with 
Christ." You need not on this occasion 
rummage the context, or take a journey to 
find what is at your door. The sentence it- 
self shows, as plainly as words can show, the 
cause of their groaning. V/e groan — it is 
not said because we long to be with Christ. 
This might be a truth ; but this is not the 
cause assigned : " We groan because we are 
burdened," Burdened with what? Aspa- 
sio answers, with a body of sin and death, 
or with what the apostle himself styles to 
Sr/iTO'j. This, whatever it means, was the 
load that encumbered them, oppressed them, 
and made them sigh ardently for deliverance. 
Does not this signify all the infirmities and 
disorders of the present mortal state ? 
-Among which, the sad elfects of inbred cor- 
vn]>tion are none of the least. These gave 
those m.agnanimous but pious souls more 
uneasiness than all other kinds of afiiictioii 
whatever. * 

" The cure of sin will be perfected in 
heaven." " Nay, surely in paradise." As- 
pasio knows no difference betv/een paradise 
ajui heaven. Paradise is the kingdom where 
Ciirist reiijns ; and is not this heaven ? Pa- 
radise is the region where the tree of life 
gTovi's ; and is not this heaven? tieaven 
deiKjtes the place; paradise describes its 
nature — a place of consummate bliss and 
absolute ])erfeetion, v/here is the fulness of 
joy and pleasure for evermore. However, if 
it can be proved that they are different 
abodes, ajid imply different states,! then 
Aspasio would be understood to say, the 
cure of sin is completed in paradise ; or as 
soon as the believer drops his flesh, and en- 
ters the invisible world. 

" This (a perfect conformity to God) is 
a noble prerogative of the beatific vision." 

No says Mr. V/ esley. Though St. 



* " We groan, being burdened with a sense of our 
spiritual infirmities, and with the workings of inbred 
corruption;" This is Aspasio's interpretation. "We 
groan, being burdened with numberless infirmities, 
temptations, and sins;" This is Mr. Wesley's interpre- 
tation in his Expository Notes on the New Testament. 
Vet here he denies what there he aSrms. It is said, 
I think oflshmael, " His hand will be against every 
man." Mr. Wesley goes a step farther, his hand is 
against himself, as well as against every body else. 

t St. Paul, lam aware, speaks of heaven, and speaks 
of paradise, 2 Cor. xii. 2, 4. So does David speak of 
*' rising up into the hill of the Lord," and of " stand- 
ing in his holy place." But as the same thing, though 
variously expressed, is meant by the Psalmist, I think 
we may not unreasonably understand the apostle in 
the same maimer. If they had been different habita- 
tions, methinks he would have mentioned paradise 
first, and then the third heavens. Otherwise he tells 
the story but awkwardly; for he first mentions his ar- 
rival at the third heavens, and then at j/aradise; that 
is, according to Mr. Weslev, first he v/as !ctl into the 
presence, and then introduced to the antechamber. 



j John, one would think, had settled and ascer- 
tained this point beyond all contradiction : 
" We shall be like him, for we shall see him 
as he is." We shall; which intimates, that 
at present we are not perfectly like him. 
For ; which denotes the efficient cause of 
this advancement and felicity, this complete 
transformation into the divine image. We 
shall see him, no longer through a glass, but 
face to face : We shall receive the clearest 
manifestation of his inefl^able holiness and 
glory, which will have just the same effect 
upon om- souls as the imprinted seal has up- 
on the melting wax. 

" It would then come too late. If sin 
remains in us till the day of judgment, it will 
remain in us for ever." You suppose, that 
the beatific vision is not enjoyed till the day 
of judgment. But in this you seem to en-, 
not knowing the Scripture. I have a desire, 
says the apostle, to he dissolved. And what 
is the consequence, the immediate conse- 
quence of dissolution ? " To be with Christ," 
in his presence, before his throne. And is 
not this the beatific vision ? " Willing (says 
the inspired writer) to be abseiit from the 
body, and present with the Lord." Plere is 
no hint of any intermediate state ; but the 
very moment in which the saints depart from 
their bodies, they are present with the Lord ; 
and if with the Lord, then in the highest 
heavens, then at the fountain-head of felicity, 
then amidst the beatific vision. To heaven 
Elijah was conveyed in his fiery chariot ; 
and into heaven the first martyr was re- 
ceived by his compassionate Saviour. Nei 
ther of them waited in some interveniT 
mansion, as a kind of lobby to the hea- 
of heavens. This is the Popish notion, and 
very closely connected with the chimera of 
purgatory ; so closely connected, that if you 
take away the former, the latter drops into 
nothing. I am sorry your opinions, Sir, are 
so much like the errors of the man of sin. 

" Our present blessedness does not con- 
sist in being free from sin." " I really 
think it does." Spoken like Mr. Wesley. 
/ t]d7ik, is still the argumentum palmarium. I 
think, is the heavy artillery which is to de- 
molish brigades at a blow ; only here it is 
strengthened and enforced by that emphati- 
cal word really. But if our present bless- 
edness does really consist in being free from 
sin, where are your blessed persons ? We 
may truly say, 

Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto. Vibg. 
No ; this can hardly be said. Virgil's de- 
scription is too full : instead of seeing a 
very few, here and there one, popping up 
their heads, in the great and wide ocean of 
the world, we are not able to find so much 
as an individual : shew us one, only one of 
these angels in flesh and blood, and it suf- 
ficeth us. Whereas, if you persist in main- 
taining your sinless perfection, yet cannot 



REV. MR. 

produce a singie instance to exemplify your 
notion, will you not give too just a handle 
for that sarcastic reflection used on another 
occasion ? 

With witnesses many this cause did abound ; 
With some that were hang'd, and some that were 
drown'd ; 

And some that were lost, and some never found. 

These are Aspasio's words : " It (our 
present imperfection) perpetually reminds 
us of a most important truth, that our pre* 
sent blessedness consists, not in being free 
from all sin, but in having no sin imputed 
to us." He took particular care to guard 
his meaning from misconstruction, by adding 
the word all. I.est this word, because it is 
little of stature, should be overlooked, he 
printed it in italics. But all this precaution 
is thrown away upon Mr. Wesley. He 
lakes no notice of this same little word ; 
nay, he shuts it entirely out of his quota- 
tion, as though he should say, Where is the 
harm of clapping under the hatches such a 
puny insignificant monosyllable ? I would 
have it to know, I shall ere long turn adrift 
more plump and portly words than that. 

Aspasio also took care to confirm his 
sentiments by a reference to Scripture : he 
supported himself by the authority of King 
Uavid. Mr. Wesley, having a little while 
ago laboured to depreciate, now ventures to 
contradict the royal Psalmist. " Blessed," 
says the Psalmist, " is the man " — who is 
fi-ee from sin ? who is perfectly sanctified ? 
This is not the doctrine which the sweet 
singer of Israel teaches, but " blessed is he 
whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin 
is covered." Deeply impressed, and quite 
charmed, with the contemplation of this 
most substantial happiness, the sacred wi'iter 
proclaims it, repeats it ; yes, a third time 
he celebrates it, crying out with ardour of 
joy, " Blessed is the man unto whom the 
Lord imputeth no iniquity,"* Psalm xxxii. 
1,2; neither that iniquity which was for- 
merly committed, nor that which still defiles, 
Psalm XV. 3. Blessed indeed ! May I 
live under a firm persuasion of my own 
particular interest in this unspeakable privi- 
lege ! May I find it made good to my 
soul at the universal judgment ! Then let 
others take the Idngdoiiis of this world, and 
all the glory of them. And as for Aspa- 
sio, he may reckon his credit safe, and his 
opinion fully authorized, while he espouses 
the doctrine, and uses the very words of the 
unerring Spiiit. 

" If we are not free from sin, we are not 
Christian believers." What an assertion is 
here ! Assertion, for I dare not call it a 
truth. If it was, who then could be saved ? 
Not one of a thousand, not two of a million; 



* Should any objection arise from the next sen- 
tence, tlie reader may see it anticipated, and supcr- 
iuded, in Thcrou and Aspaiio. 



, WESLEY. 537 

no, nor Mr. John Wesley himself, since out 
of his own mouth he sUnids condemned. 
He makes this acknowledgment concerning 
himself and his followers, " We know by 
melancholy experience what it is to neglect 
works of righteousness. " To corroborate his 
confession, he adds, " We know and feci 
by melancholy experience, what it is to 
swerve from our first love." We feel by ex- 
perience : He is willing to run the hazard 
of tautology, rather than any shoidd suspect 
the sincerity and truth of his protestation. 
And can you, after such a confession, after 
such a protestation, pretend to be free from 
sin ? Is all this which you know of your- 
self, and feel by experience, consistent with 
a sinless state ? Just as much as a lethargy 
is consistent with the vigour of health, or a 
shamefid flight with a glorious victory. See, 
Sir, how you are entangled in your own 
net ; how, without being chased by an ene- 
my, you run yourself agi-ound- Nor will all 
your dexterity, so long as you avow such 
palpable inconsistencies, be able to set you 
clear. 

You attempt to confirm your opinion by 
the apostle's declaration, " Being made free 
from sin." But he and you mean different 
things by the same words." He means be- 
ing freed from the dominion of sin. This 
is agreeable to his own explanation, " Sin («w 
Kv^iiuau') shall not lord it over you." It 
may assault you, it may harass you, it may 
gain some advantage over you ; but it shall 
not obtain a final victory, nor play the ty- 
rant over you. To the ex-pedience and ne- 
cessity of this freedom, if ever we would 
approve ourselves disciples of Christ, or 
Christians indeed, I readily subscribe. 
Whereas, you mean being freed from the 
very remainders of sin. " Having a purity 
(it is your own explanation) free from all 
mixture of its contrary, and a resignation 
excluding every degree of self-will." Against 
the existence, or the possibility of this free- 
dom, so long as we sojourn in a body of 
flesh, I enter my protest. 

*' If we were perfect in piety, Christ's 
priestly office would be superseded," " No ; 
we should still need his Spirit, and conse- 
quently his intercession." But were \ve 
perfect, we should receive the Spirit with- 
out an intercessor. An intercessor implies 
an alienation between the two parties ; or 
something which, without the intervention 
of a third person, wovdd create alienation. 
The priestly office, whether of atoning, or 
of interceding, is founded on a state of guilt ; 
to this it bears an essential and invariable 
relation. Does Christ exercise his priestly 
office in behalf of angels ? No ; because 
they excel in strength, and are perfect in 
holiness. Will Christ exercise bis priestly 
office, when all his saints are received into 
glory ? No ; because then there will be an 



538 



LETTERS TO TUh 



absolute consummation both in body and 
soul, both in righteousness and happiness, 
arid the mediatorial kingdom be delivered 
lip to the Father. Did Christ exercise his 
priesty office before Adam fell ? No ; be- 
cause sin had no existence then ; and then 
the language was, " let man be blessed," 
not " deliver him from going down into the 
pit." 

The objections laid to my charge in this 
paragraph, and the whole side of the leaf, 
proceed upon your favourite notion, perfec- 
tion of holiness, even while we continue in 
houses of clay. As I look upon your foun- 
dation to be a mere delusion, I must of 
course conclude all that you build upon it 
to be chimerical and delusory; therefore, 
till you prove your supposition, I have no 
reason to concern myself with any of your 
consequences deduced from it, or with any 
of your allegations relating to it. On one 
clause, however, let me bestow a slight ani- 
madversion. 

Aspasio says, A sense of remaining in- 
bred corruption will reconcile us to death. 
Mr. Wesley replies, " Indeed it will not ; 
nor will any thing do this like perfect love." 
Here I think you have missed the mark. 
Nothing can reconcile us to death but that 
which takes away its sting; and this is done 
only by the atonement of Christ. Nothing 
can reconcile us to death but that which 
delivers us from its terror ; and this is ef- 
fected only by the sacrifice of our great 
High-priest, which has converted the king 
of terrors into a messenger of peace. No- 
thing can reconcile us to death, but that 
which makes it desirable to depart, and gain 
to die ; and this is owing, wholly owing to 
him who died for us, that whether we wake 
or sleep, we should live together with him. 

Old Simeon found, that nothing could 
reconcile him to death, so much as a be- 
lieving view of the Lord's Christ. Seeing 
God made flesh, seeing him as his own Sa- 
viour, he was enabled not only to acquiesce 
in the summons, but to welcome it as a de- 
liverance. He was enabled to say with 
composure and complacency, " Lord, now 
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace :" 
Not because I am weary of this imperfect 
state ; not because I am perfect in divine 
love ; but because " mine eyes have seen 
thy salvation." Though you may not like 
to imitate a Jew, I most heartily wish for 
myself, let me die the death of this most 
venerable Hebrew, and let my latter end be 
like his ! 

If you still persist in your opinion, that 
nothing can reconcile you to dissolution like 
the imagined perfection of your love — not 
the blood by which the saints overcame, not 
the righ teousness by which they reign in life, 
not the grace and power which have swal- 
lowed up death in victory ; I must then 



caution you to take heed lest you cross, or 
attempt to cross the river, in the boat of 
vain confidence. You have abridged, if I 
mistake not, the Pilgrim's Progress, there- 
fore can be at no loss to miderstand my 
meaning. 

One clause, I said ; but I correct my- 
self : There is another, so very extraordi- 
naiy, that you might justly charge me with 
inattention, little short of stupidity, if I 
should pass it over without notice. These 
are the words : " If we were perfect in 
piety, (St. John's word is, perfect in love,) 
we should still be encompassed with infir- 
mities, and liable to mistakes, from which 
words or actions might foUow, even though 
the heart was all love, which were not ex- 
actly right." 

This is strange ! Wondrous strange in- 
deed ! Perfect, yet encompassed with infir- 
mities ! Perfect, yet doing actions, and 
speaking words not exactly right ! You are 
as singular in your idea, as you are strenuous 
for the doctrine of perfection. I know not 
any Protestant writer that pretends to 
maintain the latter, yourself only excepted ; 
and as to the former, I think it could never 
enter into the head of any thing living, but 
Mr. Wesley's only. Perfect, yet encom- 
passed with infirmities — is just as sound di- 
vinity, as true, yet addicted to lying — is 
sound morality. 

This is not the worst property of your 
notion of perfection, that it is absurd and 
self-contradictory. A sentiment may be 
absurd, yet not very pernicious. But this 
is an error of the most malignant kind ; this 
was at the bottom of the Pharisees' pride, 
and spirited them on to seek justification by 
the works of the law. They kneAv full 
well, that their obedience was not complete, 
it did not come up to their sacred and ex- 
alted standard ; but they had learnt to 
soften and extenuate their disobedience into 
matters not exactly right. This is the 
cause why people professing Christianity 
see no form or comeliness in Christ, so 
as to desire him with desires that cannot be 
uttered. It is true they are not perfect, 
they often offend ; but then the offences 
are only human infirmities — words and ac- 
tions not exactly right. With this, which 
indeed the syren song, they lull their souls 
into an insensibility of their ruined state, 
and a disregard of the all-sufficient Re- 
deemer. 

" Cursed (says the law) is every one that 
continueth not in all things," whether they 
be great or small: And will you regard 
that as a mere infirmity, and consistent with 
perfection, on which the divine law de- 
nounces a curse ? which the divine law 
threatens with all misery here, and with 
everlasting vengeance hereafter ? The 
apostle would probably chastise the author 



REV. IvIR. WESLEY. 



539 



or abettor of such a coisceit, in tlie follow- 
ing manner : " Vv ilt thou know, O vain 
man, that what thou callest a matter ' not 
exactly right,' is most horribly odious in the 
eye of God s hifinite purity ; deserves eter- 
nal death in the estimate of his infinite jus- 
tice ; and could never Lave been pardoned 
but by the atoning death of his infinitely 
majestic Son !" 

" Encompassed mth infirmities, yet the 
heart all love ! Words and actions not ex- 
actly right, yet the man all perfection !" 
These are all paradoxes which I never saw 
equalled, only in the writings of some high- 
flown papists. Mr. Wesley's words are 
not far from a translation, they are to a 
nicety the sense, of those very offensive 
passages which I meet with in a couple of 
Popish zealots. Andradius, interpreter of 
the council of Trent, writes thus : " Ven- 
ialia peccata tam sunt minuta et levia ut 
non adversentur perfectioni charitatis, nec 
impedire possunt perfectam aut absolutam 
obedientiam."* Lindenus, another cham- 
pion for the same bad cause, expresses him- 
self in a more elegant, but in no less shock- 
ing a manner : " Levicula ^dtiola lapsuum 
quotidianorum, aspergines et naevulae sunt ; 
quse per se non maculant et contaminant, 
sed quasi pulvisculo leviter aspergunt vitam 
Christianam ; ut nihilominus tamen per se 
sint perfecta, et undique immaculata rena- 
torum opera in hac vita."-|- If Mr. Wes- 
ley pleases to consider these passages, I 
hope he will be induced to alter his plirase, 
and rectif)' his notions. If he pleases to 
translate these passages, his followers may 
have an opportunity of seeing how nearly 
he approaches to some of the worst errors 
of Popery ; and may hence be admonished 
not to imbibe, without due examination, his 
doctrines ; nor submit with an implicit cre- 
dulity to his dictates. 

" The charges of the law are all answer- 
ed." At this sentence Mr. Wesley is high- 
ly offended. As the lion is said to lash 
himself into rage, so my objector stirs him- 
self up into a graceful indignation ; for there 
isnothmg in the passage, or in the context, to 
awaken such a liame of zeal. If Mr. Wes- 
ley had understood Aspasio according to 
the whole tenor of his discourse, there would 
have been no room for bringing Count Zin- 
zendorf upon the carpet, nor for making 
that injurious conclusion, " Then neither 
God nor man can claim any obedience to 



* Venial sins are so minute and trivial, that they 
do not oppose the perfection of our love, nor can they 
hinder our obediejK'e from being absolutely perfect. 

■\ The little triftting faults which are owing to our 
daily shps or mistakes, are like specks, or almost im- 
perceptible moles upon the body, which of themselves 
do noi stain or deiile, but as it were witli small par- 
ticles of fine dust, lightly sprinkle the Christiaii's 
life , so tliat nevertheless the works of the regenerate 
may be of tliemse) vts p-. riect, aiuLin all respects ira- 
inacuiatc, even in this life. 



the law." This is what Aspasio means : 
The claims of the law, as a covenant of 
works; the claims of the law, as being the 
condition of life and glory; the claims of 
the law, as requiring perfect obedience on 
pain of eternal death — these claims are all 
satisfied by oiu- most blessed and gracious 
Surety : If not, they are still incumbent 
upon us, and upon every child of man. A 
burden this, which neither " we noi- our fa- 
thers were able to bear ;" which, heavier 
than the sands of the sea, would have sunk 
us into the nethermost hell. This doctrine, 
therefore, is not Antinomianism without 
a mask," but it is the doctrine of " righte- 
ousness without works," Rom. iv. 6, and 
of justification " without the deeds of the 
law," Rom. iii. 28. 

" Then neither God nor man can claim 
any obedience to the law." Yes, God Al- 
mighty may, and God Almighty does claim 
our obedience to the law, as a rule of life : 
he requires a conformity to its prece])ts, as 
to the image of himself ; he demands a per- 
formance of its duties, as the means of 
bringing glory to his name, and paying sub- 
mission to his authority. And none will 
be so readily disposed, none will be so ef- 
fectually enabled to obey the whole law, <is 
those jWho see themselves made righteous 
by the obedience of Christ ; who are there- 
by delivered from that tremendous curse, 
denounced on all ungodliness i-z.d unrighte- 
ousness of men. 

Aspasio thus exhorts his friend : " Let 
me desire you to imagine, rather may the 
blessed Spirit enable you to believe, that 
your sins are expiated through the death of 
Jesus Christ ; that a righteousness is given 
you, by virtue of which you may have free 
and welcome access to God." — " This is 
not scriptural language," says Mr. Wesley • 
therefore it cannot be sound doctrine, is 
his way of arguing. Harmless enough, I 
must own. But what follows is not quite 
so modest. " I would simply say ;" and 
surely what I would say must be unexcep- 
tionably right. This is the conclusion we 
are to make ; otherwise what you allege is 
of no weight at all. " I would simply say, 
by him we have access to the Father." 
This is beyond all objection proper ; it is 
taken from the apostle, and it includes what 
Aspasio expresses. The apostle's language 
is the ingot of gold ; Aspasio's sentiment is 
a thread drawn, or a leaf beaten from it. 
Methinks, before I dismiss this topic, I 
would desire you to turn back a moment, 
and reconsider what you have affirmed. 
Your sins are expiated ; — is not this scrip- 
tural language ? What else meaneth that 
expression of the apostle, " To make expia- 
tion for the sins of the people." A righte- 
ousness is given you ; — is not this the 
scriptural way of speaking ? " Tliey who 



540 LETTERS 

receive the gift of righteousness, shall reign 
in life." " By which yoii hare free access 
to God ;" — is not this both the dialect and 
the doctrine of the Holy Ghost ? " We 
have access with confidence (not through 
our punctual performance of any conditions, 
)ut) through the faith of him by a fidu- 
cial reliance on our Lord's most precious 
obedience, blood, and merit. 

" 1 have seen such terrible effects of this 
uiiscriptural way of speaking." Here I 
fancy you slip into a little mistake : you 
forget the distinction between the use and 
die abuse of a doctrine, a distinction which 
you can easily make on other occasions. 
You have doubtless seen people, who use 
the most scriptural w^ay of speaking, yet act 
unsuitably to their language ; what reflec- 
tions arose in your mind, and what infer- 
ence did you draw upon observing such an 
inconsistency ? You said perhaps, " Their 
voice is Jacob's voice, but their hands are 
the hands of Esau. Hence it appears, that 
they are hypocrites ; they pretend one 
thing, and are really another." Make the 
same reflection, and draw the same infer- 
ence, when you hear people talking of "im- 
puted righteousness," yet see them loosing 
the reins to ungodliness ; then you will be 
consistent with yourself, and with truth ; 
ascribing the terrible effects, not to the 
wholesome doctrine but to the vitiated 
mind. 

*' Where sin abounded," &c. Mr. Wes- 
ley rejects Aspasio's interpretation of this 
text, and offers one of his own ; one which 
he had given us a little while ago, and now 
serves a second time without any consider- 
able variation at our table. I shall only 
refer the reader to page 521, where he will 
find this text considered, and Mr. Wes- 
ley's exposition canvassed. 

In this and the two foUowng paragraphs 
you find fault with the phrase imputed ; yet 
you say, " Concerning the thing there is no 
question." You would discard that parti- 
cular form of expression ; yet you add, " as 
to the doctrine we are agreed." Then, ac- 
cording to your own confession, all these 
your objections are a mere strife of words. 
Surely such a man as Mr. Wesley should 
know how to make a better use of pen, ink, 
and paper, than to litigate about letters and 
syllables. If I thought myself contending 
only about the more precisely proper form 
of expressing the same thing, I should be 
ashamed of my employ, and would this in- 
stant lay down my pen ; whereas I appre- 
hend, that w^e are not agreed as to doctrine, 
that there is a material and very wide dif- 
ference between us. My opinion, or rather 
my faith is, that our Lord's obedience to 
the moral law, in professed submission to 
its authority, and in exact conformity to its 
precepts — his performance of all holy du- 



TO THE 

ties, and his exercise of all heavenly graces 
— that all this is a most e-^sential and dis- 
tinguished part of his merit ; that this is of 
higher dignity and greater value than the 
whole world, and all the righteousness in it : 
That the divine law is hereby more signally 
honoured, than it could have been honour- 
ed by the uninterrupted obedience of Adam 
and all his posterity : That God's justice, 
holiness, truth, receive greater glory from 
these unparalleled acts of duty, than from 
all the services of angels and men in their 
several wonderful orders : That this active 
righteousness, together with his most meri- 
torious sufferings, are the ground and cause 
of my acceptance with God ; are the very 
thing which procures and effects my justifi- 
cation ; making .me not barely acquitted 
from guilt, but truly righteous, yea perfect- 
ly righteous, and that before the God of in- 
finite penetration and purity. This is a 
view of the doctrine incomparably magnifi- 
cent and inexpressibly comfortable. If you 
agree with your friend in all these particu- 
lars, speak and write comformably to such 
agreement ; then you will never again hear 
from him in this manner, neither will he 
receive any more such favours from you as 
the letter now under consideration ; then 
we shall be perfectly joined together " in 
the same mind, and in the^ame judgment." 

Alas ! this union, I fear, is not so easily 
to be effected. Mr. Wesley still insists and 
still urges, " The authority of our church 
(which Aspasio pleads) and of those emi- 
nent divines (whose testimony Aspasio al- 
leges) does not touch those particular forms 
of expression." Justification through im- 
puted righteousness, or being made righteous 
through the obedience of Christ, I suppose 
are the forms of expression intended. These, 
it seems, none of the quotations confirm, 
establish, no, nor touch, in Mr. Wesley's 
opinion at least ; but I am inclined to hope, 
that the generality of readers will be of a 
different persuasion, and allow that the 
quotations and the expressions touch and 
resemble one another, as much as the 
wings of the cherubim in the ancient sanc- 
tuary: * 

" Does not touch." No ! not yet? Then 
we must have recourse to some other autho- 
rity, and such a one I have at hand as you 
would hardly venture, or even wish to gain- 
say, I mean the authority of John Wesley, 
M. A. who declares, in his Exposition of 
the New Testament, " This is fully con- 
sistent with our being justified by the im- 
putation of the righteousness of Christ." 
Now I shall only remonstrate in imitation 



* " Both the cherubims were of one measure, and 
one size ; and their wings touched one another in the 
midst of the house," 1 Kings vi. 25. 27. 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



541 



of the apostle : If thou thyself usest this ' 
phrase, why wouldest thou compel others ' 
to lay it aside ? Or, why art thou displeased 
with others for a practice which thou al- 
lowest in thyself?" 

Surely you will not say, imputation of 
righteousness is quite a different thing from 
imputec? righteousness. Does not the for- 
mer evidently include the latter ? Can there 
be a proclamation.of pardon, without a par- 
don proclaimed ? Can there he the purchase 
of an estate, without an estate purchased ? 
Or the imputation of righteousness, without 
a righteousness imputed ? If others should 
affect such subtle and self-deluding evasions, 
Mr. Wesley cannot, Mr. Wesley must not : 
he has precluded himself ; nay, he has, vvith 
his own mouth, given a verdict against him- 
self. Is it not recorded in those lines sub- 
joined to your character of a Methodist ? 

Let faith and love combine 

To guard your valiant breast; 
The plate be righteousness divine, 

Imputed and imprest. 

This imputed righteousness was once a de- 
lightful theme ; your song in the house of 
your pilgrimage. Why isitnowa burdensome 
stone which you would fain shake off from 
yourself and others ? Are you become rich 
in yourself, and increased with goods of your 
own acquiring ? We know full well for what 
reason the phrase and the doctrine are re- 
jected, exploded, and reproached by the 
Romish superstition, because they display 
in the brightest light the beauty of free 
grace. They hold the door against all kind 
of human merit ; they cut off every the most 
distant pretension for glorying in man ; and 
refer all the honour of salvation to Jesus 
Christ alone. Admit justification through 
the imputed righteousness of Christ, and 
the grand bulwark, or the main pillar of 
Popery, falls to the ground ; while a solid 
foundation is laid for that triumph and gra- 
titude, expressed in the inspired hymn, 
♦* Let us be glad and rejoice (exceedingly, 
but) give the honour (all the honour) to 
him," Rev. xix. 7. 

" The righteousness of God, signifies the 
righteousness which God-man wrought out." 
*' No ;" says Mr. Wesley. Your reason, 
Sir, for this negative ? A child may deny ; 
a man of judgment will disprove. Does 
not Mr. Wesley disprove, when he adds. 

It signifies God's method of justifying 
sinners?" Just as forcibly as the Jews dis- 
proved the Messiahship of Jesus of Naza- 
reth, when they cried. Thou the Messiah ! 
No ; thou art a Samaritan and hast a devil. 
What they alleged, wanted a proof altoge- 
ther as much as what they denied. What 
Mr. Wesley here alleges, is a threadbare 
objection, already considered, and already 
confuted. Yet, since it relates to a point 



of the utmost moment, and that which is 
the main hinge of our controversy, I shall 
not be deemed officious, if, as the shot has 
been once again discharged, I once again 
lift up my shield against it. 

*' The righteousness of God, signifies 
God's method of justifying sinners." We 
have already shown how low an interpreta- 
tion this is ; how insipid in itself, and ^in- 
compatible with the current language of 
Scripture. On the other hand, how sublime 
and consolatory' is the sense which Aspasio 
gives ! A righteousness which God himself 
has provided without any co-operation from 
his creatures. The righteousness of that 
most exalted, yet most condescending Savi- 
our, who is God and man in one, Christ ; 
a righteousness dignified with all the per- 
fections of the Godhead, therefore worthy 
to be the comfort, the joy, the never-ceasing 
boast of his people ; and sufficient, infinite- 
ly sufficient, to save even the most vile, the 
most base, the most desperately ruined sin- 
ners. 

This is a righteousness, as much superior 
to all human attainments, to all angelic 
accomplishments, as the heaven of heavens 
is higher than a clod of the valleys. This 
is a righteousness which could never have 
entered into the heart of man or angel to 
conceive, but will be the cause of their ad- 
miration, and the subject of their wonder, 
to endless ages. This sense fully accounts 
for those rapturous expressions of the pro- 
phet, when, speaking of the all-surpassing 
gift, he thus addresses his fellow-sinners : 
" Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Sion ; 
shout, O daughter of Jerusalem ; behold, 
thy King cometh unto thee. He is righte- 
ous, and having salvation." He is com- 
pletely righteous in his nature, has fulfilled 
all righteousness in his life and death, and 
has thereby obtained for thee a full pardon, 
a finished salvation, a sure title to eternal 
glory. This accounts for those more rap- 
turous expressions of the sacred svriters, 
when in the fervour of their gratitude they 
call upon the whole creation to celebrate the 
goodness of the incarnate Jehovah : " Sing, 
O ye heavens ; for the Lord hath done it ; 
shout, ye lower parts of the earth ; break 
forth into singing, ye mountains ; O forest, 
and every tree therein, for the Lord_, hath 
(in his own person, by his own obedience 
and sufferings) redeemed Jacob, and glori- 
fied (not human abilities, not human works, 
but) himself, (and his own righteousness), in 
the restoration of Israel."* 



* Isa. xliv. 23. Should any one say, is this the sense 
of the Prophet ? I ask, is not this the fullest, grand- 
est, divinest sense ? Is it not a sense perfectly true ? 
Is it not warranted by the gospti revelation ? Is it 
not demanded by that declaration of our Saviourj 
I " They (the ancient Scriptures) testify of mc?" 



542 LETTEUS 

Tn short, tliis is a righteousness which 
exalts God's justice ; which magnifies the 
law ; displays all his awful and amiable at- 
tributes in their fullest lustre. To contrive 
it, was unsearchable wisdom ; to bestow it, 
is invaluable treasure. It answers in the 
completest manner all the grand and graci- 
ous purposes, both of God's glory and of 
man's salvation. True gospel this ! Glad 
tidings indeed ! An expedient for our re- 
covery greater than our hearts could wish. 
We may truly say, while meditating on this 
gift of consummate righteousness, " Where 
sin hath abounded, grace has much more 
abounded." The bricks are fallen down, 
but the most glorious repairer of our breach- 
es has built with hewn stone. Well might 
the apostle, having this supremely excellent 
righteousness in his view, look down with 
the most sovereign contempt upon every 
other (cause of) confidence, upon every 
other object of trust, and reckon them dross 
and dung. Well might he declare, that he 
would never be ashamed of the gospel, in 
which is this transcendently noble righte- 
ousness, in all its magnificence, riches, and 
glory. 

Do you thhik me rather too warm upon 
the subject ? Let me once again remit you 
to St. Chrysostom : read his exposition of 
that charming sentence, " The righteous- 
ness of God," Uoios, &c. This venerable 
father of the church speaks the thing as it 
is. He does not mingle our wine with wa- 
ter, but gives us the genuine truth, and tri- 
umphs because of the truth. 

The doctrine of an imputed righteousness 
seems to have been typically taught, by the 
ren)arkable manner of clothing our first pa- 
rents. All they could do for their own re- 
covery, was like the patched and beggarly 
mantle of fig-leaves ; this they relinquish, 
and God himself furnishes them vv^ith appa- 
rel : animals are slain, not for food, but 
sacrifice ; and the naked criminals are ar- 
rayed with the skins of those slaughtered 
beasts. The victims figured the expiation 
made by Christ's death ; the clothing typified 
the imputation of his righteousness. " That 
does not appear," cries Mr. Wesley. As- 
pasio has produced an authority from the 
famous Milton. I could reinforce it by 
another from the elegant Witsius. If you 
are not satisfied with either, or both these 
testimonies, I will give you a reason for the 
sentiment. The victims most properly 
shadowed forth the expiation of guilt by the 
Redeemer's blood, because it is the peculiar 
end of sacrifice to make aconement for sins ; 
the clothing most pertinently denoted the 
Saviour's righteousness, which is described 
both by the prophet and the apostle under 
this very inmage. " He hath covered uie 
with the robe of righteousness," says the pro- 
phet Isaiah. " The fine linen which arrays 



TO THE 

the bride of the Lamb, is the perfect righte- 
ousness of the saints,''* says the beloved 
disciple. " It is like a royal vesture, or a 
rich suit of apparel, upon all them that be- 
lieve," adds the apostle Paul. The impar- 
tial reader, I promise myself, will allow 
these passages, if not to be absolutely de- 
cisive, yet to have somewhat more weight 
than that atom in your scale, " This does 
not appear." As for sanctification, this 
may veiy reasonably rank among the effects 
of being cleansed by the blood, and adorned 
with the righteousness of Christ. These 
blessings produce peace of conscience, and 
love of God ; just as commodious clothing 
produces warmth, and promotes health. 
And what is love of God, but holiness of 
heart in the seed, and holiness of life in 
the fruit ? 

As this (the nature of true holiness) is a 
matter of the last importance ; is a point on 
which multitudes, I fear, are mistaken ; I 
will leave it uppermost in your thoughts, in 
the reader's, and in those of, Reverend Sir, 
your, &c. 



LETTER X. 

Reverend Sir, — We are now entering 
upon a new province. Our business mil 
be chiefly of the philological kind. We 
shall treat principally of words. But as 
they are the words which the Holy Ghost 
teacheth, they are like the combs erected in 
yonder hive : Not empty syllables, made 
only for sound ; but rich with divine sense, 
and full of the honey of the gospel, replete 
with the manna of heaven. May this pen 
be to the reader like Jonathan's rod ; when 
dipt in the delicious juice, it enlightened 
his eyes, refreshed his spirits, and cheered 
his heart ! 

" Almost every text, you are pleased to 
afiirm, quoted in this and the following let- 
ter, in support of that particidar form of 
expression, (imputed righteousness), is dis- 
torted above measure from the plain, obvi- 
ous meaning, which is pointed out by the 
context." Let us examine these abused 
and distorted texts, in order to discover from 
whence the misfortune happened ; how the 
violence was done ; whether by Mr. Wes- 
ley's pen, or by Aspasio's tongue. 

The first is from the book of Job ; which, 
as it is greatly venerable for its antiquity, 
and singularly to be regarded for its impor- 



* Rev . xix. 8. Ta ^ixxiM/neura being in the plu- 
ral number, I think may be translated, Justitia 
omnibus numeris absolucii : A riajhteousness of all 
kinds, and a!i dagrees, or co;tii)rc'!i'c;urm£; every kind, 
and def.H-tive in no ttegree. WonUl vr.ii ^f otiie bfauly 
of tin-, line linen, or vvardrooc m .viucli ii is de- 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



54.3 



tance, I shall beg leave to consider at large. | is the consequence of the Messiah's right- 
A sinner is described lying under a danger- ; eousness alone, which being imputed to the 
ous sickness, and brought by the force of | sinner, becomes, for the blessed purpose of 
his disease to the brink of the grave; by i justification unto hfe, his.* 



the multitude of his sins to the very bor- 
ders of hell. In this deplorable condition, 
" If there be a messenger with him, an in- 
terpreter, one of a thousand, to show unto 
man his uprightness ; then he is gracious 
unto him, and saith, Deliver him from going 
down into the pit ; I have found a ransom. "• 
*' If there be with him a messenger" of 
the living God, a faithful ambassador of 
Christ, who may administer spiritual assis- 
tance to the poor afflicted creature. — " An 
interpreter," who knows how to open the 
Scriptures, and rightly to divide the word of 
truth ; who is a preacher of righteousness, 
and can properly apply the word of grace. 
—This is not every one's talent'; nor with- 
in the compass of every one's abilities. He 
is one of a thousand, to whom God hath 
given the tongue of the learned ; enabling 
him to speak a word in season, and suit the 
condition of each respective patient : ** To 
shew unto man his uprightness ;" that is, 
says Mr Wesley, " to convince him of 
God's justice, in so punishing him." 

But is this the instruction which such a 
distressed sufferer wants ? Is this the word 
of reconciliation which every true minister 
ni ancient times did preach, and in later times 
doth preach ? Or is there any need of a 
choice instructor ? One skilled in the coun- 
sel of God, to teach what the common dic- 
tates of reason demonstrate ? In this inter- 
pretation, I can neither discern the true critic, 
nor the clear reasoner, nor the sound divine. 

Not the true critic ; He would acknow. 
ledge that the antecedent in this clause is 
not God, but man. To man, therefore, if 
we regard grammatical propriety, the pro 
noun his must be referred. Not the clear 
reasoner ; he would observe the emphasis of 
the word then, ver. 24, implying some dis 
covery, or some conviction, in consequence 
of which deliverance from death ensues, oi 
with which it is connected. Can this be a 
discovery or a conviction of God's justice 
in punishing him ? No, verily. Much less 
therefore can I discern the sound divine' 
He knovvs, and affirms constantly, that this 



* Job. xxxiii. 23, 24, I have the rather chosen to 
lay this whole passage before the reader, because a 
new interpretation is given to the word messenger 
Here it is supposed to denote a faithful and skilful 
minister of the gospel. In the Dialogues it is sup 
posed to describe our Lord Jesus Christ himself, 
scarcely know which sense to prefer. Perhaps both 
may be included, the author us well as the instrument 
of comfort to the sick and sinful man. However, the 
point in debate between Mr. Wesley and Aspasio, is 
not affected by the different application of this word 
His uprightness, according to either exposition, may 
signify tlie Messiah's obedience and sufferings; r 
signify these things; provided these are the only jus 
tifying righteousness of a sinner; the only way nt 
obtaining the divine favour, and removing evety 
eviL 



So that Aspasio seems to have the im- 
port of language, and the scope of the con- 
text, both on his side. And i may venture 
to add, he has the consolatory genius of the 
gospel yet more strongly pleading for his in- 
terpretation. It must yield but cold com- 
fort to tell a poor wretch, confined to the 
bed of languishing, and alarmed with ap- 
prehensions of eternal vengeance — but cold 
comfort must it yield to tell such a one, 
that he has deserved all this misery, and is 
justly punished. Whereas, to inform him 
of a righteousness sufficient to do away all 
his transgressions ; sufficient to reconcile 
him and render him acceptable even to the 
chastising God; sufficient to obtain his de- 
liverance, very probably from death, most 
assuredly from hell ; this is a reviving re- 
port indeed. This will make the bones 
which sin and misery had broken, to re- 
joice. 

Then the sinner and the sufferer, atten- 
tive to this instruction, and .applying this 
righteousness, is made partaker of pardon. 
God, the sovereign Lord of life and death, 
is gracious unto him ;" and saith, in the 
greatness of his strength, as well as in the 
mtdtitude of his mercies, " deliver him from 
going down into the pit" of corruption, as a 
pledge of his deliverance from the pit of 
perdition. For " I have found a ransom," 
satisfactory to my law and to my justice. 
I have received an atonement in behalf of 
this once obnoxious, now reconciled trans- 
gressor. 

He shall receive the blessing from the 
Lord, and righteousness." This you would 
render holiness ; but have you no Hebrew 
lexicon to irform you that the word which 
signifies holiness is very different from the 
expression used by the Psalmist ? He says . 
tzrkh^ whereas hohness is expressed hykdsh. 
Besides, have you not observed that your 
interpretation would betray the Psalmist in- 
to apparent tautology ? He had, in the pre- 
ceding verses, displayed the duties of prac- 
tical godliness, and the graces of inherent 
holiness. The person he describes posses- 
ses the latter, and practises the former. 
To say, therefore, he shall receive holiness, 
when he has it already, would not suit David's 
correctness, however it may suit Mr. Wes- 
ley's fancy, or Mr. Wesley's design. In 



* "The uprightness, (says Mr. Caryl), chiefly in- 
tended here, is the righteousness of Christ, in and by 
which we are reconciled to, and made one with God. 
We never see where our uprightness is, till we see 
there is nothing that makes us stand upright in the 
court of heaven, but only Christ our righteousness, 
riiis is the great duty of the messengers and inter- 
preters of Christ, to declare toman this righteousness 
for his uprightness. And that hence it is (as Elihu 



s) that 



will b3 gracious unto him." 



644 



LETTERS TO THE 



this clause, the evangelical moralist touches 
upon another particular, which enters as an 
essential part, into the character of a godly 
man — even " the righteousness which is of 
faith ;" denoted by the blessing of pardon, 
and the gift of righteousness- Take away 
this, and there is no acceptance with God. 
Take away this, and the gates, mentioned 
in the close of the psalm, are unalterably 
shut- Unless we are furnished with this 
passport, the everlasting doors never lift up 
thek heads. If you exclude this peculiarity, 
the description is very imperfect, and the 
picture extremely deficient. Whereas, this 
adds the finishing touch, and gives true per- 
fection to both. 

Several passages are quoted in which the 
word tzrkh occurs. Sometimes you would 
have it signify mercy ; sometimes justifica- 
tion; sometimes spotless holiness. But what 
proof do I find for establishing any of these 
significations, which differ so much from 
one another, and still more from the truth ? 
Nothing but the customary argument, " So 
it unquestionably means." Now you must 
unquestionably know, at least every novice 
in the language knows, that the genuine and 
native sense of tzrkh, is righteousness. The 
word expressive of mercy is hsd, neither in 
sense nor sound alike. As to justification^ 
the phrase never denotes that blessed effect, 
but the divine and meritorious cause which 
produces it. 

Shall I, in this inquiry, appeal to the best 
lexicons, the most approved translations, or 
the ablest interpreters ? No, I will refer you 
to the decision of an interpreter, who is su- 
perior to all lexicons and all translations ; I 
mean, the author of the epistle fo the He- 
brews. He translates this very word, as it 
enters into the name of Melciiisedek ; and 
he translates it, not mercy, not justification, 
no, nor spotless holiness, but righteousness ; 
even that righteousness whose fruit is peace 
with God, and peace in our own conscience. 
Now, will you play the critic upon this in- 
spired writer, and say, Unquestionably it 
means, not what the apostle has determined, 
not what Aspasio, supported by his autho- 
rity, has adopted ; but what I think fit to 
dictate ? 

An opposer of our Lord's imputed 
righteousness, who had more discretion or 
more subtilty than Mr. Wesley, would have 
argued in this manner : " The original 
word, I must confess, ought to be translat- 
ed ricfhteousncss ; This is undoubtedly the 
principal and leading signification of the 
term ; but then the circumstances and the 
context oblige us to understand it in the 
notion of mercy, of spotless holiness,''or of 
any thing else that serves our purpose." 
This would be more modest and more 
piau.sible, though not more just and solid 
thou yoUi confident assertion. 



Suppose we should admit this pretence, 
what does the critic gain thereby ? Must 
he not have recourse to that noble and 
comfortable doctrine for which we plead ? 
Let the word be translated mercy. Why is 
mercy shewn to sinners ? Is it not on ac- 
count of the righteousness of their Surety ? 
Let it be translated goodness. Wherefore 
is goodness exercised to rebellious men ? 
Is it not because of the satisfaction made 
by their crucified Lord ? Render it what- 
ever you please, provided it conveys the 
idea of favour vouchsafed, or of the bene- 
fits conferred, it must terminate, still ter- 
minate, in that grand central point, the in- 
carnation, obedience, and death of Imman- 
uel. 

" Sion shall be redeemed with judgment"' 
— " After severe punishment," you say. 
The Hebrew preposition signifying after, is 
achr. I find no trace of any such word in 
my edition of the Bible. You may as well 
render or interpret the passage, in the midst. 
And then, if some other critic should be 
inclined to translate it before, or round about, 
we should have a large compass of mean- 
ing ; but where would precision and exact- 
ness be found ? But why is Sion to be re- 
deemed after severe punishment 9 Has her 
punishment any influence or sway in the 
work of her redemption ? Does the purs- 
ishment of man pave the way for the sal- 
vation of God? Are sinners to wait for 
pardon and reconciliation, till they have 
been severely punished ? This is very 
discouraging doctrine : and, blessed be God, 
it is absolutely without foundation. The 
gospel says, " To-day, even to-day, (sin- 
ners,) if ye will hear his voice, ye shall en- 
ter into rest." You need not tarry till you 
have been severely chastised ; but this in- 
stant believe in the Lord Jesus, and you 
shall be saved. The Lord Jesus has been 
wounded and bruised in your stead ; he has 
received all the punishment which you have 
deserved; yea, as a ransomer, he has paid 
double ; as a victim, he has suflfered double 
for all your sins, 5sa. xl. 2. Considering 
these things, I am still disposed to abide by 
Aspasio's plain and obvious interpretation ; 
not to go out of my way in quest of the 
pricking briar and grieving thorn, when I 
meet with roses and lilies in the common 
road. 

" In the Lord have I righteousness." 
This will not satisfy our critic. It must 
be through the Lord. What piddling criti- 
cism is this, even in case it was true, and 
answered some specious end ! But it is by 
no means true. Every body knows, that 
the prefix 6 signifies in and every body 
but Mr. Wesley would blush to assert the 
contrary. Neither does it answer any val- 
uable end, but the reverse. It degrades 
the exalted sense, and impoverishes the rich 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



545 



blessing. To have righteousness in the 
Lord, is abundantly more expressive of 
glorious grace, than barely to have righte- 
ousness through the Lord. Mordeeai had 
liches and honours, through Ahasuerus and 
his royal favour ; Esther had riches and 
honours, in Ahasuerus, as her royal hus- 
band : He by being a courtier, she by be- 
ing a consort, to the most magnificent mon- 
arch in the world. 

If Mr. W esley piddled in the foregoing, 
he flashes in the following passage. He 
assures us that ghlmim tzk means, spotless 
holiness. This is really a bold stroke in 
criticism. But like many other bold enter- 
prises, it is likely to prove, not a birth, but 
an abortion. Spotless ! You might as well 
have i-endered it toothless. It has no more 
to do with the idea of spotless, than it has 
to do wiih the idea of an ivory tooth, or a 
polished toothpick. Literally translated, it 
signilies ages ; and may denote the perpe- 
tuity of this righteousness, and of its bene- 
ficial effects. It was from the beginning, 
it is at this day, and it will be even unto 
the end, mighty to save. It is the one re- 
fiige and hope of sinners, in every age of 
the world, and under eveiy dispensation of 
religion. Through all the changes of time 
it has been, and through the unchimgeable 
eternity it will be, their chief joy, and their 
crown of rejoicing. 

What righteousness shall give us peace 
at the last day, inherent or imputed? To 
^this question Aspasio has replied, in a very 
explicit manner, by presentitig us with a 
pertinent extract from Bishop Hall, and 
by commenting upon a most important pro- 
phecy of Isaiah. In both which, all hu- 
man righteousness is set aside, and our 
peace is derived entirely from the glorious 
Shiloh.* From him, who made peace by 
the blood of his cross, and whose name is 
the Prince of Peace : Having this heaven- 
ly blessing, and the right of conferring it, 
as the peculiar privilege, or unshared pre- 
rogative, of his crown. 

Mr. Wesley is pleased to deny this doc- 
trine, and to associate with the Papists in 
ascribing our peace (and if our peace, then 
our salvation) " partly to inherent, partly to 
imputed righteousness." But does our 
church do so ? Hear- her own words : " We 
do not presume to come to this thy table, 
O merciful Lord, trusting in our own 
righteousness ;" much less then will she 
dare to approach his judgment-seat trusting 
in any such thing. Does the apostle Paul 
do so :-' Hear his own protestation " That 
^ I may be found in Christ, not having mine 



_ • Gen. xlix. 10. " Shile,"— Schilo. Nomen Mes- 
wae peculiare, tranquillatorem designans.— That is, 
the Maker of Peace, and the Author of Tranquillity, 
for rebellious and wretched men. 



own righteousness, which is of the law 
which consists of my personal obedience, 
and inherent holiness ; but having this, as 
the source of my peace, and the s rength of 
my salvation, " the righteousness which is 
of God by faith ;" even that inconceivably 
precious righteousness, which God my Sa- 
viour wrought, and which a simier by faith 
receives. Did Mr. Wesley himself always 
do so ? Let those lines bear witness ; of 
v/hich neither the poet, nor the divine, need 
be ashamed. 

My righteous servant and my Son 
bhall each believing sinner clear. 
And all who stoop to abjure their own, 
Shall in his righteousness appear. 

Will that I'ighteousness give you peace 
which you abjure ? Or is it pious, is it 
prudent, is it consistent, to trust in a right- 
eousness which you absolutely renounce ? 
That which you ahjure (a stronger word 
could not be used,) you consider, not bare- 
ly as despicable, but as utterly abominable ; 
whereas, that which givt'S you peace at the 
awful tribunal, must not only be excellent, 
but incomparably excellent and valuable. 
See, my friend, how " thine own mouth 
condemneth thee, and not I ; yea, thine 
own lips testify against thee," Job xv. 6. 
O ! that you may return to your first senti- 
ments, and to your first love ! * and no lon- 
ger expose yourself and your doctrhie to be 
a bye -word among the people. If you per- 
sist in such palpable inconsistencies, who 
can forbear taking up that taunting pro- 
verb, *' \ doul)le-minded man is unstable 
in all his ways." 

But stop. A passage from St. John is 
introduced to support this opinion. " Christ 
died for us, and lives in us, that we may 
have boldness in the day of judgment." 
That Christ died for us, and lives in us, I 
readily acknowledge. But where do you 
find any of the apostles, from these pre- 
mises, drawing your conclusion ? St. John, 
whom you quote, has no such logic. His 
inference is deduced from a very different 
topic. You give us a fragment of the 
apostle's words ; why do Tiot you exhibit 
the golden bowl complete ? We shall then 
quickly perceive, that it contains a more 
sweet and salutary draught than you have 
provided for our refreshment. 

•prccpp'/iiTiKV I'x^u^iM iv T'/j '/]/u.i^x xo'tfiMf ; which 



* That Mr. Wesley may not be ashamed to retract 
mistaken sentiment, I wil! bveak the ice ancl lead 
the way. In a copy of verses wljich 1 fornierly wrofe, 
sacred to the memory of a generous benefactor, 1 re- 
member the following lines • 

Our wants relieved by thy indulgpnt care, 
Shall give thee courage at the drc-adful bar, 
And stud the crown thou shalt forever wear. 
These lines-, in whatever bands they are lodged, and 
whatever elseof a like kind may have dropt from my 
pen, I now publicly disclaim.' "They are the very 
reverse of my present belief; in which I hope t« 
persevere so long as I have any being, 
2 N 



546 



LETTERS TO THE 



we translate, " Herein is our love made 
perfect, that we may have boldness in the 
«iay of judgment." l John iv. 17. As you 
are fond of criticizing upon the original 
Scriptures, here you might have done it 
justly and honourably. Here you might 
have altered and reformed our translation ; 
while every capable j iidge would have own- 
ed your service to be seasonable and im- 
portant. The true sense of rii^eav is 
with us, or zvith regard to us. That is, 
God's love, celebrated with inimitable en- 
ergy and beauty in the preceding verse, 
God's love towards us is herein made per- 
fect ; this if* its grand and crowning effect, 
that we should have, not a bare hope, but 
an uuappalled boldness at the day of judg- 
ment. 

As though he had said, God, having re- 
conciled us to himself by the blood of his 
Son ; having renewed us after his own 
image, by his blessed Spirit testifying of 
Christ in our hearts ; having carried us 
through all the dangers of life, and raised 
our bodies from the dust of death ; he 
crowns and consummates all these most 
indulgent acts of his grace, by giving us an 
undaunted and triumphant confidence at tlie 
day of universal audit According to this 
interpretation, your own text is against 
your opinion, and refers this joyful assur- 
ance, not to our love of God. but to his 
love of us ; not to inherent righteousness, 
but to free grace.* 

Aspasio thus translates St. Peter's words : 
" Who have obtained like precious faith in 
the righteousness of our God and our Sa- 
viour Jesus Christ." 2 Pet. i. 1. Mr. 
Wesley gives us to understand, that this 
translation is wrong. It should be faith 
through — and not through the righteousness, 
but through the meraj of our God and Sa- 
viour. He will not allovv^ the Greek pre- 
position £v to signify m ; though Icairprove 
it to have been in peaceable possession of 
this signification for more than two thou- 
sand years. And the substantive ^uKUKxrw/) 
must not denote righteousjiess, though it 
pleads, as a warrant for this weighty sense, 
the incontestable authority of St. Paul. 
Give me leave to tell you. Sir, that I can 
produce a multitude of proofs to overthrow 
your first puny alteration ; but produce, if 
you can, a single passage from the whole 
New Testamenf,-j- to uphold your last dtir- 
ing innovation. 



* Should it be said, in case you thus interpret the 
first part of the text, how will it connect Avith what 
follows ? Perfectly well. And none need wonder that 
we shall appear with such boldness at his coming ; 
since they cannot but observe, that as he is, so are 
tvo in this ivorld. We are actuated by his Spirit ; we 
resemble him in all our conversation; and hence it 
is evident that we are one with him. 

t The righteousness of God, the righteousness of 
God our Saviour, never denotes, in all the apostolical 
writings, the attribute of mercy. If it does, and Mr, 



Here I cannot but observe, you abandon 
your favourite commentator Bengelius, of 
whose merit and excellence you speak so 
highly and so justly. He says, in his 
notes upon the place, the righteousness of 
God our Saviour, is the righteousness of 
Christ ; which faith apprehends, and which 
is opposed to a man's own righteousness. 
What is more surprising, you depart from 
your own comment ; nay, you expressly 
contradict your own comment. To edify 
the readers of jom Exposition, you in- 
form and assure them, that this phrase sig- 
nifies " both the active and the passive 
-righteousness" of Christ. To gainsay what 
Aspasio has advanced, you more than in- 
sinuate, that it signifies no such thing, but 
only " the mercy of our Lord." Nay, to 
corroborate the true sense, and determine 
the words invariably to the active and pas- 
sive righteousness of Christ, you add, ^' It 
is this alone by which the justice of God is 
satisfied. " If then Mr. Wesley would re- 
concile what he writes in his Expository 
Notes with what he writes in his animad- 
versions on Aspasio, he must maintain, that 
by the mercy of God alone his justice is 
satisfied. 

I will not exclaim, on this occasion, as 
you have too freely and not very genteelly 
done in your letter to Mr. Law, " Exquisite 
nonsense !"* But this I may venture to 
say. Contradiction, didst thou ever Imow 
so trusty a friend, or so faithful a devotee ? 
Many people are ready enough to contradict 
others : But it seems all one to this gentle- 
men, whether it be another or himself, so 
he may but contradict. 

Permit me, for a moment, seriously to 
expostulate the case. Why should you 
be so averse to the righteousness of our 
God and Saviour ? Why should you ran- 
sack all the stores of your learning, and 
knowledge ; nay, descend to unwarrantable 
criticisms, and quite mnvorthy your superior 
abilities, in order to exclude this most glo- 
rious truth from the Bible ; in order to ex- 
terminate this most precious privilege from 
the church ? Attempt, if you think proper, 
to pluck the sun from the firmament, to 
hide the light from our eyes, and vt'ithdraw 
the air from our lungs ; but do not attempt 
to rob us of what is far more valuable than 
all these blessings, by depriving us of this 
inestimable treasure, the righteousness of 
Christ : which being a righteousness, im- 
maculate, all-surpassing, divine, swallows 
up and annihilates our guilt ; as the immense 
waves of the ocean would swallow up and 
annihilate the drop of ink that now hangs 

Wesley can make it appear, I will confess myself mis- 
taken," and thank him for correcting my error. 

* Mr Wesley, in the abridgment ot his letter i& 
Mr.Law, inserted in the Preservative from Unsettled 
Notions, has expunged this and some other indecent- 
ly harsh expressions. 



REV. MR. 

on the point of my pen : Which, being a 
righteousness immaculate, all-surpassing, 
divine, will present us before our God, and 
before his angels without spot and blemish ; 
in robes more beautiful than the colours of 
that resplendent- bow, which is bended on 
the skirts of yonder cloud. 

*' Therein is revealed the righteousness 
of God." — " God's method of justifying 
sinners." See this interpretation examined, 
and this objection answered before. 

We establish the law, as we expect no 
salvation Avithout a perfect conformity to 
it ;* namely, by Christ. " Is not this a 
mere quibble ?" says Mr. Wesley. Quite 
the reverse. It is no low conceit, but an 
exceeding serious and momentous truth. It 
is no play upon the sound of words, but ex- 
presses a doctrine of great solidity, and of 
the last importance. Tell me, ye that cavdl 
at this method of establishing the law, by 
what other expedient you propose to effect 
it ? By your past conduct ? That, you must 
acknowledge, has been more or less a vio- 
lation of the law. By your present obedi- 
ence ? That, you caimot deny, falls short of 
the sublime requirements of the law. By 
your future behaviour? Well, I will sup- 
pose that, in some future period, you reach 
the very summit of perfection. Still the 
law will have much to complain of, and 
will lay much to your charge. You have 
not magnified it by a holy nature. You 
have not presented it with the consummate 
righteousness of your whole heart, and your 
whole conversation. You have not begun, 
from the first moment of your existence, 
and persevered in this perfect conformity 
to the last breath you drew. In this case, 
either the law must recede from its most 
righteous demands, and the immutable God 
must compromise matters with his crea- 
tures, or else you can never enter into life. 
Unless you renounce all such impotent at- 
tempts and arrogant conceits, talk no more 
of " practising it in its full extent ;" but 
betake yourself to Christ, who is the end 
of the law,+ for accomplishing that right- 
eousness which its precepts demand, but 
which the frailty of man cannot perform. 

Thus we establish the law, as the con- 
summate standard of righteousness ; as the 
original condition of life ; and as that most 
venerable system, with which, as well as 
with its divine Author, there is no variable- 
ness or shadow of changing. And does thi^ 



* The reader is desired to peruse Aspasio's own 
words, Lett. v. There his sentiments are more 
fully explamed; but the passage is not transcrib- 
ed, on purpose to avoid increasing the size of this 
))iece, which ah-^ady swells to a larger bulk than the 
writer proposed. 

tRoin.x. 8. Christ is the end of the law. How? 
By bringing in that righteousness, and giving that 
Me, which the lav.' shows, and shows the want of, 
but neither itself gives, nor can enable us to acquire. 



WESLEY. 547 

method of securing the dignity of the law, 
hinder or discourage a dutiful observance of 
its commands ? If not, your objection de- 
rived from that well-known text, " Without 
holiness no man shall see the Lord," is 

Telum imbelle sine ictu- 

If this be the most rational and the most 
sure way of producing the love of God, 
which is the very essence of true holiness, 
then your objection recoils, and fails upon 
the head of your own cause. Can there be 
a more powerful, a more endearing motive 
to love the Lord my God, than a persuasion 
of his ineffable love to me, in giving his dear 
Son, so to fulfil, so to satisfy the law on 
my behalf, that I am thereby delivered from 
all my offences ; am vested with a perfect 
righteousness ; and, on the foot of justice, 
as well as mercy, stand entitled to eternal 
life ? 

" Though I believe that Christ hath 
lived and died for me, yet I would speak 
very tenderly and sparingly of the former." 
How widely then does your practice differ 
from the ajjostle's ? We believe, and there- 
fore have spoken, confidently and incessant- 
ly, in season and out of season. No, says 
Mr. Wesley, " We believe, and therefore 
we speak tenderly and sparingly." If you 
believe, that Christ has lived for you, and 
fulfilled all righteousness in your stead, 
surely you should give him the honour of 
this wonderful loving-kindness, and both 
preach, and talk, and sing of his goodness. 
It should be as a fire shut up in your bones ; 
and you should speak, that yourself may be 
refreshed, and your Lord may be glorified. 

But you "fear dreadful consequences." 
What ! where the divine holiness fears 
none ? and the divine prescience sees none ? 
Are you then more deep-sighted to discern 
these distant evils than omniscience ? Me- 
thinks, I would not have spoken thus, un- 
less I had been wiser than the Spirit of in- 
spiration. Do you not, by cherishing and 
avowing such apprehensions, find fault with 
the glorious gospel in which this righteous- 
ness is revealed ? revealed as its most emi- 
nent article, and most distinguishing pecu- 
liarity ? A doctrine taught, and a blessing 
granted, and both from heaven ! yet not fit 
to be displayed, inculcated, and insisted on ! 
What a contemptible idea must this give of 
our holy religion, and of our holy revelation, 
to an inquiring infidel ! 

" I would never speak of them (the ac- 
tive and passive righteousness of Christ) 
separately." This insinuates, what Aspa- 
sio disavows ; and what you cannot liint, 
without apparent injustice to his sentiments. 
" I v/ould speak of it (the former) as spar- 
ingly as do the Scriptures." Here you ap- 
peal to those writings, which must either 
' condemn your conduct or their own propri- 
! ety. At your leisure consider the case, and 



548 LETTERS 

you will find the dilemma unavoidable. In 
tlie mean time, be so candid as to read a 
short note inserted in Theron and Aspasio, 
where you may see, that the Scriptures are 
far from speaking sparingly on this point. 
It is their favourite and fundamental topic : 
It runs through them as a golden woof 
tln-ough a warp of silver ; or as the vital 
blood through the animal structure. And 
whatever you, Sir, may be inclined to do, I 
hope no lover of Christ will be persuaded 
to secrete this invaluable truth of the gos- 
pel. Shall such a truth skulk in a confer, 
or speak only in a whisper ? No ; let us pro- 
claim it upon the house tops, and wish that 
the joyful sound may reach the very ends of 
the earth. 

The gift of righteousness must signify a 
righteousness not their own. Aspasio's 
expression is, not originally their own. Ori- 
ginally, he said, with a view of hinting, that 
in some other sense, it was and is their 
own ; their own, by way of imputation, 
though not by way of operation. This word, 
in order to make the sentence appear ab- 
surd, Mr. Wesley drops. But whether such 
a practice be free from guile, or what the 
apostle calls cunning craftiness, let the im- 
partial reader judge. 

Aspasio's interpretation of the phrase, 
authenticated by the language of Scripture, 
Mr. Wesley sets aside ; and introduces 
another, whose only recommendation to the 
public is, " I come from Mr. Wesley's 
pen." Do you so? Then w-e will allov/ 
you all proper regard. But, because you 
come from Mr. Wesley's pen, must you 
therefore displace propriety and supplant 
truth ? make an inspired writer argue in- 
correctly, nay, jar with himself? This is 
rather too much for you to assume, even 
though you came recommended by a greater 
name. 

" The gift of righteousness signifies the 
righteousness or holiness which God gives 
to and works in them." Let us observe 
the apostle's aim, and the process of his rea- 
soning. His aim is to illustrate the man- 
ner of our justification. For this purpose 
he forms a contrast between Adam's trans- 
gression and Christ's obedience. Adam's 
transgression, which he himself committed, 
ruins all that spring from him. This is the 
leading proposition. Now, if the sacred 
disputant knows how to reason accurately, 
or to draw a conclusion justly, the conclu- 
sion must be to this effect : So likewise 
Christ's obedience, which he himself per- 
formed, recovers all who believe in him. 
Through Adam's disobedience, without the 
consideration of their own misdoings, the 
former are made sinners ; through Christ's 
obedience, without the consideration of 
their own good qualities, the latter are made 
righteous. Though I am fur, very far from 



TO THE 

ciisesteeming the holiness wrought in m, 
yet what place has it here ? In the article of 
justification, it is utterly excluded. It has 
no share in the accomplishment of that great 
work ; and every attentive reader will see, 
that it enters not into the apostle's present 
argumentation. Besides; if the gift of 
righteousness signifies the holiness wrought 
in us, then we shall reign in life, by means 
of a personal, not of an imputed righteous- 
ness ; by means of an imperfect, not of a 
complete obedience. Then all the people 
of God will be justified, not by the obedi- 
ence of one, but each by his own, severally 
and distinctly : which is contrary, not only 
to a single, but to many express passages of 
this very chapter. 

I said, " Every attentive reader will see." 
Some, perhaps, may say within themselves, 
Is not this spoken in Mr. Wesley's manner ? 
the loose presumptive way of arguing which 
you blame in him ? To which it is answer- 
ed, I am far from resting my point upon 
this presumptive proof. It is not the pillar 
which supports my cause, but only a festoon 
which adorns my pillar. However, was it 
accompanied with no proofs satisfactory ro 
others, it must to Mr. Wesley, whom 1 sup- 
pose one of the attentive readers, have the 
force of demonstration. Hear his own 
words, in his comment on this very portion 
of Scripture : " As the sin of Adam, with- 
out the sins which we afterwards committed, 
brought us death ; so the righteousness of 
Christ, without the good works which we 
afterwards perform, brings us life."* It is" 
a righteousness, without the good works, 
which we afterwards perform ; therefore, it 
is a righteousness not originally our own, 
but another's. It is not that which God 
works in us, but prior to it, and indepen- 
dent on it. If Aspasio had suborned an 
evidence, and put words into his mouth, be 
could not have devised a more direct and 
full confirmation of his doctrine than this 
volunteer witness deposeth. I thank you, 
Sir, for giving me so valuable an explana- 
tion of the gift of righteousness, and its 
blessed effects. I thank you likewise, for 
furnishing Aspasio with so incontestable a 
vindication against the objections of the au- 
thor of the Preservative. 

The obedience of one, so highly extolled 
by the apostle, is Christ's actual perform- 
ance of the whole law. — This you deny. 
I wish you had favoured me with your rea- 
sons for this denial. But my wishes of 
this kind are constantly disappointed. 
However, I will follow our Lord's direc- 
tion, and do unto others even as I would 



» Here Mr. Wesley speaks in perfect agreement with 
St. Chrysostom: O X^iros 'raif avTH, xos.tTotyt 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



549 



they should do unto me. I will give you a 
reason for my own or Aspasio's interpreta- 
tion ; The apostle is treating of Adam's 
actual breach of the law. If so, the pro- 
per antithesis must be Christ's actual per- 
formance of the law. In the following 
verses he explains himself. Let them be 
the comment on our text, and the gift of 
righteousness means, " The righteousness 
of one ; the obedience of one." This 
righteousness we have in Jesus Christ our 
Lord ; all other is inherent in ourselves. 
Justification by this righteousness is alone 
consistent with free grace ; justification by 
any other, is (inconsistent with it, is) sub- 
versive of it. 

Farther ; As you are a critic in the 
Greek, you need not be informed that St. 
Paul uses three several words, o;«aa/(tt«, S/^c- 
uiOTvvy, v7r»-'C07]. Now, can you shew any 
passages in which ail these words are used 
to signify sufferings or death ? Nay, can 
you shew me any single passage in which any 
one of them occurs in this signification ? 
If you cannot, what shadow of authority 
have you for putting this construction upon 
the words in the present case ? What sha- 
dow of authority for saying, with that unli- 
mited confidence, Christ's " dying for man, 
is certainly the chief part, if not the whole, 
which is meant by that expression ?"* If 
you attend to the tenor of the apostle's ar- 
gument, or inquire into the import of his 
language, perhaps you will see cause, not 
only to alter, but even to reverse this your 
positive assertion. 

Let me subjoin an extract from St- Chry- 
sostom, suited to this and the preceding 
paragraph, and worthy of our serious consi- 
deration ; from which it will appear that 
xVspasio is by no means singular in his sen- 
timents, but speaks the doctrine of the an- 
cient church. " Adam is a type of Christ. 
How ? In this respect : As the former was 
the cause of death to all his descendants, 
though they did not (like him) eat of the 
forbidden fruit ; so Christ was the cause, 
(^■r^olive;)f author, procurer of righteousness 
to all his seed, though they have not (like 
him) been personably obedient; even of that 
righteousness which he finished for us on 



• The obedience of one, St. Chrysostom expounds 
by ivjs x-aTop^ua-avro;. Would Mr. Wesley ven- 
ture to affirm, that dying well, not doing well, is 
certainly the cliief thing signified in y-cLro^Suactt- 
? A pretty daring criticism this ! Dees not the 
word rather signify, a course of well doing ; termin- 
ated (if you please) in, not constituted by, a corres- 
pondent death ? 

t TJ^o^ivo;, an expressive word! It seems to 
denote such a procuiing of righteousness for sinners, 
as corresponds with the provision made by some hos- 
pitable householder for the strangers who are come 
to be his guests; in which they bear no part either 
of the expense or of the trouble. Yl^o^tvco troi 
TSfTo, <« Hujus rei sum tibi auctor: banc rem tibi 
comparo." Stcph. Thesaur. in voc. 



the cross. For this reason, ' to ascertain 
and appropriate the honour of this righte- 
ousness to Christ — as a work not wrought 
by us, nor wrought in us, but completed for 
us on the cursed tree,' — he insists and dwells 
upon that veiy observable circumstance, 
one : He iterates and reiterates the empha- 
tical word one : He introduces it again and 
again, and can hardly prevail upon himself 
to discontinue the repetition. As by one 
man sin entered into the world ; through 
the off^ence of one many be dead ; not as it 
was by one that sinned, so is the free gift ; 
the judgment was by one to condemnation ; 
by one man's offence death reigned by one ; 
as by the offence of one, judgment came 
upon all men unto condemnation ; as by 
the disobedience of one, many were made 
sinners. Thus does the apostle again and 
again introduce the word one, and can 
hardly prevail on himself to discontinue the 
repetition ; that if a Jew should ask. How 
can the world be saved by the well-doing of 
one, or by the obedience of Christ? you 
may be able to reply on his own principles, 
How could the world be condemned by 
the evil-doing of one, or by the disobedi- 
ence of Adam ?"• 

" That the righteousness of the law might 
be fulfilled in us." That is, by our repre- 
sentative, and in our nature. " Amazing !" 
cries Mr. Wesley. But why amazing ? Is 
not this the common import of the most 
common actions ? Do not you and I make 
laws in and by our representatives in parlia- 
ment ? May not every debtor, when his 
surety has given full satisfaction to the cre- 
ditor, say, 1 have satisfied, I have paid, in 
my bondsman ? 

To invalidate this interpretation, you al- 
lege that the apostle " is not speaking here 
of the cause of our justification, but the 
fruits of it." Among all the excellent things 
which in your sttiJies and in your travels 
you have learned, have you never learned 
that between saying and proving there is a 
wide difference ? Never did I meet with a 
person who seemed so totally ignorant of this 
very obvious truth. Well, we must take 
your word without proof ; but I hope not 
without examination. " The apostle is 
speaking of the fruit." Is then the fulfilling 
of the law the fruit of justification ? This 
is the first time, I apprehend, that any such 
thing was deliberately affirmed. It is the 
cause, the adequate, the immediate, and in- 
deed the only proper cause of justification. 
But the fruits are, peace of conscience, and 
love of God ; the spirit of adoption, and the 
hope of glory. 

Show me. Sir, where ItKcctMfia, in con- 
junction with rsf vofin, signifies the fruits of 
justification, and not those demands of the 



*■ Chrysofit. vol. iii. p. 71 > 72. Edit Savil. 



550 



LETTERS TO THE 



law which must necessarily be satisfied be- 
fore justification can take place. Especially 
when that phrase is corroborated by that 
other strong expression, irXtj^oh ; an ex- 
pression used by our Lord, concerning him- 
self, and the design of his coming into the 
world : Applicable to him alone who is the 
end of the law for righteousness ; and de- 
scriptive of that obedience by which alone 
the law is magnified. 

This sense, says Aspasio, agrees with the 
tenor of the apostle's arguing. " Not here," 
replies Mr. Wesley. Let us then consider 
the aim, and trace the progress of the apos- 
tle's reasoning. He is clearing up and con- 
firming that great privilege of the gospel, 
<' There is no condemnation to them that 
are in Jesus Christ." This, you will allow, 
is not the fruit of justification, but justifica- 
tion itself. As this wants no argument to 
confirm it, let us proceed in our attention to 
the sacred writer. There is no condemna- 
tion to those who are true believers in Jesus 
Christ ; who, in consequence of this belief, 
walk not after the flesh, but after the Spi, 
rit. 

Perhaps, some man will say. How can 
this be ? since even true believers fall short : 
Nay, they offend ; and therefore must be 
liable to the curse. For this reason, they 
are delivered from condemnation ; because 
" the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Je- 
sus," that new dispensation introduced in 
the room of the old law, promises the pri- 
vilege of pardon, and the gift of the Spirit, 
in which things the true life and real happi- 
ness of mankind consist : Promises both 
freely, without any works, purely on account 
of the righteousness which is in Christ Je- 
sus. And hereby this new, gracious, bless- 
ed dispensation " hath made me free from 
the law," which convinced me of sin, con- 
demned me for sin, and bound me over un- 
to death. 

These are glad tidings, doubtless. But 
are they not attended with two inconveni- 
ences ? Does not this procedure deprive 
the law of its due honour, and screen the 
sinner from his deserved punishment ? By 
no means. *' For that which was an abso- 
lute impossibility, on account of the" strict- 
ness of the " law, and the weakness of hu- 
man nature," God, to whom nothing is im- 
possible, has most wonderfully accomplished, 
by " sending his own Son in the likeness of 
sinful flesh," to live among sinners, to come 
under their obligations, a7id perform the 
obedience demanded from them. By send- 
ing him also to be a sacrifice for sin ; to be 
charged with its guilt, and undergo its pun- 
ishment- By this grand expedient, he has 
pi ovided for the honour and perfect accom- 
plishment of the law. Pie has also con- 
demned and punished sin with the utmost 
severity. And both these in the flesh ; in 



that very nature which was guilty, disabled, 
ruined. 

Should you further ask, Wherefore is all 
this ? To lay the surest foundation, or make 
the most complete provision for our justifi- 
cation. " That the righteousness of the 
law, (both its righteous sentence and its 
righteous precepts, whatever either of suf- 
fering or of obedience it required from 
transgressors, being fulfilled in Christ) might 
be fulfilled in us." As it was all done in 
our name ; and as he and we are one. One 
in civil estimation, for he is our representa- 
tive ; one in legal estimation, for he is our 
surety ; one in social estimation, for he is 
our bridegroom. For which cause his righ- 
teous acts are ours, and his atoning death is 
ours. 

There was a time when you embraced 
these sentiments ; when you had such a 
view of things ; when such language came 
out of your mouth ; which even now stands 
upon record, under your own hand. See 
your Principles of a Methodist. If you 
have forgotten them, permit me to remind 
you of them, " Christ (you say,) is now 
the righteousness of all them that truly be- 
lieve in him. He for them paid the ransom 
by his death ; he for them fulfilled the law 
in his life. So that now, in him, and by 
him, every believer may be called a fulfiller 
of the law." Since you pronounce wz/ sense 
of the apostle's words unnatural ; I adopt, 
I espouse yours.* And so much the more 
readily, as it will puzzle sagacity itself to 
discern a difference between them. 

" I totally deny the criticism on 'hixa.iofwn 
and hzoiiMfAa" Then be so good as to sug- 
gest a better. Or, if this should be some- 
what difficult, at least favour us with a rea- 
son for this your total denial. Not a word 
of either. Strange ! that a man of ordina- 
ry discernment should offer to obtrude upon 
the public such a multitude of naked, un- 
supported, magisterial assertions ! Should 
ever be able to persuade himself that a po- 
sitive air will pass for demonstration, or 
supply the place of argument ! If this be to 
demonstrate, if this be to confute, the idiot 
is as capable of both as the philosopher. 
May I not cry out, in your own strain, Oh, 
how deep an aversion to the imputed righte- 
ousness of Christ does this Arminian scheme 
discover ! since it will make a man gainsay, 
when he knows not why, or wherefore ? 

St. Paul declares, that the "Gentiles, who 
followed not after righteousness, had attain- 
ed unto righteousness." Upon which As- 
pasio observes, that the righteousness here 



* Should Mr. Wesley say, Though I used these 
words, I never intended them for a comment on thi^ 
passage. If you did not, I imagine the compilers of 
our Homilies, from whom they are taken, did. At 
least thev regarded this text as a foundationj a war- 
rant, a pi-oof of their doctrine. 



HEV. MR. 

mentioned coui.I not be any personal righte- 
ousness. To which Mr. Wesley replies, 
" It was." And to render his reply quite 
n-resistible, a perfect thunderbolt in argu- 
'nentation, he adds, " Certainly it was." 
How, Sir! Did they attain personal righte- 
ousness without seeking after it ? Are you 
becoming a Calvinist ? you that had rather 
be an Atheist ? Could the zealot of Ge- 
neva go greater lengths ? Aspasio will not 
deny, that these Gentiles were sanctified as 
well as justified ; but he will venture to af- 
firna, that no degree of sanctifieation can 
make the persons righteous who are once 
become sinners. Christ, like Elijah, first 
casts his mantle over them ; and then, like 
Elisha, they forsake all, and follow him. 

*' The righteousness which the Gentiles 
attained, could not be a personal righteous- 
ness." Certainly it was." — Then it was 
the righteousness of the law ; whereas, the 
'.ighteousness which they attained, is ex- 
pressly said to be the righteousness of faith. 
■ Then it was a righteousness consisting of 
good works and godly tempers ; whereas, 
their righteousness consisted in believing, 
according to the apostle's own explanation, 
" With the heart man believeth unto righ- 
teousness." Then it was the righteousness 
of man. Personal righteousness, and im- 
planted holiness, pass in the Scriptures un- 
der that denomination. Whereas, thest 
Gentiles " submitted themselves to the 
Righteousness of God." If what these Gen- 
tiles attained had been a personal righteous- 
ness, it would have been no stumbling- 
block to the Jews, Even they would have 
fallen in with such a system of religion, as 
should ascribe righteousness and salvation 
to their own duties and their own deeds. 

You say, " It was implanted as well as 
imputed." Here, then, you acknowledge 
an imputed righteousness. You yourself use 
the phrase ; you affirm it to be, if not the 
whole, part at least, of the apostle's doc- 
trine. I wish you had been of this mind 
when you began your letter. Then you 
would liot have conjured me, by all that is 
venerable and important, to discontinue an 
expression which conveys — your own — the 
apostle's meaning — and the meaning of the 
Holy Ghost. 

You join imputed and implanted righte- 
ousness. So, in case this address to your- 
self should pass through the printer's hand, 
vi'ould I join a handsome type and pertinent 
reasoning. Yet I apprehend, when you sit 
•down to examine the essay, you will regard 
only the latter. What you associate, you 
associate properly. The first is the trunk, 
the last is one of the branches which spring 
from it. But ^the apostle seems, in the 
place before us, to be considering the first 
only. The last he reserves for some future 
occasion. He is speaking of the righteous 



WESLEY, 551 

ness by which we are saved ; and that is 
solely the imputed righteousness of Christ : 
He is speaking of the righteousness which 
was an eye-sore and an offence to the self- 
conceited Jews ; and this was the only im- 
puted righteousness of Christ : He is speak- 
ing of a righteousness, contradistinguished 
to that righteousness which is described by 
" He that doeth these things ;" and this can 
be nothing else but the imputed righteous- 
ness of Christ. Therefore, though love of 
God, and conformity to his image ; thou^^h 
the pure heart and the devout affection, are 
the inseparable concomitants, or rather the 
genuine produce of imputed righteousness ; 
yet here they come not under consideration. 
To force them into this passage, is to make 
them appear out of due season. Such an 
exposition may bespeak a zealous oilicious- 
ness, not a distinguishing judgment; be- 
cause it confounds the order of the apostle's 
plan ; it defeats the design of his argument, 
if it does not introduce self-contradiction 
into his arguing. 

This righteousness came upon the Gen- 
tiles, as the former and latter rain upon the 
earth. To them was fulfilled the word 
spoken by the prophet Isaiah, " Let the 
skies pour down righteousness." As the 
earth cngendcreth not the rain ; has not the 
least infiuence in forming, or the least agency 
in procuring the refreshing showers, but 
only receiveth them as the more gift of 
Providence ; so these Gentiles had not the 
least infiuence in effecting, nor the least 
agency in procuring this righteousness. 
When the good news came into their terri- 
tories, they were totally destitute of it, they 
were utterly unconcerned about it, they 
knew nothing at all concerning it. But 
seeing it revealed in the gospel, seeing it 
displayed as the work of God, and hearing 
it offered as the gift of God, they were not 
disobedient to the heavenly invitation. 
They believed the report, they accepted the 
blessing, and relied upon it for life and sal- 
vation. Then, " as the rain coming down, 
and the snow from heaven, returneth not 
thither again, but watereth the earth ; and 
maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may 
give seed to the sower, and bread to the 
eater ;" so, this inestimable truth being ad ■ 
mitted into the soul, Christ and his righte- 
ousness being received to dwell in the heart, 
Eph. iii. 17, all the powers of intellectual 
nature, or what St. Paul calls " the inner 
man," are exhilarated, quickened, and fruc- 
tified. They bud as the rose, and blossom 
as the lily ; they bring forth the fruits of 
inward love, of outward obedience, of uni- 
versal godliness. 

" For instruction in righteousness—in the 
righteousness of Christ." " Was there ever 
such a comment before?" May I not an- 
swer; in your owii words, Was there ever 



552 



LETTERS TO THE 



such a method of confutation used before? 
But you add, " The plain meaning is, For 
training up in holiness of heart and of life." 
I wish you had thought of introducing this 
interpretation by the following short preface, 
" I take it for granted." You would then 
have been sure of saying one truth. But if 
this does not appear plain to me, as you see 
it did not to Aspasio, methinks you should 
lend me your spectacles, or favour me with 
your reasons. 

If you please to examine the passage, you 
will find hoHness of heart and life compre- 
hended in one of the preceding expressions. 
Tl^os I'Tctvo^Saiffiv signifies, For restoration of 
the man to a state of moral uprightness ; 
which must include a renovation of the 
mind, and a reformation of the conduct. 
After this comes, very properly and without 
any tautology, very needfully and to the ex- 
ceeding comfort of the sinner, another most 
valuable property of the Scriptures. They 
instruct the reader in the Christian righte- 
ousness ; in the justifying righteousness ; 
in that mysterious, but incomparably preci- 
ous righteousness, which no other book in 
the world displays, me-ntions, or so much as 
hints ; Yet, without which, we could never 
stand in the judgment, never find acceptance 
with God, nor be admitted into the realms of 
glory. If you reject this sense, the apostle's 
character of the sacred volumes is very de- 
fective. It leaves out what is their supreme 
excellence and most distinguishing peculia- 
rity ; what is first, atid above all other things, 
necessary for our fallen race. A traveller 
undertakes to give an account of some cele- 
brated picture gallery. He describes the 
dimensions of the structure, the form ©f the 
windows, the oi Jiaments of the roof ; but 
he quite forgets, at least he totally omits, 
the article of tlie paintings. Is this a mas~ 
terly execution of his design ? Is this satis- 
factory to the hearer's curiosity? 

*' He shall convince the world of righte- 
ousness." — " That I am not a sinner, but 
innocent and holy." How flat and jejune 
is this exposition ! Nothing can be more so, 
to my taste. Innocent and holy ! Is this 
all the Spirit witnesses concerning the most 
adorable and infinitely deserving Son of 
God ? Does this come up to the inconceiv- 
able dignity of his person, and the immense- 
ly glorious perfection of his work? Is this 
sufficient to comfort the conscience, smitten 
with a sense of most damnable guilt, and 
alarmed with the terrors of eternal ven- 
geance ? 

The whole clause contains a platform or 
summary of evangelical truth ; of that all- 
important truth which ministers are to 
teach and preach ; which the Holy Spirit j 
will own and accompany with his influence, ' 
and which is thereby made the power of 
God to the salvation of the hearers. He \ 



shall convince the world of sin of the 
guilty and miserable state in which all man- 
kind are plunged by nature, and in which 
every individual person continues so long as 
he is destitute of an interest in Christ; so 
long as he believeth not in him who died 
upon the cross, and is gone to the Father. 
Of righteousness : He shall reveal the Re- 
deemer's most perfect and magnificent 
righteousness in their hearts ; that righte- 
ousness which satisfies the justice of the 
Most High, and brings complete redemp- 
tion to transgressors : Testifying, not bare- 
ly that he is innocent ; such was Adam in 
paradise : not barely that he is holy ; such 
are angels in heaven. Shall the eternal 
Creator, even after his humiliation unto 
death, have no higher a testimony than a 
set of mere creatures ? Yes, verily ; the 
Holy Ghost will convince the world, that 
Christ's righteousness is the grand aivd 
capital blessing which the prophets foretold, 
and which not only fulfils, but magnifies 
the law : That it is the righteousness, the 
very righteousness of the incarnate Jeho- 
vah ; and therefore renders every soul, to 
whom it is imputed, unblamable, unreprov- 
able, complete. Glorious ofiice this, wor- 
thy to be the object of the almighty Cora^ 
forter's agency ! in performing which he ad- 
ministers strong consolation. Then he 
shall convince of judgment ; shall condemn 
and cast out the prince of this world, intro- 
ducing a most happy change into the heart 
and life ; shall begin and carry on the work 
of grace, sanctification, obedience ; and all 
through the joyful knowledge, together with 
the personal appropriation, of this justifying 
righteousness. 

" That we might be made the righteous- 
ness of God in him :" which cannot be in- 
trinsically, but must be imputatively. This 
interpretation Aspasio establishes, attempts 
at least to establish, from the tenor of the 
context, from the apostle's antithesis, and 
from several venerable names. But what 
are all these to Mr. Wesley ? No more 
than the arrow and the spear to Leviathan. 
Nay, not so much. That scaly monster 
" esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rot- 
ten wood." But Mr. Wesley^ cased in 
his own self-sufficiency, esteemeth all the 
afore-mentioned evidences as mere nothings. 
He totally disregards them. Reason, gram- 
mar, precedents, are eclipsed by his bare 
negative, and vanish into an insignificancy 
not worthy of notice. 

When Aspasio, supported by such great 
authorities, says, this cannot be intrinsical- 
ly, but must be imputatively ; Mr. Wesley, 
supported by his greater self, replies, 
" Both the one and the other." But does 
he duly advert to the apostle's subject, or 
follow the clue of the context ? The sub- 
ject is reconciliation with God, justification 



REV. MR. 

before God, or that, whatever it be, which 
is implied in not imputing trespasses. The 
context intimates, that intrinsic hoHiiess is 
not yet taken into consideration, but is re- 
served for the next chapter. There the 
apostle exhorts the Corinthians, not to re- 
ceive this infinitely rich grace of free justi- 
fication in vain ; but to shew its efficacy, to 
shew its excellency, and recommend it to 
the unbelieving world, by an unblamable 
conversation, giving no ofience in any thing. 

Justification, then, is the only point which 
the apostle in this passage considers ; and 
justification is the fruit of imputed righte- 
ousness solely, not of inherent righteous- 
ness in any degree. This we must allow, 
unless we prefer the impositions of Trent 
before the confession of our church. Faith 
says unto us, " It is not I that take away 
your sins, but C/hrist only ; and to him on- 
ly I send you for that purpose, forsaking 
therein all your good words, thoughts, and 
works, and onlyputtingyour trust in Christ:" 
Thus speaks and thus teaches our reformed 
church. " If any one say, that man is jus- 
tified only by the imputation of Christ's 
righteousness, or only by the remission 
of sins, without the co-operation of in- 
herent grace and holy love, let him be ac- 
cursed ;" Sess. vi. Can. 1 1 : Thus dog- 
matizes, and thus anathematizes, that mo- 
ther of falsehoods. Choose now your side. 
For my part, I renounce and abjure the 
proud and iniquitous decree. If you per- 
^st in your present opinion, there will be 
an apparent harmony between yourself and 
Rome, but an essential difference between 
yourself and Aspasio. 

" God, through him, first accounts, and 
then makes us righteous." How ! does 
God account us righteous, before he makes 
us so ? Then his judgment is not accord- 
ing to truth ; then he reckons us to be 
righteous, when we are really otherwise. 
Is not this the language of your doctrine ? 
this the unavoidable consequence of your 
notion ? But how harsh, if not horrid, does 
it sound in every ear ! Is not this absolute- 
ly irreconcilable with our ideas of the Su- 
preme Being, and equally incompatible with 
the dictates of Scripture ? There we are 
taught that God "justifieth the ungodly." 
Mark the words : " Tlie ungodly are the ob- 
jects of the divine justification. But can he 
account the ungodly righteous ? Impossi- 
ble ! How then does he act ? He first makes 
them righteous.* After what manner ? 
By imputing to them the righteousness of 
his dear Son. Then he pronounces them 
righteous, and most truly ; he treats them 
as righteous, and most justly. In short, 



* Agreeably to this, our church speaks : " In justi- 
fication, of unjust, we are made just before God;" 
and adds, " This is the strong roclt and foundation 
of Christian religion."— Horn. ofJustif. part 2. 



WESLEY. 553 

then he absolves them from guilt, adopts 
them for his children, and makes them heirs 
of his eternal kingdom. In the grand tran- 
saction, thus regulated, mercy and truth 
meet together; all proceeds in the most 
harmonious and beautiful consistency with 
the several attributes of God, with his 
whole revealed will, and with all his righte- 
ous law. 

" The righteousness which is of God by 
faith, is both imputed and inherent." Then 
it is like interweaving linen and woollen ; 
the motley mixture forbidden to the Israel- 
ites. Or rather, like weaving a thread of 
the finest gold with a hempen cord, or a 
spider's web. The righteousness which is 
of God, is perfect, consummate, everlasting. 
Not so inherent righteousness, your own 
self being judge, and your own pen being 
witness. In the righteousness which is of 
God, the apostle desires to be found, before 
the great and terrible tribunal of the Lord. 
His own righteousness, or the righteousness 
which is inherent, he abandons, as absolutely 
improper for this great purpose ; being no 
more fitted to give him boldness at the day 
of judgment, than dung and filth are fit to 
introduce a person, with credit and dignity, 
to court. The righteousness which is of 
God, is unknown to reason, is revealed from 
heaven, and without the works of the law: 
whereas, the righteousness inherent, is dis- 
coverable by reason, was known to the 
Heathens, and consists in a conformity of 
heart and life to the precepts of the law. 
By the latter, we act, we obey, and offer 
our spiritual sacrifices unto God ; by the 
former, we work nothing, we render nothing 
unto God, but only receive of his grace. 

They are, therefore, not the same, but 
totally distinct. To blend and confound 
them betrays unskilfulness in the word of 
righteousness ; derogates from the honour 
of Christ ; and tends to cherish a legal 
frame, or what the Scripture calls, " a spirit 
of bondage." If you would approve your- 
self a workman that need not be ashamed, 
rightly dividing the word of truth, thus you 
should speak, and thus you should vi'rite : 
The righteousness of God is always imput- 
ed ; but, being imputed, it produces the 
righteousness inherent. Being justified by 
the former, saved from hell, and rendered 
meet for heaven ; we are sanctified also, 
and disposed to love the Lord, who has 
dealt so bountifully with us. And if to 
love, then to worship him, to serve him, to 
imitate him. 

" My faith fixes on both the meritorious 
life and atoning death of Christ."—" Here 
we clearly agree." How can you clearly 
agree, either with Aspasio. or with your- 
self, or with common sense? How with 
Aspasio ? since you question, in direct con- 
trariety to his sentiments, whether the death 



554 



LETTERS TO THE 



of Christ be not the whole of what St. 
Paul styles, " The obedience of one."— 
How with yourself? For, did you not de- 
clare a little while ag-o, that fallen man " is 
not justified by perfect obedience ?" Is not 
Christ's meritorious life perfect obedience ? 
If your faith fixes on this perfect obedience, 
is it not for the purpose of justification? — 
How with common sense 9 Since you sup- 
pose that the *' Scripture ascribes the whole 
of our salvation to the death of Christ ;" 
so entirely ascribes it to the death of Christ, 
** that there was no need of his fulfilling the 
moral law, in order to purchase redemption 
for us what reason, or shadow of reason 
can you have, to fix upon what we call the 
merit of his life ? If what you suppose and 
affirm be true, there was no kind of meri- 
torious efficacy in his life. His life, and all 
his labours, were in this respect a mere 
superfluity. Salvation might have been 
obtained, and redemption purchased, with- 
out their concurrence. ; Therefore, to fix 
upon them is to fix upon a phantom, and to 
rest your hopes upon a thing of nought. 

But stay. Am I not repeating the mis- 
conduct which proved so fatal to the fa- 
mous Earl of Warwick and his forces ? At 
the battle of Gladmore, while the scale of 
victory hung in suspense, they saw a consi- 
derable body of troops advancing. Sup- 
posing them to be enemies, the bowmen 
made a general discharge, and galled them 
with their arrows. But they soon perceiv- 
ed their mistake ; that they had been op- 
posing their friends, and annoying their al- 
lies. Perhaps by this time you are become 
my ally. You may have seen your errors, 
may have corrected your notions ; saying, 
in ratification of both, " We agree." 

That is, " I would no longer exclude the 
meritorious obedience of Christ. But 
this, together with his atoning death, I look 
upon as the only cause of my justification. 
This I call his righteousness ; and this, be- 
ing imputed to me, becomes my plea, my 
portion, and rational foundation for my 
everlasting felicity. This I receive by faith. 
Which I now look upon, not as constitut- 
ing any part of my recommendation, but 
only as receptive of the fulness laid up for 
me in Christ. Though the law of works 
saith. Do and live ; I am now made sensi- ; 
ble that the law ^of faith says, — Be verily 
persuaded that Christ is sufficient for thy \ 
acceptance, without any doing of thy own j 
at all. Since Christ is given to me, in the 
sacred record given to me as a sinner, to be ^ 
received without any conditions, I joyfully 
accept the gift. I am satisfied with his do- 
ing and suffering : They are divinely excel- | 
lent, and infinitely sufficient : I neither 
wish for, nor think of any thing more, to 
obtain my complete salvation. This way 
of salvation effectually excludes boasting ; 



and, at the same time, produces those de- 
sirable effects, that love of God, that de- 
light in his perfections, that conformity to 
his will, which the law of works requires in 
vain." 

If this is what you mean, by " We agree," 
I would seal and ratify the agreement with 
the last wish and the last words of the ce- 
lebrated Father Paul, Esto perpetua. Be 
this the case, and you shall have, not only 
the right hand of fellowship, but the right 
hand of pre-eminence. Only I crave one 
favour in return : Dismiss those injurious 
insinuations, which cause your readers to 
suspect that Aspasio considers the meri- 
torious life of Christ separate from his 
atoning death ; whereas, he affirms them to 
be inseparable, like the correspondence of 
motion between the two eyes. Try if you 
can make one of your eyes move to the 
right, while the other wheels off to the 
left. When you have done this, then, and 
not till then, you may have some reasona- 
ble pretence for these your suggestions. 

Alas ! Quanta de spe decidi ! I find my 
hopes were too sanguine. We are not come 
to the desired coalition. In this very par- 
agraph you begin to fly off. By talking of 
imputed righteousness, you tell us, " we are 
exposed to an exceeding great hazard ; even 
the hazard of living and dying without holi- 
ness." Pray, Sir, have you seen a little 
piece written upon this subject by the Rev. 
Mr. Witherspoon? If you have not, let 
me recommend it to your perusal. In case 
you are ignorant of that powerful influence 
which justification through the righteous- 
ness of Christ has upon sanctification and 
true holiness, from this treatise you may 
learn some valuable knovi^ledge. In case 
the author of this treatise is mistaken, in 
maintaining the 'indissoluble connexion of 
justification with true godliness, and the 
never-failing efficacy of the Redeemer's 
righteousness to bring forth willing obedi- 
ence in the^ believer, you may have an op- 
portunity of rectifying his sentiments. You 
may give us, in your next publication, a 
preservative, not only against unsettled, but 
against unsound notions in religion. 

Theron, speaking of gems, says, " When 
nicely poHshed, and prodigal of their lustre, 
they stand candidates for a seat on the vir- 
tuous fair one's breast." This displeases 
Mr. Wesley. Would he then have gems 
placed on the vicious or lascivious breast ? 
Or would he have them put to no use at 
all, but buried in darkness ? Did the Al- 
mighty pour such brilliancy upon them, on- 
ly that they might be consigned over to ob- 
scurity ? Did he not rather array them 
with lustre and with charms, that they might 
display something of his own brightness ; 
incite his rational creatures to admire liis 
transcendent excellency, and teach his faith» 



REV. MR 

ful people to apprehend the emphasis of 
that animating promise, " They shall be 
mine, in the^day that I make up my jew- 
els." 

" I cannot reconcile this with St. Paul. 
He says, not with pearls ; by a parity of 
reason, not with diamonds." Do you 
rightly understand St. Paul ? Do not you 
dAvindle his manly and 'noble idea into a 
meanness and littleness of sense ? such as 
befits the superstitious and contracted spirit 
of a hermit, rather than the generous and 
exalted temper of a believer, " who stands 
fest in the liberty wherewith Christ hath 
made him free ?" Our Lord says not, they 
that are splendidly apparelled, are apparelled 
unsuitably to Christianity, or in a manner 
inconsistent with the fear of God ; but 
they are in king's courts, and their dress is 
adapted to their station. Neither does St. 
Paul forbid the use of pearls, or costly ar- 
ray, when a person's circumstances will af- 
ford them, and his situation in life may re- 
quire them : He rather cautions against the 
abuse, against looking upon these glittering 
things as any part of their true dignity, on 
which they value themselves, or by which 
they would be recommended to others. 
The word is not tvhv<Toi.(rSa.i, put on, (Mark 
vi. 9.); nor (^a^s/v, wear, (Matth. xi. 8.) ; 
but KO(rfi,uv, adorn. " Let them not place 
their excellency in such mean distinctions ; 
no, nor covet to distinguish themselves by 
these superficial decorations ; but rather by 
the substantial ornaments of real godliness 
and good works, which will render both 
them and their religion truly amiable. 

The apostle Peter observes the same 
propriety of speech, and the same correct- 
ness of sentiment: "Whose adorning let 
it not be that outward adorning of wearing 
of gold, or plaiting the hair, or putting on 
of apparel." Was this an absolute prohi- 
bition of the^everal particulars mentioned, 
it would forbid all kind of clothing, or the 
putting on of aiiy apparel. Take the pas- 
sage in your rigorous sense, and it concludes 
as forcibly against garments as against orna- 
ments ; we must even go naked, and lay 
aside our clothesj as well as our gems. 
Whereas, understood according to the na- 
tural signification of the words, {r,jv o y.s(r'j.o:, 
not &v ro ivhvfjbo,) it conveys a very import- 
ant, and a very seasonable exhortation : 
" Christians, scorn to borrow your recom- 
mendations from the needle, the loom, or 
the toy-shop : This may be the fashion of 
a vain world ; but let your embellishments, 
or that which beautifies and distinguishes 
your character, be of a superior nature. 
Let it be internal ; not such as the sheep 
have wore, or the silk-\vorms spun ; but 
such as is peculiar to the immortal mind, 
or 'the hidden man of the heart.' Let it 
"be substantial; not such as the moth cor- 



WESLEY. 5$5 

rodes, or such as perishes in us*ng; but 
' tbat which is not corruptible which be- 
ing planted on earth, will be transplanted 
into heaven ; and being sown in time, will 
flourish to eternity. Let it be that adorn- 
ing, whose excellency]] is unquestionable, 
and * whose praise is of God, (even) the 
ornament of a meek and quiet spirit 
which will render you, not indeed like the 
grandees of the earth, but like the Son of 
the Highest ; shewing that you are united 
to him, interested in him, and partakers of 
his divine nature," 

" In all things, I perceive, you are too 
favourable, both to the desire of the flesh, 
and to the desire of the eye." I rather 
think Mr. Wesley is too censorious of others, 
and too indulgent to himself. Why may 
not Theron wear his richly embossed gold 
watch, and his lady use her golden buckle 
set with diamonds, as well as you and I wear 
a silver buckle, or make use of our silver 
watch ? Why may not an earl or a countess 
put on their robes, sumptuous with embroi- 
dery, or their coronet glittering with jewels, 
as inoffensively as you and I put on a bea- 
ver hat, or trail after us a prunella gown ? 
There is no necessity for this our spruce- 
ness. A fustian jacket would keep our 
backs warm, and a flannel cap our heads, as 
well as our more elegant array. Methinks, 
therefore, we should either abstain from all 
needless finery in our own dress, or else 
forbear to censure it in others. Rather, we 
should all, in our respective stations, and 
according to our respective circumstances, 
use these things as not abusing them ; re- 
membering that the fashion of this world 
passeth away : Looking, therefore, for that 
city of the living God, " whose walls are of 
jasper, whose buildings are of pure gold, and 
whose foundations are garnished with all 
manner of precious stones but whose ex- 
ternal splendour is infinitely surpassed by 
the glory of God, which lightens it, and by 
the presence of the Lamb, which is the 
light thereof. When we are blessed with 
clear apprehensions of this ineffable glory, 
which shall be revealed ; when we live un- 
der a delightful persuasion that God hath 
given to us this eternal life ; gems will have but 
little lustre in our eye, and less and less allure- 
ments for our heart. All the pomp of this 
transient world will appear to us, as the pa- 
lace of Versailles or the gardens of Stowe 
would appear to some superior being, who, 
fi'om an exalted stand in either, should con- 
template the terraqueous globe, and at one 
view take in its vast dimensions, its prodigi- 
ous revolutions, and its most copious furni- 
ture. 

" You are a gentle casuist as to every 
self-indulgence which a plentiful fortune can 
furnish." I would consider the end for 
which these things were created, and point 



556 LETTERS 

out and enforce their proper improvements. 
They were created, not to tantahze, but to 
treat us ; not to ensnare, but to gratify us. 
Then they are properly improved, when we 
enjoy them with moderation, and render 
them instruments of usefulness ; when they 
are regarded as pregnant tokens of our Cre- 
ator's love, and act as endearing incitements 
of our gratitude. What you call my casu- 
istry, is built upon a maxim which will 
never be controverted, " Every creature of 
God is good, if received with thanksgiving." 
It is nothing else but an attempt to display 
what is affirmed in the former clause, and 
to enforce what is prescribed in the latter. 

In the sixth letter, in the ninth, and in 
other parts, TheroJi enumerates some of the 
finest productions, and most choice accom- 
modations, which the earth, the air, the 
seas afford : in imitation of the apostle, who 
in one sentence exj)resses abundantly more 
than my three volumes contain, " He giveth 
us all tilings richly to enjoy :" in imitation 
of the Psalmist also, who, in several of his 
hymns, especially in Psalm civ., celebrates 
the profuse munificence of .Jehovah ; pro- 
fuse, even in temporal blessings, and with 
regard to our animal nature. Does our na- 
ture call for any thing to support it ? Here 
is " bread, which strengthens man's heart," 
and is the staff of his life. Does our nature 
go farther, and covet things to please it? 
Here is " wine, that maketh glad the heart 
of man regabng his palate, a!id exhilarating 
his spirits. Is our nature yet more cravirg, 
and desirous of something to beautify it? 
Here is "oil, that maketh the face to shine ;" 
that the countenance may appear both 
cheerful aud amiable ; thaX gaiety may 
sparkle in the eye, while beauty glows in 
the cheek. Now I cannot persuade myself, 
nor is all Mr. Wesley's rhetoric power- 
ful enough to convince me, that it is any 
discredit, or any error, to follow such ex- 
amples, 

" But I mention the exquisite relish of 
tiirbot, and the deliciousness of sturgeon. 
And are not such observations beneath the 
dignity of a minister of Christ ?" Mr. Wes- 
ley does not observe from whom these re- 
mai'ks proceed. Not from Aspasio, but 
Theron. To make him speak like a minis- 
ter of Christ, or like a Christian of the first 
rank, would be entirely out of character. It 
would have betrayed an utter ignorance, or 
a total disregard of Horace's rule, 

Reddere personas scit convenientia cuique. 

However, I am willing to take all upon my- 
self, and be responsible for the obnoxious 
sentiments. I would only ask, is any thing 
fspoken of which the Almighty has not made? 
and shall I think it beneath my dignity to 
magnify the work of his hands ? — Is any 
thing spoken of which the Almighty has not 



TO THE 

bestowed ? and shall I think it a diminution 
of my character to acknowledge the various 
gifts of his bounty? — Has God most high 
thought it worthy of his infinite Majesty to 
endue the creatures with such pleasing qua- 
lities as render them a delicious entertain- 
ment to our appetites :* and shall I reckon 
it a mean unbecoming employ to bear wit- 
ness to this condescending indulgence of 
the Deity ? Particularity in recounting be- 
nefits, is seldom deemed a fault. It comes 
under no such denomination in my system 
of ethics. If Mr. Wesley has a better, in 
which neglect and insensibility are ranked 
among the virtues, I must undoubtedly, 
upon those principles, drop my plea. Where 
they are commendable, my conduct must be 
inexcusable ; and if inexcusable, I fear irre- 
claimable. For I shall never be ashamed 
to take a fish, a fowl, or a fruit in my hand, 
and say, " A present this from my all-boun- 
tiful Creator ! See its beauty, taste its 
sweetness, admire its excellency, and love 
and adore the great Benefactor. To us he 
has freely granted these and other delights ; 
though he himself, in the days of his flesh, 
had gall to eat and vinegar to drink." 

" But the mentioning these in such a 
manner, is a strong encouragement of luxu- 
ry and sensuality." if to enumerate a few 
of these dainties,* be a strong encourage- 
ment to luxury, how much more, to create 
them all, and clothe them with such invit- 
ing properties, and recommend them by 
such delicate attractives ? But " the men- 
tioning them in such a manner." What ! 
Is this an encouragement to sensuality ? To 
mention them as so many instances of di- 
vine beneficence, and so many motives to 
human gratitude ? This, methinks, is the 
way to prevent the abuse of our animal en- 
joyments, and to correct their pernicious 
tendency. This is the vay to endear their 
adorable Giver, and render them incentives 
to love. And the love of God is a better 
guard against luxury, a better preservative 
from sensuality, than all the rigid rules of 
the cloister or monastery. 

Upon the whole, however well afl^ected 
Mr. Wesley may be to our civil, he seems 
to be a kind of malecontent with regard to 
our spiritual liberties — those, I mean, which 
are consigned over to us in the Magna 
Charta of the gospel. 

We have liberty, through Jesus Christ, 
to use not one only, but every creature of 
God ; and to use them in a sanctified man- 
ner, so that they shall not sensualize our 
affections, but refine and exalt them, by 
knitting our hearts more inseparably to their 
munificent Creator. According to that 
clause in the heavenly deed, " AH things 



* The Scripture calls them royal dainties. Gen. 
xlix. 20. 



HEV. MR. 

ere yours." This you would curtail and 
diminish. 

We have liberty to look upon ourselves 
as justified before God, without any works 
of our own ; made perfectly righteous in 
his sight, without any personal obedience 
whatever ; entirely through our Represen- 
tative and Surety, what he has suffered in 
our name and in our stead ; according to 
those gracious declarations, " In the Lord 
have 1 righteousness," and, " By the obe- 
dience of one shall many be made righte- 
ous." This you would supersede and abo- 
lish. 

We have liberty to claim and receive this 
unspeakable privilege, without performing 
any conditions, or seeking any prerequisites. 
Having no other qualification than that of 
being lost sinners, and needing no other 
warrant than the divine grant, made and 
recorded in the word of the gospel. Ac- 
cording to that most generous in\'itation, 
*' Come, buy wine and buy milk, without 
money and without price." According to 
that most gratuitous concession, *' Who- 
ever will, let him take of the water of life 
freely." This you would clog and embar- 
rass. 

We have liberty, through our Lord's 
atonement, to look upon ourselves as made 
free from all guilt ; to consider our sins as 
absolutely blotted out, never to appear again, 
either to our utter condemnation or to our 
least confusion. 

The three first articles of the charge, I 
think, are made clear, too clear and undenia- 
ble, in the course of the preceding letters. 
Should you challenge me to prove the last, 
I refer you to your assize sermon. There 
you tell us, that the sins of true believers, 
as well as of unbelievers, will be brought to 
light,- aiid exposed before the whole world, 
at the day of universal judgment. 

Here I must do you the justice to ac- 
knowledge, that you have not, as in youv 
epistolary animadversions on Aspasio, re- 
quired your audience to assent, merely be- 
cause you afhrm. You attempt to establish 
your opinion by the authority of Solomon, 
" God shall bring every work into judg- 
ment, with every secret thing, v.-iiether it 
be good, or whether it be evil." But you 
seem to forget, that the sins of the believer 
are ra /u,n ovTd, — Things thict are not. 
" Christ has blotted out, as a thick cloud, 
our transgressions ; yea, as a thin cloud, 
our sins," Isa. xliv. 22. Consider them as 
moral stains, or causes of defilement ; they 
are washed away by the blood of Jesus ; 
and surely the blood of God must have as 
powerful an effect on our souls, as the wa- 
ters of Jordan had upon Naaman's body, 2 
Kings V. 14. Consider thern as contract- 
ing guilt, or deserving punishment ; they are 
vacated, they are disannulled, and, like the 



WESLEY 557 

scape- goat, dismissed into the pathless in- 
accessible wilderness ; " when sought for, 
they shall not be found." Consider them 
in either of these respects, or under any 
other character, and they are not only cov- 
ered or secreted, but abolished ; just as the 
darkness of the night is abolished by the 
splendour of the clear, serene, delightful 
morning. 

Bring to our sight, if you can, the mill- 
stone that is case into the depths of the 
sea ; restore to its former consistence the 
cloud that is dissolved in rain ; or find one 
dreg of filthiness in the new. fallen snow. 
Then may those iniquities be brought again 
into notice, which have been done a\\ ay by 
the High-priest of our profession ; which 
have been expiated by the perfect, most ef- 
fectual, and glorious oblation of himself. 
His people, when rising from the bed of 
death, will " have no more conscience oi 
sin" in themselves : They are fully and for 
ever free from the accusation of others : So 
free, that sin shall not so much as be men- 
tioned unto them ; no, nor even remember- 
ed by the Lord their God any more. They 
are made holy, unblamable, and unreprova- 
ble in his sight. And they shall be pre- 
sented at the great d^iy, without spot, or 
wrinkle, or any such thing. 

Thus may we, and thus may our readers 
be presented ! So shall we meet each other 
with comfort at the awful tribunal ; with 
joy amidst the angels of light, and with 
everlasting transport around the throne of 
the Lamb. To promote this blessed event 
is the sole aim of these remonstrances, and 
the unfeigned desire of, Reverend Sir, 
your, &c. 



LETTER XL 

Reverend Sir, — ]\Iy last concluded 
with a sketch of our Christian liberty, ex- 
tracted from the charter of the gospel. We 
have liberty to use all the creatures ; and, 
in a sanctified m^anner, to consider ourselves 
as made perfectly righteous through the 
obedience of Christ ; to receive this grand 
prerogative without performing any condi- 
tions ; to look upon all our sins as totally 
and finally done away, through the blood of 
Jesus. 

Perhaps you will ask. Where is your li- 
berty from the power of sin ? Does not this, 
come within the extent of your charter? 
Most certainly. You injure our doctrine, 
if you deny it. We are undone irreparably, 
if we continue destitute of it. Every other 
immunity, without this crowning privilege, 
v.'ould be like the magnificent palace and 
the beautiful gardens of Pharaoh ubile 



558 LETTERS 

swarms of locusts filled them with their 
loathed intrusion. 

But observe, Sir, freedom from the do- 
minion of sin, is the result of all the pre- 
ceding blessings. By revealing these in our 
hearts, and Christ the author of them, the 
Holy Spirit acts as the Spirit of liberty. 
You are a philospher ; you understand the 
theory of light. From the association of 
various rays, or the mixture of many parent 
colours, springs that first of elements, and 
best of material gifts, light. So from the 
union and united enjoyment of all those 
heavenly treasures, springs that most de- 
sirable liberty, the " liberty of righteous- 
ness." This is that truth which makes us 
free ; this is that knowledge by which we 
are renewed after the image of him that 
created us ; and these are the exceeding 
precious promises by which we are partak- 
ers of the divine nature. Hence we are 
taught to love the Lord our God, and to 
delight in his adorable perfections. By this 
means they look with a smiling aspect upon 
Its, and are unspeakably amiable to us. Un- 
der such views, we say of sin, we say of all 
our evil and corrupt aiFections, " Do not I 
hate them, O Lord, that hate thee ? And 
am I not grieved with those that rise 
against thee ? I hate them with a perfect 
hatred : I count them mine enemies." 

" Our Saviour's obedience." This 
phrase disgusts Mr. Wesley. Therefore he 
cries, " O say with the good old Puritans, 
our Saviour's death and merits." Aspasio 
speaks with St. Paul, " By the obedience 
of one." He speaks with St. Peter, "Faith 
in the righteousness of our God and Savi- 
our." He speaks with the prophets Isaiah 
and Jeremiah, " In the Lord have I righte- 
ousness and, " Jehovah is our righteous- 
ness." Having these precedents, he need 
not be very solicitous who else is for him, 
or who is against him. 

Though not very solicitous about this 
matter, he is somewhat surprised at your 
vehement address ; that you should exhort 
him so earnestly to "speak with the good 
old Puritans." Has not your printer com- 
mitted a mistake ? Did not the clause stand 
thus in your manuscript ? " With my good 
friends the Arminians." They indeed dis- 
approve this expression, because it is, when 
rightly understood, a dagger in the heart of 
their cause ; but as to the Puritans, they 
are, one and all, on the contrary side : their 
language is in perfect unison with Aspa- 
sio's ; they glory in the meritorious obedi- 
ence of their great Mediator ; they extol his 
imputed righteousness in almost every page, 
and pour contempt upon all other works 
compared with their Lord's. What will 
not an author affirm, who ventures to affirm 
or insinuate, that the Puritan writers disuse 
this manner of speaking ? For my part, I 



TO THE 

know not any set of writers in the world so 
eminently remarkable for this very doctrine, 
and this very diction. I said, in a former 
letter, we would inquire into this particular ; 
but the inquiry is quite unnecessary. It 
would be like Uriel's searching for the sun, 
while he stands in its orb, and is surround- 
ed with its lustre. 

*' W^e swarm with Antinomians." And 
we must swarm with persons whose hearts 
are enmity against the law of God, so long 
as your tenets find acceptance. Who can 
delight in a law, which neither has been nor 
can be fulfilled by them ; which bears wit- 
ness against them, and is the ministration 
of death unto them ; testifying, like the 
hand-writing on Belshazzav's wall, " Thou 
art weighed in the balances, and found want- 
ing?" Whereas, when we see it fully satis- 
fied on our behalf, by our Surety's obedi- 
ence ; no longer denouncing a curse, but 
pronouncing us blessed ; not pursuing us, 
like the avenger of blood, but opening a 
city of refuge for the safety of our souls : 
we shall then be reconciled to its constitu- 
tion and design ; we shall then ]tn\e plea- 
sure in its precepts and prohibitions ; we 
shall say with the Psalmist, " Lord, what 
love have I unto thy law ! All the day long 
is my study in it." 

" My mouth shall shew forth thy righte- 
ousness and thy salvation." — " Thy mercy 
which brings my salvation," says Mr. Wes- 
ley, in opposition to the sense assigned by 
Aspasio : Which sense has been vindicat- 
ed already. I shall therefore not renew my 
arguments, but only express my wonder. 

As Mr. Wesley is a minister of the gos- 
pel, I wonder that he should studiously set 
aside what is the peculiarity and glory or 
tlie evangelical revelation. " Mercy which 
brings salvation," is what an unenlightened 
Jew might have preached : nay, what a 
more ignorant Heathen might have taught ; 
but salvation through a divine righteous- 
ness, as the adequate and meritorious cause 
thereof, is the distinguishing doctrine, and 
the sovereign excellency, of the gospel. 

As Mr. Wesley is a sinner, I wonder he 
should choose to weaken the foundation of 
his own and our hope. Why mercy alone ? 
Is it not better to put our trust in mercy, 
erecting its throne on a propitiation, and 
thence holding forth the golden sceptre ? 
By the obedience of Imraanuel, the law is 
satisfied as to its penalty, is fulfilled as to 
its precept, and is in every respect unspeak- 
ably magnified. This shews us the inex- 
haustible fountain of mercy unsealed, and 
every obstruction to its free and copious 
flow removed. 

As Mr. Wesley is zealous for the hon- 
our of God, I wonder he should not pre- 
fer that method of salvation, by which 
every divine attribute is most abundantly 



REV. MR. 

glorified. This is not done by expecting 
pardon and acceptance from mercy alone ; 
but by expecting and receiving them through 
our Redeemer's ^righteousness and blood. 
Then we have a display, not only of infin- 
ite love, but of inflexible justice, and incom- 
prehensible w^isdom. Here they mingle 
their beams, and shine forth with united 
and eternal splendom*. 

Considering these things, I am still in- 
clined to embrace Aspasio's interpretation 
of this, and such like passages of Scrip- 
ture, wherein salvation is ascribed to divine 
mercy exercised through the obedience and 
death of Christ ; which gives as great a 
heightening to the blessing, as the atmos- 
phere gives to the rays of light, or as the 
light itself imparts to the scenes of creation. 

" Those divine treasures which spring 
from the imputation of Christ's righteous- 
ness." " Not a word of his atoning 
blood." I wish you would turn back to As- 
pasio's definition of this phrase, as it is 
laid down at the beginning of the confer- 
ence, to be the groundwork of all the dia- 
logues and of all the letters. You will 
then perceive that there is not a word of 
this kind but Christ's atoning blood is in- 
cluded in it. Without this, his righteous- 
ness had not been perfect. Without this, 
his righteousness could not be imputed. 
Some people have a treacherous memory, 
and really forget thhigs : Othei's have a 
perverse mind, and resolve not to regard 
them. Which of these is Mr. Wesley's 
case, I presume not to say ; let his own 
conscience determine. 

It is true, " we love to speak of the 
righteousness of Christ." Yet not because 
" it affords a fairer excuse for our own un- 
righteousness." For indeed it affords no 
excuse at all : On the contrary, it renders 
mirighteousness quite inexcusable ; because 
it yields new and nobler motives to all holy 
obedience. But we love to speak of the 
righteousness of Christ, because it is the 
most comprehensive expression, and the 
grandest theme in the world. The most 
comprehensive expression ; as it denotes all 
that he has done and suffered, both his me- 
ritorious life and his atoning blood. The 
grandest theme : Consider all those blessings 
which have been vouchsafed to God's peo- 
ple, before our Saviour appeared on earth ; 
add all the blessings which will be vouch- 
safed, until the consummation of all things : 
Consider all that good which is comprised 
in a deliverance from the nethermost hell ; 
together with all that bliss which is con- 
tained in the pleasures and glories of the 
heavenly state : All these to be enjoyed 
through a boundless eternity — and by mul- 
titudes of redeemed sinners, numberless as 
the sands upon the sea-shore. Then ask, 
what is the procuring cause of all ? Whence 



WESLEY. 559 

do these inestimable benefits proceed.-' From 
the righteousness, the sole righteousness of 
Jesus Christ. Is it not then worthy to be 
uppermost in our thoughts, and foremost on 
our tongues ? Might not the very stones cry 
out, and reproach our insensibility, if we 
did not love to talk of this divinely gracious 
righteousness ? 

Faith is a persuasion, that Christ has 
shed his hlood for me, and fulfilled all right- 
eousness in my stead. " I can by no means 
subscribe to this definition." You might 
very safely subscribe to this definition, if 
you would suffer St. Peter to speak h's 
genuine sentiments. Describing the faith 
of the primitive Christian, he calls it II/o-/w 
iv ciiKuiocrvvvi, — Faith in the righteousness. 
He says nothing of the atoning blood : But 
does he therefore exclude it? He speaks of 
nothing but the justifying righteousness : 
And will you totally discard it ? It is the 
central point in his faith, and shall it have 
no place in yours ? Righteousness, he assures 
us, was the object of the believer's faith, 
even the righteousness " of our God and 
Saviour Jesus Christ." But how could 
this be the object of their faith, if it was 
not fulfilled in their stead ? Or how could 
they truly believe in this righteousness, 
if they did not regard it as performed for 
them, and im])uted to them ? 

" There are hundreds, yea thousands, of 
true believers, who ijever once thought, one 
way or the other, of Christ's fulfilling all 
righteousness in their stead." Then their 
faith is like the sight of the person who 
saw men as trees walking. He saw them, 
indeed, but very dimly, indistinctly, con- 
fusedly. And it is pity but they were more 
thoroughly instructed unto the kingdom of 
God. Not one of those thousands, })r(5- 
vided he fixes his hope wholly upon the 
merits of Christ, would reject this delight- 
ful truth, if it was offered with scriptural 
evidence to his understanding. Reject it ! 
No, surely. He would joyfully embrace it, 
if offered, with that single but undeniable 
evidence, " Christ was made sin for us, 
though he kiiev/ no sin, that we might be 
made the righteousness of God in him." 

" You personally know many, who to 
this hour have no idea of Christ's righteous- 
ness." Surely, then, it behoves you, as a 
lover of souls, and as an ambassador of 
Christ, to teach them the way of God more 
perfectly. So doing, you will be employed 
much more suitably to your function, and 
much more profitably to your brethren, than 
in your present attempt ; by which you 
would weaken the hands, and defeat the 
designs, of those who endeavour to spread 
abroad the savour of this knowledge in 
everyplace; and who, notwithstanding all 
that you personally know, must unalterably 
persist in their method ; which is, to regu- 



560 



LETTERS TO THE 



late their definition of faith, not by the state 
of your supposed believers, but by the ex- 
press declaration of the unerring word. 
And from this they have authority to main- ; 
tain, that faith in the imputed righteousness I 
of Christ is a fundamental principle to every 
believer who understands upon what found- , 
ation he is saved. 

These your acquaintance, though they ; 
have no idea of Christ's righteousness, yet 
" have each of them a divine evidence and 
conviction, — Christ loved me, and gave 
himself for me." In this case, do not you 
take rather too much upon you ? Have you 
then the apostolical gift of discerning spirits? 
If not, it will be impossible for you to know 
the man, exclusive of yourself, who is cer- 
tainly possessed of this divine evidence. 
You may form a charitable judgment or a 
prevailing hope ; which seems to be the 
utmost you can warrantably claim with regard 
to others. And while you entertaui this 
hope, we shall allow it to indicate the be- 
nevolence of your heart, but carmot admit 
it as a proof of your point, " That people 
may be full of faith and love, yet have no 
idea of Christ's righteousness." We would 
also caution you to take heed, lest, through 
an immoderate fondness for increasing the 
number of your converts, you are led to 
deceive yourself and others ; registering 
those as real believers, whom the Lord hath 
not registered. By this means, you may 
be confirmed in your unscriptural notion, 
that the righteous fall away and the faithful 
apostatize : whereas, they who fall away 
were righteous only in appearance, and they 
who apostatize were no otherwise than pro- 
fessionally faithful. What you see drop 
from the sky is not a star, but a meteor only. 

Faith is the hand which receives ail that 
is laid up in Christ. Aspasio expresses 
himself thus : " Cluist is a storehouse of 
all good." Whatever is necessary to re- 
move our guilt, whatever is expedient for 
renewing om- nature, whatever is proper to 
fit us for the eternal fruition of God — all 
this is laid up in Christ ; and all this is re- 
ceived by faith, for our application, use, and 
enjoyment. To this Mr. Wesley subjoins 
a word of objection, but not hi due season. 
Aspasio is displaying the efficacy of faith; 
Mr. Wesley's argument is levelled against 
the indefectibility of faith. However, as it 
is your favourite objection, it shall not be 
treated as an intruder. " If we make ship- 
wreck of the faith, how much soever is laid 
up in Christ, from that hour we receive no- 
thing." 

Have you never heard of the answer 
which the Spartan states returned to an in- 
solent and barbarous embassy from Philip 
of Macedon ? You may read it in the book 
you are censuring, and may receive it as a 
reply to this and your other surmises of this 



nature. It was all comprised in that single 
monosyllable if. A mere professor may 
make shipwreck of the doctrine of faith ; a 
true believer does not make shipwreck of 
the grace of faith : No, nor ever will, un- 
less Christ's intercession be made of none ef- 
fect, " I have prayed, that such faith fail not. " 

Aspa&io, describing the dreadful nature 
of the command given to Abraham, says, 
" Thy hands must lift the deadly weapon ; 
thy hands must point it to the beloved 
breast ; thy own hands must urge its way 
through the gushing veins and the shivering 
flesh, till it be plunged in the throbbing 
heart." — " Are not these descriptions far 
too strong?" This is submitted to the 
judgment of the reader. 1 woidd only ob- 
serve, that the more strongly the horrors of the 
tremendous deed are represented, the more 
striking will the difficulty of the duty appear ; 
consequently, the more efficacious and- tri- 
umphant the power of faith. " May not 
these descriptions occasion unprofitable rea- 
sonings in many readers ?" What unprofit- 
able reasoidngs may be occasioned, I do not 
pretend to guess ; but the just and natural 
reflection arising from the consideration of 
such a circumstance is, " What has faith 
wrought ? It purifies and exalts the affec- 
tions ; it invigorates and ennobles the soul ; 
makes it bold to undertake, and strong to 
execute, every great and heroic work: I see, 
therefore, it is not in vain that the Scripture 
so frequently inculcates faith, lays so re- 
markable a stress upon faith, and places it 
in the very front of all Christian duties." 
" This is the victory that overcometh the 
world," overcometh self, overcometh all 
things. 

" How could he (Abraham) justify it to 
the world? Not at all." True ; not to the 
unbelieving world. They will argue, as 
Mr. Wesley on another occasion : " What ! 
stab his son, his best beloved, his only son, 
to the heart? Could the God of goodness 
command such a piece of barbarity ? Im- 
possible ! I could sooner be a Deist, yea, 
an Athiest, than I could believe this. It is 
less absurd to deny the very being of a God, 
than to make him an almighty tyrant." But 
to the believing world, who fear the Lord, 
and hearken to the voice of his servants, 
Abraham's conduct will never stand in need 
of a vindication. By them it will be high- 
ly extolled, and greatly admired. It will 
be an undeniable demonstration of the rea- 
lity and sincerity of his faith, of its very su- 
perior elevation and invincible strength. 

" You take the direct and certain way to 
obtain substantial comfort. The righteous- 
ness of our Lord Jesus Christ, after which 
5'ou inquire, about which you are solicitous, 
is a never-failing source of consolation.'' 
Thus Aspasio writes to Theron. " What ! 
without the atonement?" cries Mr. Wes- 



REV. MR. WESLEY. 



561 



ley. To which he adds, in a following par- 
agraph, " So the death of Christ is not so 
much as named." This puts me in mind of 
an objection, no very formidable one, made 
against that introductory exhortation to the 
Common Prayer, "Dearly beloved bre- 
thren." So, then, said a candid examiner, 
women have no part in your worship ; they 
are not so much as named. But 1 forbear. 
If you are not ashamed of repeating, I am 
ashamed of refuting, so frequently refuting, 
such an empty cavil ; and I believe the 
reader is tired with us both. 

I have no great objection to your altera- 
tion of Aspasio's comment. Suppose we 
compromise matters, and consider the oil 
poured on Aaron's head, and emptying it- 
self from Zechariah's olive-tree, as typical 
both of the merits and the Spirit of Christ ; 
which, like light and heat in the sun, are 
indissolubly connected ; or, to make use of 
a sacred illustration, are like the living 
creatures and the wheels in Ezekiel's vi- 
sion : " When the living creatures went, 
the wheels went by them ; when the living 
creatures were lift up from the earth, the 
wheels were lift up." Whither soever the 
former were to go, the latter went also. 
For the sake of obliging Mr. Wesley, I call 
this a compromise. But if he can prevail 
on himself to read the paraphrase on the 
two passages without prepossession, he will 
find this association of senses anticipated by 
Aspasio. 

" Has the law any demand ?" says Aspa- 
sio : " It must go to Christ for satisfac- 
tion." From which you draw this injur- 
ious consequence, " Then I am not obliged 
to love my neighbour : Christ has satisfied 
the demand of the law for me." This ob- 
jection has already received an answer. 

I shall therefore content myself with 
shewing why I call your conclusion injur- 
ious ; because, like the deaf adder, it stop- 
peth the ear against my own explication of 
my own phrase. A note is added, on pur- 
pose to limit its sense, and obviate your 
misrepresentation. Tliis you totally disie- 
gard, and argue as if no such precaution was 
used. The note informs you, that the law, 
the commanding law, is satisfied with no- 
thing less than perfect obedience ; and the 
broken law insists upon condign punish- 
ment. Now, if it must not, for satisfaction 
to both these demands, go to Christ our di- 
vine husband, where will it obtain any such 
thing ? Who is able to giA'e it among all 
the children of Adam ? 

However, lest we offend, needlessly of- 
fend any reader, I promise, that in case the 
providence of God, and the favour of the 
public, call for a new edition, Aspasio shall 
alter his language. Thus the paragraph 
shall stand : " Does the law demand perfect 
piuity of nature, and perfect obedience of 



life ? It must go to him for satisfaction. 
Do we want grace, and glory, and every 
good gift ? We may look to him for a sup- 
ply ; to him, in whom it hath pleased the 
Father, that all fulness should dwell." 

" For all his people. " With this phrase 
Mr. Wesley is chagrined. This he will 
not suffer to pass without animadversion^ 
though he must know, if prejudice has not 
blinded bis understanding, that it is pure 
Scripture. Why does he not shew the 
same dissatisfaction with the angel that ap- 
peared unto Joseph, and with Zechariah, 
the Baptist's father ? The former of whom 
says, " He shall save his people from their 
sins." The latter declares, " He shall give 
knowledge of salvation unto his people, by 
the remission of their sins." Why does he 
not put the same question unto them, and 
draw the same inference upon them ? " But 
what becomes of all other people ?" Some- 
times Mr. Wesley is so attached to the 
Scriptures, that nothing will please him but 
scriptural expressions. Here he is so wed- 
ded to self-opinion, that even scriptural ex- 
pressions will not pass current, when they 
seem to thwart his own notions. 

" P^or all his people." — From this ex- 
pression, though used by a prophet, author- 
ized by an angel, and to be found in many 
places of Scripture, Mr. Wesley deduces 
some very offensive and dreadful conse- 
quences ; so dreadful, that he " would 
sooner be a Turk, a Deist, yea an Athiest, 
than he could believe them." My dear Sir, 
let me give you a word of fiiendly advice, 
before you turn Turk, or Deist, or Athiest : 
See that you first become an hoiiest man. 
They will all disowTi you, if you go over to 
their party destitute of common honesty. 

Methinks I hear you saying, with some 
emotion, What do you mean by this advice ? 
or what relation has this to the subject of 
our present inquiry ? — A pretty near rela- 
tion. Out of zeal to demolish the doctrine 
of election, you scruple not to overleap the 

bounds of integrity and truth Mysterious 

still ! I know not what you aim at. — Then 
be pleased to review a passage in your book 
on Original Sin ; where you have thought 
proper to make a quotation from my Dia- 
logues. It relates to that great doctrine of 
the gospel, Christ becoming the representa- 
tive and federal head of sinners. Upon 
this occasion Aspasio says, " As Adam was 
a public person, and acted in the stead of all 
mankind, so Christ was a public person, and 
acted in behalf of all his people. As Adam 
was the first general representative of this 
kind, Christ was the second and last." Here 
you substitute the word mankind instead of 
this kind ; and thereby lead the reader to 
suppose, that Aspasio considers our glori- 
ous Representative as standing in this ca- 
pacity to the whole human race ; than 
2 o 



562 



LETTERS ro THE 



which nothing can be more injurious to the 
sense of his words. 

I at first thought it might possibly be the 
effect of inadvertency ; but could a person 
of Mr. Wesley's discernment allow himself 
to nod over a passage, which he knew to be 
of a critical and controverted import ? Per- 
haps it might be the printer's fault, an error 
of the press. I would willingly have ad- 
mitted one of these extenuating circum- 
stances, till I came to the bottom of the 
page ; where, to my great astonishment, I 
found the following words, enclosed within 
the marks of the same quotation, and as- 
cribed to Aspasio : " All these expressions 
demonstrate, that Adam (as well as Christ) 
was a representative of all mankind." Then 
I could no longer forbear crying out, 
" There is treachery, O Ahaziah !" A false 
quotation, not made only, but repeated, 
cannot be owing to negligence, but must 
proceed from design ; and this, I should 
think, can never be defended, no, nor Avith 
a good grace excused, by Mr. Wesley's most 
devoted admirers. A studious alteration of 
our words, and an evident perversion of their 
meaning, are defensible by no arguments, 
are excusable on no occasion. 

" Quite inexcusable this practice." And 
is not your language equally offensive ? Is 
not your conclusion very precipitate, when 
you suppose Aspasio, though using the 
words of Scripture, yet repi esenting God as 
" an almighty tyrant ?" Surely you had 
better forbear such horrid and shocking ex- 
pressions ; especially as you cannot deny, 
that many passages in Scripture seem at 
least to countenance this obnoxious tenet ; 
as you very well know, that many persons 
eminent for their learning, and exemplary 
in their lives, have w-ritten in defence of it, 
and bled for the confirmation of it ; — as we 
have proofs more than a few, that you are 
far from being infallible in your judgment, 
yea, far from being invariable in your opi- 
nion — witness your former notions of ma- 
trimony—witness the character you former- 
ly gave of the Moravian Brethren, and the 
esteem which you once had for the mystics 
and their Avritings. Considering yourself, 
therefore, it would better become you to be 
diffident on such a subject, and say, " That 
which I know not. Lord, teach thou me." 
And I imagine it can never become you, on 
any subject whatever, to break out iiito such 
language as ought not to be named among 
Christians ; ought to have no place but in 
the bottomless pit. This is an admointion, 
which, while I suggest to you, Sir, I charge 
on myself. 

The three following paragraphs relate to 
a doctrine, which you are fond to attack, 
and which Aspasio studiously declines. It 
constitutes no part of his plan. It forms 
not so much as the outwoiics. Be it de- 



molished or established, the grand privilege, 
and the invaluable blessing of justification 
through the righteousness of Christ, remains 
unshaken, stands immovable. In applying 
this to ourselves, we proceed neither upon 
universal nor particular redemption, but on- 
ly upon the divine grant and the divine in- 
vitation. We assure ourselves of present 
and eternal salvation through this perfect 
righteousness, not as persons elected, but as 
persons warranted by the word of God, 
bound by the command of God, and led by 
the Spirit of God. Therefore, while you 
are encountering this doctrine, I would be 
looking \mto Jesus ; be viewing the glory of 
my Lord ; contemplating his perfection, 
and my own completeness in him. 

If I divert, for a moment, from this de- 
lightful object, it is only to touch upon one 
of your remonstrances. You suppose, that 
according to the Calvinistic scheme, God 
denies what is necessary for present com- 
fort and final acceptance, even to some who 
sincerely seek it. This is contrary to 
Scripture, and no less contrary to the doc-, 
trine of your opponents. However, to con- 
firm yourself in this misapprehension, you 
ask, " Would you deny it to any, if it were 
in your power ?" To shew the error of 
such a sentiment, and the fallacy of such 
reasoning, I shall just mention a recent 
melancholy fact. 

News is brought, that the Prince George 
man-of-war. Admiral Broderick's own 
ship, is burnt, and sunk, and above four 
hundred souls that were on board are per- 
ished. Six hours the flames prevailed, 
while every means was used to preserve 
the ship and crew ; but all to no pur- 
pose. In the mean time, shrieks and 
groans, bitter moanings, and piercing cries, 
were heard from every quarter. Raving, 
despair, and even madness, presented them- 
selves in a variety of forms. Some ran to 
and fro, distracted with terror, not knowing 
what they did, or what they should do. 
Others jumped overboard from all parts ; 
and to avoid the piu'suit of one death, leap- 
ed into the jaws of another. Those un- 
happy wTetches who could not swim were 
obliged to remain upon the wreck, though 
flakes of fire fell on their bodies. Soon the 
masts went away, and killed numbers. 
Those who were not killed, thought tliera- 
selves happy to get upon the floating tim- 
ber. Nor yet were they safe ; for, the fire 
having communicated itself to the guns, 
which were loaded and shotted, they swept 
multitudes from this their last refuge. 
What say you. Sir, to this dismal narrative ? 
Does not your heart bleed ? Would you 
have stood by, and denied your succour, if 
it had been in your power to help ? Would 
not you have done your utmost to prevent 
the fatal catastrophe ? Yet the Lord saw 



REV. MR. 

tMa extreme distress. He heard their pit- 
eous moans. He was able to save them, 
yet withdrew his assistance. Now, because 
you would gladly have succoured them if 
you could, and God Almighty could, but 
would not send them aid ; will you there- 
fore conclude, that you are above your 
Lord, and that your loving-kindness is 
greater than his ? I will not oifer to charge 
any such consequence upon you. I am 
persuaded you abhor the thought. 

" The wedding garment here means ho- 
liness." Thus saying, you depart from 
Bengelius, for whom you profess so high a 
regard. Bengelius overlooks your exposi- 
tion, and gives his vote for Aspasio's hcec 
vestis estjustitia Christi. Awed by so ven- 
erable an authority, you have not ventured 
to exclude this sense from your comment. 
You have admitted it into your Expository 
Notes, yet will not allow Aspasio to admit 
it into his discourse with Theron. These 
are your words ; " The wedding garment, 
that is, the righteousness of Christ, first 
imputed, then implanted." Which, by the 
way, is not perfectly accurate, nor accord- 
ing to the language of the gospel. The 
gospel distinguishes between the righteous- 
ness of Christ, and our own righteousness. 
That which is imputed, goes under the for- 
mer, that which is implanted, under the lat- 
ter denomination. 

However, let us consider the circum- 
stances of the case, and we shall find, that 
' our common favourite Bengelius has pro- 
bability and reason on his side. The guests 
mentioned in this parable consisted of poor 
outcasts, collected from the highways and 
hedges. Now we cannot suppose, that 
people in such a condition, and coming at a 
minute's warning, should be able to furnish 
themselves with a dress of their own suita- 
ble to the grand occasion. Here then per- 
sonal holiness is put out of the question. 
But we must suppose, (which is conforma- 
ble to the eastern customs), that the king 
had ordered his servants to accommodate 
each guest from the royal wardrobe ; that 
each might have this additional token of his 
sovereign's favour, and all might be arrayed 
in a manner becoming the magnificent so- 
lemnity. This exactly corresponds with 
the nature of imputed righteousness. 

Farther, the banquet, you will readily al- 
low, is the pardon of sin, and peace with 
God, the divine Spirit, and eternal life. 
From all which uniting their happy influ- 
ence, true holiness springs. To say that 
holiness is the [ wedding garment necessary 
for our introduction to this banquet, savours 
of absurdity ; like saying, holiness is neces- 
sary to holiness. It is absolute legality ; 
for it makes the performance of all duties 
the way to the Redeemer's grace : It im- 
plies an absolute impossibility ; the sinner 



WESLEY. 563 

that can exercise holiness before he receives 
Christ and his Spirit, is like the dead man 
who arises and walks before he is restored 
to life. 

The gi-and end which God proposes in 
all his favourable dispensations to fallen 
man, is to demonstrate the sovereignty of 
his grace. " Not so." Do you mean, As- 
pasio has not spoken so ? that you have 
misrepresented his sense ? have clipped and 
disfigured his coin ? If this is your mean- 
ing, you speak an undoubted truth. His 
words are, " To demonstrate the sovereign- 
ty, and advance the glory of his grace." 
Why did you suppress the last clause ? Was 
you afraid it would supply the deficiency 
which you charge on Aspasio, and express 
the idea of imparting happiness ? If so, 
your fears are just enough. Why did you 
not take into consideration those texts of 
Scripture with which Aspasio confirms his 
tenet ? Ought you not to have overthrowTi 
those testimonies before you deny his doc- 
trine? otherwise you oppose your own au- 
thority to the decision of a prophet and of 
an apostle. 

" Not so," proceeds Mr. Wesley : " To 
impart happiness to his creatures is his 
grand end herein." The devout prophet 
speaks otherwise, " I have created him for 
my i glory." The wise moralist speaks 
otherwise, " The Lord hath created all 
things for himself." The holy apos-tle 
speaks otherwise, " To the praise of the 
glory of his grace." From which, and from 
innumerable other places of Scripture ; fi om 
the reason of the thing, and from the very 
nature of the Supreme Being, it appears, 
that the primai / leading aim, in all God's 
works, and all God's dispensations, is his 
own glory. The felicity of his creatures, 
though not separated from it, though evi- 
dently included in it, is still subordinate to 
it. And surely it is very meet and right so 
to be. Can there be a nobler end, or moi e 
worthy of an infinitely wise agent, than the 
display of those sublime perfections, for 
which, and through which, and to which, 
are all things ? Could God make any other 
being the principal end of his acting, he 
would undeify himself, and give his glory 
to another. Does any creature imagine his 
own happiness to be a higher end than the 
divine glory ? He thereby usurps the God- 
head, making, as far as in him lies, Jehovah 
the subject and himself the sovereign. 

" Barely to demonstrate his sovereignty." 
The word bareli/ is not used by Aspasio. 
But it gives another specimen of Mr. Wes- 
ley's integrity in stating truth, and doing 
justice to his opponents. It is not said, the 
sole, but the grand end. Therefore, would 
any unprejudiced person conclude, there 
must be some other, though inferior purpose. 
" No," says Mr. Wesley ; " hence I infer, 



564 



LETTERS TO THE 



that it was barely to demonstrate his sove- 
reignty." Do you so ? Then your inference 
is of a piece with the quotation — that as 
valid as this is faithful. 

** Barely to demonstrate his sovereignty," 
is a principle of action fit for the great 
Turk, not for the most high God. Such 
a fraudulent quotation I have not often seen, 
no, not in the critical reviewers. To mark 
the sentence with commas, and thereby as- 
sign it to Aspasio, is really a masterpiece, 
especially after you have thrust in the word 
harehj, and lopped off the word grace. You 
hare treated the passage worse than Nahash, 
king of Ammon, treated the ambassadors of 
David. They were ashamed to show their 
faces, under such marks of abuse and dis- 
grace. I am no less ashamed of the clause, 
as you have mangled and disguised it : But 
restore it to its true state ; let it wear its 
native aspect ; then see what is blamable, 
or what is oflfensive in it. 

The grand end which God proposes in 
all his favourable dispensations to fallen 
man, is, to demonstrate the sovereignty, and 
advance the glory of his grace. The glory, 
that it may appear rich, unbounded, and in- 
finitely surpassing all we can wish or ima- 
gine. The sovereignty, that it may appear 
free, undeserved, and absolutely independent 
on any goodness in the creature. That 
sinners may receive it, without waiting for 
any amiable qualities, or performing any 
recommending conditions. That, when re- 
ceived, it may stop the mouth of boasting, 
may cut off all pretensions of personal merit, 
and teach every tongue to say, " Not unto 
us, O Lord, not untaus, but unto thy name 
be the praise." 

And should we not greatly rejoice in this 
method of the divine procedure ? that the 
Lord orders all things relating to our salva- 
tion, "to the praise of the glory of his 
grace ?" Can any thing be more honourable 
to our nature, or more transporting to our 
souls ? Can any thing so firmly establish, 
or so highly exalt our hopes ? Angels, 
principalities, and powers ! all intellectual 
creatures, in all ages and all worlds, are to 
look unto us ; unto us men they are to look, 
for the most consummate display of God's 
grace. Our exaltation and felicity are to 
be the mirror, in which the wondering che- 
rubim and seraphim will contemplate the 
superabundant goodness of Jehovah. How 
great must that honour and that happiness 
be, which are intended to exhibit the fullest, 
fairest, brightest view of God's infinitely 
glorious grace ! How sure must that honour 
and happiness be, which are so intimately 
connected with the glory of the omnipotent 
King ! which can no more fail of their ac- 
complishment, than the amiable attributes 
of the Godhead can be stripped of their 
lustre. 



God is a boundless ocean of good. " Nay, 
that ocean is far from boundless, if it wholly 
passes by nine-tenths of mankind." What ! 
if it had passed by all mankind, as it cer- 
tainly did all the devils, would it have been 
the less boundless on that account ? I wish, 
methinks, you would study the evil of sin 
more, and not so frequently obtrude upon 
us a subject, of which neither you nor I 
seem to be masters. Then we should nei- 
ther have hard thoughts of God, nor high 
thoughts of ourselves. 

" You cannot suppose God would enter 
into a fresh covenant with an insolvent and 
attainted creature."* These are Aspasio's 
words. To which Mr. Wesley replies, " 1 
both suppose and know he did." Satis cum 
imperio. Then be pleased, Sir, to show us 
where the Almighty entered into a covenant 
with fallen Adam ; for of him we are speak- 
ing. Produce the original deed j at least 
favour us with a transcript ; and we Will 
take your word when it is backed with such 
authority. 

God made the new covenant with Christ, 
and charged him with the performance of 
the conditions. " I deny both these asser- 
tions." And what is your reason for this 
denial ? Is it deduced from Scripture ? 
Nothing like it. Is it founded on the na- 
ture of things? No attempt is made to- 
wards it. But you yourself affirm, that 
these " assertions are the central point 
wherein Calvinism and Antinomianism 
meet." Or, in other words, they tend to 
establish what you dislike, and to overthrow 
what you have taught. This is all the cause 
which you assign for your denial. I cannot 
but wish, that, whenever I engage in con- 
troversy, my adversary may be furnished 
with such arguments. 

You deny the assertions now ; but do not 
you forget what you allowed and maintain- 
ed a little while ago, when you yourself, 
adopting a passage from Theron and Aspa- 
sio, called Christ " a federal head ?" Pray, 
what is a federal head, but a person with 
whom a covenant is made in behalf of him- 
self and others ? Here your judgment was 
according to truth. Fit, perfectly fit for 
such an office is Christ ; whose life is all 
his own, who is able to merit, and mighty 
to save. But absolutely unfit for it, utterly 
incapable of it, is fallen man ; whose life is 
forfeited, whose moral ability is lost, and 
whose very nature is enmity against God. 

" I have made a covenant with my cho- 
sen ; namely, with Da.vid my servant." 
True ; with David as in Christ, or rather 
as a type of Christ. You cannot be ignor- 
ant that Christ is called by this very name. 



* Insolvent and attainted creature, Mr. Wesle;^ 
has changed into a rebel." 



REV. MR. 

The Lord, speaking by the prophet Ezekiel, 
. says, " I will set up one Shepherd over 
them, and he shall feed them, even my ser- 
vant David." Was David beloved?* 
Christ was incomparably more so. Was 
David God's chosen one ? Christ was so 
likewise, and in a far sublimer sense, and 
for infinitely more momentous purposes. 
Was David God's servant ? So was »Tesus 
Christ; and by his services brought un- 
speakably greater honour to the Lord his 
God, than all kings on earth, and all the 
princes of heaven. Several parts of this 
psalm must be applied to Christ ; and if 
several of them must, the principal of them 
may and ought. 

" He will wash you in the blood which 
atones, and invest you with the righteous- 
ness which justifies." — " Why should you 
thus put asunder continually what God has 
joined ?" How difficult is it to please Mr. 
Wesley ! When Aspasio spoke of Christ's 
righteousness, without particularly men- 
tioning his blood, you said it was better to 
mention them both together ; it behoved us 
never to name the former w^ithout the lat- 
ter. Yet here, when both are mentioned, 
and the particular use of each is specified, 



WESLEY. 565 

you complain of his putting asunder what 
God has joined ; which, in truth, is no dis- 
joining, but an illustration and amplification 
of the unsearchable riches of Christ. 

God himself, at the last day, pronounces 
them righteous,, because they are interested 
in the obedience of the Redeemer. " Ra- 
ther, because they are washed in his blood, 
and renewed by his Spirit." God will jus- 
tify them in the last day, in the very same 
way whereby he justified them in this world ; 
namely, because they are interested in the 
obedience of the Redeemer. As for their 
renewal by the Spirit, though it vnll then 
be perfect, yet it will be no cause of their 
acquittal, but the privilege of those who ai e 
acquitted. A proof of this, at least an at- 
testation of it, the world has received from 
your own pen : " for neither our own in- 
ward nor outward righteousness is the 
ground of our justification. Holiness of 
heart, as well as holiness of life, is not the 
cause, but the effect of it. The sole cause 
of our acceptance with God is the righte- 
ousness and death of Christ, who fulfilled 
God's law, and died in our stead." Excel- 
lent sentiments ! In these may I ever abide. 
To these may you also return. 



The Practical Improvement of the Doctrine of a Sinner's Justification by the Righte- 
ousness of Christ, taken from a little Piece, entitled, A Discourse upon Justification, 
printed at London in 1740, which Mr. Hervey highly esteemed, and warmly recom- 
mended. — Being no improper Supplement to the Doctrine contained in Theron and 
Aspasio, and Aspasio Vindicated. 



1 . Since the justification of a sinner is 
by the complete obedience of Jesus Christ 
imputed to him, and received by faith unto 
such great and glorious effects ; we may 
hence leam what reason we have to admire 
that infinity of wisdom which shines forth 
in the contrivance of this wonder ; and to 
adore that immensity of grace which is dis- 
played in this glorious provision made for 
the favourites of heaven ! When the be- 
loved John was favoured with a visionary 
sight of the woman-bride, the Lamb's wife, 
as clothed with Christ the sun of righteous- 
ness, and shining forth in the resplendent 
rays of her bridegroom's gloiy, he says he 
saw a wonder, Rev. xii. 1. And a wonder 
it is indeed ; so great, that it calls for the 
admiration both of men and of angels. This 
is one of those glorious things that by the 
gospel is revealed unto us, " which the an- 
gels desire to look into." I Pet. i. 12. And 
while sinful men have the forgiveness of 
their sins through Christ's blood, and the 
acceptation of their persons in him, " the 
beloved, according to the riches of" the 



• Beloved. — This is the meaning of David's name. 



Father's grace, " wherein he has abounded 
towards them in all wisdom and prudence," 
it becomes them to admire and adore the 
same, and to cry out with the apostle, " O 
the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom 
and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable 
are his judgments, and his ways past find- 
ing out !" Eph. i. 6, 7, 8 ; Rom. xi. 33. 
That the obedience of the Son of God 
should be made our righteousness, the righ- 
teousness of a sinner, to his complete justi- 
fication before God, is such a project of in- 
finite wisdom, such a provision of infinite 
grace, for the salvation of God's chosen, 
that every way becomes the great Jehovah, 
and will be the endless wonder of men and 
angels. 

2. Since the justification of a sinner is 
wholly by the righteousness of another, 
which is a way of life above nature, above 
being discovered by nature's light, and seen 
by nature's eye, or discovered by the light of 
the law, and discerned by natural reason ; 
we may learn hence what an absolute ne- 
cessity there is of a supernatural revelation 
thereof, in order to the soul's receiving of 
this righteousness, and so of the grace of 



506 



THE DOCTRINE OF 



justification thereby. This Is one of those 
things that God has prepared for his people, 
that never entered into the heart of the na- 
tural man to conceive of, w^hich he has nei- 
ther known nor can understand ; and there- 
fore deems it foolishness, or a foolish thing, 
for any to think they shall be justified by 
the obedience of Christ, exclusive of all 
their own works. But the people of God 
** receive not the ' spirit which is of the 
world, but the spirit which is of God, that 
tbey may know the things which are freely 
given them of God." And this, of " the 
free gift of righteousness, is revealed unto " 
them by Ms Spirit, though it is one of those 
"deep things of God" which are hidden 
from the natural man ; which are impossi- 
ble to be known by any but heaven-born 
souls, under a special revelation from above. 
1 Cor. ii. 9, &c. 

3. Since the justification of a sinner is 
by the obedience of Christ alone, we may 
hence learn how greatly important the 
knowledge thereof is. The knowledge of 
this righteousness must needs be of the ut- 
most importance, since ignorance of it, and 
non-submission to it, (which always go to- 
gether,) leave the soul in an unrighteous 
state, Rom. ix. 31, 32, andx.S. All those mi- 
serable souls who are " ignorant" of Christ's 
" righteousness, go about to establish their 
own righteousness and, alas ! " the bed is 
shorter than that a man can stretch him- 
self upon it, and the covering narrower 
than that he can wrap himself in it," Isa. 
xxviii. 20. There is no true rest for a sin- 
ner from the works of his own hands ; no co- 
vering for a naked soul from the fig-leaves 
of its own righteousness, though ever so 
artfully sewed together. Our Lord told 
his disciples, that except their " righteousness 
did exceed the righteousness of the Scribes 
and Pharisees, they should in no case enter 
into the kingdom of heaven," Matth. v. 
20. These Scribes and Pharisees were 
the zealous, the religious men of that age ; 
the strict observers of Moses' law, that 
trusted in themselves that they were right- 
eous by their own legal performances, and 
thought to get to heaven by means thereof. 
But our Lord declares, that none shall ever 
come there but those who have a better 
righteousness, a righteousness that exceeds 
a Pharisaical righteousness, i. e. such a 
righteousness that every way answers to all 
the extensive requirements of the law, in 
heart, lip, and life ; and this is no other 
than the righteousness of Christ imputed 
to poor sinners, or made theirs by imputa- 
tion : in which, being completely^, justified 
according to law and justice, they shall, as 
righteous persons, be admitted into the 
kingdom of heaven, or into the glory of.the 
heavenly state ; while all those who trust 
ill their own righteousness, and think they 



have done many wonderful works which 
they dare plead for acceptance with God, 
shall be sent away from Christ into eternal 
misery, with a " Depart from me, ye work- 
ers of iniquity." Matth. vii. 22. 

And as our Lord, in this his sermon upon 
the Mount, had been expounding the law 
of God in its spirituality, as extending to 
the heart as well as life ; and asserting the 
necessity of keeping the commandments in 
the same extensive manner that the law re- 
quired, in order to make a person righte- 
ous ; so, in the conclusion thereof, he says, 

Therefore, whosoever heareth these say- 
ings of mine, and doth them, I will liken 
him unto a wise man, who built his house 
upon a rock ; and the rain descended, and 
the floods came, and the winds blew, and 
beat upon that house ; and it fell not, for 
it was founded upon a rock," ver. 24, 25. 
These sayings of our Lord contain the sub- 
stance of the moral law ; and the doing of 
them unto righteousness before God, is by 
believing ; as faith lays hold on Christ, who 
has obeyed the law perfectly, as the repre- 
sentative of his people ; on which account 
they may be said to have done, or fulfilled 
the law in him, his obedience being imput- 
ed unto them for their complete justifica- 
tion before God, as the surety's payment 
among men is accounted to the debtor, and 
is the same in the eye of the law, and as 
effectual for his full discharge, as if he him- 
self had paid the debt. And he that thus 
doth the law, or these sayings of Christ, 
he likens him *' unto a wise man, who built 
his house upon a rock." It is a piece of 
natural wisdom, to lay a good foundation 
for a stately structure ; and the most firm 
that any house can be built on, is that of a 
rock. And he thac is spiritually " wise, 
wise unto salvation," lays the whole stress 
of it, and builds all his hope of life, upon 
Christ, the Rock of ages : in which it ap- 
pears, that he is wise indeed ; for as, in na- 
ture, a house that is built upon a rock will 
stand the storm, so the soul that is built 
upon^ Christ shall never be removed : " The 
rain may descend, the floods come, and the 
winds beat;" afflictions, temptations, and 
trials of all kinds, may beat vehemently 
against that soul, but shall never distroy its 
salvation, nor make it ashamed of its hope. 
No ; Christ, the rock of immutability, will 
hold it unshaken, in a state of salvation, 
through life, through death, at judgment, 
and for ever. Such a soul stands as im- 
movable, in the grace of justification and 
life, as the rock itself on which it is found- 
ed. " Because I live," saith our Lord, 
" ye shall live also," John xiv. 19. Christ's 
life is the life of that soul, that depends 
upon him alone for all its justification and 
eternal salvation. And therefore the wis- 
dom of faith is great indeed, in that it fore- 



JUSTIFICATION IMPROVED 



567 



eees the storm, and thus provides against 
it. 

" But he," saith our Lord, " that heareth 
these sayings of mine, and doth them not," 
(i. e. that heareth the law's requirements, 
and endeavours to obey the same for righte- 
ousness before God, and so doth tbem not, 
because his obedience cannot come up to 
that perfection which the law requires), 
" shall be likened unto a foolish man, which 
built his bouse upon thcsand ; and the rain 
descended, and the floods came, and the 
Mdnds blew, and beat upon that house ; and 
it fell, and great was the fall of it," ver. 26, 
27. O the folly of that poor sinner, who 
lays the stress of his salvation, and builds 
his hope of life, upon his own righteousness ! 
For this sandy foundation cannot endure 
the storms of divine wrath which shall be 
revealed from heaven against all unrighte- 
ousness of men, nor secure the soul from 
being diiven away by the tempest of God's 
anger, and the floods of his indignation, into 
the abyss of eternal misery. The house fell 
that was thus built upon the sand, '* and 
great was the fall of it !" Oh ! what a mi- 
serable disappointment will it be to that 
60ul, that " goes dov\Ti to the chambers of 
eternal death with this lie of his own i-igh- 
teousness in his right hand from which 
he had all along hoped for eternal life ! when 
this " way that seemed right to him in his 
own eyes," as if it would lead him to ever- 
lasting life, by his depending thereon, shall 
end in eternal death ! " The hope of the 
hypocrite," or of him that trusts in himself 
that he is righteous by his own external per- 
formances, when yet his heart is far from 
that conformity to God which the law re- 
quires, '* shall perish at the giving up of 
the ghost His hope," i. e. his salvation 
hoped for, " shall then be cut off. He 
shall lean upon his house," i. e. his own 
righteousness, which he had raised up in 
his imagination, to shelter him from the 
storm of divine vengeance, '* but it shall 
not stand ; he shall hold it fast, but it shall 
not endure," Job viii. 13 — 15. No; this 
house of his shall be as soon desti oyed by 
the storm of God's indignation, as a spider's 
web is swept dowi by the besom that comes 
against it; and the miserable soul, that 
trusted herein, shall be driven away into 
eternal perdition. Thus, an error in the 
foundation will prove fatal to the building ; 
and therefore the knowledge of Christ, as 
the alone way of a sinner's justification and 
life, must needs be of the highest import- 
ance ; since no other refuge can stand the 
storm but Christ, as the Lord our Righte- 
ousness ; this glorious hiding-place, which 
God iias prepared for poor sinners, whether 
they may run, and be for ever safe. And 
as for those who live and die in ignorance 
of, and non-submission to, the righteousness 



of Christ, they will certainly die in their 
sins, and perish for ever. They will all be 
found filthy at the day of judgment, that 
have not been enabled to believe in Christ's 
blood, for cleansing from all sin ; they will 
all be found unjust at that awful day, that 
have not believed the Redeemer's righte-- 
ousness, for their justification before God; 
and so must remain for ever : For conceTn- 
ing them it will then be said, " He that is 
filthy, let him be filthy still ; and he that is 
unjust, let him be unjust still ;" i. e. let 
him abide so to an endless eternity. But, 
4. Since there is but one way for a sin- 
ner to be justified before God, and that is 
by the obedience of Christ alone, ^is in- 
forms us what great folly those persons are 
giulty of, who press poor sinners to obey 
the law, to make themseh es righteous in 
the sight of God, when there is no law 
given that can give life unto them ; and 
how dangerous it is for souls to sit under 
such a ministry, that naturally misleads 
them ; since, while " the blind leads the 
blind, both fall into the ditch." " If there 
had been a law given that could have given 
life," says the apostle, " verily righteousness 
should have been by the law," Gal. iii. 21. 
But as there is no law given that can give 
life to a sinner, it is a vain foolish thing to 
press such a soul to get a righteousness by 
his own performances, which was never ap- 
pointed of God, nor can be attained by man. 
No ; " the Scripture hath concluded all un- 
der sin, that the promise (of life) by faith of 
Jesus Christ (as a sinner's righteousness) 
might be given to them that believe," ver. 
22. And those who receive it not in this 
way shall never attain it in any other, but 
must go without it for ever. " The labour 
of the foolish," says the wise man, " wea- 
rieth every one of them, because he know- 
eth not how to go to the city." Eccl. x. 15. 
A man may labour, all his days, to make 
himself righteous before God by his own 
performances, and to make his peace with 
him by his legal repentance and humiliation 
for sin ; and yet lose all his labour at last, 
and so weary hfmself in vain, being never 
able to reach that city, that etenial rest, 
which God has prepared for his people ; 
because he knoweth not Christ, the only 
way that leads thither, and so walks not by 
faith in him as such. All men are by na- 
ture ignorant of Christ's righteousness, as 
it is God's way of justifying and saving a" 
sinner ; and it is dangerous for souls to sit 
under such a ministry, that presserh doing, 
and persuades them their safety lies there, 
instead of believing. " For how shall they 
believe," says the apostle, " in him of whom 
they have not heard ? And how shall they 
hear without a preacher ? And how shall 
they preach except they be sent?" Rom. 
X. 14, 15. How shall poor souls believe in 



5G8 



THE DOCTRINE, 



Chiist for jiistificatiori, when they have 
never heard of his righteousness, which is 
the proper object of faith ? And how shall 
they hear without a preacher of that gospel 
that declares it ? And how shall they preach 
the go«pel to others, who have never seen 
that salvation it reveals for sinners, by the 
righteousness of Christ, themselves ? How 
shall they declare the glory and*' efficacy 
thereof to others, that have never seen nor 
experienced it themselves ? And how does 
it appear that they are sent by Christ to 
preach the gospel, who neither know nor 
proclaim his righteousness for the justifica- 
tion of a sinner, which is such a main doc- 
trine thereof? Have we not reason to fear, 
that many of those who are called ministers 
of the gospel, are rather preachers of Moses 
than of Christ ? and that their ministry ra- 
ther tends to lead souls to the bondage and 
death of thp law, than to the liberty and life 
of the gospel ? But " how beautiful are the 
feet of them that preach the gospel of j)eace, 
that bring glad tidings of good things !" 
That publish that peace with God, which 
was made for sinners alone by the blood of 
Christ's cross, and is possessed only by faith 
in him ! That proclaim the glad tidings of 
those good things, which God has prepared 
to be enjoyed by sinners, through the justi- 
fying righteousness of his Son ! And how 
great is the privilege of those souls who sit 
under a gospel ministry ; since this is the 
means appointed of God to work faith in 
them, and to bring salvation to them ! Once 
more, 

5. Since the justification of a sinner is 
by the righteousness of Christ imputed to 
him, and received by faith alone, we may 
hence learn, how great the obligation of the 
justified ones is, to live to the glory of that 
grace which has so freely and fully justified 
them, in and through Chi-ist, unto eternal 
life, by him ! When the apostle had assert- 
ed the justification and salvation of God's 
people, both Jews and Gentiles, to be 
wholly of his free mercy, in and through 
Christ, Rom- xi. 32, and admired the rich- 
es of his wisdom, which was so brightly 
displayed in the dispensations of his mercy 
towards them, ver. 33, he thus concludes 
his discourse, ver. 36, *' For of him, and 
through him, and to him, are all things ; to 
whom be glory for ever, ajnen." It is as if 
he should say. Since all things, relating to 
the justification and salvation of God's peo- 
ple, are of him, and through him, it is pieet 
that the glory of all shoidd, by them, bp 
given to him. And therefore, when he ap- 
plies this doctrine of God's free mercy in 
Christ, to them who had obtained it, he thus 



addresses thenv, chap. xii. 1. "I beseech 
you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of 
God, that ye present your bodies a living 
sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which 
is your reasonable service." I beseech (you), 
says he, you that have obtained mercy, 
(therefore) or since it is God's design to 
glorify his mercy in the salvation of sinners, 
that you give him the glory of it ; (by the 
mercies of God,) those mercies of God 
which you are partakers of, in the forgive- 
ness of all your sins, and in the justification 
of your persons, (" that ye present your 
bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable 
unto God,") that ye continually offer up 
yourselves, as a whole burnt-offering, in the 
flames of love, unto him that hath loved 
you, in all holy and acceptable obedience, 
to the glory of that God who has thus had 
mercy upon you ; (" which is your reasona- 
able service.") For it is a most reasonable 
thing, or a thing for which there is the high- 
est reason, that you should ever serve the 
Lord, to the glory of that grace by which 
you are freely justified, and shall be eter- 
nally glorified. And thus the apostle Pe- 
ter, 1 Pet, ii, 9, " But ye are a chosen 
generation, a royal priesthood," who are 
washed from all your sins in Christ's blood, 
and clothed with his righteousness, " an 
holy nation, a peculiar people ; that ye 
should show forth the praises of him who 
hath called you out of darkness into his 
marvellous light." And, " You know (says 
the apostle Paul) how we exhorted, and 
comforted, and charged every one of you, 
(i. e. of you justified, saved ones), that ye 
would walk worthy of God, who hath called 
you unto his kingdom and glory." 1 Thess. 
ii. 11, 12. And, in short, as it was God's 
design to get himself glory in the justifica- 
tion of sinners, by the righteousness of Je- 
sus Christ ; so the display thereof, through- 
out the whole gospel, lays them under the 
highest obligation to live to his praise. 
Does God the Father impute the obedience 
of his Son to poor sinners ? Did God the 
Son obey in life and in death for them ? and 
does God the Spirit reveal and apply this righ- 
teousness to them ; and enable them to re- 
ceive the same, as a free gift of grace, unto 
their eternal life in glory ? What thanks, 
what praise, is due to Godj in each of his 
glorious persons, for this abundant grace ! 
And let the language of the justified ones, 
in heart, lip, and life, in all kind of holy obe^ 
dience* both now and always be, " Thanks 
be untp God for the grace of justification ! 
for this his unspeakable gift !" 2 Cor. ix, 
15. Amen ! Hallelujah ! . 



DEFENCE 

OF 

THERON AND ASPASIO, 



AGAINST 

OBJECTIONS CONTAINED IN A LATE TREATISE, ENTITLED 
LETTERS ON THERON AND ASPASIO 

TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, 

A Seuies of Letters from Mr. Hebvey to the Author, authenticating this De- 
fence with his entire approbation, and manifesting it to be the only one that can 
be presented to the Public with that authority. 



PREFACE. 



The intention of prefixing Mr. Hervey's 
letters to this reply, is in fact to recommend 
it to the attention of the public, as such a 
farther explication and defence of Theron 
and Aspasio as was quite agreeable to his 
o\vn judgment ; such as, in substance, would 
have appeared in the world in his elegant 
and entertaining manner of address, had it 
pleased the Sovereign Disposer of all events 
to have continued lum in life, and such as 
the present situation of his writings re- 
quire. 

It has been already remarked, in the 
public intimation of printing Mr. Hervey's 
letters, that " when writers of a distinguish- 
ed superiority have gained our admiration 
and applause, we are fond of penetrating 
into their more retired apartments, and as- 
sociating with them in the sequestered 
walks of private life." A curiosity of this 
nature cannot be more usefully gratified ; we 
carmot be ushered into Mr. Hervey's com- 
pany to better purpose, th«in to hear him 



declare what he himself counted most val- 
uable in all his ^vritings ; that which was 
his main design, and to which he would 
have his readers continually advert ; those 
sentiments which, as he expresses it in one 
of his letters, " I msh to have written on 
my heart ; such as I wish to speak and 
teach while I live ; and in my writings, if 
my writings survive me, to testify when I 
am dead ;" more especially, if what he so 
esteemed is the doctrine of our Lord and 
his apostles ; otherwise Mr. Hervey's es- 
teem will be but of small account. 

It seems the more necessary that he 
should thus be made to speak for himself, 
since some who have distinguished them- 
selves as his peculiar friends, and as very 
angry with Mr. Sandeman in his behalf, are 
at the same time very likely to be no friends 
to his Defence. The reason is, whatever 
may be the motive for their professed re- 
gard, they have, for many years past, and 
do unto this day, manifest great ignorance, 



570 



PREFACE. 



if not great enmity, ki respect of the prin- 
ciples which formed and influenced Mr. 
Hervey's faith and practice, and on which 
he ventured his eternal concerns : stigma- 
tizing, or, I should rather say, honouring 
them with the same kind of reproaches as 
the ancient opposers of Christianity cast 
upon our Lord and his disciples. Perhaps 
it may awaken the attention of some to in- 
quire of the imerring oracles, What is truth ? 
when they find by these letters, that there 
is no dependence to be placed elsewhere ; 
and that those in whom they have trusted as 
spiritual guides, applaud or censure with 
very little judgment, or with a worse de- 
sign. 

After all, I am not so sanguine in my 
expectation, as to think that by this, or any 
other method, the despised truth of the gos- 
pel will preyail with many, against the 
stream of the reputed devout and highly es- 
teemed of this world. We must remember 
the treatment which our Lord and his dis- 
ciples met with ; and as the world is not 
better now than it was in those days, we 
have little reason to expect better success. 

Mr. Hervey began to find he had been 
in a mistake in this respect, and would have 
publicly acknowledged as much, had he 
lived but a few months longer. He began 
to be acquainted with that true grace of 
God, which is contrary to the course of this 
world, in its devoutest form, for upwards of 
twelve years before our correspondence 
commenced. He was willing to recom- 
mend it to their consideration, and, if pos- 
sible, make it appear lovely to their view. 
He dressed it up with all the beauties of 
eloquence, and all the winning arts of per- 
suasion. He concealed whatever he thought 
might give his readers disgust, and even 
entreated his friend to conceal their corres- 
pondence for the present. Jest the power of 
prejudice (raised by his professed friends) 
should prevent them from looking into his 
books ; and all this in hopes to prevail, and 
give the despised gospel of Jesus a recom- 
mending appearance in their eyes. But, 
alas ! he died before he had accomplished 
this design ; and perhaps, had he lived to 
the age of Methuselah, he would never have 
brought it to pass. So that we can only 
look upon this as his fervent desire, that the 
important truth in which he had found all 
he wanted, should be as great a blessing to 
others, as it had been to him. He gained 
a return of compliment for his favourable 
sentiments and kind behaviour, but it was 
in vain for him to expect to prevail any far- 
ther. 

His notion was, as he himself expresses 
it, that " the taste of the present age is 
somewhat like the humour of children j their 
milk must be sugared, their wine spiced, 
and thfcir ^necessai-y food garnished with 



flowers, and enriched with sweetmeats." 
His desire that what he called his principal 
point might be, if possible, made thus pa- 
latable, engaged him in several correspon- 
dences, suited to the embellishment of his 
works : his superiority as a writer caused 
many to covet an acqaintance and friend- 
ship with him ; and his tender and com- 
plaisant behaviour, even to those who dif- 
fered, gave some of them hopes of prevail- 
ing with him, or by him, to advance their 
own various and opposite sentiments. Fill- 
ed with these hopes, their behaviour to- 
wards him was accordingly respectful; which, 
together with his retired situation in life, 
prevented him,\in a great measure, from dis» 
cerning their enmity to his principles. Tak ' 
ing it for granted they meant as they spake, 
he judged them aiming to promote the same 
important cause. Had this been fact, they 
would have still merited the regard he paid 
them ; their professed zeal would have been 
commendable, had it been subservient to 
the true grace of God for which he pleaded ; 
but bears as different an aspect when their 
enmity and opposition thereto is discovered, 
even as Paul's most hardened wickedness 
was to the piety and zeal of his Pharisaic 
state. 

No sooner was he dead, than consulta- 
tions were on foot, tending to bury his prin- 
ciples as well as him. His private letters 
were publicly advertised for, in order to be 
printed ; which, by the use made of them, 
seems not done with any design to establish 
the truths he contended for, but to pick out, 
if possible, something to their disadvantage; 
and, what is still more unworthy, to estab- 
lish their own characters in such attempts, 
on the encomiums he had at one time or 
other bestowed on them, for want of see- 
ing them properly; for want of knowing that 
their ruling principle was a fixed enmity to 
that gospel which was his sole delight. Be- 
sides this, several reports were spread, de- 
trimental to the important truth he had so 
contended for : and, knowing that all and 
every one of them could be fully disproved 
by Mr. Hervey's own handwriting, I count- 
ed it my duty to print the defence, arwl to 
publish the letters to the author, to authen- 
ticate it with Mr. Hervey's approbation ; 
though I was apprehensive, at the same 
time, it might carry the appearance of os- 
tentation, to such as did not know vi^hat was 
in^hand, and so could not be sensible that 
the support of the important truth which 
shines through all his works depended, in 
some measure, on the publication of these 
letters. 

Notwithstanding all this, the persons con- 
cerned in the publication of two volumes, 
under the title of " The Letters of the late 
Rev. Mr. James Hervey," have exerted 
themselves, with uncommon boldness, in 



PREFACE. 



571 



disfiguring his principles ; and, at the same 
time, introduce their own. This is evi- 
dently manifest from several notes annexed 
to these letters.* In these volumes they 
have insinuated, that the author of the De- 
fence of Theron and Aspasio was "on the 
Antinomian side of the question, and that 
Mr. Hervey by no means approved of his 
sentiments." Upon this there immediately 
appeared in the Gazetteer, Aug. 22, and 
London Chronicle, Aug. 26, a letter to the 
editor and publisher of these volumes, sig- 
nifying the shocking appearance of slander 
and detraction, in volumes under the name 
of a man so averse to such proceedings ; 
and proving, from Mr. Hervey's own words, 
the most apparent falsehood in their asser- 
tions ; there being no letter in the whole 
two volumes so expressive of sameness of 
sentiment, as the letters to the author of 
the Defence of Theron and Aspasio, and 
concluding with these words : " The secret 
stabs that are given to characters, by modern 
pretenders to piety, would make a court of 
justice blush. And I am persuaded the 
real friends to Mr. Hervey's memory, or 
Vk'ritings, will not be pleased to find his 
name made subservient to such base pur- 
poses." — The proceedings are a little more 
open in the Gentleman's Magazine for Au- 
gust ; where we are told, that Mr. Hervey 
himself "is by no means free of the charge 
of stretching the principles of Calvin into 
Antinomianism." It is very evident Mr. 
Hervey concerned himself with no Calvin- 
istical or Arminian disputes. In one of 
his letters, speaking of Mr. Wesley's con- 
duct, he says, " I am sometimes apprehen- 
sive that he would draw me into a dispute 
about particular redemption. I know he 
can say startling and horrid things on this 
subject ; and this, perhaps, might be the 
most effectual method to prejudice people 
against my principal point." 

As to the charge of Antinomianism, un- 
less the particular errors are pointed out, 
(which may as well be done without the as- 
sistance of reproachful names,) it is no more 
than a very vague uncertain sound, made 
use of by some leaders in the various classes 
of religious people as a political bugbear, 
whereby they disguise and disfigure the party 
they intend to reproach. It is a term not 
confined to any dictionary interpretation, 
but admits of a variety of definitions, accord- 
ing to the various sentiments of the persons 
who use it, from the most professed preach- 
ers of Christ, down to the monthly review- 
ers, who esteem no better of any that con- 
cern themselves with the name of Jesus, 
farther than what becomes a decent com- 
" plaisance to the profession of their country. 



* All these notes are thrown out of this edition of 
our Author's Works. . 



These gentlemen can read the Bible as well 
as these volumes, " without the least intel- 
lectual -improvement" in the doctrine of 
Christ ; and can also give a sohd reason for 
it, viz. that they have no taste for this kind 
of reading — it is very disagreeable to them. 
They judge, " that one virtuous design pro- 
moted, one good action done, or one bad 
habit subdued, is worth- more than all such 
trifling considerations" as the death and re- 
surrection of Jesus. The Scripture lan- 
guage concerning salvation only by Christ, 
must be Antinomianism in their esteem. 
They expect to be saved in doing v/ell ; and 
the Scripture assures them, that "if they do 
well, they shall be accepted." Our Saviour 
declares, he U'cver came to interrupt such 
people in their good intentions ; but to save 
the lost and worthless, such as ought to 
perish according to every rule of equity ; 
and the real gospel of our Lord Jesus 
Christ will ever prove " foolishness," a 
" stone of stumbling," and " rock of oflfence," 
to any but these sort of people. 

Any one who has read the letters on The- 
ron and Aspasio, or ever seen Mr. Hervey's 
sentiments of that aiithor, will easily per- 
ceive that a reply to that performance was 
absolutely necessary, or else, as he observes 
in one of his letters, " what is not confuted 
by argument, is confirmed by silence." It 
was also necessary, if possible, that this de- 
fence should be by himself, or by his ap- 
probation, and also that the public should 
be ascertained of this, that so it may be 
considered as a proper and necessary sup- 
plement to his volumes. As these particu- 
lars can be so plainly discovered by the let- 
ters prefixed, it is well that Mr. Hervey 
was so open in his declarations. 

As to oiu- debate with Mr. Sandeman, it 
seems to stand as follows : — 

The turning point from despair to good 
hope, he observes, is the hinge of the con- 
troversy ; and this point is, with Mr. Sande- 
man, the finished work of Christ, as it is 
fuUy sufficient to vindicate the divine jus- 
tice in saidng the most guilty. All the 
hope he has by this, is represented by the 
hope a man has from hearing of the plenti- 
ful importation of com in the time of fa- 
mine, while it yet remains a hazard whether 
he shall ever obtain any ; and his expecta- 
tion to obtain, is by labouring and painful 
desire and fear till crowned with enjoy- 
ment. 

Aspasio's turning-point is the finished 
work of Christ revealed in the gracious de- 
clarations of the gospel, not only as sup- 
porting the divine justice in saving the most 
guilty, but also as the sufficient object of 
the sinner's immediate trust and confidence, 
agreeably to the repeated divine assurances 
that such shall not be confounded or disap- 
pointed. And the works and labour of love 



572 



PREFACE. 



Aspasio pleads for, are works of love to 
God thus manifested and trusted in. 

Aspasio's former opponents have objected 
to this immediate trust of a sinner upon 
Christ alone for everlasting life, by pleading 
for what they have conceived to be previ- 
ously necessary, under the names of faith, 
repentance, sanctification begun, &c. 

Mr. Sandeman has undertaken to prove, 
that all true sanctification, conversion, faith, 
&c. springs solely from the truth of Christ's 
sufficiency for the most guilty, without any 
addition whatever, as the central point of 
divine revelation ; and that all other religion 
is not any part of Christianity, not any part 
of that doctrine which came from heaven, 
but only the vain eflforts of the natural man 
to lower the divine character of the infinite- 
ly righteous and just God, and quiet his 
guilty conscience with a righteousness insuf- 
ficient, or in other words, a righteousness 
stained with sin ; and that the names of 
conversion, faith, sanctification, applied to 
this kind of religion, are only fitted to de- 
ceive ; and supposing our appropriation or 
trust to be a denial of this sufficiency of 
Christ alone, he opposes that also. This, 
then, is what we are concerned to defend. 

To this purpose I have endeavoured to 
show, that in trusting to the sufficient righ- 
teousness of Christ alone for everlasting 
life, we keep clear of the charge of denying 
the sufficient righteousness, and of adding 
or mixing another righteousness with it. We 
may rather ask. How does it appear that any 
man believes it to be sufficient, when he 
dare not trust his soul upon it, but waits, in 
painful desire and fear, to discover himself 
possessed of the distinguishing qualities of 
a believer ? And as he carefully separates 
what he believes from all foundation of hope 
or confidence therein for everlasting life, he 
appears to us involved in the absurdity of 
hoping for eternal life by Christ, because 
he discovers himself without any foundation 
of hope, either in himself, or in the gospel 
he believes. 

He may say, " He trusts to be saved by 
what Christ has done, if saved at all ;" but 
that very if signifies, that he does not 
trust upon what Christ has done, but is wait- 
ing to discover something else as a more 
proper ground of his confidence. And what 
is that something else, but the dilTerence he 
discovers betwixt himself and other sinners ? 
So that, after all our flourishes against self- 
dependence and Pharisaic doctrine, if we 
are not upon our guard, we shall be at last 
settled on no other foundation. 
I Mr. Sandeman, in endeavouring to prove 
that his view of the gospel " quiets the 
guilty conscience of a man as soon as he 
knows it," acknowledges with us, that the 
gospel is designed for that end ; but fails in 
his attempt to make out that the guilty con- 



science of that man is quieted, who disco- 
vers no foundation in what he believes, to 
trust in Christ's righteousness for everlast- 
ing life. He supposes, that the uneasiness 
and dread of conscience arises only from 
the appearing impossibility of a just God 
being a Saviour ; from whence he infers, 
that the revelation of a righteousness remov- 
ing this seeming impossibility, brings the 
rest and peace the Scripture speaks of, 
without revealing any ground for trust and 
confidence in that righteousness. But this 
supposition is not true ; few or none are 
troubled with such apprehensions ; nor does 
the Scripture address men as though they 
were. It is self-evident, that the cause of 
our dread is an apprehension of our want 
of a righteousness acceptable to the divine 
purity ; and what relieves must be, our hav- 
ing such a righteousness, either in ourselves, 
or by God's free gift. This Mr. Sandeman 
himself seems to acknowledge, when he talks 
of " labouring in painful desire and fear," 
as the effect of his cramped view of the 
gospel. For why is this the effect, but be- 
cause what he believes does not afford the 
proper satisfaction ? 

Mr. Sandeman's jealousy is, lest we, by 
pleading thus for a sinner's trust and confi- 
dence on Christ, should lead man into a 
self-dependence on his doing something to 
relieve himself from his dreadfid circum- 
stances, instead of being supported only by 
what Chiist has already done. But hovr 
easy is it to perceive, that no man is, or can 
be, supported by what Christ has already 
done, but he that discovers it the object ot 
his trust and confidence for everlasting life ? 
and that so to depend on Christ, and what 
he has done, is the very opposite of all self- 
dependence, and inconsistent with our de- 
pending on our doing any thhig either pre- 
sent or future ? 

It is true, a man that is at an entire im- 
certainty M'ithout any dependence whatever, 
is as clear of self-dependence as he is of 
dependence on what Christ has done. So 
a man that neither eats nor drinks, is as 
much out of danger of dying wiih glut- 
tony and excess, as he is of being poisoned 
with unwholesome food. But how long 
can aman live thus ? Andhowlongcan amau 
support, without having some dependence 
or other for his soul ? It is as natural for 
the mind of man to depend on something 
against the fears of hereafter, as it is for 
his body to gravitate or sink till it meets 
with a proper support. Hence we find, 
that those who depend not on the truth, de- 
pend on some falsehood or other which they 
suppose to be true ; and when a man is beat 
off from one false dependence, he is sinking 
to despair till he finds another, or is reliev- 
ed by the real truth. And that truth which 
relieves, must reveal a foundation of de- 



PREFACE. 



573 



peiidence for everlasting life : to attempt 
to rest short of this, is to attempt to build 
a castle in the air. The discovery that 
" God may, if he pleases, have mercy upon 
me as I at present stand," although it tends 
to remove the Pharisaic wish or want to 
know that I am distinguished from others, 
yet leaves me unsupported as to original 
and real dread of conscience arising from 
my personal deficiency. And as such slight 
the divine warrant for the sinner's trust and 
confidence in Christ's sufficient righteous- 
ness, they natm-ally sink to the hope of 
eternal life, not by what Christ has done, 
or vi^hat the gospel declares, but a hope that 
thev are the sheep of Christ who hear his 
voice, which is in fact only a hope in them- 
selves. 

The generality of mankind are but little 
concerned about the ti-uth of the foundation 
of their peace of conscience ; so they have 



got some hope, it is enough ; they do not 
care to be disturbed from it with such a 
controversy as this ; especially if they can 
but conceit themselves holy, or feel them- 
selves happy ; not considering, that if their 
hope is founded on falsehood, their whole 
religion is a deceit. But they who are 
taught of God, are not led by fond conjec- 
tures ; they will not be satisfied with any 
other reason of their hope, than the voice 
of that God who speaks in the conscience ; 
and Christ, the Saviour of the guilty given 
to be trusted in, is the only foundation that 
God has laid in Zion. 

I have only to add, that the manner in 
which the subject is treated, that is, by short 
remarks on the passages we are concerned 
with, was the way in which the subject was 
treated for Mr. Hervey's view ; and as I 
could think of no shorter method of de- 
fence, it is so presented to the public. 



LETTERS 



FROM 



MR. HERVEY TO THE AUTHOR. 



Weston-Favell, April} 5, 1755. 
Dear Sm,-^LAST night I received your 
kind letter ; * and this morning I have but 
a moment's space in which to acknowledge 
it. However, I cannot neglect the first op- 
portunity. Are you the author that has 
given us an abridgment of Mr, Marshall ? 
Truly, I think you have well bestowed your 
labour, and well executed your work. I 
wish you had not given yourself the trouble 
of sending me the book, because I have it, 
and highly prize it — the abridgment, I mean. 

I should be very glad if you would read 
that Dialogue you mention with a critical 
attention — if you would point out the places 
where you think I am confused in my ap- 
prehensions, injudicious in method, or weak 



* When I perceived, by his first edition of Theron 
and Aspasio, that he had so publicly espoused the 
truths for which 1 had incurred the displeasure of 
many of his professed friends and admirers 1 wrote 
him, signifying my fellowship with him v he de- 
spised truth. 



in argument. As you have so thoroughly 
studied the point, and so often taught the 
doctrine, you must easily see where the es- 
say lies most open to objection, and where 
the point might receive additional strength. 
You would much oblige me if you would 
do this with the utmost impartiality and 
freedom ; and I hope you would do service 
to the truth as it is in Jesus. Several per- 
sons, I find, are dissatisfied with my opinion 
on this head. Do, Sir, review Dialogue 
16, and favour me with your free remarks 
and friendly improvements. Whatever of 
this kind is done, I beg may be done speedily ; 
because a new edition is in the press, and 
the printers will soon come to that part. 
When I hear from you 8^3.111^ I will speak 
my sentiments with relation to your well 
calculated design of an evangelical library.* 



* An intended collection of the most evangelical 
pieces, from the beginning of the Reformation down 
to the present day. And as nothing was designed but 



MR. HERVEY'S XETTERS 



m 

At present, I have leisure only to assure 
you, that I am, dear Sir, your affectionate 
fiiend in Jesus Christ, 

James Hervey. 
April 22. 

Dear Sir, — I received your present by the 
coach ; I thank you for it, and am much 
pleased with it. The doctrine* which you 
approve in my essay, and have clearly dis- 
played and fully proved in your own writ- 
ings, is not relished by every body ; no, not 
by many pious people. I take the liberty 
to send you a couple of letters containing 
objections.f I wish you would be so kind 
as to consider them, and in your conci^ 
way, which I much admire, to make your 
remarks upon them. One of the letters, in 
case it exactly coincided with my sentiments, 
I should think too diffuse and prolix. I 
love to have the force and spirit of a subject 
contracted into a small compass, and exhi- 
bited to our minds in one clear and easy 
view. Long discourses and protracted ar- 
guments dissipate the attention, and over- 
whelm the memory. I think you are very 
happy in expressing yourself with a brevity 
that is striking, yet perspicuous. 

I am not shaken in my opinion by these 
attacks ; but I should be glad to deliver it 
more clearly, and establish it more firmly, 
in another edition. If you can spare a little 
time from your own Jabours, 1 hope you 
will gratify me in this request ; and I trust 
he whom you serve will make it a blessing 
to me and to others. 

I would beg of you to return these letters, 
and if the Lord should enable you, with free 
observations on the most material points, as 
soon as possible ; because our new edition 
goes on apace, and vvill^soon come to Dia- 
logue 16. I have some thoughts of enlarg- 
ing it a little, and dividing it into two Dia- 
logues. At present it is i-ather too long to 
be read at once. 

I heartily wish you success in your pro- 
jected work. I assure you it is my opinion, 
that such a work, if well executed, will be 
one of the most valuable services to the pre- 
sent age. You will not, I hope, be too 

hasty. Mr. W- has huddled over his 

performance in a most precipitate, and there- 
fore most imperfect manner. One would 
think his aim was, not to select the best and 



the marrow of each performance, so he judged it 
might be comprised in six -voiumes, and desired that 
an abridgment of Theron and Aspasio might have a 
place ill one volume of it. 

« This was a summary of doctrine, extracted from 
rheron and Aspasio, in Aspasio's own words. 

t These objectors were adding no revealed truth to 
our minds, but, on the contrary, were only attempt- 
ing to overtnrow the solid foundation laid for the 
hope, confidence, and salvation of guilty sinners ; 
that which makes the gospel glad tidings indeed to 
such. 



noblest passages, but to reprint those which 
came first to hand. If I live to see anoflier 
edition of Theron and Aspasio published, I 
will desire your acceptance of a set, and I 
hope it will be improved and enriched with 
your observations ; which will be a favour 
acknowledged by, dear Sir, your affectionate 
friend in Jesus Christ, 

James Hervey. 
P. S. Pray do not spare my own 'per- 
formance, but freely animadvert upon Aspa- 
sio. I am sensible he sometimes speaks 
unguardedly, and sometimes seems incon- 
sistent with himself. 

Dear S*r, — I received your last valuable 
letter, and sincerely thank you for the judi- 
cious observations it contained. Your 
other letter also, which conveyed an answer 

to , came safe to hand. How is it, 

dear Sir, that godly* people are so averse to 
this doctrine. -f- 

I have another letter from , con- 
taining remarks upon, and objections to 
Mr. Marshall. I would transmit it to you 
by this conveyance, but I remember you 
have already work upon your hands. In 
my next it shall wait upon you. My only 
aim, I trust, is to find out the truth as it is 
in Jesus ; which, at present, I am convinced 
is with you. There is so much clearness 
and simplicity in your doctrine, it is so suit- 
able to the goodness of God, and so emi- 
nently conducive to the comfort, recovery, 
and happiness of a sinner, that 1 cannot be 
persuaded to relinquish it. I should be 
glad to maintain it in a convincing, yet the 
most inoffensive manner. I propose to al- 
lot two Dialogues for this very important 
subject. How, in what form or order, 
would you advise me to proceed ? Pray do 
not scruple to express yourself with all pos- 
sible freedom. Direct and correct as a 
friend and fellow-labourer,^ &c. 



Map 8. 

Dear Sir, — Last night I received the fa- 
vour of your two packets, and I assure you 
a real favour I esteem them. Your answers 



*■ Mr. Hervey here uses the -word godli/, in the com-, 
mon signification of it, as distinguishing the religi- 
ous from those who profess no religion; but, in the 
Scripture sense of the word, it is confined to those 
whose religion is formed by the belief and love of that 
truth which came from God for the hope of the guilty. 

|- These godly people he mentions, mistook him 
continually, by apprehending all he said in the light 
of the properly qualified faith ; whereas his appre- 
hension was totally in the light of free salvation to 
the guilty, as the ground of immediate confidence; 
and as they could make no hesitation about confiding 
in the Lord, if (as they termed it) their evidences were 
clear, so he made no hesitation about confiding m the 
Lord, as a guilty sinner ; the divine declarations to 
the guilty answering to him as the foundation of his 
confidence, as their evidences would to them, if they 
could conceive them to be clear. 

X The remainder of this letter is lost. 



TO MR. CUDWORTH. 



J75 



are so clear, so consistent, so comfortable, 
they very much tend to establish my mind. 
I find by your experience, the " account, I 
mean, of God's dealings with your soul," 
that you have incurred, but surely without 
any just cause, the displeasure of many. 
Now, as this is the case, my dear Sir, let us 
act prudently, be wise as serpents. Do not 
think, I beg of you, that I am ashamed of 
your friendship. God forbid ! But as I 
have some concern, and you have a greater 
zeal for these precious doctrines, let us use 
the most probable means to spread them. 
You know the power of prejudice is great j 
is almost incredible. Many people, were 
they to know that you and I have been lay- 
ing our counsels together, perhaps would 
never look into my book. We seem now 
to have a favourable opportunity of diffusing 
these sacred and delightful truths.* My 
books have been well spoken of in three of 
the London Magazines successively ; and 
there is printing a new edition. The Lord 
Jesus, the Wonderful Counsellor, direct 
us in this truly important affair. I will now, 
relying on his unerring Spirit, set about 
preparing the 16th Dialogue for the press ; 
and I should be very desirous to have it pass 
under your examination, before it is launch- 
ed into the world. You will give me leave 
to expect an answer ; and let me know from 
time to time where a letter may find you, 
sent by, dear Sir, your obliged and affection- 
ate brother in Christ Jesus, 

J. Hervey. 



Ma7jS}. 

Dear Sir, — I have been so poorly in my 
health, and so much engaged in company, 
that I could not possibly get the enclosed 
ready before this time ; which is the cause, 
the only cause of my deferring my thanks 
for your last favour. 

As to the doctrine under consideration, I 
have given a favourable and attentive ear to 
all that is said against it ; and yet the more 
it is attacked, the more I am convinced of 
its truth. The Lord Jesus enable me to 
deliver and testify, with clearness of senti- 
ment and meekness of temper, what 1 am 
persuaded in my own conscience is the true 
gospel of grace ! The enclosed paper con- 
tains some of the alterations which 1 propose 
to make. Another sheet will comprise the 
remainder. Let me desire you, dear Sir, 
to examine them, and remark upon them, 
as freely and impartially as you have done 
upon other papers. Pray treat me with a 
kind severity. Whatever sentence or ex- 
pression appears wrong, I beg of you ani- 



* How evidently does Mr. Sandcman appear to be 
mistaken, in calling this the popular doctrine, — in 
judging that Mr. Hervey had gained a public esteerri 
on the account of it ! 



madvert, correct, spare it not. I assure you 
I can bear to be told, by your friendly pen 
at least, This is not evangelical — here you 
contradict yourself— this is redundant, and 
that ambiguous. Please to make little marks 
of reference in the MS. and pen down your 
observations on a separate paper. 

I think to drop my first design of dividing 
the essay into two Dialogues, and answering 
the various objections. This I intend to 
postpone for the present ; and would print 
no more than is needful to explain, establish, 
and guard the tenet. I think to add, in a 
note, a friendly invitation to any serious and 
ingenious person on the other side of the 
question, to debate and sift this very im- 
portant point ; professing, that if it can be 
proved erroneous, I will retract and re- 
nounce it, not only without reluctance, but 
with pleasure and thankfulness. Truth, 
the truth of the gospel, is my pearl ; wher- 
ever 1 find it, thither, without respect to 
names or persons, would I resort, and there 
would I abide. May that gracious promise 
be fulfilled to us in our searches, " The 
Lord shall guide thee continually i" I hope 
to send you very soon the residue ; and am, 
dear Sir, your] obliged and affectionate 
friend in Christ Jesus. 

J. Hervey. 



June 12. 

Dear Sir, — Last night I was favoured 
with your second letter, and sincerely thank 
you for the freedom you have used, and the 
corrections you have made. Herewith I 
send the remainder of Dialogue 16; those 
parts, I mean, that are to undergo some al- 
teration. I wish you coidd borrow the 
larger edition ; to that the numeral refer- 
ences are made, as from that the new edi- 
tion is printing. I hope you will be so kind 
as to examine this MS. also with a friendly 
severity. Spare no sentiment or expression, 
I beseech you, that so much as seems con- 
trary to the sound words of our Lord Jesus 
Christ. If you see any thing that may con- 
veniently be omitted, I wish you would en- 
close it in a parenthesis, for 1 fear the Dia- 
logue will be too long, and overwhelm the 
attention. 

I am sorry that I am so straitened in 
time, and can say no more : my servant 
waits, and if I delay him any longer, will be 
too late to despatch some necessary busi- 
ness for the family. Be pleased to favour 
me with your observations as soon as pos- 
sible, because the printers will, if they are 
delayed much longer, be tempted to impa- 
tience. I should be glad if you would make 
Weston in your way when you return from 
Norwich. May the Lord Jesus strengthen 
your judgment, make you of quick under- 
standing, and enable you to detect every 



576 MR. HERVEY'l 

thing in my poor essay that is not agreeable 
to his word ! — I am in doubt whether this 
letter sliould be directed to you at London 
or Norwich. A mistake in this particular 
may cause a longer delay in the affair. The 
dl-seeing God guide me in every thing ! I 
choose London, and hope it will come to 
your hand before you set out. I am, dear 
Sir, your obliged and truly affectionate friend 
in Christ Jesus, 

J. Hervey. 



July 6. 

Dear Sir, — I should be very glad, and 
much obliged, if you could give me your 
company in your return from Norwich, that 
we may thoroughly canvass, and carefully 
examine the important subject of our cor- 
respondence. I have ordered the printers 
to keep their types, composed for this part 
of my work, standing; and to proceed with 
the remainder before this is worked off. So 
that I hope to have the whole in proof- 
sheets to lay before you in one view, pro- 
vided you could favour me with your com- 
pany pretty soon. 

A celebrated divine from abroad writes 
thus, in a private letter to his friend ; in 
which he speaks the very sentiments of my 
heart ; and, I apprehend, of yours also. 

" I apprehend Mr. Hervey's definition of 
faith will expose him most to the gen- 
erality of divines, both of the church of 
England and dissenters ; though it is a very 
good one, when well explained. The per- 
suasion or assurance which is in the very 
nature of faith, must be carefully distin- 
guished from that which has, in a manner, 
appropriated the name of assurance to it- 
self ; I mean that exercise of spiritual sense 
following upon saving faith, whereby a be- 
liever sees, and, upon good grounds, con- 
cludes himself to be in a state of grace and 
salvation, and that he has an actual interest 
in Christ, and his whole purchase, even 
eternal life. The foundation of this assur- 
ance of sense, is the believer's experience 
and feeling of what the Holy Ghost has al- 
ready wrought in his soul, and it runs into 
this conclusion : * I find the fruits of the 
Spirit planted in my soul — I am a new crea- 
ture — I love the Lord Jesus in sincerity ; 
and it is one of the greatest burdens of my 
life, that I have no love suited to so glorious 
a One.* From all which, I am sure, God 
has given me Christ, pardoned my sins ; I 
am in a state of grace, and must go to gloiy.' 
But the ground and foundation of that par- 
ticular persuasion and assurance, which is in 
the nature of savmg faith, is the glorious 



* This manner of expression, which this friend never 
learned from the Scriptures, but catched (as I sup- 
pose) through common custom, savours too much of 
the leaven of the Pharisees. 



S LETTERS 

authority and faithfulness of God m the 
gospel record, promise, and offer; and it 
rises no higher than this, that God offers, 
and thereby, as he is true and faithful, gives 
Christ with all his fulness to me, to be be- 
lieved on, and trusted in, for life and eter- 
nal salvation.* So that I not only safely 
and warrantably may, but am obliged, to re- 
ceive, apply, and make use of Jesus Christ, 
as my own Saviour, by resting on him, and 
trusting to him as such. Jehovah's great 
gift, offer, and promise, gives every sinner a 
sufficient warrant to do this, and are a 
strong immoveable foundation for this per- 
suasion or assurance of faith. Nor can any 
other solid satisfying answer be given to a 
broken-hearted, humbled creature, -f- who 
puts away from himself the gracious pro- 
mises and offers of the gospel upon this ill- 
grounded imagination, that they do not be- 
long to him : To whom it always may, and 
ought to be answered, That they do belong 
to him, in the sense I have mentioned. "| 

This extract is, I think, the precise ex- 
planation of our doctrine. If you find any 
expression not exactly suited to your opin- 
ion, please to observe it. I am, dear Sir, 
your affectionate and obliged brother in 
Christ, J. Hervey. 



August i. 

Dear Mr. Cudworth, — Last night 1 
received your favour, and, according to your 
request, have written to my excellent friend, 
without delaying a single post. The Lord 
Jesus accompany my conciliatory offices 
with his heavenly blessing \ 

I hope you had a good journey, and are 
well in health, and joyful through faith. 

We shall all be glad to hear that 

bore his journey comfortably, and is return- 
ed home more and more established in the 
love of his blessed Lord. 



* This is well expressed, and evidently distinguishes 
his meaning of the word offer, from the offer of a 
bargain to any who will come up to the terms. He 
evidently means the real grant of the blessings, as 
when money, food, and clothing, are offered to the 
poor, famished, or naked. 

t If this gentleman, by a broken-hearted, humbled 
creature, means some that were hereby more qualified 
for mercy than the rest, he would differ from us wide- 
ly; but if, (as I apprehend) he only means those 
whose criminal remorse renders them absolutely des- 
titute of every other hope .than by Christ alone, we 
are of one mind. 

X One of the most evangelical appearing objections 
against this grant of Christ to be believed on, is 
'* That, according to this doctrine, the free gift does 
not secure their reigning in life on whom it is bestow- 
ed ; because they may rise to damnation for all that 
abundance of the gift.*^ To which it may be answered. 
That gift, though to sinners indefinitely, that they 
may live by it, yet is a non-entity to every one till he 
hears it, and no conveyance of righteousness to any 
mar that does not believe it according to that which 
is spoken. And, on the other hand, where a man 
does really believe it, he undoubtedly lives by it : 
and there " grace reigns through righteousness U> 
eternal life," over all who are thus begotten again. 



TO MR. CUDWORTH 



577 



I hope you do not forget me find my fa- 
mily, my people, and my work at the press. 
May the good Lord prosper you, and your 
labours of love ! 

I am much straitened for time, and can 
add no more at present, but that I am yours 
most cordially, J* Hervey. 



September 9. 

Dear Mr. Cudworth, — Mr. W d 

has been with me, and went away last week. 
We had much talk concerning you. I told 
him what I thought of your conversation 
and doctrine. What I could urge seemed 
to make no impression. I assure you my 
esteem for you is not diminished. I am 
more and more persuaded, that your method 
of stating that grand and precious doctrine, 
the doctrine of faith in Christ, is the truth 
of the gospel. Your company, whenever 
you come this way, will be truly acceptable 
to all my family. 

I wish you would inform me of the mis- 
takes which you apprehend to be in Dr. 
Crisp's sermons. I have the new edition, 
intend to read them very attentively, and 
should be glad of your cautionary hints. 

Pray, let me hear from you soon ; and 
believe me to be, dear Sir, your cordial and 
faithful friend, J. Hervey. 



October 9. 

Dear Mr. Cudworth, — I received your 
welcome letter from London. I should 
have answered it much sooner, but I had 
quite forgot where to direct. The direc- 
tion was given in the first letter you ever 
wrote to me, which, consisting only of kind 
and friendly expressions, I suffered to perish, 
as I do all letters of that kind. Your other 
epistolary favours I carefully preserve. I 
have waited and waited, one day after an- 
other, in hopes of seeing you at Weston in 
your return to Norwich ; and have been un- 
easy in myself, lest you should think I ne- 
glect your correspondence. Indeed I do' 
not. Neither do I forget my promise. I 
have a set of the new edition reserved on 
purpose for you ; to be delivered into your 
own hand, if you call upon me. Or I will 
order a set to be left for you in London, 
wherever you shall appoint. 

I sincerely thank you for the copy of your 
letter. The sentiments are such as I wish 
to have written on my heart ; such as I 
wish to speak and teach while I live ; and 
in my writings, if my writings survive me, 
to testify when I am dead. May the good 
Lord bear witness to such doctrine, by mak- 
ing it healing to the conscience, and fruit- 
ful in the conversation. 

Your treatise of Marks and Evidences 1 
will attentively read. If any thing occurs 



which seems to need explication or altera- 
tion, I will moEt freely communicate it. 
Pray let me hear from you soon. Inform 

me how you go with Mr. . Depend 

upon it, I will do you all the service that 
lies in my power. Not merely because you 
are a friend whom I esteem, but also because 
I am persuaded you work the work of the 
Lord Jesus. To whose tender love I com- 
mend yourself and your labours ; and am, 
dear Sir, your truly affectionate friend, 
J. Hervey. 



November 8. 
My Dear Friend, — Your welcome letter 
is now in my hand. I thank you for the 
remarks it contains. The Lord make us 
of quick understanding in the fear of the 
Lord ! 

I have read the treatise concerning Marks 
and Evidences. I am going, as soon as I 
have despatched this letter, to read it again. 
If to do the heart good be a sign of its va- 
lue, I can very confidently bear this testi- 
mony to its worth. It refreshes my spirit, 
and comforts my soul. I hope, when re- 
published, it will be attended with this 
blessed effect to multitudes of readers, I 
believe it would be advisable to send it 
abroad without a name, and commit it whol- 
ly to the disposal of Him who is head over 
all things to the church. 

Did you ever see a little treatise written 
by one Mr. Beart, formerly pastor of a 
church in the place where you now reside ? 
It is styled, " A Vindication of the Eternal 
Law and Everlasting Gospel." It is but 
very lately that it came to my hands. It 
appears to me a truly valuable piece. I for- 
got to desire, that you would present my 

most cordial salutations to Mr . It is 

not for want of esteem that I do not write 
to him, but for want of health and multipli- 
city of engagements. I should be very glad 
if we would communicate, with all freedom, 
any remarks that he himself has made, or 
has heard from others, relating to Theron 
and Aspasio. 

Mr. called upon me, about ten days 

ago, in his return to London. He staid 
only to make a hasty breakfast, so that I 
had very little conversation with him. I 
hope the God of power, and the God of 
peace, will unite our hearts in the love of 
the Spirit, and unite our hands in the work 
of the Lord. 

There is no stage goes from Northamp- 
ton to Suffolk. I believe I may convey a 
parcel by the Cambridge carrier. I will 
inquire of him when he comes this way ; 
and, if it is a practicable thing, you shall have 
the books by his next return. 

We shall all be glad to entertain you at 
Weston ; and my best prayers will always 
2-p 



578 



MR. HERVEY'S LETTERS 



accompany your labours in the Lord. I 
send a frank, lest your stock should be ex- 
hausted. Write to me soon, and pray for 
me ever, who am, dear Sir, your alFection- 
ate brother in Christ, 

J. Hervey. 



Novemher 25. 

My dear Friend, — I sent, last week, by 
the Cambridge carrier, a set of my books. 
He promised me to deliver them to the 
Bury carrier ; and I hope by this time they 
have reached your hands. Whenever you 
peep upon them, pray be so kind as to note 
down any expressions or sentiments that 
are not thoroughly evangelical. I shall be 
pleased with them, and thankful for them, 
even though I should not have, through the 
want of a new edition, an opportunity of 
iiiserting them in my volumes. 

I have been thinking of your proposal to 
republish your treatise on Marks and Evi- 
<iences. Suppose you transmit it, detached 
from any other piece, under a frank to me : 
Suppose I send it to an understanding and 
sagacious friend ; and learn his sentiments, 
and get his critical observations on it : By 
this means you will see what is likely to 
give offence, or meet with objection ; and 
may perhaps be enabled so to form your ar- 
guments, so to draw up your forces, as to 
prevent or baffle any attack. If you ap- 
prove of this scheme, send me a co{)y of 
the piece, tearing off the title-page, and I 
will immediately convey it to a friend, who 
lives at a great distance from London, who 
knows nothing of the author, and will give 
me his opinion without favour or disaffec- 
tion. 

Lest you should not be furnished with a 
frank, I send the enclosed. My sister is 
gone from home ; my mother is in health, 
and will always be glad of such conversation 
as yours ; which will be equally agreeable 
to, dear Sir, your affectionate friend and 
brother in Christ Jesus, 

J. Hervey. 



January 26, 1756. 

My dear Friend, — I received,with plea- 
sure and gratitude, your letter and its con- 
tents. Would have made my acknowledg- 
ments immediately, but waited a post or 
two, in hopes of transmitting to you some 
remarks on your treatise. But my friend 
has not sent them. As soon as they come, 
they shall be forwarded to you. 

1 am very much pleased with your ex- 
planation of In the Lord have I righteousness, 
"la sinner, not I a new or sanctified crea- 
ture." This is encouraging, this is delight- 
ful, it is like a door opened in the ark for 
me, even for me to enter. Blessed be 



God for such truths ! Such truths make the 
gospel glad tidings indeed to ray soul. They 
are the very thing which I want, and the 
only thing which can give me comfort, or 
do me good. 

When people inquire, whether sanctifica- 
tion is an evidence of justification ? 1 sup- 
pose by sanctification they mean what St. 
Paul calls the fruits of the Spirit — love of 
God, charity to man, meekness, temperance, 
&c. Now, may we Hot allow these ta be 
proper evidences of faith, but maintain, that 
the appropriating faith, or the faith of per- 
suasion,* is the appointed means of produc- 
ing them ? " The life which I live in the 
flesh," the life of holiness, usefulness, and 
comfort, " I live by the faith of the Son of 
God." What this faith is, he explains in 
the next sentence ; by viewing the Son of 
God, " as loving me, and giving himself for 
me." Pray favour me with your opinion 
of 1 John iii. 19. This seems one of the 
texts least reconcilable with our doc- 
trine. 

I have a long letter from a new hand, 
wrote very fair, and drawn up in an ela- 
borate manner, in opposition to my account 
of faith, and to several parts of Dialogue 
16. It consists of five sheets wrote on 
every side ; too large, I apprehend, to come 
under a frank, otherwise I would transmit 
it to you for your perusal. I hope to see 
you ere long j then we may examine it to- 
gether. 

I am glad to hear that you are acquaint- 
ed with Mr. , and that he is so well 

acquainted with the truth as it is in Jesus. 
The Lord enable him, and raise up many 
more ministers, to spread abroad the joyful 
sound. When you give me your company, 
do not forget to bring with you the evange- 
lical piece on the work of the Spirit in 
bringing a soul to Christ. 

There is one passage in Dialogue 16, 
which I think "s very injudiciously inserted, 
and is really a mistake. I observed it a 
good while ago, and expunged it from my 
copy : and my new opposer has not spared 
to animadvert upon it. What need have 
we to pray for that divine Guide, " who 
leads into all truth !" May this divine 
Guide dwell in us, and walk in us, be our 
counsellor and comforter even unto death 1 
Dear Mr. Cudworth, I hope, will not for 
get in his prayers the weakest of ministers 
and the weakest of believers, but his affec- 
tionate brother in Christ, J. Hervey. 



* By appropriating faith, he means the confidence 
arising from the behej of the truth, of righteousiKss 
and salvation freely presented to the guilty in Christ 
Jesus, as their immediate ground of confidence; 
which he also styles the faith of persuasion, to dis- 
tinguish it from that which is described, not by v:]ii\t 
we'are pers uaded of, but as a hidden, holy principle, 
discoverable only by the good qualifications which 
distinguish us from others. 



TO MR. CUDWORTH. 



579 



April 21. 

My- Dear Friend, — I received your val- 
uable remarks, and sincerely thank you for 
them. May our divine Master enable us 
both to discern and to display the truth as 
it is in Jesus. 

T am much pleased, and thoroughly sa- 
tisfied, with your explanation of Acts ii. 
39. The proposals seem to me clear, per- 
tinent, and weighty. If I am able to make 
any slight correction in the style, it shall be 
transmitted in my next. I would now only 
ask, how far you have proceeded in the 
work ? I think you should by all means 
get the greater part, the whole, I w^ould ra- 
ther say, completed, before you begin %o 
publish. If this is not done, many imfore- 
seen accidents may arise, which will pro- 
bably straiten you in point of time, and 
oblige you to be precipitate in your prepar- 
ations for the press. And I am inclined 
to query, whether it is not a piece of justice 
we owe to the public, not to engage them 
in purchasing a piece, till it is put beyond 
the power of common casualties to render 
it imperfect. Pray, therefore, let me know 
what progi'ess you have made. I could wish 
to have it judiciously executed, and not 
performed in that confused, inaccurate, 
slovenly manner, which must be a continual 

discredit to Mr. W 's Christian Li- 

braiy. 

I rejoice to find that the gospel of our 
salvation is spreading. May it have a free 
course and an extensive circuit ! till the 
fountain becomes a river, and the river wi- 
dens into a sea ! 

The enclosed came a little while ago. 
My friend is very severe. It will give you 
an opportunity of exercising forbearance 
and gentleness. He knows nothing at all 
of the author. When your other affairs 
will allow leisure, please to return the let- 
ter, with your observations ; which will 
oblige, and I trust edify, dear Sir, your af- 
fectionate friend, J. Heuvey. 



Matj 27. 

Dear Mr. Cudworth, — I have only 
time to beg of you, if you have the letter 
of remai-ks on Mr. Marshall's book, to re- 
turn it to me as socai as you can. If there 
are any observations that are just, and such 
as 'animadvert upon passages truly excep- 
tionable, be so kind as to give me yoiu- 
opinion on them. The reason of my de- 
siring this, is a prospect of a new edition 
of Marshall. A bookseller is inclined to 
print one, and sell it at half-a-crown price ; 
I believe encouraged thereto by my recom- 
mendation of it. The recommendation has 
been printed in our Northampton newspa- 
per, and immediately there was a demand 



for twenty-three of your abridgments. 
But the printer could not procure enough 
to supply the demand. Mr. K de- 
sires you will send a fresh supply to him. 
In the greatest haste, but -svith great sin- 
cerity and affection, yours, 

J. Hervey. 



J'une 17. 

My dear Friend, — This comes to in- 
form you, that Mr. has begun an edi- 
tion of Marshall, in much the same size, 
and exactly the same letter, as Theron and 
Aspasio. If you have any thing to observe, 
pray let me have it with as much speed as 
you can make. If you have Mr, 's ob- 
jections, examine them attentively; and I 
hope you will be enabled to obviate what is 
material. I should be glad if you could, 
after you have digested your notes, give me 
your company, that we might talk them 
over. Now is the time, in all probability, 
to make Marshall a well-known spreading 
book. I hope the Lord will enlighten your 
understanding, fructify your invention, 
strengthen your judgment, and enable you 
to write " sound words, such as cannot he 
condemned." I am, very affectionately, 
yours, J. Hervey- 



My Dear Friend, — Yesterday I receiv- 
ed your letter, and am much obliged to you 

for it. Pray do not mention Mr. 's 

name, nor show his letter. I hope to ad- 
here to the truths of the gospel ; but yet I 
would endeavour to live in harmony of af- 
fection, and friendly intercourse at least, 
with those who differ. I cannot think that 

Mr. could have any knowledge of the 

author of the discourse against Marks and 
Evidences. I will read your treatise over 
again with my best attention ; for, I assure 
you, it always does me good. I will also 

compare it with your remarks on Mr. , 

which in my opinion are solid and satisfac- 
tory : I am sure they are encouraging and 
comfortable. 

When Marshall was advertised in our 
newspaper, the gentleman that inserted my 
recommendation added this note, to explain 
one sentence : "By uncommon road, it is 
presumed, the recommender means the very 
evangelical nature, and remarkably instruc- 
tive method, of the directions laid down by 
Mr. Marshall, (than whom no man, per- 
haps, was ever better acquainted with the 
human heart,) for the effectual practice of 
holiness, as likewise somewhat of obscurity 
which is confessedly in his 3d and ^th di- 
rection." 

I apprehend, the obscurity of chapter .3d 
and ^th arises not from any improper man- 
ner of treating the subjects, but from the 



MR. HERVEY'S LETTERS 



#80 

mysterious* nature of the subjects them- 
selves. I will write to the bookseller to 
suspend his procedure of the press till he 
hears farther. But let this hasten you, my 
dear friend^ in communicating what you 
have to observe. I should be glad to have 
our common favourite as clear and unexcep- 
tionable as possible, &c.t 



October 6. 

My Dear Friend, — The cause of my 

writing is this : Mr. is upon the point 

of pubhshing a new edition of Marshall. I 
have given him the enclosed letter, to in- 
troduce it into the world ; but was desirous 
to have you peruse it, and correct it, before 
it goes to the press. Be so kind, therefore, 
as to examine it strictly ; and wherever you 
think it should be altered, use |with it the 
freedom of a friend. The more rigour, the 
more kindness, 

I send a frank to be the vehicle of your 
observations, together with the printed half- 
sheet. 

As soon as I have finished what you 
mention, it shall be transmitted ; though I 
w^ould fain see one of the books completely 
abridged, before any proposals or advertise- 
ments appear. It is a matter of great im- 
portance ; pray let it be executed with care 
and correctness. May the Keeper of Israel 
protect you in your journeys, and the Light 
of the world guide you in your work ! Af- 
fectionately yours, 

J. Hebvey. 



December 24. 

My Dear Friend,— Mr. told Mr. 

W d that I offered to write a preface to 

your remarks on his sermons. I told Mr. 

W d the whole of the affair : That you 

informed me of your design, and what 1 
answered : That I desired it might be con- 
ducted in a tender and respectful manner : 
That the title should be more friendly and 
benign : That you read what you proposed 
to say concerning my mentioning of Mar- 
shall ; which I observed was inexpressive : 
If you said any thing, I thought it should 
be more weighty and significant. This was 
all the concern I had in the affair. 

That I had promised, not offered (for I 
do not remember I ever did such a thing in 
my life) to write a recommendatory intro- 
duction to the work which you have in hand : 
That it was at your request, but with the 
real approbation of my judgment; for I ap- 
prehended that your design, when well exe- 



* Mysterious, because contrary to our natural no- 
tions, the "natural man not receiving the things of 
the Spirit of God." 

t The. remainder of this letter is lost. 



cuted, would be a valuable present to the 
world. 

This comes by a gentleman who knows 

you. Let me hear what Mr. says 

about the affair. And remember to give 
me a direction where to write to you. You 
date from Margaret-street ; but this I sup- 
pose is not particular enough. I can add no 
more, lest the bearer should be gone. Only 
I wish you much success in preaching Christ. 
Yours affectionately, 

J. Hervey. 



My Dear Friend, — I received your par- 
cel containing several copies of the Friendly 
Attempt, &c.* My thanks should have 
been returned sooner ; but I have been un- 
der that indisposition and langour of spirit, 
which renders me unfit for every thing, 

1 think there is rather too much asperity 
in the close ; and I wish that expression, 
" refined idolatry," had been a little softened. 
This I mention only to yourself, and to give 
you a specimen of that openness and freedom 
which 1 would have take place in all our 
personal and epistolary intercourses. 

I have read your manuscript again and 
again, with my best attention, and with 
much delight.-j- I have made here and there 
a small alteration with regard to the lan- 
guage, only to render the sense somewhat 
more perspicuous, not to vary the peculiar 
cast of your diction. I heartily concur in 
receiving and embracing these doctrines. I 
think them to be truths of very great im- 
portance, and shall be truly glad to see them 
in print, that they may be spread, and be 
universally known. 

If I should be enabled to finish a fourth 
volume of Dialogues, I propose to have one 
conference on the assurance of faith ;J to 
state it more clearly, and to establish it more 
strongly. In this, I shall be glad to borrow 
several of your thoughts, and will make my 
acknowledgments accordingly ; declaring, at 
the same time, my opinion of the piece 
which lends me such valuable assistance. 

Present my most affectionate salutations 
to — — I received his obliging letter : I 
most sincerely wish him success in display- 
ing the unsearchable riches of grace, and the 
infinitely glorious righteousness of Christ. 



* A Friendly Attempt to remove some Fundamen- 
tal Mistakes in the Rev. Mr. W d's Sermons. 

t Aph07-ismt: on the Assurance of Faith, The sub- 
stance of them originally was what Mr. Hervey takes 
notice of in his letter, dated Oct. 9, 1755, Afterwards 
Mr. Hervey desired me to draw up the substance of 
the whole that find been canvassed, in as concise a man- 
ner as possible, for his own use. This, some tim.e 
after, I p,.oposed tor printing, and is the manuscript 
here mentioned, 

X Or, in other words, the confidence that is founded 
on the truth we believe concerning Christ given to be 
believed on, or confided in. 



TO MR. CUDWORTH. 



I hope he will not be displeased with my 
silence. It proceeds from no disres])ect, 
but from a multiplicity of engagements, and 
a poor pittance of strength, utterly insuffi- 
cient to fulfil them. Please to thank 

for his very encouraging and comfortable 
letter. I wish, when he is at leisure, he 
would favour me with another on this sub- 
ject — How holiness springs from faith, or a 
view of sanctification as the effects of justi- 
fication. 

When shall I see you ? If writes 

to me on the subject you mention, he shall 
have a speedy answer. You need not send 
me the twelve queries, because tliey have 
been transmitted me from Scotland. But 
cease not to send up your prayers and sup- 
plications in behalf of your truly affectionate 
friend, 

J. Hervey. 



Mv Dear Friend, — I have, with atten- 
tion and delight, read over your pamphlet. 
A slight alteration or two, relating to the 
language, I have made. But I desire you 
will follow the determination of your own 
judgment. As soon as they are printed, 
send me a quarter of an hundred ; not as a 
present, but as a purchase. 

The Lord has lately visited me with a 
dangerous fever ; which confined me to my 
room many days, and excluded me from the 
pulpit several Sundays. I am extremely 
weak in body. Pray that I may be strong 
in the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ — in 
his most precious and everlasting righteous- 
ness. I remain affectionately yours, 

J. Hervey. 

P. S Send me a dozen of your Apho- 
risms, when they are published. 



Sept. 8, 1757. 
My Dear Friend, — One principal cause 
of my long silence, I do assure you, was my 
ignorance of the place of your residence in 
London. I knew not, till Mr. yes- 
terday gave me a direction, where to write 
to you. 

I thank you for your last packet. But 
you must give me leave to insist upon pay- 
ing for the contents, when I have the plea- 
sure of your company, which I want much. 
Cannot you take Weston in your way, and 
contrive to spend a couple of days with me ? 
I cannot be satisfied with a shorter stay. I 
have much to say to you ; but as I hope to 
see you, and converse face to face, 1 shall 
not attempt to communicate my thoughts by 
ink and pen. 

I have just pubhshed three sermons. If 
you will call upon Mr. R 's, in St. Paul's 



581 

Church-yard, or send a messenger with the 
note subjoined to this letter, he will deliver 
two of my pieces. Let me beg of you to 
peruse them, with your pen in your hand ; 
and to transmit whatever observations may 
occur. I have some remarks upon your 
Aphorisms, which you shall see when you 
give me your company. Have you seen a 
couple of volumes, lately published, and en- 
titled, Letters on Theron and Aspasio ? 
You come in for a share of chastisemento 
What is your opinion, in general, of this per- 
formance ? As to particular passages, we 
will postpone the examination of them til! 
God's providence grants us a personal inter 
view.* Do you know who is, or who is 
supposed to be, the author of this piece ? 

May the work of the Lord Jesus prosper 
in your heart, your tongue, your pen, and in 
those of your truly affectionate friend, 

J. Hervey. 



Feb. 22, 1758. 
Dear Mr. Cudworth, — I received your 
letter, and return you my very sincere 
thanks for your remarks.-]- I only wish that 
there had been more of them. 

I hope it will not be long before you give 
me your company at Weston. Then we 
will examine the three Dialogues, as they 
appear in their new form ; and will consider 
and determine concerning their publication ;|; 
or rather will beseech the only wise God 
our Saviour, to overrule and guide our de- 
termination. Contrive to stay soine time 
with me. 

Try if you can get me Taylor's book ; or 
any of those which you showed me. Neo- 
nomianism Unmasked, if you can light on, 
purchase for me. I wish you growing con- 
solation in Christ, deliverance from all your 
troubles, and abundant success in spreading 
abroad the savour of our Redeemer's name. 
In whom I am, dear Sir, your true and af- 
fectionate friend and brother, 

J. Hervey. 



March 1. 

Dear Mr. Cudworth, — Yesderday 
your favour came to hand. I hope to see 
you at Weston ere long, and then I will 
deliver the letters§ into your own hand. 



* The result of this consideration, and of my after 
correspondence with Mr. Sandeman, at Mr. Hervey 6 
request, see in the Defence of Theron and Aspasio. 

t Remarks on Theron and Aspasio, considered with 
regard to the objections raised by the Author of the 
Letters. 

t The publication of the 15th, 16th, and 17th Dia- 
logues, corrected with regard to the objections of Mr. 
Sandeman. 

§ Letters of Correspondence between me and Mr. 
Sandeman. 



582 



MR. IIERVEY'S LETTERS 



I have sent you a couple of franks. If you 
want more, when I see you I will endea- 
vour to supply you. I am glad you are de- 
bating the important point with Mr. San- 
deman. He seems to be an acute person ; 
and if there is a flaw in our cause, he will 
be likely to discover it. But as far as 1 
can judge, he has found no such thing hi- 
therto. 

May the God of truth and grace be with 
you ; and enable you to understand and de- 
fend the first ; to experience and abundant- 
ly enjoy the last. 

Please to present my very affectionate 

respects to your worthy kinsman Mr. , 

and recommend to his prayer, and remem- 
ber in your own, dear Sir, your brother in 
Christ, J. Hervey. 



July 15. 

Dear Mr. Citdworth, — This comes to 
desire you will ;inform me how I may di- 
rect a large letter to you ; which I will 
send, as soon as your answer is received. 
It is a manuscript,* which wants your ex- 
amination, and it is of some importance. 
Therefore I am somewhat solicitous that it 
may not miscarry. Yours affectionately, 
J. Hervey. 

P. S. — You may direct your letter to 
stop at Northampton. Do not use any of 
your franks. You will have greater occa- 
sion for them. Or, if your stock is spent, 
let me know. 



July 27. 

Dear Mr. Cudworth, — This day I re- 
ceived your letter, with the two manuscript 
sheets enclosed. Accept my thanks for 
your remarks, and let me beg of you to ex- 
amine the two sheets which are now sent. 
I will take your advice with regard to Mr. 

B ; and follow your hint concerning 

your own work. I apprehend there will 
be about ten such sheets ; and that the 
piece will make a two-shilling pamphlet. 
1 must entreat you to get time for the re- 
visal of all ; which shall be sent you as you 
shall be able to despatch the work. I am, 
dear Sir, most cordially yours, J, Hervey. 



August 2. 

My Dear Friend, — Last week I sent 
you two sheets of the manuscript, now I 
send you two more for your revisal. If 



* This was an answer to Mr. John Wesley's ob- 
jections against Theron and Aspasio, and is so valua- 
ble a defence of imputed righteousness, that its pub- 
lication is much to be desired. It has been since pub- 
lished by Mr- Hervey's brother, and may be seen in 
the preceding part of this volume. 



you see a fair opportunity of contracting, 
please to make use of it ; for I fear the 
piece will be too long. Enclose what you 
think may be omitted in a parenthesis, by a 
pencil. Pray examine rigorously, by which 
you will very much oblige your truly affec- 
tionate J. Hervey. 



August 9. 

My Dear Friend, — Here I enclose two 
sheets more. They are very long ; but I 
hope you will get time to revise them. 
Your last packet I received, and am much 
obliged for your remarks. I apprehend the 
piece will make a two-shilling pamphlet, 
if you could suggest or introduce any thing 
to make it edifying and useful, I should be 
glad. Would it not be proper to print Mr. 
Wesley's letter, and prefix it to my answer ? 
Have you left your own two books for me 
at my brother's ? If you have not, please 
to leave them at Mr. J. R—'s in St. Paul's 
Church-3'ard. I am, dear Sir, cordially 
yours in Christ Jesus, J. Hervey. 

■f*. S. — I suppose about three sheets 
more will finish the work. 



August 16. 
My Dear Friend, — Here are two more 
sheets. The last I received with your val- 
uable remarks. Pray \)esto\v the same at- 
tention on these. Two more, or less, will 
finish the essay ; then 1 will discontinue 
writing, and employ myself in reading, es- 
pecially in reading Luther's comment.* 
Cannot you procure for me Taylor's book ? 
I am, dear Sir, affectionately yours, 

J Hervey. 



September 2.3. 

My Dear Friend, — I received in due 
time your last letter. Should have sent 
the conclusion of my manuscript, but it has 
been lent out, and is not yet returned. 

I shall be glad to see your correspon- 
dence with Mr. Sandeman. The enclosed 
is a copy of a letter, which I sent, some 
years ago, to two malefactors under sen- 
tence of death. It is got into a good many 
hands. Some would have me print it. I 
wish you would be so kind as to revise it, 
and give me your opinion. People say, 
there is n.ot enough said concerning the 
spiritual change, or the new heart. 

My next shall bring you a little piece of 
mine, which, without my knowledge, has 
passed the press. I have lately been in 
great want of franks, but now I have got a 
recruit. 

I have been very ill this week, but had 



* As abridged and designed for the Evangelical Li« 
brary . 



TO MR. CUD WORTH. 



583 



strength enough to read in your hook. I 
was much edified by Mr. Simpson's ser- 
mons. Pray, are his whole worlds to be 
procured ? and are they of the sauie spirit 
witii the sermons which you have given us? 
If so, I should desire to see, to possess 
them all. I am, very affectionately, yours, 
J. Hervey. 



Deceviher 2. 
My Dear Friend, — Excuse me for 
keeping your MS.* so long; I have been 
extremely ill. This morning I have been 
up for four hours, and in ail that time not | 
al)le to look into a book, or hold up my 

head. . . mi • i 

I fully assent to your oi)mion. f hnik 
jou have proved the warrant for a sinner's 
!ij)plication of Christ very satisfactorily. 



If I live, I should much desire a copy of this 
your correspondence, when you have re- 
vised and finished it ; or do you intend to 
print it ? 

Have you got some complete sets of 
your works ? If you have, I wish you 
would lodge about four of them at Mr. 
R — ^u's. Let them be only in sheets. 
And when you have given me notice that 
they are deposited with him, I will order 
him to pay you a guinea for them. I pro- 
mised a worthy clergyman a set some days 
ago. Yours affectionately, J. Hervev. 



December 15. 
Dear Mr. Cudworth^ — I am so weak 
am scarce able to write my name.* 

J. Hervev 



A DEFENCE 



OF 

TilEilON AND ASPASIO. 



The sum and substance (•^^ the doctrine 
pleaded for by Aspasio is, ^' That God 
hath so given eternal life in his Son to 
guilty sinners, as that they are fully war- 
ranted to receive Christ, or assure them- 
selves of salvation by him alone, without 
waiting for any inward motions, feelings, or 
desires, as any way requisite in order to 
such a reception or assurance." 

This doctrine has^^been hitherto opposed, 
under the notion, 1. That some inward mo- 
tions, feelings, or desires, were some way 
requisite in order thereto : That these in- 
ward motions, feelings, or desires, were the 
faith or reception of Christ spoken of in the 
Scripture, or at least the indications of it ; 
and must be discerned in us in that light, be- 
fore there can beany well-grounded assurance 
of salvation by him. 2. That if we are 
called directly to live by Christ, or appro- 
priate him, he is ours, and we are safe, whe- 
ther we appropriate him or no. 3. That it 



* The remaining part of my correspondence with 
Mr. Sandeman. 



is assuring ourselves of what, for aught we 
know, is absolutely false. 4-. That the 
wicked, the presumptuous, and the hypo- 
crites, may, and do often thus assure them- 
selves. 5. That there is nothing in faith, 
thus understood or exei ted, which is a pro- 
per spring and cause of good works, by which 
it is in itself different from a false faith. 
6. That it is contrary to all self-examina- 
tion, and assurance thereby. And, 7. That 
such doctrine is a great discouragement to 
weak souls. 

In answer to all this, we have asserted, 
1. That the divine revelation concerning 
Jesus is addressed to sinners, the world, the 
lost ; and that, without being directed to 
wait for any inward motions, feelings, or 
desires, remission of sins, and eternal life in 
Christ, are said to be presented or given to 



* Hearing how dangerously [ill Mr. Hervey was, 
I wrote to remind him of leaving something under 
his hand in regard to his writings, as he knew the 
situation of them now required it ; and this was all 
the answer he could give me. 



584 



A DEFENCE OF 



them ; and they are immediately called to 
believe on him as so granted. That the in- 
ward motions, feelings, or desires, corres- 
pondent to these gospel declarations, are 
motions, desires, &c. to live by Christ alone, 
immediately, without waiting for any thing 
previous thereto; and that this voice of 
God, in these declarations of the gospel, 
was a sufficient authority for the whole we 
plead for, without waiting for any inward 
motions or excellencies in us to add there- 
to. 2. That it is very absurd to infer, that 
Christ being given for us to feed upon, or 
live by, that there is therefore no need to 
live by him. Nor is it, 3. Assuring our- 
selves of what may be false ; the divine de- 
claration having secured this — that they 
which believe on him shall not be confound- 
ed ; nor does any man thus live by Christ 
alone, but he who is chosen to salvation by 
the belief of the truth: Notwithstanding, 
many deceive themselves, professing great 
confidence ; but it is in some; undue 
mixture or addition of their own to what 
God hath spoken. And, 4. That it is here 
the presumptuous and the hypocrite do err 
and destroy themselves, and not in believ- 
mg according to that which is spoken. 5. 
That good works are works of love to God, 
thus manifested ; and therefore it is the 
only principle of good works on this ac- 
count : " We love him, because he first 
loved us." So that it differs from a false 
faith, as the belief of a truth differs from 
the belief of a falsehood, and as an appre- 
hension of the divine favour begets love and 
obedience, rather than an apprehension of 
wrath. 6. That a proper self-examination 
is therefore, whether we thus live by Christ 
alone, or whether we are waiting for some- 
thing more? And, 7. That it is far from 
discouraging the chiefest sinners, to let 
them know that God hath given to them 
eternal life in his Son, although it very pos- 
sibly may, and ought to discourage every 
one from seeking relief in themselves, while 
the divine declarations point us so plainly to 
the salvation given in Christ Jesus to the 
guilty. 

We have now to engage with another 
kind of an opponent, one that tells us. 

That on account of our thus pleading for 
assurance of salvation, by receiving or appro- 
priating Christ as given to us, we are also 
to be classed with the popular preachers, in 
as much as we also lead the guilty, as they 
do, to seek after some inward motions, feel- 
ings, or desires, as some way requisite in 
order to acceptance with God, not under- 
standing how God can appear just to an 
unrighteous person, in justifying him as he 
at present stands, without some motion in 
bis will, &c. That the whole doctrine of 
the popular preachers is devised for produc- 
ing, animating, and directing this motion, 



that so the anxious hearer may find about 
himself some distinguishing reason why the 
Deity may regard him more than others. 
That the work finished by Jesus Christ in 
his death, proved by his resurrection, is all- 
sufficient to justify the guilty. That the 
whole benefit of this event is conveyed to 
men, only by the apostolic report concern- 
ing it ; and that this whole benefit is no 
more than a possibility of salvation, depend- 
ing upon the divine sovereignty. That every 
one who understands this report to be true, 
or is persuaded that the event actually hap- 
pened, as testified by the apostles, is justifi- 
ed, and finds relief to his guilty conscience, 
i- e. the relief of the above-mentioned possi- 
bility. That such are relieved, not by find- 
ing any favourable symptoms about their 
own heart, but by finding their report to be 
true. That all the divine power which ope- 
rates on the minds- of men, either to give 
the first relief to their consciences, or to 
influence them in every part of their obedi- 
ence, is persuasive power, or the forcible 
conviction of truth. That our primary no- 
tion of the divine character can give no 
comfort to the guilty, but, on the contrary, 
make them miserable by a sense of fear and 
shame. That when a man knows how God 
may be just, in justifying him as he at pre- 
sent stands, he finds relief from the afore- 
mentioned disquieting fear." 

To this we reply in general. That we 
agree to the greatest part, to almost all these 
assertions, as most valuable truths, and 
stand corrected by some of them ; particu- 
larly wherever v/e have too charitably sup- 
posed or admitted a belief of the report, 
contrary to the Scripture declaration,," They 
that know thy name will put their trust in 
thee and thereby have been sometimesf 
led to fall in with the multitude, who make 
light of the belief of the report, as a com- 
mon thing ; whereas, to know the real truth 
of the gospel, in distinction from every cor- 
rupting and contradictory falsehood, is the 
peculiar teaching of God ; and every one 
that has " so heard and learned of the Fa- 
ther, comes to Christ." We agree, that 
" our primary notion of the divine character 
makes the guilty miserable, by a sense of 
fear and shame ;" but we deny that relief 
from this fear is obtained, without being as 
certain that we have righteousness, as we 
are that we have guilt. The divine decla- 
ration of Christ, given to be believed on, 
affords a foundation for this certainty, and 
contains, therefore, more than such a possi- 
bility as is above-mentioned. We also de- 
ny the charge, that we lead the guilty, as the 



* Mr. Hervey had begun a correction of his three 
last Dialogues in this view. 

t Sometimes; for the force of truth frequently 
prevailed against this mistake, before Mr. Sande- 
man's perfonnance appeared. 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



585 



popular preachers do, to seek after some in- 
ward motions, feelings, or desires, as some 
way requisite in order to acceptance with 
God. For, notwithstanding the righteous- 
ness appropriated relates to acceptance with 
God, the appropriation we plead for, relates 
only to the consciousness, knowledge, and 
enjoyment of that righteousness whereby the 
guilty are justified. And we affirm, that to 
receive a gift is no pre-requisite or condi- 
dition, as such receiving has no existence 
without the thing received ; and to be so 
enriched, is not to be enriched by our act 
of receiving, or what we do, but only by 
what we receive. But as Mr. Sandeman's 
attack well deserves a more particular de- 
fence, we consider it as follows : 

" Has our favourite author then, at least 
so far, lost sight of the imputed righteous- 
ness, as to mix another with it ? Has he 
so embarrassed, or rather shut up our access 
to the divine righteousness, as to hold forth 
a preliminary human one as some way ex- 
pedient, or rather necessary, to our enjoying 
the comforts and benefits of it."* 

No, far from it ; but as the pinching point 
in the conscience is not, that there is no 
such righteousness in being as pleaseth God, 
but that we have no such righteousness ; so 
we understand the comfort and benefit of 
Christ's righteousness to be, that it is a suf- 
ficient righteousness in our behalf. And 
we who plead for the divine grant of this 
righteousness to sinners as such, very evi- 
dently maintain, that there is no prehminary 
righteousness necessary to such a conclu- 
sion. 

I speak of those teachers, who, having 
largely insisted on the corruption of human 
nature, concluding the whole world guilty 
before God, eloquently set forth the neces- 
sity of an atonement, zealously maintained 
the Scripture doctrine concerning the per- 
son and work of Christ, yet, after all, leave 
us as much in the dark as to our comfort, as 
if Jesus Christ had never appeared ; and 
mark out as insuperable a task for us, as if 
he had not finished his work." 

This charge may be very properly exhi- 
bited against those teachers who leave us as 
much in the dark as they found us, unless 
1 e can find out something within ourselves 
o distinguish us from other sinners. But 
.Ispasio's doctrine brings Christ near to 
■;uilty sinners as such, for their immediate 
enjoyment. Take and have, receive and 
possess, relates only to personal enjoyment ; 
is no task, no entitling condition ; the ap- 
propriation being fully warranted by the 
truth believed, and efiiected by the belief of 
it. 

" While, with great assiduity and ear- 



* N. B. Mr. Sandeman's words are included within 
onimas : the other paragraphs are the reply. 



nestncss, they are 1/usicd in describing to 
us, animating us with various encourage- 
ments, and furnishing us with manifold in- 
structions how to perform that strange 
something which is to make out our con- 
nexion with Christ, and bring his righteous- 
ness home to us." 

We say, Christ's righteousness is 
" brought home to us" in the gospel de- 
claration, without the necessity of any in- 
tervening righteousness to vi'arrant us to 
call it ours. We only receive what is free- 
ly given, — that is all the strange something 
we have pleaded for ; and that not for our 
acceptance with God in virtue of our act, 
but only to know and enjoy that righteous- 
ness as ours, on account of which alone we 
are accepted- 

Setting them to work to do something, 
under whatever name, to make up their 
peace with God." 

Not so with us, who receive and live by 
Christ's righteousness; with which God 
hath declared himself already well pleased. 

" Every doctrine which teaches us to do 
or endeavour any thing toward our accep- 
tance with God, stands opposed to the 
doctrine of the apostles." 

But the doctrine we plead for, teaches 
us to live by what Christ has already done, 
as being given to us for that purpose. To 
say that I must do, or endeavour any thing, 
that 1 may be accepted, is a contradiction to 
that believing on Christ we plead for ; 
which is in fact, neither more nor less than 
living upon him as our whole, only, and 
complete salvation : and will, on that ac- 
count, bear the test of the apostle's word, 
" To him that worketh not, but believeth 
on him that justifieth the ungodly," &c. 
As this faith cannot be separated from the 
truth believed, nor the truth believed from 
Christ the subject of that truth, so to be 
justified by faith, by Christ, or by his blood 
is the same thing. Nor can any doing for 
acceptance be charged upon this believing 
on Christ, while its native language is, " In 
the Lord have I righteousness." 

Palasmon's* main argument is, " If the 
work finished by Jesus Christ is alone suf- 
ficient to justification, then no appropria- 
tion or reception is necessary thereto." 
We reply, that that alone is sufiicient ; 
therefore reception or appropriation belongs 
to our conscious possession and enjoyment 
of the justifying righteousness, to the mani- 
festation of our justification by it, and to 
the influence of it in our hves and conver- 
sations. 

Palaemon thinks he does not deny the 
sufiiciency of Christ, when he connects 



* The name the author of the Letters has chosen 
for himself, as Mr. Hervey is to be understood by As- 
pasio. 



586 



A DEFENCli: OF 



faith and salvation together, and miiintains 
that all who believe this sufficiency will be 
saved, and all who believe it not will per- 
ish. 

He admits, that a work of God is neces- 
sary m the justified, that is, to beget faith, 
to beget in them a persuasion of the suffi- 
ciency of the justifying righteousness. 

He judges this cannot be a contradiction 
to the one thing needful alone ; because it 
is wholly a persuasion of the sufficiency of 
that alone, without more. In what light 
then are we to consider this farther work of 
God, in persuading us of the sufficiency of 
thisjighteousness ? Not as an addition to 
the sufficient righteousness, but only as re- 
lative to the knowledge of it. He is justi- 
fied by believing, only as he is justified by 
what he believes. 

Neither does he think he denies the suf- 
ficient righteousness, when he maintains 
faith, love, and self-denied obedience, as ne- 
cessary to demonstrate his portion in this 
righteousness, or that he is a justified per- 
son ; because, in these acts, or in this obe- 
dience, he is not doing something to be 
justified, but proceeding in the way " of 
painful desire and fear," in order to know 
himself to be justified. 

Hence it is apparent, that he must be 
obliged to allow, that although the work 
finished by Christ on the cross is the sole 
requisite to justification, yet, in this view, 
something more is necessary to the know- 
ledge of his interest in this righteousness, 
or of his justification by it; and that, to 
maintain this, is no contradiction to the sole 
requisite, )but a procedure upon it. What 
he is obliged to plead for himself, he must 
also allow to us ; and the difference between 
us is not in regard of the sole requisite, but 
our present enjoyment of it, or the know- 
ledge of our justification by this alone. 
He says, with the multitude, " in the way 
of painful desire and fear," till we come to 
the knowledge of the difference God has 
made between us and others ; we say, by 
the free grant of the gospel to the absolute- 
ly guilty, without difference. 

" The doctrine of the apostles, instead of 
directing us what to do, sets before us all 
that the most disquieted conscience can re- 
quire, in order to acceptance with God, as 
already done and finished by Jesus Christ." 

A disquieted conscience requires a righte- 
ousness pleasing to God in its own behalf. 
No righteousness will quiet my conscience, 
iniless 1 consider it as a righteousness for 
me. The righteousiiess which pleaseth 
God is already done and finished by Jesus 
Christ. Palaemon considers this righteouS' 
ness as respecting himself, only as far as he 
discovers his own faith, love, and self-de- 
nied obedience. We consider it as given 
to the absolutely guilty, warranting such to 



live iiy it, as so given to them for that pur-' 
pose. 

Palaemon's notion, that God hath ap- 
pointed no way but by our works, to be as- 
sured of salvation by Christ alone, renders 
his doing, endeavouring, striving, &c. scarce- 
ly different in any thing from doing that we 
may live. There are few so weak as to 
think that they can alter God's mind or 
purpose by their performance? : but, not 
knowing what he has proposed, they do, 
that they may obtain satisfaction in their 
minds about their salvation ; and Palaemon's 
doing seems to be wholly of this sort, that 
is, in fact, for peace with God, and not 
from it. 

" What Christ has done, is that which 
pleaseth God ; what he hath done, is that 
which quiets the guilty conscience of man 
as soon as he knows it." 

As soon as he knows it respects him a 
guilty sinner. If the fear of the guilty con- 
science consisted only in an uncertainty of 
there being any righteousness which pleas- 
eth God in the behalf of the elect, or the 
qualified, than the guilty conscience would 
be quieted as soon as it is evident there is 
such a righteousness. But this is not the 
case ; the fear of the guilty conscience is a 
dread of God, because. I have no such 
righteousness — because 1 have no righteous- 
ness upon which I can be assured he is 
pleased with me. And this guilty con- 
science cannot be quieted, unless I discover 
the righte(>usness which pleaseth God in 
my own behalf. 

As we conceive the report of the gospel, 
as sufficient righteousness freely given in 
Jesus, suits the guilty conscience thus un- 
derstood ; so we agree, that whenever we 
hear of liiis provision of divine grace, we 
have no occasion for any other question but 
this, " Is it true or not? If we find it true, 
we are happy and it is Palasmon, and not 
we, that stands in need of another righte- 
ousness to quiiit the guilty conscience. 

Palfenion considus "the work of Christ 
as a sufficient fcuiidatiun whereon to rest 
the whole w eight of our acceptance' vi'ith 
God," \\hile, at the same time, he asserts 
that his own part or lot in this righteous- 
ness " is not so easily settled ;" but that he 
must wait and work for it in the Way of 
" painful desire and fear, till he is at last 
crowned with enjoyment," in a clear dis- 
covery of his having faith, love, and self- 
denied obedience. We judge ourselves not 
left to this uncertainty ; and that, without 
the discovery of any such difference be- 
twixt us and other men, we are allowed to 
receive, enjoy, and live upon Jesus Christ, 
as freely given to sinners in the gospel ; even 
as those who are invited to an entertain- 
ment are freely allowed to partake of what 
is set before them. Palaemon's view of the 



T HERON AND ASPASIO. 



587 



gospel report sets him at a distance from 
enjoyment, or leaves him in uncertainty, 
till his obedience manifests a difference be- 
twixt him and others. Our view is of the 
sufficient righteousness brought quite home, 
so that our first act is to live by it, that in 
the strength thereof we may be influenced 
by love to him that first loved us. 

It is true, the Scripture " nowhere as- 
certains that Christ died for me in particu- 
lar. "But it allows, invites, and commands me, 
a guilty sinner, without more, to believe on 
him, live by him, &c. ; phrases evidently 
^x[)ressive of the appropriation, trust, or 
confidence we plead for. 

Our author says, " That Christ died, that 
he gave his life a ransom for many, is in- 
deed a truth fully ascertained in the Scrip- 
tm es, for the relief of the shipwrecked and 
desperate." But can it relieve any farther 
than it respects ourselves ? And if the gos~ 
pel declaration concerning this righteousness 
doth not respect us any farther than as we 
apprehend we may be of the elect, or that 
we have their qualifications, how does it re- 
lieve the shipwrecked and the desperate? 
It rather relieves the elect and the qualified. 
This point seems to be Mr. Sandeman's 
mystery ; and he guards the inquiry with 
something like, Hence, ye profane ! " The 
world," says he, " will always be objecting 
thus." A plain acknowledgment, I think, 
that that is the question to be answered, or 
the guilty conscience cannot be relieved ; 
and a vindication of our view of the gospel 
report, as furnishing us with the gracious 
answer. 

" The Scripture often affirms the final 
perdition of many, not merely hearers of 
the gospel, but who have heard and received 
it with joy." 

This is an objection against depending on 
a)iy thing I at present feel, but not against 
coiTi])lying with the divine invitation, to live 
by the sufficient righteousness of the Son 
of God ; an objection against the certainty 
wliich arises from inherent qualifications, 
but not against that which proceeds solely 
on the divine invitation and faithfulness. 

" Many shall seek to enter in, and shall 
not be able." 

Because they seek not by faith, (by the 
truth of the gospel), but as it were by the 
works of the law. 

*' Notwithstanding their great confidence 
about their acquaintance with Christ, and 
their interest in him, and their experience 
of his presence with them, he will at last 
say unto them, I never knew you, depart from 
me." 

The confidence of those condemned is 
evidently not a confidence built upon the 
finished work of Christ given to them, or 
the divine faithfulness pledged to sinners in 
the gospel report but a confidence on their 



owTi attainments and experience, wherein 
they judged themselves peculiarly entitled 
to the heavenly admission. 

Let who wiU be condemned, it is allowed 
by Mr. Sandeman, that every believer of 
the sufficiency of the work of Christ to jus- 
tify the ungodly, is justified. And it is very 
evident, that whosoever lives by that, as 
sufficient for him, believes that sufficiency, 
and is really saved by what he believes, 
though ten thousand professois perish. 

" AVhen they are condemned, then, as 
hypocrites and unbelievers, they are not 
condemned for want of Aspasio's faith ; and 
that for these two reasons : The first is, it 
was never true that Christ died for them ; 
the second is, that they were not faidty in 
this respect ; for the sacred text describes 
them as rather too confident about their in- 
terest in Christ." 

As to the first, it is not Aspasio's faith 
that Christ died for them, whether they be- 
lieve it or no ; and as to the second, they 
may be condemned for neglecting or reject- 
ing the gospel grant of a Saviour to the 
guilty, (which is the truth Aspasio pleads 
for), and at the same time too confident 
upon their imagined attainments on which 
they found their hopes. 

" The gospel proposes nothing to be be- 
lieved by us, but what is infallibly true, 
whether we believe it or not." 

But it proposes something to be imme- 
diately received and enjoyed by us, with- 
out performing any entitling cond.tion what- 
ever. We plead for such a persuasion as is 
the reception of a gift ; and what we thus 
receive, or assure ourselves of, depends for 
its truth, or infallible certainty, on the vera- 
city and faithfulness of God, who has pro- 
mised such shall not be confounded. We 
agree, that a persuasion of a proposition, 
true in itself, must be grounded on the evi- 
dence of that truth. But this is not the 
case when we are commanded to believe on, 
or trust in the Lord. 

" The gospel, which foretells the final 
perdition of so many of its hearers, so ma- 
ny seriously and zealously exercised about 
it, can never warrant us to persuade every 
one who hears it, that Christ died for him." 

The gospel, which foretells the final per- 
dition of so many of its hearers, at the same 
time warrants every hearer to live by the righ- 
teousness it reveals ; and assures them of 
eternal salvation who thus believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ, or live by his righteous- 
ness alone, without more. 

" Unless we shall say, that Christ died 
for every individual of mankind, and conse- 
sequently that none of mankind owe their 
salvation wholly to his death." 

They owe their salvation, and ascribe 
their salvation wholly to his death, who five 
and found uU their hopes on that alone. Be- 



A DEFENCE OF 



sides, our appropmtion relates only to our 
conscious possession or enjoyment of that 
which justifies, and therefore is no more lia- 
ble to the above-mentioned objection, than 
Palaemon's working to the same end, in a 
way of painful desire and fear, till he is 
crowned with enjoyment. If a man receives 
L. 10,000 as a gift, does the act exist with- 
out the gift ? And is it the act that enriches 
him, or the riches he receives ?;We, on both 
sides, plead for the conscious enjoyment of 
the divine righteousness. He, that we en- 
joy from our consciousness of our acts of 
obedience, &c. ; we, by a discovery of the 
sufficient righteousness granted indefinitely 
to the guilty, in such a manner as warrants 
each one's particular application. Who 
stands freest from the doctrine of self-de- 
pendence, I leave others to judge. 

In the second letter, our author wishes 
Aspasio's faith had been " equally precious 
with the apostolic." As the difference be- 
tween his faith and ours is, that we believe 
the righteousness which pleaseth God is 
given to us guilty sinners immediately, to 
live by as our own, which he does not ; his 
faith does not in that respect appear to be 
more precious, or more apostolic. 

It is true, " the apostles never taught men 
to make one step of advance towards God, 
on the prospect that God would condescend 
and come down the rest of the infinite dis- 
tance to meet them." 

And this may be a suitable argument 
against those who spend their time in offer- 
ing Christ, upon certain terms or conditions 
to be performed by the sinner. But this is 
far from being the case in what we plead 
for. Christ, or his righteousness, does not 
meet our believing application, but is the 
object of it, the thing applied. It is Christ, 
and his righteousness, that is immediately 
received, applied, or accounted ours, as be- 
ing freely given or granted in the gospel re- 
port. So that our appropriation terminates 
in its object, and can no more exist without 
Christ, than eating can without food. ; Is it 
proper to say, that, in eating, a man makes 
only a step of advance towards his food, on 
the prospect that the food shall meet him ? 
Just as improper to apply such representa- 
tions to the appropriation pleaded for. 

The apostles called men to believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ, in such a manner of ad- 
dress as is inconsistent with intending there- 
by only such convictions as are purely pas- 
sive — only such as force themselves upon the 
mind by the evidence of their truth. The 
apostolic language is, " Repent, and be bap- 
tized, every one of you, in the name of Je- 
sus Christ, for the remission of sins." Acts 
ii. 38. " And with many other words did 
he testify and exhort, saying, Save yourselves 
from this untoward generation," ver. 40. 
And again, " Repent ye, therefore, and be 



converted," chap.' iii. 19. And again, " To 
him gave all the prophets witness, that 
through his name whosoever believeth in 
him shall receive remission of sins," chap. x. 
43, And again, " Be it known unto you, 
therefore, men and brethren, that through 
this man is preached unto you the forgive- 
ness of sin. And by him all that believe 
are justified," chap. xiii. 38, 39. And again, 
" Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
thou shalt be saved," &c. chap. xvi. 31. In 
all these instances, there is something ex- 
horted to, called believing on, or in Christ ; 
being baptized in his name for remission of 
sins ; repenting, and being converted ; some- 
thing more than passive conviction, and, at 
the same time, something consistent with 
the alone sufficiency of Christ's righteous- 
ness, which can be neither more nor less 
than the appropriation, trust, or confidence 
we plead for. 

That " the promises of the gospel are 
made only to believers," will never invalidate 
our plea for appropriation, while it remains 
true that the grant of Christ, and the salva- 
tion in him, is made to sinners ; and, in re- 
ceiving the grant, they evidently commence 
those to whom the promises are made ; that 
is, those who believe on Christ according to 
the apostolic exhortation. And to sinners, 
thus immediately beheving on Christ, the 
promises are made; first, To encourage 
such to draw near, and live with confidence 
on the sufficient righteousness; secondly. 
To give them a certainty dependent upon 
the divine faithfulness, and animating there- 
by to the most ready and willing obedience. 

To say no one must account the righte- 
ousness of Christ as belonging to him, in 
any sense, until he discovers himself a true 
believer, as it excludes the application we 
plead for, so, in its room, it introduces all 
the pernicious consequences this author pro- 
fesses to avoid in his accusation of Aspasio, 
viz. " holding forth a preliminary human 
righteousness as some way expedient, or ra- 
ther necessary, to our enjoying the comfort 
and benefit of Christ's." Unless Palaemon - 
can make it manifest, that we enjoy the 
comfort and benefit of Christ's righteous- 
ness, while we are, according to him, '* work- 
ing in the way of painful desire and fear, 
till we come to that enjoyment," common 
experience teacheth us, that righteousness 
can only relieve or comfort us, as far as it 
respects us. That he is able to save his 
elect, is no comfort to me, further than I 
conceive myself to be one of them ; and in 
this case I am comforted, either by conjec- 
tural hope, or by a hope founded on the dif- 
ference there is between me and others. 

" And to obviate the difficulty, how shall 
I know that the promise is to me ? They 
address their brethren in this manner : In 
the name of the gi-eat God we declare, that 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



58d 



the promise is to thee, and thee, O man, 
woman, whosoever thou art." 

The promise of salvation to whomsoever 
believes on Christ, is evidently to the sinner, 
as his encouragement to come to the sure 
enjoyment of the righteousness and salva- 
tion given in him, by receiving, appropriat- 
ing, and trusting confidently on him, as so 
given. 

" In his name, we call you this moment 
to stretch out the withered hand, and the 
withered heart, and take hold of Christ, 
saying, He is mine, and I am his." 

That may be understood thus : " We 
speak not in our own name, as signifying 
our own importance ; but inform you of the 
glad tidings, that it is God's command, and 
your duty, not to wait to feel some power 
or alteration in yourself, as a ground for 
your confidence, but, just as you are, in 
obedience to the divine command, receive 
or appropriate Christ, saying, ' He is 
mine, and I am his.' '' 

The withered hand, and the withered 
heart, are expressions used to signify a 
powerless, helpless, condition ; which, con- 
sisting in the prevalence of our naturally 
evil dispositions, serves to denominate us 
sinners, and spoils our hopes of living by 
our own performances ; yet it is no objec- 
tion against living by his obedience, who 
hath become the righteousness of the guilty. 
For it must ,be remembered, we are not 
justified by our acts, but by the righteous- 
ness we appropriate ; and our appropria- 
tion only serves to give us the divine- 
ly authentic enjoyment by the word, of that 
justification of the ungodly, and without 
strength, w^hereby we are saved. Hence 
we are called, not to wait for strength to 
do something for the enjoyment of this jus- 
tification, but stretch forth the withered 
hand, or, just as we are, to live by Christ's 
righteousness, when we feel nothing but 
what marks us out for eternal destmc- 
tion. When Lazarus was made to hear, 
he came forth, according to the command 
he heard, or in obedience to the voice that 
quickened him ; and when we are made to 
hear the divane invitation and command to 
live by this righteousness, we appropriate it 
in obedience to him that makes us hear his 
voice. The righteousness itself is that by 
which we are accepted ; the appropriation 
respects our possession and enjoyment. In 
the latter, we may be weaker or stronger ; 
in the former, is the invariable ground of 
our confidence. 

That God has given to us eternal life in 
his Son, is the apostolic style, and the very 
record which is pointed out for our peculiar 
attention ; and when the word ojfer has 
been made use of, and understood to con- 
vey nothing more than this important truth, 
the believer of the record has become the 



receiver of the gift, or the enjoyer of the 
blessing, 

" Hence we see, that ' this is mine, or 
this was done for me,' is a truth, whose 
evidence takes, its rise from the pains I take 
to believe it." 

Its evidence depends on the A'eracity and 
faithfulness of him who spake the world 
into being, has provided the sufficient right- 
eousness, and has commanded us to give 
him this honour of depending on his word, 
in our enjoyment of this salvation. 

It is not in this case the language of the 
belief of a truth, but of the reception or ap- 
propriation of a free gift ; the belief of the 
truth of the sufficiency of Jesus Christ, and 
of his being freely given, goes before, and 
is that knowledge of the name of the Lord 
which emboldens us to put our trust in him. 
What we thus assure ourselves of, in com- 
pliance with the divine invitation, &c. as it 
is a certain truth in the divine mind, so it 
appears a truth by the divine word, when it 
is evident I am begotten to this Christian 
faith, hope, and charity. The difference 
here between us, is, that, with Paleemon, 
" This is mine, this was done for me," is a 
truth, whose evidence takes its rise only 
from a discovery, that I am distinguished 
from other sinners by my faith, love, and 
self-denied obedience. With us, it is the 
language of a reception, appropriation, trust, 
or confidence, grounded upon the divine de- 
clarations to sinners for that purpose. 

" This, I must say, is indeed a very 
scrange and uncommon way of distinguish- 
ing truth." 

But such a way of dependence on the di- 
vine veracity and faithfulness as becomes 
us, and gives glory to God. It is the re- 
ception of a gift by a persuasion of the 
mind. It is trusting to the faithfulness of 
God to make out, in this particular case, a 
blessing indefinitely promised ; not assuring 
myself of a proposition being true, but of 
eteiTial salvation by a Sa\iour given to me. 

To receive a gift, or to partake of any 
thing upon invitation, is nothing strange or 
uncommon. In this case, when the gift is 
given in divine declarations, and the recep- 
tion of it purely mental, an answerable per- 
suasion of the mind, or (in dependence on 
the divine veracity and faithfulness) an as- 
suring ourselves of the blessing granted, 
what we are persuaded of, is in a way pe- 
culiar to itself, and very consistent before 
him who said, " Whatsoever things ye de- 
sire when you pray, believe that you receive 
them, and ye haA-e them." Palaemon will 
allow, that Christ's death is an uncommon 
affair, as is also imputing righteousness with- 
out works, &c. Why, then, should the pe- 
culiarity of thus enjoying righteousness 
without works, be so much the subject of 
sneer, because accounted strange and un- 



590 



A DEFENCE OF 



common ? May it not rather be account- 
ed such a way of dependence on the divine 
veracity and faithfulness, as renders him 
Lis proper glory ? 

" If he (namely, Christ,) died for them 
that perish, then the happiness of them who 
are saved must be owing to something else 
besides his death." 

Aspasio is no farther concerned here, 
than as he maintains, that Christ is given 
for the guilty .to appropriate and live by. 
And in this regard, may it not be said with 
as much propriety, If an entertainment, 
provided in common, is refused by some, 
that then the nourishment of those who 
partake of it is owing to something else be- 
sides the food ? This is coming pretty 
near to our Lord's representation, John vi. 
53, A fallacy or impropriety charged upon 
the former is also a reflection upon the lat- 
ter. 

If we understand, by the happiness of 
them who are saved, their redemption from 
the wrath to come, and title to future 
glory ; this is owing strictly to his perfect 
righteousness. If we mean their present 
happiness in a conscious possession, know- 
ledge, or enjoyment of this redemption ; 
this, we may say, is owing to his death, 
given to be I'eceived. Palaemon says, to a 
discovery of our faith, love, and self-denied 
obedience. 

It is a very just observation, that " in 
speaking of the redemption that is in Jesus 
Christ, w^e had need keep clear of all hu- 
man systems, and hold close by the Scrip- 
tures." 

And it is in strict conformity to this we 
assert, that although God has given eternal 
lite in his Son, even unto them who by 
dishelieving it make God a liar, yet no man 
has that life but he that hath the Son. 
God gives being to that which he com- 
mands, authorizes, and thereby enables us 
to receive, appropriate, or be persuaded of. 
And if we admit of his character as a just 
God and a Saviour, in justifying the ungod- 
ly, why should we object thus giving him 
the glory of his power and faithfulness ? 
Thus " Sarah received strength to conceive 
seed, because she judged him (not only able 
but) faithful that had promised." And 
thus our Lord speaks, Mark xi. 22 — 24. 
Shall it be disputed, whether God can give 
an existence to things that yet are not, and 
make out that to be true, which we, accord- 
ing to his word, depend upon him for ? 
This confidence is due to God only, and is 
giving him glory. On the other hand, to 
suppose this cannot be, and, on this ac- 
count, to set aside this manner of believing 
or trusting in him, is to rob him of his pro- 
per glory. 

This persuasion may properly be called 
trusting in the Lord, because it proceeds 



neither on pre-evidence nor inward qualifi- 
cations, but on God's bare word of invita- 
tion, promise, &c. taking that as a sufficient 
authority and security. By this a proper 
dependence of the creature on the Creator 
is preserved and kept up. And unless it 
can, without misrepresentation, be shewn 
inconsistent and anti-scriptural, all other 
objections raised against it are but of small 
account ; and all labour to form it into a 
proposition, true in itself, whether we be- 
lieve it or no, is the labour of diffidence 
and unbelief. For it is plain, they cannot 
trust to God's invitations, commands, and 
declarations ; and are seeking a reason of 
hope more agreeable to themselves. 

" Aspasio maintains, that none have the 
proper scriptural faith, but those who are 
taught by the enlightening Spirit to draw 
the conclusion." 

Aspasio maintains, " that when the di- 
vine Spirit opens our eyes, &c. we discover 
and make use of the same right or war- 
rant as is the privilege of the vilest mis- 
creant ; a right founded, not on our awaken- 
ed desires, but purely, solely, entirely, on 
the free grant of a Saviour." 

" They maintain, that reprobates have as 
fair a revealed warrant to draw the conclu- 
sion, as the elect have." 

That is, that no man need to wait to see 
his election, or, in other words, any differ- 
ence between himself and other men, to 
warrant his confidence in Christ. The ge- 
neral indefinite expressions contained in the 
declarations of the gospel, such as, whoso- 
ever, any man, he that believeth on him, &c. 
fully authorizing or warranting he, any vian, 
lohosover he be, to believe or trust confident^ 
ly on CAm^ o/one for everlasting life. Being 
taught of God this truth, he lives by Chi-ist 
as the Saviour of the lost ; even as being 
taught the sufficiency of Christ, he lives by 
that alone. 

In the third letter, our author mistakes 
the real question between us. It is not, 
" Whether or not did Christ finish upon 
the cross, all that God requires, every re- 
quisite, without exception, to procure ac- 
ceptance for, and give relief unto the guilty 
conscience of the most profane wretch that 
lives ?" 

This is not disputed by us, but maintain- 
ed more properly on our side than by our 
author. The question between us is. Whe- 
ther the guilty conscience can be reUeved 
from the sentence of condemnation, by the 
consideration of a sufficient righteousness 
for the elect and the qualified ? Or, whe- 
ther God hath not provided for the relief 
of the guilty conscience, by giving his oidy 
begotten Son, that we might live through, 
him? giving him not only to die, but giving 
him in the divine declarations to be believ- 
ed on? 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



*' Tt must be the veiy same thing which 
phicates divine justice, or which fully ex- 
presses the necessary opposition of infinite 
goodness to evil or sin, that relieves the 
sinner from the sentence of condemnation, 
which is no other than the voice of God 
naturally residing in the conscience." 

As it would be very absurd to suppose it 
placates the divine justice, without being 
considered by that justice in the behalf of 
the transgressor ; so it seems to be equally 
absurd, that it can " relieve the guilty con- 
science from the sentence of condemnation," 
without being appropriated by that con- 
science. 

The sentence of condemnation naturally 
residing in the conscience, requires a revela- 
tion of righteousness, that I may as really 
impute to myself as the sin that condemns 
me, or the condemnation still remains un- 
touched. A possibility that I may be an 
elect person, cannot give relief, because it 
may be ten to one it is not true. My hope 
is only in proportion as I apprehend many 
or few to be elected ; and, after all, it is not 
in fact Christ's righteousness that relieves 
me, but my conjectural or fond hope of be- 
ing one of the elect. 

Christ did finish upon the cross that 
righteousness "which placates the divhie 
justice, or which fully expresses the neces- 
sary opposition of infinite goodness to evil 
or sin ;" that righteousness which alone can 
relieve the sinner from eternal death, entitle 
him to eternal life, and bring peace and hope 
of everlasting life to the most guilty con- 
science. At the same time, it would be ab- 
surd to say, Christ finished on the cross 
every requisite or commandment relative to 
this righteousness, as preached or declared 
in the world. For instance, " He hath com- 
manded all men everywhere to repent 
which I understand a repentance respec- 
tive of this righteousness ; and the same 
with the commandment, "that we should be- 
lieve on the name of his Son Jesus Christ. " 
Again, the voice from heaven, " This is my 
beloved Son in whom I am well pleased," was 
attended with a commandment to hear him, 
agreable to Isa. li. 1 — 5. If it is again 
inquired, of what avail are these command- 
ments ? It may be answered, as the com- 
mandment to preach the gospel to every 
creature, availed to be the savour of life un- 
to life in them that are saved, and of death 
unto death in them that perish ; so the com- 
mandment to believe on the name of his 
Son Jesus Christ avails to encourage and 
warrant the sinner, as such, to trust, believe 
in, or appropriate and enjoy that righteous- 
ness. I am persuaded Palasmon will not 
say, that Christ finished upon the cross any 
of the commandments above mentioned ; as 
it may be affirmed, on the other hand, that 
the obedience to these commands is no part 



of that righteousness which procures accep- 
tance for, or gives relief unto the conscience 
of the most profane wretch that lives. But 
Palasmon's reply is, That obedience to these 
commands supposes the belief of the gospel 
report. Be it so ; the commandment speaks 
to them, not as to believers, or to the dis- 
tinguished among mankind, but as to sinners 
or children of wrath, even as others ; and is 
the divine method of grace in giving us a 
cor.pcious possession or enjoyment • which 
Palaemon seeks totally by works. 

" What is the turning-point from despair 
to good hope ?" 

The finished work of Christ alone. How 
is that our hope ? As it is given for that 
purpose to be the hope of the guilty. 

" Aspasio's faith rests, one foot on the 
work of Christ, and the other on human ef- 
forts, or the motions of man's heart." 

Quite a mistake. Aspasio's faith is, that 
the work of Christ is given to him : on this 
he rests, and on no motions of his heart 
whatever. 

" What gives right to eternal life ? The 
imputed righteousness. What gives right 
to that? The woik of faith. Who have a 
right to act faith ? Those who feel an aver- 
sion to sin," &c. 

This is also far from being Aspasio's view 
of the matter ; he should be represented 
thus : What gives right to eteiiial life ? The 
imputed righteousness. What gives right 
to that? The declarations of the gosjjel, 
giving it freely to sinners as such. Who 
have a right to a(;t faith, or appro})riate this 
righteousness? All the ends of the earth; 
as many as can be included in the word who- 
soever. To any of all the ends of the earth 
were the apostles commissioned to say, 
" Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
thou shalt be saved." To exhort thus to a 
passive involuntary conviction, would be 
very absurd. 

Aspasio's observation is, the "grant is 
made to sinners ; in receiving the grant we 
commence believers," accordingto the above- 
mentioned apostolic exhortation. 

" But Aspasio will still insist, that these 
qualifications are by no means the ground 
of their right. Let us see, then, where the 
ground of their I'ight lies." 

In the divine declarations to sinners as 
such. 

" I think the obvious meaning of Asp?^- 
sio's words is this : these persons so quali- 
fied, have the right, exclusive of unqualified 
sinners." 

It is very obvious this is not his meaning. 

" Where, then, can the ground of this 
right lie, but in the distinguished qualifica- 
tions ? It cannot lie in any thing common 
to both ; for in that case, the unqualified 
would have as good a right as the qualified." 

They have so. These are Aspasio's real 



A DEFENCE OF 



sentiments : whatever qualifications make a 
difference between one man and another, 
they confer no right to the kingdom of God, 
they confer no right to the imputed righte- 
ousness. For, "as all have sinned, and 
come short of the glory of God," they who 
are justified, are "justified freely by his 
grace, through the redemption which is in 
Jesus Christ." 

" They have nothing in the heaven above, 
nor in the earth below, to keep their hearts 
from sinking into utter despair, but the bare 
propitiation. This, and this alone, encou- 
rages them to make their address to God." 

Can this encourage further than they see 
their interest in it, or right to draw near to 
God thereby, in virtue of his gracious decla- 
rations ? And how are they to address God ? 
As their friend and father, on account of 
this righteousness ? Then they, in fact, ap- 
propriate it, and our debate is at an end ; we 
are agreed. Or do they address God only 
as the friend of some who are to be known 
in thne by suitable qualifications ? If this is 
our author's meaning, then it is he, and not 
Aspasio, that in drawing near to God 
seeks for inherent qualifications, instead of 
the imputed righteousness. 

" By this, and this alone, God conveys 
the first taste of his favour and peace into 
their hearts." 

Unless we conceive of the imputed righ- 
teousness as graciously granted unto us in 
this destitute condition, where is the con- 
nexion ? What taste of favour and peace 
can be admitted barely by the consideration 
of sufficiency for the elect ? Sufficient for 
me a guilty sinner, without any other consi- 
deration, is evangelical. To wait for some- 
thing more before we are allowed to call him 
friend or father, on account of this righteous- 
ness, is not at all adapted to bring us nigh 
to God by the bare propitiation. 

" And it pleases me to find Aspasio had 
not courage to close this period, without 
bringing forth the plain truth at last. For 
pointing to the poor, indigent, and guilty sin- 
ners, he concludes, " For such the Saviour is 
provided ; to such his benefits are proposed ; 
and on such his grace will be magnified." 

If it is allowed that his benefits are pro- 
posed to such, the debate is ended. We 
mean no more. It is undoubtedly warranta- 
ble to receive and appropriate what is pro- 
vided for the enjoyment of any, or whoso- 
ever among the guilty, and proposed to our 
trust and confidence under that name. If 
any other consideration must intervene, then 
it is plain the benefits are not provided for 
and proposed to such, but only for and to 
those who have the additional consideration. 

" As for the bare work finished on the 
cross, or the bare report about it, however 
true we think it, so far have we mistaken it, 
that, setting aside our active operations 



about it, we do not see what comfort or be- 
nefit can be derived from it." 

This proceeds ona total mistake and mis- 
representation of Aspasio ;"he is not puttin^j 
the least slight on the report or persuasion 
of the sufficiency of the 'finished work of 
Jesus Christ, to justify the most guilty, 
without more ; he is here opposing a quali- 
fied persuasion, or rather mere profession, 
artfully substituted in the room of the suffi- 
cient righteousness, and the sinner's living 
by that alone. A persuasion, " that the 
shelter of the summer-house is free for our 
use, accompanied with a high esteem of its 
accommodation, and earnest desire after its 
protection, or an habitual tendency towards 
it." Aspasio asks not, whether a persua- 
sion of the sufficiency of Christ, but " a per- 
suasion that the summer-house is free for 
oxu* use whether this, though accompanied 
with esteem, desire, or^ tendency, unless 
" carried into actual entrance and posses- 
sion," would answer the end and design of 
sucba truth, — " would be a proper safeguard, 
or indeed any manner of advantage as to our 
persons ;" that is, in respect of possession, 
enjoyment, and advantage from that enjoy- 
ment. These are his very words. And 
let any one impartially judge, whether As- 
pasio is here objecting against the finished 
work of Jesus ; or rather, is he not setting 
aside a fruitless persuasion, or rather pro- 
fession, that the shelter is free for our use, 
with dependence on our supposed esteems, 
desires, tendencies, &c. that the soul may rest 
purely and entirely on Jesus Christ alone ? 
whom he describes, ' from the prophet 
Isaiah, as " a place of refuge, as a covert 
from the storm and from rain." Aspasio 
asks. If a persuasion that Christ is such a 
place of refuge and covert, free for our use, 
accompanied with any esteems, desires, and 
tendencies, will answer to such a represen- 
tation? Which is in fact, whether we may 
trust in such a persuasion, esteem, desire, 
and tendency, instead of that righteousness 
which is our appointed refuge ? It is plain, 
all the active operations pleaded for, is to 
live by this alone, in distinction from any 
other dependence. And the advantage aris- 
ing from these active operations, is the en- 
joyment, comfort, and influence of this suf- 
ficient righteousness. 

If the objector had been pleading for the 
entire sufficiency of the work of Jesus, As- 
pasio would readily agree to that, and have 
recommended living by that alone. But 
after he had so far coincided with Aspasio 
as to allow, " that all this grace, and each 
of these benefits, are free, perfectly free for 
you, for me, for others ;" might not Aspa- 
sio ask, Would this bare persuasion answer 
the end and design of such a truth, unless 
1 was induced thereby to really use it as a 
shelter? That is, to oppose Chiist's right- 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



593 



eousness, thus freely given unto me, to every 
sense of guilt and condemnation, and as- 
sure myself of salvation by that alone. As 
I suppose Mr. Sandeman, in his view of 
things, wall allow the believer of the gospel 
report to oppose the truth of Christ's suffi- 
ciency to every declaration or conviction of 
guilt tending to despair, and this may as 
properly be called reducing that truth to prac- 
tice. This is what Aspasio calls reducing 
to practice, the truth of Christ being given 
for us to receive and live by him as such a 
gift, as a refuge from all the curses of the 
law and danger of damnation, unto the end 
of peace, assurance, and holiness. "We do 
not consider the gospel as barely furnishing 
us with good and excellent materials to work 
upon, but with blessings to enjoy and pos- 
sess as our own ; and our whole comfort, or 
any part of it, does not arise from the suc- 
cess of our labour, but wholly from the 
blessings so freely presented to us to take 
comfort in them, and is very far from mak- 
ing them fit to comfort us. 

" Now, it does not signify much by what 
name we call the mean of escape, whether 
we call it the law or the gospel ; for the 
great concern we have with either of these, 
is to obtain righteousness or a title to 
life." 

However true this may be of those who 
seek by works, in a way of " painful desire 
and fear, till they are crowned with enjoy- 
ment," Aspasio is not chargeable, whose 
doctrine 'allows an immediate enjoyment, 
without the intervention of any righteous- 
ness or work whatever. 

" For, it is not the bare knowledge of 
the law or gospel that can do us any service, 
but the use we make of them." 

This is but mere sound ; for our author 
pleads for the above-mentioned use to be 
made of the report, previous to the enjoy- 
ment of the privilege. The use we make 
of the gospel report, is immediately to live 
by the righteousness it reveals ; whereas 
the use of the law is, to do that we may 
live. Is not here a manifest, yea, is not here 
a sufficient difference ? 

So each one l easons thus : " Seeing many 
shall perish, and seeing the gospel says no- 
thing to me but what it says to every one, 
what comfort can I reap from it, unless I 
can find about myself at least one grain of 
odds casting the balance in my favour, in 
comparison with others, or in comparison 
with what I myself have hitherto been ?" 

But this is not Aspasio's language, which 
may rather be represented. Seeing the gos- 
pel iiutliorizes nie and every sinner to live 
by the righteousness it reveals, why should 
I not make this use of it? Since the door 
into the kingdom of God is thus open 
for sinners, why should I any longer hesi- 
tate? 



" But what signifies all this, says the 
proud devotee, unless I can find some rea- 
son about myself, why the Deity should 
distinguish me as his favourite beyond other 
men ? And thus he treats the bare truth 
of the gospel with scorn and contempt." 

Aspasio waits for no such reason, there- 
fore this representation does not affect 
him. 

" In vain shall he (any sinner) expect to 
hear one syllable more from God, to en- 
courage him to draw nigh to him, than that 
* he is well pleased in his beloved Son 
that * Jehovah is well pleased for his right- 
eousness.' " 

Hath not God already said, " He that be- 
lieveth on him shall not be ashamed ?" that 
" he that cometh to him shall in no wise be 
cast out ?" &c. Hath he not given him as 
bread from heaven, that " whosoever eat- 
eth him should live by him ?" Has he not 
given " eternal life to us in him ?" even so 
given to us, that " whosoever " of us " be- 
lieve not this record " that he hath given 
of his Son, " makes him a liar ?" Are we 
to set aside these declarations as no encou- 
ragement to us to appropriate or to draw 
nigh to God, lest we should not sufficiently 
submit ourselves to the divine sovej'eignty ? 
Or, are we not rather to look upon them as 
the declarations of sovereign grace ; which 
has found out a way consistent with the 
highest justice thus to show favour to the 
guilty, and for the encouragement of such to 
believe on him, or draw nigh with confidence 
through the faith of him ? 

" The apostle John says, ' This is his 
commandment, that we should believe on 
the name of his Son not that we should 
do any thing to obtain life, but that wiB 
should live by what he hath done. It is a 
commandment not requiring any thing of us, 
but bestowing life by the knowledge which 
it conveys." 

If I live by what he hath done, I account 
what he hath done given me for that pur- 
pose. And this is also the use I make of 
it ; and this commandment so understood, 
requireth nothing of us, but bestows life by 
the knowledge it conveys. So that what 
our author has here said, expresses our whole 
mind, and may end the dispute. 

" Paul, in the deepest of all his distress- 
es, was relieved by that very faith which we 
modern Christians, in the height of our 
complaisance, choose only to call of the en- 
feebled and infantile kind." 

A mistake this ; Paul was relieved by a 
view of the sufficiency of grace for himself 
in particular : " My grace is sufficient for 
thee." He waited for no other righteous- 
ness to certify him that this sufficient grace 
belonged to him. 

" If we hearken to them, the great point 
about which our faith is principally concern- 
2 a 



A DEFENCE OF 



ed, is a matter which turns out to be true — 
no book nor niaJi can tell how.'* 
. It turns out to be true in God's faithful- 
ness, answering to his gracious declarations. 
Our assurance or appropriation is founded 
and exercised upon. God's faithfulness to 
answer to what he has revealed as the ground 
of our confidence : That " he has given to 
us eternal life in his Son ;" that " in this 
man's name is preached to us remission of 
sins ;" and that " whosoever believeth on 
him shall not perish, but have everlasting 
life." So that, in the very nature of the 
thing, the appropriating language is only the 
language of trust and confidence, and will 
turn out to be truth, if God may be depend- 
ed on, as he most surely may. 

" In the gospel offer, we are told, is pre- 
sented to the poor bankrupt, a bond, or bill 
•indorsed to him, to relieve him from bis po- 
verty. It is not his as yet." 

It is freely given to him, it is his in right 
io possess and enjoy, as any thing we are 
invited to partake of. It is therefore his to 
Jive upon, though not his in present enjoy- 
ment. It is not presented to him but in 
"common with others who perish, rejecting it 
as insufficient ; yet it is so really presented 
to him, that he is welcome to live by it, or 
avail himself of it as his own, without per- 
forming one act, or obtaining one qualifica- 
tion to entitle him to it. The difficulty lies 
-in a man's behig thoroughly persuaded that 
this is true ; which when a man really is, he 
immediately lives by this revealed righteous- 
ness without more. 

' " He at last lays hold of it, so it becomes 
his." 

It becomes his by that same grace which 
has convinced him of its truth, and influenc- 

■ed him thereby to appropriate and enjoy it. 
It becomes his in possession and enjoyment. 

• Not that God imputes it on account of our 
appropriation ; that only serves the use of 
peace of conscience by it, and a warrantable 
enjoyment by the divine word, and to de- 
monstrate we are those to whom it is imput- 
ed. 

Mr. Marshall, Mr. Boston, and Messrs. 
- Erskines maintain, that, according to the 
-law, " man is bound to believe whatever 
God declares, and do whatever he com- 
-tnands ; that the duty of believing to be 
' true what God has reported, and receiving 
what he has commanded us to receive or 
take to ourselves, belongs to the law ; which 
fastens the new duty upon us, the moment 
the gospel reveals the new object." And 
if this is not true, how will the hearers of 
the gospel be condemned for despising or 
neglecting this great salvation ? And if 
this is true, why may not gospel ministers 
declare against the rejecters of this grace, 
what v\'ill be matter of their just condem- 
nation ? or, in other words, what proves 



that they that perish, perish justly, itfld of 
their own will and choice, vindicating the 
righteous judgment of God. 

And is it not to be maintained^ consist- 
ent with this, that the gospel is purely and 
entirely a revelation of a sufficient right- 
eousness for the most guilty? That where 
it takes place in the heart, it is by the soi- 
vereign grace of him M'ho provided the 
righteousness it treats of? That in receiv- 
ing it for true, and living by it, they are i'u]^ 
filling the command of the new covenant; 
they are performing of duty ; and, at the 
same time, the subjects of the New Testa- 
ment promise, in having that obedience OK 
law written on their heart, by the Spirit of 
the living God, as a Spirit of grace and 
truth? ; 

" I hope Satan does not chain you to 
your houses, nor stake you down to your 
fields on the Lord's day." 

This is rather to be qonsidered as a con? 
victing them of their sinful negligence and 
willing ignorance,, than giving any direc*- 
tions what we must do to be saved. In 
that case we allow the answer is, Eithev 
keep the law yourself, or live by what Christ 
has already done. 

" We may now turn our eyes more par^ 
ticularly to those who are most successful 
in propagating a perverted gospel. These 
men do indeed press very hard upon th;© 
conscience to awaken fear; but when they 
have driven the serious hearer almost to de^ 
spair, by an awful description of his miserr 
able condition, and by representing hinti as 
utterly unable, in every respect, to contri^ 
bute any thing towards his own deliverance, 
they at last condescend, with no small ait 
and address, to make some comfortable exf. 
ceptions from the foregoing awful doctrine. 
Now is described, in a variety of particularsj 
a convenient resource, where the pride of 
the serious hearer may exercise itself with 
great hopes of success." 

The pride of the serious hearer is th^ 
conceit of his being able to do or obtain 
something to deliver himself, as proceeding 
from his propensity to live by something h^ 
is to do, whereby he becomes self-depend- 
ent. The truth is, the gift of the divine 
righteousness depends on no doing or dif- 
ference in man. The being quickened by 
the truth of the gospel, to hear the voice of 
God therein, depends on the sovereign good 
pleasure of heaven, A man hearing this 
voice of God, not to the qualified, but to the 
absolutely guilty and lost, is made obedient 
to the commands and exhortations to be- 
lieve on the Lord Jesus Christ, or to live 
by his righteousness, without waiting for 
any other ; and the obedience that answers 
as an echo to that divine voice, command, 
invitation, &c. is, and can bejio other, thiu» 
trusting, depending, and assuring ourseh;:ys 



THfiRON AND ASPASIO. 



5©5 



*f salvation by Clirist alone, in obedience 
to the divine declaration, as Lazams came 
forth in obedience to the voice that quick- 
ened him. When we bid sinners believe 
on Christ, we would be understood as ex- 
hibiting a quickening truth, as well as a di- 
vine command ; that is, that there is a suf- 
ficient Saviour, who may safely be depend- 
ed on. And in obedience to this voice we 
are not doing that we may live, but we are 
living by Christ alone, in obedience to him 
who makes the dead to hear his voice. The 
pride of the serious hearer may be as much 
excited by being told to do, that they may 
know their salvation, as to do to be saved. 

" The preacher finds it necessary to warn 
his hearers to avoid all thoughts of this 
doctrine of election at present." 

That is, when election is objected against 
the divine declarations, encouraging the 
guilty under that character, and without 
any evidence of election, to live immediate- 
ly by Christ's righteousness. For the jail- 
or to have objected election against Paul, 
when he bid him believe on the Lord Je- 
sus Christ, would have been from the ene- 
mj. 

" Because (says he) there is in this doc- 
trine no visible ground for faith to rest upon, 
no visible resource for the pride of any man." 

No visible ground for a sinner's confi- 
dence or trust in Christ alone, which is not 
the pride of man, but essential to the faith 
of God's elect. 

" Sometimes they take great pains to 
shew us how little we do when we put 
forth an act of faith." 

The act we plead for, is to live alone by 
what Christ has done ; whether we call it 
believing on Christ, receiving, appi'opriat- 
ing, trusting, or whatever name we give it — 
this is what we mean. Our opponerits on 
this head, are those who are for having 
some good thing to be wrought in us, or 
done by us, before we are to be allowed to 
live by what Jesus has done ; which is, in 
fact, a denial of its being wrought for the 
guilty. When they have been driven out 
of every subterfuge, they at last plead, that 
we tell people to believe on Christ ; where- 
as it is the Spirit's work, and they must 
wait for this working of the Spirit before 
they are able to believe. We do not pre- 
tend to deny, that for a man to believe on 
the Sou of God is the Spirit's work ; but 
at the same time are assured, that when a 
man is taught of God to believe Christ's 
rigliteousness a provision for the guilty, he 
is not taught to assume any other character 
as- his title to it. Nor is he taught of God 
Itt^consider himself in any other light than 
as g^uiity, and justly condemned. And 
therefore, we farther insist upon it, that a 
man, without waiting for any thing more 
thari' Whiit Christ has already done, is to 



live by that, as sufficient for him, and given 
to him in the indefinite grant of the gospel. 
And this he has to do, that is, live by 
Christ's righteousness in obedience to the 
divine command and invitation, when he 
feels nothing good in him to embolden 
him thereto ; and to depend upon it, that 
that righteousness will not fail him. And 
thus far we pi-oceed scripturally, according 
to the answer given to the Philippian 
jailor. 

We have also asserted, that a man may 
ask the question, What shall I do to be 
saved ? and yet be but upon nature's bot- 
tom. The direction to that man, is not to 
wait for to do something, or to get some- 
thing done in him, but to believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ. When it has been ob- 
jected to this, that nature cannot believe 
j on Christ, and therefore such are not to be 
told so ; we have answered. He that gives 
the command is able to overcome this diffi- 
culty by divine conviction of the truth, 
writing his laws in our hearts and minds. 
And while we, thus taught of God, in obe- 
dience to the word, are endeavouring to be- 
lieve or trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, to 
obtain our certainty, and rest satisfied with 
this righteousness, the Spirit of grace and 
truth may further dissipate eveiy distrustful 
suggestion, and make us fully so. And 
here, by belie^^ng on Christ, we mean such 
a trusting, confiding on him, as we allow 
follows a divine passive conviction of the 
truth ; that kind of activity which is inti- 
mated in the Scripture phrases. Acts xvi. 
31, John vi. 35, and John iii. 23. 

We cannot believe through our own na- 
tural averseness to live by the righteousness 
of another, or our pronencss to establish 
our own. But at the same time, he that is 
taught of God, when he ackno-vvledges he 
can do nothing, he rejoices that nothing is 
left him to do, but, on the contrary, that he 
is called to live by what Christ has already 
done. And they who will not distinguish 
this life from an endeavour to live by our 
own righteousness, cannot be farther talked 
with. 

As conviction of the truth of the suffi- 
ciency of Christ, and his being freely given 
to the guilty and lost, is the only conviction 
of tnith that is free from self- i-ighteousiiess ; 
so to live by this sufficient righteousness as 
so given, is the only activity that most im- 
mediately answers to the above-mentioned 
truths. 

Palaemon cannot deny but coming to 
Christ has the promise of " being in no ways 
cast out ;" but he judges it to be an obedi- 
ence in consequence of faith, or the belief 
of the truth. This, on the other hand, is 
not denied him ; and it may be also affirmed, 
that the promise is an. encouragement of cer- 
tainty of success to every one that comes to 



A DEFENCE OF 



him,' and a divine declaration which ascer- 
tains the sufficient righteousness to be im- 
puted to every particiilar person answering 
that character. Coming to Christ is alloAved 
to he more than a passive conviction ; it is 
allowed to be something active in conse- 
quence of such a conviction ; and as it can- 
not be any such activity or coming as con- 
tradicts the alone sufficiency of Christ's fin- 
ished work, what answers to the Scripture 
descriptions or names given to this activity 
more properly, than 'living by that sufficient 
righteousness, instead of doing, or seeking 
to do, any thing to add thereto ? 

And as far as Aspasio, Marshall, &c. 
plead for, or encourage to, an activity of this 
kind, they cannot be accused justly of setting 
up another righteousness. This activity 
terminates in its object, and resolves itself 
entirely therein. The business to be ac- 
com.plished by this activity, is only to come 
under such a certainty of salvation by Christ 
alone, as is implied in the words trust and 
confidence ; and the nature of it is as oppo- 
site to setting up another righteousness, as 
the persuasion of Christ's sufficiency. Pa- 
Isemon pleads for activity in coming at the 
■certainty of our interest in Christ's sufficient 
work ; and we plead for no more. Which, 
therefore, removes our plea beyond the reach 
of his objections. 

To plead for appropriation as something 
to be added to entitle to acceptance, is lia- 
ble to Falaemon's objections. To plead for 
it so as to make the sufficient righteousness 
depend on that act for its acceptance with 
God in our behalf, may also be accused as a 
-doctrine of self-dependence ; but to appro- 
priate it as an effect of the report believed, 
as a means of ascertaining to ourselves eter- 
nal life by that righteousness revealed, and 
' as an animating principle of obedience, evi- 
dencing our special interest therein, is not 
at all liable to such objections. 

" If faith must be called an instrument, 
and if it be at the same time maintamed, 
that justification comes by faith only ; then 
. i am at full liberty to affirm, that he who is 
possessed of the instrument, hand or mouth, 
is already justified, without regard to his 
using the instrument," &c. 

Quite a mistaken view ; because faith, or 
appropriation of Christ, has no existence in 
itself without its object, as material instru- 
ments have. 

" We shall seldom find them speaking 
any thing like the language of the gospel, 
without cautioning," mincing, or clogging it 
with some exceptive, hut" &c. 

The apostle says, " To him that worketh 
not, hut believeth," &c. There is a believ- 
ing that stands opposed to working ; and if 
our but is the hut of the apostle, and only 
respects our receiving the record, and ap- 



propriating the revealed righteousness ac^ 
cordingly, it is free from this exception. 

" Though Theron is divested of all righ- 
teousness of his own, of eveiy qualification and 
every recommendation, he must yet be well 
provided with requisites, even such as may 
embolden him to make the appropriation.'' 

A wide mistake ; Aspasio's scope and 
design throughout, is to show, that nothing 
emboldens to appropriation but the divine 
grant to sinners as such. 

" He ( Theron) is very willing to believe 
that he is a gracious person." 

How evident does it appear, from the 
passage here quoted, that the faith or truth 
recommended was, " that all was his that 
is, by way of the divine grant of heaven to 
the guilty. Quite different from believing 
about himself, that he is a gracious person. 

" And while Theron cannot be brought 
to believe, Aspasio beholds his title perfectly 
clear." 

Aspasio beheld his title or warrant to ap- 
propriate from the divine grant made to sin- 
ners, not from the prerequisites of Theron. 

" I must frankly own, that I see no more 
difference betwixt a careless and convicted 
sinner, than is betwixt a felon ranging his 
round at large and one newly apprehended 
by the officers of justice ; and, for my part, 
I think it would look liker an impertinent 
sarcasm than any thing else, to tell either of 
these last, that he was now in a very hope- 
ful way." 

As faith comes by hearing, we hope for 
another when we can prevail with him only 
to hear. This does not imply, that there 
is a foundation of hope in them. We hope, 
when we see people concerned about their 
everlasting state, that this concern will ter- 
minate in listening to the remedy that is 
graciously provided. 

" As if one could reap any spiritual bene- 
fit from studying the divine law, or knaw 
how pure, how extensive, how sublimely 
perfect it is, before he knows Christ the 
end thereof for righteousness ; as if such a 
one could judge of his spiritual state impar- 
tially." 

Palaemon seems to forget that he has in- 
timated, that " it was for want of compar- 
ing themselves with the divine law, that the 
Pharisees made their mistake." He that 
measures himself by others, instead of this 
sublimely perfect standard, must at last 
stand self-condemned. He that measures 
himself hereby, will know his state to be 
desj)efate, unless relieved by the finished 
work of Christ. 

" Aspasio, then, hath found out a path, 
by walking wherein the guilty may confi- 
dently hope to arrive at righteousness at 
last." 

Not so ; but Aspasio hath found himself 



THERON AND ASPASIC 



597 



j,iuity by companng himself with the divin 
law. He hath found the difference so great, 
as to lead him to despair of himself ^ he 
hath found Christ the end of the law fo; 
righteousness, and the principle of new evan- 
gelical obedience. He testifies of this with 
confidence, as a subject wherewith he is 
really acquainted, and testifies of what he 
has experienced to be true. 

" The doubtsome faith he (E. E.) com- 
plains of, is that which admits of a doubt 
concerning one's own state. Now, a man 
may have some doubts about this, who is 
very firmly persuaded of the truth of the 
gospel." 

The doubtsome faith we complain of, is 
the want of that confidence answerable to 
the gracious declarations of salvation in 
Christ to the absolutely guilty ; and not a 
man's doubting about himself, or what he at 
present is. On the contrary, we maintain, 
that this persuasion of a new state in Christ, 
implies our natural state to be quite bad, 
and past recovery ; and the particular appli- 
cation we plead for, is flying from a bad 
state in our natural situation, to a good state 
in the person, righteousness, and blessing of 
Christ. 

As existence, and consciousness of existence, 
bear such a relation to each other in the hu- 
man mind, that the former is only enjoyed 
by the latter ; so is justification, and the 
consciousness of it. If I perceive not my 
justification, it is to me as if I was not jus- 
tified. If I apprehend it is so from a false 
foundation, it \n\l prove to me as a dream 
which vanishes when wide awake. If a man, 
by some kind of argument, was to persuade 
me that I existed a thousand years ago, 
though I am not now conscious of it, it 
would be the same delusion as if he was to 
persuade me that I am now King George, 
or the King of Prussia. For a hundred 
such existences is, in fact, a hundi'ed men ; 
every man's own consciousness ascertaining 
himself to himself, in distinction from any 
other. In like manner, if a man was to 
use arguments to persuade me that I was 
justified long ago, when I was not consci- 
ous of it, he could propose no other end, 
his labour could no otherwise terminate, 
than in persuading me that I am now justi- 
fied. And that which is brought to prove 
that I am one of those who were justified 
long ago, when I was not conscious of it, 
may as well give me a consciousness of my 
present justification, without all that round- 
about laboiu:. Unless it is, that while we 
are considering these pre-existing justifica- 
tions, we are apt to slip ourselves in for a 
share, upon a foundation that will not bear 
a present scrutiny. The Scripture, there- 
fore, does not thus metaphysically subtilize, 
it does not thus separate our justification 



from the consciousness of it. He that is 
justified by the finished work of Christ, 
without any conciousness of a difference be- 
tween himself and others, is justified as un- 
godly ; has peace with God by that which 
justifies him ; and is justified by his faith ; 
that is, not by what he does, but what he 
believes ; and the additional confirmation, 
by the fruits of faith, or consciousness of 
our not being deceived in our justification 
by faith, is called by the apostle James, 
justification by works, without bearing any 
contradiction to the alone righteousness by 
which we are justified. If my justification 
arises to me from the difference there is be- 
twixt me and others, I may be said to be 
justified, or enjoy justification, by that dif- 
ference. If the spring of my hope arises 
to my view from the report making me wel- 
come to the finished work of Christ, as the 
righteousness provided for the guilty to live 
by, then I am justified, or enjoy justifica- 
tion, by Christ's righteousness given to me, 
in opposition to any thing done by me, or 
performed in me. If my personal justifica- 
tion, and the consciousness of it, stand so 
nearly related, it is not at air improper that 
the ground of our acceptance with God, and 
the ground of our consciousness of that ac- 
ceptance, should be of the same kind. So 
that if I am accepted with God by the 
work of Christ alone, given to me, I am to 
know my acceptance with God just upon 
the same, and no other foundation. If it 
were not so, the favourite something might 
be set up, and the pride of man as fully gra- 
tified imder the name of marks and eviden- 
ces, as it is under the name of entitling con- 
ditions ; and we are as effectually taught to 
draw near with a " God, I thank thee I 
am not as other men." The sufficient 
righteousness justifies a man, or gives him 
a consciousness of his acceptance with God, 
when he knows it is graciously given to him, 
so that he is made welcome to draw near to 
God on that account. He that believes, to 
the peace of his conscience, believes this, 
and does not rest in an uncertain conjectur- 
al hope. Says Palaemon, a hope grounded 
on the sovereignty of God ; say we, not 
unless that sovereignty has declared a ground 
of hope for us ; otherwise we rest in bare 
conjecture. But hearing that Jesus has 
fulfilled all righteousness for the justification 
of those guilty ones who believe in his 
name, from a conviction that the doctrine is 
true, we assure ourselves, in dependence on 
the divine veracity and faithfulness, that the 
privileges are our own ; or that we shall not 
be confounde(J*'m so trusting to Jesus. 

" Paul calls upon some whom he himself 
looked upon as believers, to examine them- 
selves whether they were in the faith ; and 
he exhorts others, about whom he observed 



A DEFE 

the surest tokens of their being true Christ- 
ians, to give all diligence to remove every 
doubt concerning their state." 

When Paul bid the Corinthians "examine 
themselves," &c., he plainly intimates their 
being in the faith a self-evident matter ; and 
that to be in the faith, and to have Christ 
in them as the peace of their consciences 
and hope of glory, is the same thing ; and 
this was the surest evidence that he had 
been a minister of Christ unto them. He 
is not here calling them to remove the doubts 
concerning their own state, by a discovery 
of their faith, love, and self-denied obedi- 
ence. It is also very improbable, that the 
apostle should (as Palaemon says) have the 
surest tokens of their being Christians, and 
yet call them to doubt of it. 

" I am sorry to see Aspasio so much 
carried away with their (i; e. the popular 
preachers) dissimulation." He points out 
to Theron his danger and remedy in the 
following manner : " If you fail in one point 
or in any degree, you are guilty of all. If 
your conformity be not persevering as well 
as perfect, you incur the penalty, and are 
abandoned to the curse," unless you find 
mercy by what Christ has already done. 
No ; but " unless, renouncing all your per- 
sonal performances, you place all your affi- 
ance on a Saviour's atonement, and a Sa- 
viour's righteousness." 

They who endeavour to renounce their 
personal performances, as an entitling per- 
formance required of them, act inconsist- 
ently ; but they who evidently renounce 
their own, from a gospel discovery of the 
Redeemer's righteousness, and live alone by 
that, in virtue of the divine declarations, are 
taught of God, and find mercy by what 
Christ has already done. 

" This good conduct of ours, by which 
we are said to escape the curse." 

So we are, according to Palsemon, totake 
care that we have no affiance, or confidence 
in Christ's atonement or righteousness, be- 
cause that is escaping the curse by some 
good conduct of our own ! 

" Were (says Aspasio) that firm and joy- 
ful reliance on Christ Jesus in any degree 
proportioned to his infinite merits and in- 
violable promises." " And, if (says Palae- 
mon) I cannot find acceptance with God, 
but in being conscious of perfect confor- 
mity to this new law, then I am in as great 
danger as before." 

Aspasio moves this very question, not to 
obtain a prerequisite, but to manifest the 
necessity of a better righteousness than our 
reliance, considered as a performance or 
work of ours, that we may rely upon the 
sufficient work of Christ, without recurring 
to any other. 

The gospel declarations are not to be se- 
parated from our Saviour, his atonement, 



NCE OP 

or righteousness. Nor can our affiance, 
knowledge, or enjoyment, through that re- 
port, be separated from either. Is Christ's 
righteousness presented to me as a security 
li-om the curse of the law ? My affiance 
therein, or knowledge thereof, is Christ, 
my security, enjoyed by me, and manifest- 
ed to me. The apostle was not so curious 
as to distinguish and divide with our author, 
when he said, " I count all things but loss," 
not for the excellency of Christ, in distinc- 
tion from the knowledge of him, but " for 
the excellency of the knowledge of Christ 
Jesus my Lord ;" and this he styles, " not 
having on his own righteousness." 

*' My expectations were greatly raised by 
the beautiful and affecting description of 
the royal stag-chase, in Dialogue 9, till T 
saw the sinner's relief described as coming 
to him by means of such conflicts and strug- 
gles," &c. 

Aspasio does not mean, struggling to 
believe the report, but struggling for that 
rest, which comes at last in a way they 
thought not of ; that is, by the report. The 
reasons of the soul-struggles described, are 
ignorance and self-righteousness, seeking 
other methods of relief than by the declara- 
tion of eternal life given in Christ ; and it 
frequently proves, that after many useless 
struggles in diverse ways, the soul thus finds 
rest. 

" They knew their interest in Christ's 
death, by the effect that his death had upon 
them." 

Christ's death hath its effect upon us^ 
when we draw near to God thereby ; which 
is, in fact, when we appropriate it. 

" They imagine, that something besides 
the bare truth may contribute more or less 
toward their escape." 

They are clear of this charge, who escape 
by what that truth declares. 

" The gospel leads a man to the greatest 
reverence for, and submission to the divine 
sovereignty, without having any claim upon 
God whatsoever, or finding any reason why 
God should regard him more than those 
that perish. 

Palsemon maintains, that all who acknow- 
ledge the truth of Christ's sufficiency have 
the promise of salvation. He does not 
imagine a dependence on this promise op- 
poses the most absolute submission to the 
divine sovereignty ; but is rather a depend- 
ence on the promises of sovereign grace. 
And if we are persuaded of a grant of this 
sufficient righteousness to the guilty, why 
may not this be admitted as fully consistent 
with the same submission to the divine so- 
vereignty ? 

" The divine sovereignty appearing, that 
grace might be shown to the worthless ; and 
the divine justice appearing in justifying the 
ungodly," it is very readily acknowledged, 



TOERON AKiB'ASPASIO. 



leaires a man entirely at the mercy of God 
lor his salvation. Here no man's pride is 
-flattered ; " no man can find any ground to 
vpresume that the Deity regards him more 
than others. And the relief a man finds 
by this discovery is, that God can be just, 
and justify him as he at present stands, 
without more, or while he finds nothing 
about hirpself in the way of wish, desire, or 
otherwise, but what renders him obnoxious 
to the divine displeasure." The question 
that remains is, whether God has not in- 
tended a farther relief for such guilty help- 
less ones, even to assure them of their par- 
ticular salvation in believing, trusting, and 
confiding in this sufficient righteousness, as 
given freely to them to be thus depended 
upon ? whether there is not a word, pro- 
mise, call, or testimony, to this purpose ? 
and whether Christian obedience is not in- 
fluenced by an assurance thus obtained ? 
At the same time, we can also readily 
agree, that " no man can warrantably be as- 
sured that he is already a Christian, a be- 
liever in Christ, or that he is an object of 
the peculiar favour of God, but by being 
also conscious, on good grounds, that his 
practice, in obedience to the peculiar pre- 
cepts of Christianity, is intluenced by that 
same truth which intiuenced the lives of the 
apostles." 

Now, if there is such a ivord, promise, call, 
or testimony, as above mentioned, it is veiy 
distinct from, though not contrary to, the 
declarations concerning the purpose and elec- 
tion of God ; and alfords a visible ground 
for our confident dependence on that right- 
eousness, as sinners, without finding any 
reason about ourselves w'hy God should re- 
gard us more than others ; whereas the doc- 
trine of election, in the nature of it, is not 
oP itself capable of afi^ording us this relief. 

It is true, " this word, promise, call, or 
testimony, leaves it as much a secret what 
particidar person shall be saved, as the doc- 
trine of the divine purpose or election does 
but does not leave the sinner so much with- 
out a warrant to appropriate. Notwith- 
standing the doctrine of election, Palaemon 
will allow, that " by him all that believe are 
justified." So also it is said, " He that 
cometh to him shall in no wise be cast out ;" 
"He that believeth on him shall never be 
confounded." 

In tliis view of things, we are fully war- 
ranted " to represent the Deity as keeping 
secret his gracious intentions" to beget this 
or that particular person by the word of 
truth ; and, at the same time, " revealing 
his gracious intentions" to save all those, or 
any, whosoever they be, that 'without see- 
ing any difi^erence at all between themselves 
and others, shall, upon the bare invitation 
and divine promise to the guilty, live, trust, 
oi* depend on his Son and his righteousness, 



graciously provided as a refuge titito sticli. 
And while we " are busy in prompting our 
hearers to live thus by Christ alone, as given 
freely and indefinitely to the guilty, we have 
reason to show no small concern, lest Satan 
tempt them*" to think, that because God's 
people are chosen to salvation, they are not 
allowed to feed upon the bread of life, till 
they know themselves to be distinguished 
from other sinners as God's chosen. Here- 
by salvation to the absolutely guilty is de- 
nied ; and the people are taught to hoj)e 
for eternal life, only by that which distin- 
guishes them from the rest of mankind. 
This is building wood, hay, and stubble, on 
the precious foundation Christ, the Sa\dour 
of the lost. 

" They tell us, that God hath made a 
grant, or deed of gift of Christ, and all his 
benefits, to sinners of mankind. But when 
we inquire into this again, we find it turns 
out to be a gift of benefits to multitudes wbo 
are never benefited thereby." 

And what of all that? Could there be 
no such thing as manna given to, or rained 
daily around the camp of Israel, because 
some despised it, and longed for the flesh- 
pots of Eg}'pt ? Must it follow, that there 
is no such gift, because multitudes neglect 
and slight it ; or because, like Pakemon, 
they will not be persuaded there is such a 
gift ? ShaU our unbelief make the gift, the 
faith, or faithfulness of God, of none effect ? 
It remaineth nevertheless a truth, that who- 
soever believeth on him, or receiveth the 
gift, shall not perish, but have eternal life. 
And why may not they miss of the benefit 
of this gift, who thus reject it, as the word 
preached never profited, not being mixed 
with faith in them that heard it ? 

" It might with equal propriety be said, 
that there is a grant of lile made in the law, 
and that the divine willingness to bless men 
is therein expressed, Keep the command- 
ments, and thou shalt live." 

It might so ; the diflference lies here,: 
The grant of life in the law requires condi- 
tions to be previously performed, before we 
may presume to account the blessing ours. 
The gospel bestows life in Christ without 
any condition, or as a free gift to be imme- 
diately enjoyed. 

Several instances of the faith of those 
who were healed by Christ are adduced, to 
evidence that they only believed Christ^s 
ability to cure them. To this I answer, 
that in those instances they waited for a 
proper ground or declaration to proceed 
upon, in believing that he would ; and for 
that purpose, they made application to him. 
And where they had ground for concluding 
the event, they were as certain of that as of 
his ability. And faith in those cases in- 
cludes that certainty. 1 Cor. xiii. '2- " If 
I had all faith, so that I could remove mouu- 



6G0 



A DEFENCE OF 



tains compare with Matt. xvii. 20. 
" Wiien he saw he had faith to be healed," 
Acts xiv. 9, and in Luke v. 19. 29, they 
neither doubted his ability or willingness. 
In our case, the grant of a Saviour to the 
guilty is declared, as well as the sufficiency 
of his' righteousness ; hence we make God a 
liar, if we do not proceed on the truth of both. 

" The leper, like the two blind men, was 
fully persuaded that Christ was able to re- 
lieve him. Yet, as he had no claim upon 
him, he referred his request entirely to his 
soveieign pleasure. In the full assurance 
of faith, he was at Christ's mercy, who was 
no wii^e obliged to apply his healing power 
to him." 

But this is no argument against that ap- 
propriation M'^hich proceeds entirely upon 
the gracious declaration and grant of that 
sovereign good pleasure. If the sovereign 
good pleasure has declared the guilty, as 
sue}), so welcome to what is already done, 
that "whosoever believeth on him shall 
hiive eternal life," he hath no other applica- 
tion to make, or to wait for. We may be 
without any claim upon God to do for us 
any thing that he has not already done, or 
to give us any right unto what is already 
dorse ; but as far as he is pleased to declare 
hi in self, it is oiu' business assuredly to be- 
lieve, trust in him, or hope in his mercy. 
AvA that appropriation which proceeds 
wholly upon his gracious declaration, is 
coiisistent with the utmost submission to 
sovereign grace. 

" Sovereign grace interposed, providing 
a righteousness for the guilty world." 

Pala^mon should say, to ascertain his 
meaning, " providing a righteousness for 
some of the guilty world." 

" When once the gift of righteousness is 
made known to a man." 

Can the gift properly be said to be made 
known to a man, unless he knows to whom 
it is given ? A gift to nobody, is no gift. 
A gift to the elect, or to the qualified, is 
not a gift to the guilty world, but to them 
that are chosen out of it, and distinguished 
from it. 

" He that believeth on the Son of God, 
hath the record in himself, — the record that 
God gave of his Son." 

Palaemon slips over the record here treat- 
ed of, viz. " That God hath given us eternal 
life, and this life is in his Son." This the 
apostle points unto, as what is to be par- 
ticularly regarded, " And this is the re- 
cord," &c. Nor should the testimony, 
that he is well pleased in liim, be under- 
stood in any sense exclusive of it. 

*' In like manner, all his children in the 
faith believe the divine word for righteous- 
ness, without perceiving any shadow or 
symptom of it about themselves ; without 
feeling, or being conscious of any thing 



about themselves, to concur v/ith the divine 
word, to make out their riglite(?usiiess." 

This description suits Aspasio much bet- 
ter than Palaemon, who waits for a disco- 
very of his faith, love, and self- denied obe- 
dience. 

" If we look into the Scripture, must we 
not say, that all the good works which shall 
be recompensed at the resurrection of the 
just, are produced by the influence of the 
divine Spirit dwelling in the hearts of those 
who believe ? Yet such is the connexion 
betwixt every good work and its reward, 
that, according to the Scripture, the justice 
of God, not to say his grace, is concerned 
to make it good. Heb. vi. 10. 'God is > 
not unrighteous to forget your work and la- 
bour of love.' * Whosoever shall give you 
a cup of water to drink in my name, verily, 
I say unto you, he shall not lose his re- 
ward.' Justice as well as grace will appear 
in the last judgment ; then due regard will 
be had to every man's works. But in the 
justification of sinners, God has no respect 
to any man, as better than another. He 
considers men, when he commends his love 
to them, as ungodly, and without strength, 
that is, without any. will to be better. And 
all who find mercy, are brought to view 
themselves in that same point of light 
wherein God beheld men, when he gave 
his Son to die for them. They do not find 
themselves prepared, or made fitter than 
others for mercy, by any work of the divine 
Spirit upon their minds ; but they find their 
first taste of comfort by hearing of him, 
' who through the eternal Spirit offered 
himself without spot to God.' " 

Then they find their first taste of com- 
fort independent of any previous discovery 
or discernment of their faith, love, or self- 
denied obedience. And their first taste of 
comfort is, not that there is a sufficient 
righteousness provided for the elect, or the 
qualified, but that there is a sufficient right- 
eousness provided for the guilty to live by, 
without waiting for any farther discovery. 

" The popular doctrine supposes that un- 
believers may be seriously engaged in pray- 
ing for the Holy Spiiit to help them to 
faith, and exhorts ihem accordingly ; which 
is as absurd as to suppose, that a man may 
be desirous of being influenced by the Spi- 
rit of a truth, which at present he neither 
believes nor loves. For I reckon it must 
be granted, that no man loves the gospel 
before he believes it." 

If we only understood by the gospel that 
we were welcome to do something, or to 
wait and pray for something, to denominate 
us Christ's people, then we might be com- 
plaining for want of this power, praying for 
it, and perhaps falsely comforted with the 
supposed will for the deed ; and all the 
while there is no willingness to live entire- 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



601 



ly by what Christ has done. But this is 
not the case ; when Aspasio considered 
appropriation as essential to faith, and press- 
ed it accordingly, he understood by appro- 
priation, a living entirely by Christ's righte- 
ousness alone, without.waiting for any other. 

" When our systems describe faith to us, 
as a saving grace bestowed on us, by which 
we make use of Christ for salvation ; are 
we not led to think of some grace necessary 
to our salvation, beside what appeared when 
Christ, by the grace of God, tasted death 
for the sins of men ?" 

But inasmuch as Aspasio's whole plea is 
to live immediately by that grace alone, 
without waiting for any other, he stands 
clear of this mistake. 

" They seem to forg'et that Christ is in 
heaven, and we on earth ; that the oidy way 
wherein we can receive benefit from Christ, 
is by the report concerning him conveyed 
to our ears." 

If the report in this particular case in- 
vites and authorizes us to live by him, and 
the righteousness which he performed, who 
is gone to heaven ; we may, notwithstand- 
ing he is gone to heaven, receive the report 
for true, and also Jay hold of, or live by, the 
righteousness it thus reveals and conveys to 
us. 

'* When he comes to know that he may 
be justified, he finds immediately a covert 
from the storm." 

But, according to Palaemon, he does not 
find this to be a covert for him, till he dis- 
covers distinguishing qualifications ; where- 
as Aspasio finds a covert for the guilty sin- 
ner without any such distinction. 

" If now we understand by the storm, 
the wrath (hat is to come, the believer, 
knowing that Christ hath done enough to 
deliver from it, loves him, takes hold of 
him, or flies to him." 

How ? 

" In obeying his commands, and frequent- 
ing every mean of correspondence with him." 

He that loves him, takes hold of him, or 
flies to him, obeys his commands, and is in- 
clined to frequent every means of corres- 
pondence with him ; but to give us this as 
the meaning and import of those scriptural 
phrases and representations, more becomes 
Mr. Locke or Archbishop Tillotson, than 
the evangelical Palaemon. He may be as- 
sured, if he abides by this doctrine, the of- 
fence of the cross will soon cease. The 
primitive Christians were taught to obey, 
because " Jesus had delivered them from 
the wrath to come." 1 Thess. i. 10. They 
fled to him as the righteousness provided 
for the guilty and destitute j and by the en- 
joyment of him under this character, they 
were disposed to all other obedience. 

" Accordingly, we find Barnabas exhorted 
those at Antioch, in whom he saw the grace 



of God, that Avith purpose of he .rt they 
would ' cleave unto the Lord.' The con- 
sequence of which was, they assembled to- 
gether in the appointed church order, and 
denied themselves in sending relief to their 
brethren in Judea." 

Did they not assemble as members oi 
Christ, and partakers of his righteousness ? 
Did they not cleave to him as the Lord 
their righteousness ? Or did they only fall 
into the appointed church-order, in order to 
escape the wrath to come ? If so, what is 
now become of the sufficient righteousness ; 
or, "n short, of all the apostolic exhortations, 
which constantly proceed upon the certainty 
of salvation by Christ, as the principle of all 
the obedience they call for ? 

See what effect the knowledge of Christ 
had on Paul, and what was his steady pur- 
pose : " Yea, doubtless, and I count all 
things but loss, for the excellency of the 
knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord." 

Paul says, "My Lord," the thing we 
plead for ; and counts himself " apprehend- 
ed of Christ Jesus." So that it is plain, he 
" ran not as uncertainly, he fought not as 
one that beateth the air." And as his as- 
surance did not allow him, or lead him to 
trifle, or slacken his diligence in pressing 
forward to the desired end : so, on the other 
hand, his pressing forward was far from be- 
ing the result of his uncertainty; far from 
being animated with a view to know, by 
his performances, whether the divine so- 
vereignty had interposed in his behalf. 

Palaemon does not approve of Aspasio 
saying, " You must endeavour, diligently 
endeavour, to believe." But we may plead 
in his excuse, that Aspasio is not here press- 
ing to receive a report as true without evi- 
dence, but to appropriate and live by the re- 
vealed righteousness ; to obtain and main- 
tain thereby that certainty of acceptance 
with God, which was necessary to animate 
and inchne to all evangelical obedience, and 
is included in every apostolic exhortation. 

" Wherefore, as ye have always obeyed 

as ye have received Christ Jesus the Lord, 
so walk in him . Work out your own sal- 
vation. Fight the good fight of faith. Jay 
hold on eternal life," &c. And thus under- 
stood, we may allow, with Palaemon, that 
" by such arguments God worketh in them 
that believe, both to will and to do, not 
any thing in order to justification, but all 
those things wherein their salvation is evi-. 
denced." 

" If a friend of mine should see me cheer- 
ful on heai'ing something new, and I should 
tell him I was comforted by an act of faith ; 
would he not say I trifled with him, and 
readily ask what good news I had heai'd, 
that he might partake in my satisfaction ?' 

But this representation does not reacn 
those who plead for an immediate and con-. 



602 



stant living upon fhe complete and perfect 
righteousness of Jesus Christ. They are 
comforted by his acts, and their own has no 
other concern in it. 

" Faith, with its effects, is in Scripture 
often signified by one expression, and ac- 
cordingly connected with salvation j as when 
it is said, * Whosoever shall call on the 
name of the Lord shall be saved.' Now, 
though we cannot say that a believer is sav- 
ed on account of his prayers, yet we may 
say that he is saved on account of what he 
believes, and by which he is encouraged to 
pray. It is easy to see love and hope ex- 
pressed in all the prayers of faith recorded 
in the Scripture ; yet it would be absurd to 
infer from thence, that prayer, love, and 
faith, are requisites in order to justification, 
for if we agree with the apostles, we must 
still maintain, that justification comes by 
faith, and not by works — not by any thing 
we do in obedience to any law whatsoever." 

And at the same time it must be acknow- 
ledged, that faith is duty and obedience to 
the divine law, and in this sense a work ; 
for, as our author has observed, " Will not 
that law which Christ came to fulfil, the law 
which requires love to God with all the 
heart, condemn all who by their unbelie 
make God a liar? Does not the Spirit of 
God convince all whom he brings to the 
knowledge of the truth, of sin, because they 
believe not on Christ ? In fine, is there 
any thing contrary to the gospel of the 
glory of the blessed God not condemned 
by the divine law ?" How can these be re 
conciled, unless we admit that faith is so 
far a work, duty, or obedience, as has been 
above mentioned ? Yet, as Paljemon 
maintains, we are justified only by what we 
believe. We are justified by faith, as we 
are pleased with a sight, that is, with what 
we see. And God justifies us by faith 
when he gives us this sight of faith, where 
by we are thus justified. And thus to be 
justified by Christ's blood, and to be justl 
fied by faith, is the same thing. 

, If Palsemon will abide by what he says, 
that the Scriptures point forth the freedom 
of divine grace to the setting aside all hu- 
man distinctions, in such language as this, 
*' If any man will come after me, — Let him 
that heareth say, Come ; and whosoever 
will, let him take of the water of life freely" 
^we are then agreed ; this is the founda- 
tion of all we plead for, that sinners, as 
such, are made welcome to take of the wa- 
ter of life freely. 

" If the Scriptures describe believers as 
pilgrims and strangers on earth, as running 
the Christian race, denying themselves for 
the sake of the heavenly inheritance, and 
accordingly ' flying for refuge, to lay hold 
upon the hope set before them ;' our preach- 
ers, ever mindful of their acts of faith, are 



A DEFEiNCE OF 

ready to exhort us to put foriti tlie acts of 
flying to Christ, and laying hold on him." 

The passage alluded to is Heb. vi. 18, 
19. "That by two immutable things, in 
which it was impossible for God to lie, we 
might have a strong consolation, who have j 
fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope ^ 
set before us : Which hope we have as an 
anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast," 
&c. Who have fled, is an act passed, and 
bears a manifest reference to flying from 
the revenger of blood to the cities of refuge, 
Numb. XXXV. 27 ; to which city the man- 
slayer being fled, was, while there, secure : 
not in his act, but in the privilege of the 
city wherein he now dwelt ; and waited un- 
to the death of the high-priest, as the hope 
set before him. The hope set before us, . 
the apostle tells us, we yet see not, " but 
with patience wait for it," Rom- viii. 
25. But liow can we with patience 
wait for it, if it is not at pi'esent the 
" anchor of the soul, both sure and 
steadfast?" Or, as the apostle _^says in 
another place, " I so run, not as uncertain-.: 
ly." Yet as his security lay in that righte- 
ousness of Christ alone, he kept his body' 
(all his temporal concerns) under subjec- 
tion thereto, even as the manslayer abode 



in the city of refuge, knowing there was no 
safety for him elsewhere. When a man,_; 
performs his acts of obedience, that he mayj] 
thereby gain himself a conscious title, pos-C,, 
session, or enjoyment of the favour of God, 
it is but of little moment whether he styles 
it the favour of God by Christ, or by any ^, 
other name. His way to come at it is still ; . 
the same — by his own obedience. Nor can C 
this be flying for refuge to Christ, but ra- 
ther choosing my own performances as my 
security, and betaking myself to them. 

" If Barnabas exhorts those in whom hej,| 
saw the grace of God, with purpose of . 
heart to ' cleave unto the Lord,' after the ■ 
example of the believers who were said to . 
be added unto the Lord when they were .| 
added to the society of the disciples, keepr 
ing his commands, then we are told, that 
justifying faith is a cleaving to Christ." 

It will answer our purpose, and convey 
our whole meaning to say, the faith which 
justifies cleaves to Christ ; and in exhorting 
to cleave to Christ, we exhort to continue, {3 
in the faith. The phrase, " Believers werq^g, 
the more added to the Lord," is, very eviT',^^| 
dently, neither more nor less, than thatjfj 
many more were begotten to the faith. .^jq 
" But Aspasio tells us, that it is the ofxig.j 
fice of faith ' to take and use the inestim- 
able gift.' If in this or any other part of 
the New Testament, more be meant, by re- 
ceiving Christ, than knowing him or be- 
lieving on him, then I am ready to shew, 
that more than faith is meant, namely, faith 
with its fruits and eflJects." 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



603 



By receiving Christ more may be meant 
than knowing him, but not more than be- 
lieving on him. We may be said to know 
a thing, when its evidence forces itself upon 
the mind ; but to believe on Christ is, in the 
Scripture sense, the subject of exhortation, 
if Palaemon will confine himself to mean, 
l^y faith, no more than a passive conviction 
of truth, it shall be alloM^ed him, that by 
believing on Christ more than he means by 
faith is intended. The same may be said 
of the phrases laying hold, leaning, &c. more 
is allow^ed to be meant by these expressions 
than Palsemon means by faith. At the 
same time it may be affirmed, that these 
expressions of activity " do not contribute 
their quota" to our justification, since we 
are justified by the righteousness received, 
trusted, or leaned upon, and not by our act. 
We are justified by what we receive, even as 
Palsemon will allow we are justified by 
what ive believe. 

" The faith of the Gospel is indeed the 
basis of trust." 

If so, we are agreed again ; for this 
trust we call believing on Christ. If the 
faith of the gospel is the basis of trust, it is 
of appropriation ; for how can I trust in 
that wherein I am not allowed to take any 
share ? If we are not allowed to trust in the 
Redeemer's righteousness when absolutely 
guilty, the faith of the gospel is not the ba- 
sis of trust. In Palaemon's view, the gos- 
pel only shows us the possibility of the sal- 
vation of the elect, and cannot therefore be 
the basis of trust to a sinner ; but the dis- 
covery of his obedience, as giving him hopes 
that he is one of the elect, is, in fact, the 
matter wherein his trust is founded. 

" If one approaching to a frozen lake or 
river over which he has occasion to pass, 
tells me, that he has been assured by good 
information, that the ice was sufficiently 
strong to support him ; and yet after all proves 
timorous, and averse to make the trial by 
venturing his person freely upon it, I plainly 
perceive he has no faith in the report he 
heard, because he does not trust in it ; or, 
which is the same thing, he cannot trust, rely, 
confide in, or venture himself upon the ice." 

There cannot be a more apt illustration 
of what we plead for. And he that ven- 
tures his eternal concerns on the ail-suffi- 
cient righteousness of Christ, with the same 
confidence that he that believes the ice will 
bear him ventures his body upon that, will 
not be averse to run the risk of his interest 
and reputation also for the sake of it- We 
can therefore have no objection to Palaemon, 
when he says, 

" If one tells me that he believes the 
gospel, and yet proves averse to risk his in- 
terest or reputation in the world for the 
sake of it, I immediately perceive that, 
wh'itever he speaks with his mouth, he does 



not in his heart believe the gospel, because 
he puts no trust in it." 

" Perhaps it %vill now be inquired, are 
no rules to be observed, no means to be 
used, no works to be exerted by the human 
mind or body, in order to justification ? The 
answer is ready : Yes, very many. And 
they may be thus shortly summed up : Be 
perfect, keep the commandments, and thou 
shalt live. The obligation of the law is 
eternal, and cannot be loosed. But per- 
haps another state of the question will be 
demanded, and that faith should be more 
directly respected therein. Well, then, let 
it stand thus : Ought not a man to be at 
pains to attain the persuasion, that all the 
pains he takes are good for nothing, except 
to enhance his guilt ? Here, methinks, we 
are landed at downright absurdity ; for who 
will labour in hopes of being convinced that 
all his labour is to no purpose, unless to 
his hurt ?" 

This we may allow to be very well stated, 
with respect to the persons whom it con- 
cerns. But the question between our 
author and Aspasio really stands thus : Are 
no rules to be observed, no means to be 
used, no acts to be exerted, by the human 
mind or body, to arrive at the certainty of 
our own particular justification? Palaemon 
says. Yes, a great many ; as many as will 
serve to demonstrate that we are elected : 
Aspasio says, Only thankfully to receive or 
accept the blesshigs as freely given. And 
all the direction given by Asj)asio respects 
this question, and not the sufficiency of the 
finished work of Christ to justify tlie most 
guilty. 

" The design of the passage, Rom. x. 19, 
20, 21, is plainly to show, that faith comes 
not by any human endeavours, or the use 
of any means, even under the gi eatest ad- 
vantages that men can enjoy, but of tha; 
same sovereign good pleasure which pro- 
vided the grand thing believed. " 

Here is, then, notwithstanding all Pal . 
aemon's exactness, a something moi e thai 
the finished work of Christ, a something 
called faith, which he tells us comes " 
that same sovereign good pleasure which 
provided the grand thing believed." Palae- 
mon will reply, he means no more than be- 
lieving that which is provided is sufficient ; 
nor do we mean any more by appropriation, 
than receiving that which is sufficient, as 
believing it to be freely given to us for that 
purpose. 

" I would here subjoin, by way of post- 
cript to this, some reflections on the assur- 
ance or appropriation said to be essential to 
saving faith. 

" While various terms and distinctions 
are coined by popular preachers on this sub- 
ject, great licglect is shown to a veiy plain 
and obvious distinction, which Paul makes 



604 



A DEFExVCE OF 



betwixt ttie assurance of faith and the as- 
surance of hope." 

Upon a review of the Scriptures, to see 
what foundation there was for this remark, 
I gathered the following : 

1. In regard to faith " Being justified 
by faith, we have peace with God, through 
our I^ord Jesus Christ," Jlom. v. 1 ; "All 
joy and peace in believing," Rom. xv. 13 ; 
and not by what Palaemon styles assurance 
of hope, gathered from a discovery of our 
faith, love, and self-denied obedience. 

The language of faith is not barely con- 
cerning others, the elect, &c. ; " But we 
believe, that through the grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ we shall be sfaved," Acts xv. 
11. 

Faith is described, Heb. xi. 25, 26, to be 
so far the assurance of eternal life by Christ, 
as to be, on that very account, " the victory 
that overcomes the world." 

They that died in faith, "not having re- 
ceived the promises, but having seen them 
afar off, and were persuaded of and embraced 
t!iem, and (therefore) confessed they were 
strangers and pilgrims on the earth," Heb. 
xi. 23, — did they not appropriate these 
promises ? or did they only consider them 
as belonging to the elect, and themselves 
uncertain whether they were of the number, 
till they could discover it by the discovery of 
their faith, love, and self-denied obedience ? 

The assurance of faith proceeds upon 
" having boldness to enter into the holiest 
by the blood of Jesus, by a way consecrated 
for us, and having a High-priest over the 
house of God," Heb. x. 19, 22. And can 
all this be in a fixed uncertainty, or without 
appropriation ? Can I draw near, as having 
a way consecrated, or as having a High- 
priest over the house of God ; and, at the 
same time, do not know whether I have or 
no? 

If we are condemned for asking doubting- 
ly, James i. 6, 7, and for little faith in Pi o- 
vidence, Matth. vi. 30, does not the oppo- 
site character imply a certainty of divine 
favour and regard by sovereign grace, inde- 
pendent of a discovery of our previous obe- 
dience ? 

Rom. xiv. 23. " Whatsoever is not of 
faith," i. e. whatsoever action is not of con- 
fidence of acceptance with God, " is sin." 
Dots not this Scripture make confidence 
essential to faith ? 

Rom. iv. 5. " To him that worketh not, 
but believeth on him that justifieth the un- 
godly," &c. Is not this inconsistent with 
waiting to be godly, before I dare put my 
trust in him ? 

We cannot " call on him in whom we 
have not believed," Rom. x. 14 ; that is, 
we cannot " call in faith, nothing doubting," 
as above, James i. 6. 

It is the divine commandment to " be- 



lieve in his name," V .Tohn iii. 23 ; ana it is 
j the streiigli) of " faith against hope," of 
whdt we see or feel, "to believe in hope" 
of what God hath freely given and pro- 
mised. • 
Eph. iii. 12. "In whom we have bold- 
ness and access with confidence by the 
faith of him." Can this be where there is 
no appropriation ? 

Gal. V. 5. " We through the Spirit wait 
for the hope of righteousness by faith." 
Can this be said in an uncertainty? or in a 
conditional certainty deoending on our per- 
formance ? 

Can the dead live by " believing on 
him," according to John xi. 25, if they are 
to wait till they feel life first ? 

2. In regard to hope. We are told, that 
not our performances, but God's promise 
and oath, are the " strong consolation of 
them who have fled for refuge to lay hold ■ 
of the hope set before them ; which hope 
we have as an anchor of the soul, both sur» 
and steadfast^ and which entereth into that 
within the vail." Heb. vi. 18, 19. 

We are told to " hold fast the beginning 
of our confidence, the confidence and re- 
joicing of the hope, firm unto the end." 
Heb. iii. 6. 

As we " have not seen, and yet have be- 
lieved," so we are said to " hope for that 
we see not, and patiently wait for it." Rom. 
viii. 25. " We are saved through faith.'*- 
Eph. ii. 8. " We are saved by hope." 
Rom. viii. 23. We are said to " purify our- 
selves by this hope." 1 John iii. 3 ; to have 
our " hearts purified by faith," Acts xv. 9 ; 
to " purify our souls in obeying the truth 
through the Spirit, unto the unfeigned love 
of the brethren." 1 Peter i, 22. We are 
said to be all " the children of God by faith 
in Jesus Christ," Gal. iii. 29 ; to be " be- 
gotten again to a lively hope," not through 
a discovery of our obedience, but " by the 
resurrection of Christ from the dead." 1 
Pet. i. 3. And " the God of hope fills us 
with all joy and peace in believing." Rom. 
XV. 13. " And being justified by faith, we 
rejoice in the hope of the glory of God." 
Rom. V. 2. 

When we are exhorted, 1 Pet. iii. 15, to 
" be ready always to give an answer to every 
man that asketh us a reason of the hope 
that is in us," I apprehend our faith, or that 
truth we believe, is that reason, and not 
our • own righteousness or qualifications. 
Upon this review of these Scriptures, it 
appears to me, that Palsemon's refinement 
upon the Scripture phrases, to the exclud- 
ing appropriation or certainty of salvation 
from faith, and ascribing it wholly to a dis- 
covery of our inherent qualifications, under 
the name of assurance of hope, is not so 
scripturally founded as he has imagined. 
" The assurance of hope is enjoyed only 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



by those who give all diligence to obtain 
it." 

That thoy are exhorted to show "the 
same diligence to the full assurance of hope 
iinto tlie end," is true. We are also to 
" hold fast the beginning of our confidence 
steadfast unto the end." 

" The first of these (the assurance of 
faith) was called for in a man's first pro- 
fession of the faith, upon his first hearing 
the gospel, in order to his being acknow- 
ledged for a Christian." 

Hope is also called the " hope of our 
calling by the gospel," Eph. i. 18, not the 
hope of our obedience, or hope arising from 
our qualifications. And upon a man's first 
hearing the gospel, when he was first be- 
gotten again by the word of truth, he is said 
to be "begotten again unto a lively hope, 
by the resurrection of Christ from the 
dead." 1 Pet. i. 3. Christ is said to "dwell 
m our hearts by faith," Eph. iii. 17, and 
Col. i. 27, as our " hope of glory." And 
if he is not thus in us, we are said to be 
not young professors, or young Christians, 
but reprobates. 

' *' The assurance of faith is likewise ne- 
cessary to the drawing near to God in his 
worship." 

We are likewise said to " draw near to 
God by the better hope," Heb. vii. 19, 
*' which hope we have as an anchor of the 
soul, hoth sure and steadfast.'^ 

" The assurance of hope, again, is an en- 
oyment proposed to them who believed." 

A steadfast continuance, full assurance, 
and increase in the faith, is proposed to 
them also. 

" The assurance of hope, then, holds 
pace, first and last, with the work and la- 
bour of love." 

The apostolic hope held pace, first and 
last, with the apostolic faith ; and love or 
charity followed both. The apostles do not 
teach the order to be faith, love, and hope, 
because I love ; but faith, in the revealed 
righteousness, is the spring of hope ; and 
love flowing from both. " Now abideth 
faith, hope, and charity; these three" as 
the root, and not the fruit of our obedience. 

" There was no Christian, however emi- 
nent, in the days of the apostles, but needed 
the exhortation to give all diligence for 
maintaining and confirming the assurance of 
hope." 

Nor was any Christian so far advanced, 
but he might be exhorted to be " strong in 
the grace which is in Christ Jesus, and 
continue in the faith grounded and settled." 
t *' They often called on men to examine 
themselves." 

They declared remission of sin immedi- 
ately in Christ's name, as the truth where- 
by we pass "from death to life." They 
did not teach people to find remission of 



sin by the vs'ay of their inherent dispositions 
or works ; but when the apostle Paul was 
called upon for a proof of Christ speaking 
in him, he bid the Corinthians examine 
themselves for that proof ; for if they had 
not received Christ, they were reprobates ; 
and if they had, they were his epistle of 
commendation, agreeable to what he had 
said, chap. iii. — xiii. 6. 

" No man, then, can be charged with the 
sin of disbelieving the gospel, for doubting 
if he be a good Christian." 

But he may, for doubting whether Christ 
is given to him in the divine declarations to 
sinners ; or, whether he may trust to those 
declarations ; or, for doubting whether he 
may venture his eternal concerns upon Je- 
sus Christ alone, without and before any 
discovery of his excellency above other 
men. 

" Yea, we find the apostles ready to quash 
the confidence of those who were ready to 
conclude their state was changed, by such 
awful sentences as this : * He that saith, I 
know him, and keepeth not his command- 
ments, is a liar, and the truth is not in 
him.' " 

They who professed the faith and hope 
of Christians, and were evidently not in- 
fluenced by the Christian love to observe 
the commandments of him in whom they 
professed to believe, were undoubtedly the 
subjects of this censure ; which may well 
be admitted, without any contradiction to 
the hope of a guilty sinner by Christ alone. 

" The aposrles frequently declare their 
assurance of faith and hope in the same 
passage. While they express their faith in 
Christ, they are at the same time confident 
of their interest in him." 

This proves, that either the apostle's 
Christian hope stood in a nearer connexion 
with their faith, and sprung more immedi- 
ately from their doctrine than Palsemon will 
admit of ; or else^ that he is more accurate 
than they in describing it. 

" This joint assurance they sometimes 
express in fellowship with all that follow 
their footsteps, and often in language plainly 
distinguishing the apostles themselves from 
other professors of the faith." 

The 1 John v. 11, is not of this sort: 
" This is the record which he that believeth 
hath in himself ; he that believeth it not 
maketh God a liar, because he believeth not 
the record which he gave of his Son." And 
this is the record that God hath given, not 
to us apostles, exclusive of others : not to 
us who can say, " God, I thank thee I ana 
not as other men ;" but to us, guilty sinners, 
lost, &c. ; to us, as nurhbered with them 
who, in not believing it, make God a liar. 
" God hath given to us eternal life, and 
this life is in his Son :" so given him, that 
"he that hath the Son hath life, and he 



A DEFENCE. Or 



that hath not the Son of God hath not 
life ;" it heing only to be received, posess- 
ed, or enjoyed, in receiving, possessing, and 
enjoying of him- 

The same Spirit, acting as the Com- 
forter, is given only to those who are al- 
ready the friends of Christ. To this pur- 
pose Paul says, Gal. iv. 6, * And because 
ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit 
of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, 
Father.' " 

That is, and because ye, while enemies, 
have received, through the gospel, " the 
adoption of children by Jesus Christ." Eph. 
i. 5. Because, also, according to the ful- 
ness of time, ye are sons, the church being 
come out of her non-age. As a proof of 
this it is evident, God hath not given you 
" the spirit of bondage again to fear, but he 
hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into 
your hearts," whereby ye obtain such a dis- 
covery of salvation to the guilty, as enables 
you to cry " Abba, Father." 

" The Holy Spirit then acts a twofold 
part, as he breathes in the gospel. He re- 
conciles enemies, and he comforts friends." 

He reconciles and comforts enemies in 
the same instant, and by the same truth ; so 
the distinction is not properly founded. 
Besides, the consolation we have by Christ 
to the end, is of the same nature with the 
beginning — the grace that is manifest in 
Christ Jesus to the guilty. Not but that 
we have also the additional consolation of 
those sayings which relate to our witnessing 
and suffering for the truth. 

" What, then, shall we say of those pre- 
tenders to the apostolic consolation, whose 
very profession of Christianity, instead of 
being any loss to them, spreads their repu- 
tation for piety, and procures them esteem 
and reverence from the world ?" 

We will say, their consolation is not 
apostolic, that the offence of the cross has 
ceased with them, or that they are of the 
world. But it is very plain Aspasio's ap- 
propriation, or that trust wherein he is com- 
forted, has not had this effect, however he 
may have been honoured on other accounts. 

" In latter times, not a few have, from the 
hand of church authority, supported by se- 
cular power, endured the same sufferings 
which the apostles met with from the Jews 
and Romans, and accordingly enjoyed the 
same consolation. It was very natural for 
such of them as were writers to commend 
the faith which thus wrought by love." 

They suffered as maintaining the certain- 
ty of salvation by Christ alone, and did not 
ground their certainty upon their sufferings, 
although they were far from being discourag- 
ed thereby, but endured them with addition- 
al consolation. Their assurance gave the of- 
fence, and caused their sufferings. 

" Shall we say that these friends of 



Christ would have R})J)rovef! of that assur- 
ance of an interest in him, which men now 
pretend to acquire by some heart work, in 
a full consistency with their worldly ease 
and reputation?" 

Nor does Aspasio plead for such an as- 
surance : what he pleads for is founded only 
upon the divine declarations to guilty sin- 
ners ; and is far from having the approba- 
tion of the devout and honourable of the 
world, however they may profess to esteem 
his writings on account of the elegancy of 
the style, or some particulars foreign to his 
main intention in them. 

" The modern assurance proceeds on the 
principle, that the simple truth believed af- 
fords no joy nor comfort." 

This cannot be our case, who plead for 
the joy and comfort of the sufficient right- 
eousness, as given freely to the guilty in 
those evangelical declarations. 

" Will the news of a plentiful importa- 
tion of corn, in the time of famine, give joy 
to many ready to perish, and revive even 
the poorest with the hope that they may be 
fed?" 

Will the joy and comfort of this news be 
set aside by understanding, that the corn is 
freely given for us to live upon without mo- 
ney or price? Will not this rather enhance 
the joy ? Does not the poorest receive com- 
fort from such tidings, because they expect 
either to be able to buy some, or to haxe 
some given them ? 

" Yet no man knows certainly but his 
present day may be his last." 

But the joy created by the news above- 
mentioned proceeds on a contrary supposi- 
tion, viz. That he shall live, and be sustain- 
ed by it. Besides, the bread of life con- 
cerns a day that will never have an end ; 
therefore this uncertainty is foreign to the 
purpose. 

" And however diffident the convert (that 
is, the convert of Aspasio's stamp) be, he 
is still supposed to be possessed of some 
degree of assurance, provided he blame him- 
self for the want of it." 

He is supposed to live by Christ alone, 
as his sufhcient righteousness, who con- 
demns every \\'ord, work, or thought to the 
contrary, or who fights this fight of faith 
against all oppositions and trials, inward or 
outward. But though we may make such 
an allowance, this is not our point. Th^ 
question is not so much about whether I be- 
lieve ; let that make itself evident ; the 
proper question to be always considered 
and rested in, is this. Does God give to 
guilty me eternal life in his Son? Is this 
the spring of my hope, and the source of 
my love and obedience ? Do I live not by 
my notion that I am a believer, but do I 
live by this ? ' 

« 'vUsy (the '^'''vils) believe, they hate, atfiJ' 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



• ^yet they tremble at that truth which Christ's 

believe, love, and find salvation in. 
jjjWith them are ranked all those of raan- 
■^;kind who know as much of the truth as in- 
clines them to hate and pervert it." 

Yet it cannot be said of the devils, they 
have the same confidence. It cannot be 
.^j§aid of the devils, that they receive or ap- 
' propriate the divine righteousness as freely 
vgiven to them, or that they see any founda- 
■j,pou for it. 

" In this view, the same truth is the sa- 
V vour of life unto life unto some, and of death 
: unto death unto others. In this view, the 
i same truth is the object of contempt and 
- ■chagrin to some, and of love and joy to 
others." 

True, it is so ; but not by both believing 
it alike for themselves. 

Letter VI — " We are now, then, to 
consider faith as a principle of life and ac- 
tion." 

Palsemon is here obliged to admit of a 

• different consideration of faith. If he con- 
sidered it in justification as a principle of 
life and action, he would have been in- 
volved in the mistakes he has been oppos- 
ing. If, on the other hand, he denied faith 
to be a principle of life and action, he would 
overthrow the principle of the Christian obe- 
dience he pleads for. Now, since he is thus 
obliged to take up this distinction for himself, 
why should he not allow it to Aspasio? Why 
should he not allow that appropriation, al- 
though it is an act or work exerted by the 
human mind, in consequence of the belief 
of the gospel, and as a principle of all other 
Christian obedience ? Yet we are not justi- 
fied by our appropriating persuasion, but by 
the righteousness we appropriate ; even as 
Palsemon says, we are justified by what we 
believe, and not by faith, as a principle of 
life and action. 

'* And here we must carefully distinguish 
betwixt all works by which men would pre- 
tend to acquire faith, and those which faith 
produces ; for, if we will contend that jus- 
tification comes by faith without works, and 
that there is no acceptable working but what 
follows upon this, and yet maintain that 
faith is acquired by works, we undoubtedly 
reason in a circle. And hoNyever seriously 
and devoutly we may be occupied in this 
kind of reasoning, it is evident we are em- 
ployed in nothing else but solemn trick and 
dissimulation ; unless it may be pled, in our 
behalf, that we are imposing on ourselves by 
the same means by which we impose upon 
others. 

" Men are justified by the knowledge of 
a righteousness finished in the days of Ti- 
berius ; and this knowledge operates upon 
tiiem, and leads them to work righteous- 
nes^^jj ,^j*jj[^,ye know,' says the apostle John, 



' that he is righteous, ye know that eVefy 
one that doth righteousness is born of him.' 
Faith is not acquired, but is obtained, as 
Peter says, (roi; Xcc-i^airi), ' To them who 
have obtained by lot like precious faith with 
us.' Of two criminals justly condemned to 
die, if one escapes by a favourable throw of 
the dice, and the other dies for his crime, 
we see mercy in the deliverance of the 
former, and no injustice in the death of the 
latter. Two men may be employed with 
equal diligence in studying the Scnpture, 
and with equal seriousness m praying for 
divine assistance ; the one may come to 
know the truth, and the other may grope in 
the dark all his lifetime. He who comes 
to know it, plainly perceives that he has 
found what he was not seeking after ; he 
plainly sees that his most serious devotion 
was pointed in direct opposition to what 
now comforts him." 

Nevertheless, the truth being declared, 
they may, like the noble Bereans, search the 
Scriptures, "whether these things are so." 

*' Thus the word of life is held forth in 
the world — serving as a mean of divine ap- 
pointment to lead some to the faith, and 
render others inexcusable." 

This is a proper reply to Palcemon's own 
objection : " That the grant of the gospel 
IS a gift of benefits to multitudes who are 
never benefited thereby. It serves as a 
means of divine appointment to lead some 
to faith, and leave others inexcusable." 

" The change made upon a man by the 
belief of the gospel, may be thus illustrated : 
When Lazarus was revived to the enjoy- 
ment of this mortal life, neither his will nor 
his power were concerned in the obtaining 
of life. Yet his life could no otherwise be 
continued and enjoyed, but in his voluntary 
exercise of it. As soon as he revived, the 
principle of self-preservation, with all its 
hopes and fears, behoved immediately to be 
set in motion. No sooner was he possess- 
ed of life, than the active love of it behoved 
to take place. Accordingly, no sooner does 
a man begin to know the grace of God in 
truth, than love to it takes place in his heart. 
Love is the activity of that life which a man 
obtains by faith ; for faith worketh by love." 

But what is all this to the doctrine of 
working in painful desire and fear, till we 
come to the enjoyment of life, or the know- 
ledge that we have life. Lazarus had no 
principle of self-preservation before he was 
conscious that he had a self to preserve ; nor 
had he any love of life before he enjoj^ed it. 
In like manner, we can have no love to that 
grace of God we know not, nor desire to 
preserve that life we never enjoyed. 

" If a man of low condition is by a royal 
patent ennobled, and entitled to a place iu 
the poUtest assemblies, he caimot enjoy the 
pleasures of his promotion but in as far as 



A DEFENCE OF 



he loves Rii(i studies to learn the manners 
si!ita!)le to his nink and company." 

And hi*^ motive to this inr.provement of 
these manners is, that he is promoted to a 
sration he desires to enjoy more perfeetly. 
So we, being called to the adoption of chil- 
dren by Jesus Christ, toil no more in the 
way of painful desire and fear to attain to 
a consciousness of the privilege, but as par- 
takers of it are influenced thereby. 

" The apostle John, speaking of obedi- 
ence to the new commandment of love, 
says, 'Beloved, if our hearts condemn us 
not, then have we confidence towards God 
that is, if, notwithstanding our natural bias 
against the gospel, with its remaining effects, 
giving us daily disquiet, our heart condemn 
us not as destitute of love to that truth 
which the world hates, then we have confi- 
dence towards God ; even as much confi- 
dence as the testimony of our own con- 
science can give us." 

This is plainly not the confidence which 
the truth itself affords a guilty sinner, but 
confidence " that we are not destitute of 
love to that truth the world hates." The 
former is our life, the latter is only an addi- 
tional corroborating comfort. 

" Yet this is but one witness, and needs 
to be supported; for in this case one may 
be liable to doubts, lest even his own con- 
science should be partial in his favour." 

If we have confidence in Christ by the 
truth itself as we are guilty sinners ; if I am 
conscious that the truth, or, which is the 
same thing, my faith, and confidence in it, 
works by love; if our hearts condemn us 
not in this matter, then have we confidence 
towards God : First) because we are con- 
scious vi'e proceed on divine authority : Se- 
condly, we prove the blessed effect of the 
truth. These, then, are two witnesses inse- 
parably united. The first a divine truth, 
the testimony of the divine Spirit, than 
which there cannot be a greater ground of 
certainty : the latter is the consciousness of 
the effect of that truth. 

" Here, then, the Spirit ,of truth, who 
never fails to bear witness to the genuine 
effects thereof, gives his testimony as a se- 
cond witness supporting the former; Thus 
Paul, after he had said, * As many as are 
led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons 
of God,' adds, • the Spirit itself beareth 
witness with our spirit, that we are the chil- 
dren of God.' " 

The apostle Paul, after he had said, 
" As many as are led by the Spirit of God, 
they are the sons of God," adds, " For ye 
have not received the spirit of bondage again 
to fear ; but ye have received {u e. by the 
gospel truth) the spirit of adoption, whereby 
we cry Abba, Father." And then follow 
the words, <' The Spirit itself (which ye re- 
ceived in the hearing of the gospel, imhol- 



dening us gui'ty sinners to cry " Al)ba, Fa- 
ther," through the divine rightedusiiess kvQ- 
ly given to us : this Spirit received m the 
gospel) beareth w'itness with our spirit that 
we are the children of God," and not of them 
who deceive themselves with vain thoughts. 

It is already granted, that " the Spirit of 
truth never speaks one word or sentence to 
any person beyond what is written in the 
Scripture." And what is written in the 
Scripture, is either the declarations of free 
salvation to sinners in Jesus Christ, or di- 
vine assurances of no disappointment to 
them that believe on Christ, or an account 
of the genuine effects of faith. In the first 
we are taught to apply what is said to our- 
selves as sinners t In the second, we are 
encouraged to believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, in assurance of salvation by him,, 
without disappointment : In the last, we 
are informed of the genuine effects of this 
truth, or faith, corresponding to what we 
find and feel to be true, when we believe 
according to that which is written. 

" And this he (z. e. the Spirit) does, by 
shedding abroad in the heart such an abun- 
dant sense of the divine love, as leaves no 
room for, so casts out, the anxious fear of 
coming short of life everlasting." 

The love shed abroad in the heait, is 
that manifested in Christ dying for the un- 
godly when enemies, and without strength ; 
not love manifested to the qualified -. for 
" if when we were enemies we were recon- 
ciled to God by the death of his Son, 
(given freely unto us,) much more being re - ^ 
conciled," as is apparent to us in what we 
believe, and in its genuine effects, we have 
a hope (that maketh not ashamed) that 
" we shall be saved by his life that he who 
gave us righteousness while enemies, will 
save us for ever who are thus reconciled to 
him. 

" Thus that love to the truth, which for- 
merly wrought in a way of painful desire, 
attended with many fears, is perfected by 
being crowned with the highest enjoyment 
it is capable of in this mortal state." 

I do not read m the Scripture of any love 
to the truth of the gospel so described. 
" Herein is love, not that we loved God, 
(and he crowned us with enjoyment,) but 
that he loved . us, and sent his Son, his only 
begotten Son, into the world, that we might 
live through him ;" sent his Son " to be a 
propitiation for our sins. If we who are 
of this truth love one another, his love is 
already perfected in us ; and we have known 
and believed the love that God hath to us. 
Herein is our love made perfect. He that 
feareth," and is not imboldened by the truth 
to venture his everlasting concerns upon 
Christ Jesus alone, "is not made perfe(;t 
in love. We love him because he first 
loved us, purifying our souls by obeying the 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



609 



truth through the Spirit unto the unfeigned 
love of the brethren," as its proper and ge- 
nuine effect. 

" Jesus Christ, who loved his Father 
with a perfect heart, even while sorrowful 
unto death, received the highest proof of 
his being the beloved Son of God, when, 
being exalted at the Father's right hand, 
and being made most blessed with a sense 
of his love, he experienced fulness of joy in 
his presence." 

But he knew he was the Son of God 
before he had this highest proof: he, though 
sorrowful unto death, had none of the anxi- 
ous fear of coming short of his glory, but 
was animated by that glory. " For the joy 
that was set before him, he endured the 
cross, despising the shame." He received 
the word in its accomplishment, as the 
highest confirmation of the veracity of what 
his Father had spoken. But surely he 
shewed himself entirely satisfied with the 
bare testimony, vi'hen he answered the 
tempter, " Man shall not live by bread 
alone, but by every word that proceedeth 
out of the mouth of God." 

" The report of this draws them who be- 
lieve it to love him, and suffer for his sake. 
To such, Jesus Christ promised fellowship 
with him in the fulness of joy." 

ThiLt fulness of joy must be in the life to 
come, according to Psalm xvi. 11. For in 
this life we walk by faith and not by sight ; 
and hope which is seen is not hope. And 
it is also acknowledged, that Jesus himself 
did not enter into this joy till he ceased 
from this world. 

John XV. 10, 11. " If ye keep my com- 
mandments, ye shall abide in my love, even 
as I have kept my Father's commandments, 
and abide in his love. These things have I 
spoken unto you, that my joy might remain 
in you, and that your joy might be full." 

The commandments here spoken of are, 
to believe, and love, for the truth's sake. 
The love and joy is that which is manifested 
by the word in this life, and which neither 
** life, nor death, nor angels, nor principali- 
ties, nor powers," nor any kind of suflFering or 
affliction, shall be able to separate us from. 
Nevertheless, we yet but hope for the ful- 
ness of joy that Jesus is now arrived at, 
with " hope that maketh not ashamed," but 
animates us to be followers of Jesus, " en- 
during the cross, despising the shame." 

" When the saving truth first shines in 
the hearts of men, the effect is suitable to 
the divine promise, Jer. xxxii. 40- ' I will 
put my fear in their hearts, that they shall 
not depart from me.' This fear, dwelling 
in their hearts, checks and recalls them when 
ready to be utterly led away by their former 
evil inclinations. They are preserved from 
falling away, by the fear of falling away." 
Tiiis is no more that a fear of caution, 



consistent with the utmost confidence of the 
sufficiency of Christ, and the veracity and 
faithfulness of God ; consistent with a firm 
persuasion, that nothing shall "be able to 
separate us from the love of God which is 
in Christ Jesus our Lord." The slavish 
fear which ariseth from uncertainty, and is 
seeking after a differencing something to re- 
move our torment, is so far from preserving 
us from falling, that it is rather a proof we 
are not satisfied with the sufficient righte- 
ousness, with the sufficient ground of faith 
and hope, and have at present no part or 
lot in the matter. 

" It is evident, that to have the Holy 
Spirit as the Comforter and earnest of the 
heavenly inheritance, is an attainment far be- 
yond any influences of the Spirit that are 
common to those who believe for a time, 
and those who believe to the saving of the 
soul ; yea, beyond the regenerating work of 
the Spirit, by which men are at first brought 
to the knowledge of the truth, and taught to 
love it." 

" To find by experience (in the effects of 
the report on our minds) the truth of what 
they formerly believed on testimony," (which 
is what Palaemon declares himself to mean,) 
is certainly an attainment of another kind 
than the joy and comfort of the truth itself. 
But that a conscious certainty, that " I de- 
pend on the promise of Christ, and run all 
hazards for his sake," is what the Scripture 
means by the Comforter and earnest of the 
heavenly inheritance, does not so evidently 
appear : because, 1. This is not taking of 
things of Christ, but taking of our things, 
and shewing them to us : 2. It is not the 
Spirit's bearing witness itself with our spi- 
rits, but bearing witness by the medium of 
our obedience : 3. It would be speaking 
more to us than what is written in the 
Scripture : 4. This consciousness, and the 
joy accompanying it, was an attainment of 
the people of God before the resurrection of 
Christ, as really as it has been since : 
whereas the Comforter promised was to be 
the consequence of Christ's ascension to his 
Father, and was first performed on the day 
of Pentecost, Acts ii. 33 : Lastly, To wait 
for an attainment far beyond the knowledge 
of the truth, or which is the same thing, of 
the power of Christ's resurrection, serves, in 
fact, to set aside that resurrection as insuf- 
ficient, so to deny the one thing needful. 
More especially, as according to Palaemon, 

" It (this supposed attainment) must be 
distinguished from any joy or spiritual de- 
light which necessarily attends the obtaining 
of faith, or is beginning to work by love." 
And " that it is vain and absurd to call men 
to be assured of their being children of God, 
when they are not enjoying it. That it 
cannot further appear that any man has 
known the grace of God in truth, than he 
2 11 



610 



A DEFENCE OF 



gives all diligence to the end, in order to ob- 
tain it." Now the grand arcanum in Palse- 
mo'n's doctrine is, How a man can live en- 
tirely by the one thing needful, and yet be so 
diligently employed in labouring for so im- 
portant a something more ? 

" It is also plain, that the promise of the 
Spirit, as the Comforter, is common to all 
those who follow the faith and practice of 
the apostles." 

It is plain they were comforted by the 
Spirit of God, in the jOy of the truth con- 
cerning Jesus the Saviour of sinners ; and 
had also the additional comfort of those 
confirming declarations concerning the chil- 
dren of God and their blessings, which are 
recorded for that purpose. But that we 
are taught to wait for any other attainment, 
under the name of the Spirit as the Com- 
forter, does not appear. 

" Their (the Jews) appropriation was 
the great spring of all their pride, of all their 
disaffection to the true gospel, and all their 
ruin." 

The Jews' appropriation was upon the 
ground of the difference between themselves 
and others ; which we readily agree has this 
effect, That the more men excelled in this 
way, they proved the more hardened ene- 
mies to the true God, and the eternal hap- 
phiess of mankind. But what is this 
for an objection to that appropriation 
which proceeds entirely on the free grant of 
heaven to the guilty, excluding all such dif- 
ference ? Aspasio is still left to affirm o£ 
his appropriation, That nothing will be so 
powerful to produce holy love and willing 
obedience, to exalt our desires, and enable 
us to overcome the world. 

Who stands nighest to the Jewish appro- 
priation, Aspasio or Palsemon ? Aspasio, 
who in Dialogue 16 compares "those who 
advise us to prove our title to comfort by 
genuine marks of conversion, and teach us 
on this column to fix the capital of assur- 
ance, unto those who would fix the dome 
of a cathedral upon the stalk of a tulip ?" 
or Palaemon, who judges this " talking pro- 
fanely ?" Neither do I see how this is talk- 
ing profanely, until it is first proved, that 
the marks whereby we [suppose ourselves 
entitled to comfort rather than others, are 
the Deity in which we are to put our trust. 
Aspasio rightly judges, that this is placing 
a most weighty affair upon that most slight 
and uncertain foundation, what we feel or 
do, instead of the Rock Christ, given to 
guilty sinners. Does not the Holy Ghost 
prove a Comforter, by manifesting to us 
guilty sinners " the things that are freely 
given of God ; taking of the things of Christ, 
and shewing them to us?" And must not 
every genuine mark of conversion have its 
foundation here ? 

" ' He that.heareth my word, andbeliev- 



eth on him that sent me, hath everlasting 
life, and shall not come into condemnation, 
but is passed from death to life. ' John v. 24. 
Here we see how men pass from death to life." 

The word that Jesus hath spoken, and 
the declaration the Father hath made, is the 
first and surest ground of undeceivable cer- 
tainty. The dependence hereon proceeds 
entirely on the truth and faithfulness of 
God ; and that dependence is the assurance 
we have pleaded for ; and they who thus 
depend, our Lord declares, have everlasting 
lift, are already passed from death to life. 

" Here we see how men pass from death 
to life. John declares how they come to 
know this, while plainly pointing at the 
words of Jesus, he says, ' We know that 
we are passed from death to life, because 
we love the brethren.' " ... 

There is no foundation for the distinction 
here made by Pdcemon, viz. " That our 
Lord only declares how men pass from 
death to life," and John "only declares 
how they come to know this." It is plain, 
that our Lord's declaration runs in the same 
strain with that of his disciple. Our Lord 
says. He that heareth my word " is passed 
from death unto life." John says, He that 
loveth the brethren " is passed from death 
unto life." Where is the difference? Both 
are declarations of who are passed from 
death to life, therefore both alike in that re- 
spect. Our Lord intimates the life-giving 
word, the matter believed by all who are 
passed from death to life ; his disciple inti- 
mates the proper and genuine effect of that 
word on all who believe. " We know," 
says John, we have an additional proof, that 
the word of Jesus is true, " that we are 
passed from death unto life, because we 
love the brethren." It is plain that they 
abide still in death who abide in the hating, 
murdering spirit of the worid ; and more 
especially, who cannot love them who are of 
the truth for the truth's sake. On the other 
hand, the uniting, life-giving tendency of the 
truth appears to us, who are of it, since it 
causeth us thus to love one another for the 
truth's sake ; and proves, what Jesus said, 
that " he that heareth his word, and be- 
lieveth on him that sent him, is passed from 
death to life." 

Jesus saith. He is passed from death to 
life ^' that heareth my word, and believeth 
on him that sent me." John saith, " We 
know he has passed from death to hfe who 
loves the brethren." The only difference 
is, Jesus declares the privilege by that 
whereby we enjoy it ; John gives proof in 
the love of the brethren, as a demonstrative 
effect that Jesus' words are true. 
^ " By this proof men come to know that 
the joy they had upon their first believing 
was not the joy of the hypocrite." 

The joy true believers have on their first 



TEIEHON AND ASPASIO. 



611 



believing, is the joy of the truth. If that 
we rejoice in is found to be true, our joy is 
proved genuine. 

" And so their joy is made full." 

Our joy is not made full by a discovery 
of itself, but by farther confirmations of that 
truth which begat and supports it. The 
believer gives an account of "his faith and 
joy, when he gives an account of vyhat he 
believes and rejoices in. And it is made 
full by a farther supply or confirmation of 
the truth and faithfulness of God, on which 
he depends, 

'* By this they come to know it was the 
genuine truth of God, and not any human 
counterfeit and corruption of it, which they 
at first believed." 

The genuine truth of God makes itself 
manifest to be such at our first believing, 1 
Thess. ii. 13, 1 John i. 10, and ^thereby 
begets faith, joy, and every other effect. 
He that waits for such effect, to know vvhe- 
ther he has the genuine truth or no, may 
finish his inquiry by reminding himself, that 
he is in this inquiry very evidently but upon 
the search, and therefore has not found 
truth as yet. He may also be convinced 
that his search is wrong and preposterous, 
as if a man that should make an inquiry 
after what was proper food, should, instead 
thereof, be waiting to know, by certain ef- 
fects, whether he had ate any or no. The 
noble Bereans inquired after truth, by 
searching the Scripture, to see whether 
" these things were so ; therefore (it is 
added) many of them believed." The truth 
was made manifest unto them as the truth 
of God. '[And when this was the case, they 
did not wait for the joy of it, with its effects, 
to know whether it was so or no. 

" Thus they receive an additional know- 
ledge and certainty about the truth, in the 
way of experience, by perceiving that it 
works effectually in them, producing its ge- 
nuine effects." 

If the experience of the effects of the 
genuine gospel produces only an additional 
knowledge and certainty from experience, 
as the first knowledge and certainty came 
by divine evidence of the truth itself; this 
is all we plead for, then we are again 
agreed. 

" As often as the apostles speak of their 
interest in Christ, and life eternal, or use 
any language to that effect, we shall find 
that they either speak of themselves sepa- 
rately, or in conjunction with those only 
who are possessed of the same unfeigned 
faith and love with them." 

That the apostles wrote their epistles to 
professed believers, may be very readily ad- 
mitted. As, on the other hand, that the 
apostles did not live by Christ alone, under 
the notion and view of themselves as guilty 
sinners, but only through a medium o: dis- 



covery of their own faith, jove, &c. will be 
very difficult to be proved, however confi- 
dently asserted. 

" ' Hereby we,' who love the brethren, 
* perceive the love of God, because he laid 
down his life for us.' We, who are consci- 
ous of the effects, and enjoy the fruits of the 
atonement, know that God first loved us, 
and had a particular regard to us in provid- 
ing the atonement." 

The effects and fruits of the atonement 
are, sinners' peace with God, their access to 
the holiest of aU thereby ; if it is allowed 
that we enjoy and are conscious of these, 
we are again agreed. But if Palaeraon 
means only being conscious of " working in 
the way of painful desire and fear, till we 
are crowned with enjoyment," there cannot 
be a plainer deviation from the intent of the 
apostle. The apostle says, " Hereby per- 
ceive we the love of God, because he laid 
down his life for us." Palaemon says. 
Hereby perceive we the love of God, be- 
cause we are conscious of the effects, and 
enjoy the fruits of the atonement. The 
apostles lead us to think he laid down his 
life for us, who were justly doomed to eter- 
nal death. Palsemon leads us to think he 
laid down his life for us who can say, God, 
1 thank thee I am not as other men ; " who 
can find some reason about themselves, why 
all the great things spoken and done by Je- 
sus should bear its peculiar direction to- 
wards them." 

Besides, how does it appear we love the 
brethren, when those we call so are seeking 
the reason of their hope, certainty, and as- 
surance of eternal life, wholly in their own 
love and obedience ; consequently are not in 
this respect the despised few, but of the same 
mind and judgment with every natural man ? 

" He who, perceiving the divine love to 
sinners of all sorts without distinction, ma- 
nifested in the atonement, is thereby led to 
love the atonement, and the divine character 
appearing there ; and so to enjoy the pro- 
mised comfort resulting thence to the obe- 
dient." 

If the promised comfort is suspended for 
want of obedience, or depends on obedience 
as its condition, the divine love is far from 
being manifested to sinners of all sorts with- 
out distinction. 

And thus, by happily experiencing the 
truth of the gospel." 

He does not experience the truth of the 
gospel, but only the effect of that doctrine 
that tells him, if he is willing and obedient 
he shall eat the good of the land : Whereas, 
the truth of the gospel, relieving the guilty 
without condition, animates thereby to all 
the obedience it calls for. 

" So he labours neither first nor last to 
acquire any requisite to justification ; but 
all his labour proceeds on the persuasion 



G12 



A DEFENCE 



thnt the atonement Itself is the sole and suf- 
fictijnt requisite to justification." 

All his labour proceeds on the persuasion, 
that however sufficient the atonement may 
be ^or the elect, yet he is not allowed to 
account it of any use to him a sinner, or to 
trust or depend upon it, but to be at an en- 
tire uncertainty about it, until he discovers 
his works of obedience to such a degree as 
to conceive himself to be an elect person. 

" So he knows that all his holiness, as 
well as all his happiness, comes entirely of 
that grace which provided the atonement." 

Far from it ; all his holiness, as well as 
all his happiness, according to Palffimon's 
representation, comes entirely of the painful 
desire and fear, lest he should- have no part 
in that grace which provided the atonement. 

" The merchant who, being encouraged 
by some credible intelligence Providence 
has favoured him with from an unexpected 
quarter, sets out at all hazards on some 
new branch of trafiic, will be greatly ani- 
mated to proceed when he finds his labours 
crowned with success." 

JBut our obtaining salvation is not like a 
trading merchant setting out at all hazards on 
a new branch of traffic. This is salvation 
by works indeed ! Matt. xiii. 45 describes 
the merchant as finding one pearl of great 
price, which puts an end to all future mer- 
chandising. 

" He who so knows the bare report there- 
of, as to love it, and to run all risks u[^on 
it, shall in nowise lose his reward." 

True ; but Palcemon's Christian rather 
runs all risks in order to know his part in 
the atonement, than on the accoMnt of the 
bare report of salvation to the guilty. 

" The passages in the Dialogues which 
appear to me to deserve the greatest cen- 
sure, are those two which in a very confi- 
dent manner deny, the one, the comfort at- 
tending the simple report of the gospel, and 
the other, the additional comfort attending 
the self-denied obedience to it." 

These passages have been considered, 
and it appears that neither are denied, but 
confirmed by Aspasio's doctrine. We pro- 
ceed on the report in appropriation ; so it 
is the very basis of our comfort. We are 
confirmed by the effect of the enjoyment, 
that our enjoyment, or the foundation of it, 
is not a fancy. 

" And all this is done, in order to rest, I 
cannot say our comfort, but a good opi- 
nion of our state, on what is neither faith 
nor obedience." 

Not so ; but to rest onr souls on Christ 
alone, and neither on our faith, obedience, 
nor good opinion of our state. 

" For, according to the popular doctrine, 
men living for a course of years together in 
unbelief, consequently neither loving the 
gospel nor enjoying the comfort of it, are 



allowed to consider themselves all the while 
as regenerate, provided they have once in 
their lifetime exerted a certain act." 

It may be so according to the popular 
doctrine ; but according to the unpopular 
doctrine, which Palsemon excepts against, 
we depend upon no acts but the perfect 
obedience of Christ. 

" 1 shall now take some notice of a trea- 
tise highly esteemed by the votaries of the 
popular doctrine ; I mean, The Gospel 
Mystery of Sanctification." 

This book was so far from being highly 
esteemed by the votaries of the popular 
doctrine in England, it was hardly known 
till Aspasio recommended it, and since that 
disapproved of by many devout people, be- 
cause, 1. It proves that the most earnest 
desires and endeavours after obedience to 
the law, may be in the natural state of man -.' 
"2. That the new life, new state, or new 
creation, is inseparably in Christ ; so that 
we have no such privilege, but in enjoying 
Christ himself through the report of the 
gospel : 3. That there is no furniture for 
the obedience of love, but in partaking of 
this reconciliation or new state in Christ : 
4. That no conditions or performances are 
to be placed between the sinner and the 
Saviour ; but the first step of practical reh- 
gion is to trust on Christ alone, as given to 
us for the sure enjoyment of himself and his 
salvation. 

" This author supposes his unconverted 
reader, when beginning to be concerned 
about religion, to propose for this end such 
an obedience to the divine law as may be 
acceptable to God." 

He rightly supposes, that men who are 
yet in their natural state, may attain with 
great zeal to great heights of legal obedience, 
and, as Paul and others, be very earnest 
after it, counting it their truest gain ; and, 
like Paul, at the same time totally unac- 
quainted vi'ith, yea, enemies unto, real Chris- 
tianity, and the obedience of love to the 
truth, and to God manifested thereby. 

" According to this author, then, Christ 
is not the end of the law for righteousness, 
but the best means one can make use of 
for enabling him to perform that righteous- 
ness which is the end of the law." 

He, as the apostle does, directs unto that 
love which is the fulfilling of the law, by 
the enjoyment of that righteousness which 
is the end of it, by enjoying that new state 
of peace and reconciliation with God which 
is inseparably in Christ : or, in fact, his 
view is to recommend the gospel of our 
Lord Jesus as a principle of obedience, in 
opposition' to that preHminary grace, which, 
as Palaemon well says, " However much it 
has been Christianized, is at bottom the 
same thing with that divine afflatus, influ- 
ence, or energy, by which it was supposed 



THERON AND ASPASIO. 



613 



philosophers aind heroes of old became good j 
and great men." 

" Accordingly the well-disposed reader is 
led forward to his desired end, in conse- 
^ quence of the same good dispositions that 
led him to use the means." 

Not so y however fair the directions may 
seem to promise, at first, to him that is na- 
turally desirous to keep the law that he may 
live ; yet no man is made a disciple to these 
directions, but by being converted from this 
false hope to the hope of the gospel. No 
man is disposed to use the means of recon- 
ciliation Vvdth God by Christ alone as a 
principle of obedience, but he that is con- 
verted fiom the false hope of obtaining life 
by any obedience he can render, to live 
alone by what Christ hath aire-.^dy done, as 
the spring of his hope, and the source of his 
future obedience. 

" But why all this roundabout course ? 
Why should we seek to repress any man's 
impetuosity to fulfil the law? Why should 
we retard his course, by entangling him in 
a labyrinth about the use of means ?" 

Men, natui'ally desirous to keep the law 
that they may live, may, and do, as Mr. 
Marshall observes, " rush blindly upon im- 
mediate practice, making more haste than 
good speed, crying with Israel of old, All 
that the Lord saith, we will do. At the 
same time there is no such heart in them." 
But through a natural propensity to things 
which are contrary to the divine law, they 
continually fail in the obedience they have 
so strongly purposed. " And some of 
these, when they have mispent many years 
in striving against the stream of their lusts, 
without any success, do at last fall misera- 
bly into despair, and turn to wallow in the 
mire of their lusts, or are fearfully swallow- 
ed up with horror of conscience," As all 
their religion, or impetuosity to fulfil rhe 
law, is founded on a miserable mistaken 
hope to live by their own obedience, so Mr. 
Marshall's aim is to tln-ow down that " false 
hope," by proving that there can be no obe- 
dience acceptable to God, till we are first 
made " accepted in the Beloved ;" or, in 
other words, till we first live by Chiirit's 
obedience alone, and are influenced there- 
by. His hope to live by his own obedi - 
ence is criminal ; it is therefore no matter 
how soon we repress his impetuosity, and 
retard his course ; and when he understands 
his reconciliation with God by Christ alone 
to be the principle or means of gospel obe- 
dience, he will not be entangled in a laby- 
rinth, but made free by the Son of God. 

" As for the gospel, it was only intended 
to relieve those ill-disposed people who 
despair of ever doing any thing to rendei' 
them acceptable to God, by any assistance 
whatsoever." 

And Mr. Marshall's design is to shew, 



j that those well-disposed people woo hope to 
live by their own obedience, are, in fact; at 
the same time, those ill-disposed ipeoTple, who, 
will never be really obedient till they despair 
of ever doing any thing to render them ac- 
ceptable to God, by any assistance whatso- 
ever ; and ui that despair of themselves, 
live alone by what Christ has already done. 

" It (the gospel) was never intended to 
be an auxiliary to those good people who 
are desirous to give acceptable obedience to 
the divine law." 

But it was intended to remove their mis- 
take, that they may be obedient from a more 
divine principle ; that is, reconciliation with 
God by Chrilt alone- And this, it is evident, 
is the main design of Mr. Marshall. 

" All such, who are desirous to give ac- 
ceptable obedience to the divine law, 
wheresoever they are, shall undoubtedly be 
happy without having any occasion to trou- 
ble their heads about the gospel." 

All such who are of this character uni- 
formly, and without contradiction. But it 
must be allowed, that there are many, even 
every natural man has a propensity to live 
by his own obedience, or to do, that he may 
live. At the same time, he is desirous of 
those things which are contrary to that 
obedience, whereby he forfeits the charac- 
ter and becomes guilty before God. 

" Let us now observe the use of means 
to which our author directs : — Endeavour 
diligently to perform the great work of be- 
Ucoing on Christ." 

That is, in Mr. Marshall's sense, endea- 
vour diligently to live by Christ alone, to 
be satisfied with him, to assure your soul 
of salvation by him, by what he has done 
and suffered ; that you may in this vvay have 
a personal conscious enjoyment of him and 
his fulness, in which fulness we enjoy re- 
conciliation with God, atid every blessing 
tending to the obedience of love. Was 
Palaemon to direct to personal conscious en- 
joyment of Christ, he would tell us about 
working diligently, working in the way of 
painful desire and fear, till we were crowned 
with enjoyment in a conviction that we 
were distinguished from others, by having 
faith, love, and self-denied obedience. 
Where lies the diiference between the two, 
but that the latter says. Do that you may 
live, that you may be crowned with enjoyment: 
The other says. Live by Christ, that you may 
do : Enjoy as sinners, that you live as saints. 

" It is necessary that we should endea- 
vour it, (i. e. to believe on Christ,) and that 
before Vv'e find the Spirit of God working faith 
effv-ctuallyin us, or givingstrength to believe." 

Mr- Marshall here considers faith as a 
duty required by the law, which Palaemon 
also asserts. At the same time, he so ex- 
pldins hiuiself, as it is evident faith neither 
justiiies nor sanctifies as a duty but by 



614 



A DEFENCE OP 



Christ alone believed in : And it is also 
evident he means not the divine passive 
conviction, but an obedience to the apos- 
tolic exhortation, a *' trusting on a Saviour, 
as discovered by a testimony, which (as he 
says) is properly believing on hiyn." 

He opposes, at the same time, the po- 
pular notion, that we must wait for God to 
give us something called faith, before we 
are to attempt to believe, or to live by his 
righteousness ; whereas, in whomsoever 
faith is wrought, they immediately live by 
Christ alone ; they wait for nothing, they 
see nothing to be waited for ; but they see 
Christ's sufficient work, and the grant of it 
to the guilty, a sufficient ground for imme- 
diate trust and confidence. 

« Only (says Mr. Marshall) I shall prove 
that we are bound by the command of 
God thus to assure ourselves ; and the 
Scripture does sufficiently warrant us, that 
we shall not deceive ourselves in believing 
a he ; but according to our faith, so shall 
it be to us. Matt. ix. 29. Here (says Pa- 
laemon) is the great whirlpool of the popu- 
lar doctrine." 

A very great mistake to call this the po- 
pular doctrine ; whereas Mr. W d, Mr. 

W y, and numbers more, such as have 

been named, are full as great adversaries to 
it as himself. Nor is any point more uni- 
versally opposed, than that of assuring our- 
selves of salvation only from the grant of a 
sufficient righteousness in Jesus Christ to 
the guilty. 

" When we have thus, according to our 
author, wrought ourselves into anew state." 

This representation is not just : would it 
be proper, when a man receives a present, 
or gift, to say that he works himself into 
it ? It is true, he may meet with some op- 
position in the enjoyment of that which is 
freely given him. And in this case the 
Scripture prevents Palsemon's reflection, by 
exhorting us to work out our own salva- 
tion, &c. 

" According to him, there is no practice 
of holiness, but what proceeds from the per- 
suasion of our state being changed." 

Rather from our persuasion of our recon- 
cihation with God by Christ alone, arising, 
not from the conceit of our being better than 
others, or having done something towards 
it, but as given freely in Christ Jesus. 

" This persuas:on (of his state being 
changed) is his faith." 

No such matter. Mr. Marshall's doc» 
trine, or the truth believed in, his faith is, 
that there is a new state prepared in Christ 
for the guilty, which we are divinely au- 
thorized to enter into and enjoy, without 
any works at all ; as, on the other hand, 
Palaemon's doctrine leaves him working in 
painful desire and fear, till he be crowned 
with enjoyment. 



" If we hearken to this author, we must 
set out in the service of God, from the con- 
fidence of our being in a better state than 
other men," 

Is it not highly consistent that we should 
set out in the service of God, with the fur- 
niture God hath provided us ? If God hath 
given to us eternal life in his Son, is not 
our first obedience to receive and enjoy the 
eternal life that is in him ? This does not 
consist in any persuasion that we are better 
than other people, that there is any new 
state in Christ for us rather than for others ; 
but it consists purely in what is inseparably 
in Christ Jesus, given to us in him, and 
only to be enjoyed in enjoying him. So 
that the whole is, we must set out as fol- 
lowers of our Lord, from the confidence of 
the eternal life given freely to us in Christ 
Jesus. 

" He makes no account of the grand 
things testified of Christ, as any way suffi- 
cient to lead us to holiness, without a good 
opinion of our own state." 

Paleemon should say, if he would give a 
just representation, that Mr. Marshall makes 
no account of all that holiness which is not 
influenced by the reception and enjoyment 
of that new state, and eternal life, which is 
freely given to the guilty in Christ Jesus. 
Meanwhile, the opinion we have of our own 
state is, that it is stark naught, and cannot 
be mended. This is far from having a good 
opinion of it. 

" Thus the ancient gospel, which, from 
the beginning, turned many from idols to 
serve the living God, is now set aside." 

The ancient gospel held forth the new 
state, and eternal life given in Christ, which 
we plead for, 

I have nothing to say in defence of my- 
self from the charge of patronizing my creed 
by the names of fallible men. I acknow- 
ledge my fault. If I have not the doctrine 
of the apostles, what signifies having all the 
world on my side ? And if I have them to 
keep me in countenance, it ought to be little 
concern though the whole world are against me. 

" The use these people ^ i. e. the people 
in fellowship with W. C.) have for Christ 
is, to give them strength to do something 
toward their justification." 

Our appropriation stands in no opposi- 
tion to free justification by Christ alone, 
but rather to Pakemon's coming to the 
knowledge of it only in a way of painful de- 
sire and fear. 

But Pakemon's main objection to this re- 
ception or appropriation of Christ, and eter- 
nal life in him, is, that " this is doing some- 
thing toward our justification." To what 
has been already said, I would only add the 
following illustration : — A man has a large 
estate fallen to him by inheritance or legacy; 
he is now informed that he need do nothing 



THERON AND ASPASIO 



615 



toward his maintenance at all, for he has 
a sufficiency to live upon, and that it would 
dishonour his benefactor, and be a disgrace 
to him CO think of it. The man believes 
this, and accordingly sits down to a plenti- 
ful table provided, under a notion that all 
things being ready, he has nothing to do 
but to eat or enjoy. Upon this, a virtuoso 
in criticism, like Palaeraon, informs him, 
that to eat is to do something towards his 
maintenance ; that the victuals, and in short 
every thing is his, without any act of his at 
all. So that, if he imagines himself under 
any necessity of eating, he dishonours his 
benefactor, and denies the estate his bene- 
factor has given to him, as though it was 
not in itself enough to maintain him, with- 
out doing something toward his own main- 
tenance. What answej would this person 
in all likelihood return ? Very probably he 
would say, You speak extremely absurd ; 
for if I eat not, all my right and title to it 
will be of no service to me : I starve, I die 
in the midst of plenty : Besides, I love to 
eat. The case is as parallel as possible : 
Our Lord says, He is " the bread of God 
come down from heaven, to give life to the 
world ; and that except we eat the flesh of 
the Son of man, and drink his blood, we 
have no life in us." 

This objection of Palaemon's is sucli a 
fine-spun cobweb of criticism, that he seems 
to have catched himself in it, while he was 
endeavouring to entangle us. " Is it possi- 
ble (says he,) after what we have seen, for 
any one to maintain, that these people look 
for acceptance with God, only through the 
sacrifice of Christ once offered for the sins 
of many ?" 

Now, to look for acceptance with God 
only through the sacrifice of Christ, is the 
very thing we plead for, and he has been 
opposing. His argument has been, " The 
sacrifice of Christ is sufficient of itself. To 
appropriate, or to look for acceptance with 
God on that account, is evidently to do 
something towards our justification ; this is 
to set up in its stead another sacrifice of 
their own preparing and ofi^ering. 

" He who maintains that we are justifi- 
ed only by faith, and at the same time af- 
firms with Aspasio, that faith is a work 
exerted by the human mind, undoubt- 
ly maintains, if he has any meaning to his 
words, that we are justified by a work ex- 
erted by the human mind." 

May not Aspasio as readily retort, 



He who maintains that we are justified 
only by faith, and at the same time af- 
firms with Palaemon, " That faith is a 
principle of life and action," undoubtedly 
maintains, if he has any meaning to his 
words, that we are justified by a principle 
of life and action ? The answer that re- 
treives him out of this difficulty, will also 
serve us. 

I have now considered all that I appre- 
hend we are concerned with in Mr. Sande- 
man's performance, not with a design to 
manifest his blemishes, or to defend Aspa- 
sio's, but to preserve the important truth 
he contended for from the objections aris- 
ing through evident mistakes and misrepre- 
sentations. Not pleading for a maimer of 
believing, either active or passive, but 
pleading against the private interpretation 
of those divine declarations, which are the 
sinner's only ground of immediate trust and 
confidence in that sufficient righteousness. 
It is no pleasure to me to find a people to 
whom my heart inclines on account of their 
appearing attachment to this sufficiency of 
Christ, at the same time so inclined to ex- 
plain away those divine declarations, and 
tell us, that " God may, if he pleases, have 
mercy upon me," is all the conclusion that 
the guilty and destitute can draw from what 
God has revealed. Now^ in this case, are 
we not to take heed, lest, under the notion 
of purer faith, " we depart from trusting 
in the living God," (to a laijouring in pain- 
ful desire and/eai-) " through an evil heart 
of unbelief?" And as there is a natural 
propensity in man to self-dependence, is 
there not a proportionate averseness in him 
to trust on the bare declarations of the di- 
vine word ? And may not this be the 
source of those Pharisaic attempts Mr. 
Sandeman has so justly detected, of the ob- 
jections that stand between us ; and also of 
those laboured inventions of others, to make 
out that men are saved by Christ in a way 
of natural necessary connexion ; hereby at 
once setting aside the divine sovereignty, 
declarations, promises, or trust therein. I 
shall only add, that if what we have plead- 
ed for is (without misrepresentation) prov- 
ed a contradiction to the sufficiency of the 
finished work of Christ, then, and not till 
then, I shall see a necessity for understand- 
ing the Scriptures on this subject in an- 
other light than I do at present, and shall 
make my public acknowledgment accord- 
ingly 



6|0 



AMENDMENTS PROPOSED IN 



DIRECTIONS 

To the Readers of Theron and Aspasio, with respect to the Amendments which were in- 
tended by Mr. Hervey, had he survived another Edition. — Taken from Mb. Cud- 
worth's Defence. 



Page 315. c.l. 1. 44. read, " This, he says, 
as it was wrought in the name and stead of the 
guilty, enemies and rebellious, was wrought 
out in my name, and in my stead ; and is 
in a name and character that undoubtedly 
belongs to me, and, according to the decla- 
rations of divine grace, sufficiently author- 
izes me to draw near to God thereby." 

P, 416. c. 2. 1. 54, "Not one among all the 
numberless productions which tread the 
ground, or stand rooted on the soil, wants 
any convenience that is proper for its re- 
spective state. And the same heavenly 
Father has provided, for the most guilty, 
the righteousness which is absolutely neces- 
sary to his present comfort, and his final 
happiness." 

P. 417. c. 1. 1. 17. "Consider those stately 
poppies, &c. observe the young ravens, &c. 
He accommodates the former, though in- 
capable of asking ; he attends to the latter, 
though insensible of their Benefactor. He 
also regards our pressing wants ; he has 
also superseded our earnest petitions by 
such free and unmerited gifts, as it is both 
his delight and his honour to bestow." 

P. 417. c. 2. 1. 85. " So that nothing is re- 
quired in order to our participation of Christ 
and his benefits. We receive them as the 
freest gifts ; as matter of mere grace." 

P. 418. c. 1. 1. 31. " The man without a 
wedding garment, &:c. Your former mis- 
^ takes, and present objections, tend to place 
you in the state of this unhappy creature. 
The returning prodigal came with no re- 
commendation either of dress, of person, or 
of character : None but his nakedness and 
misery ; his acknowledgment and vile- 
ness, which had every aggravating, not one 
extenuating circumstance." 

P. 418. c. 2?;i. 27. " If there be any quali- 
fication, I think it is our extreme indigence ; 
and this, I presume, you are not without." 

P. 4 18. c,2.1. 50. "Sanctification,heavenly- 
mindedness, and a victory over our lusts, are 
not the qualities he requires, but the bless- 
ings which he confers." 

P. 419. e. 2.1. 40. " The greatest unworthi- 
ness is no objection in Christ's account ; it 
is as much disavowed by the gospel, as equi- 
vocal generation is exploded by the disco- 
veries of our improved philosophy-" 

P. 420. c. 2. 1. 30. " From the Kii;g, ivhose 
■name is the Lord of Hosts, let us expect (if 
he vouchsafe to show us any mercy) not 
barely what corresponds with our low mo- 



dels of generosity — much less what we sup- 
pose proportioned to our fancied deserts, 
but what is suitable to the unknown magni- 
ficence of his name, and the unbounded be- 
nevolence of his heart. Then we shall no 
longer be afraid assuredly to trust to the 
gracious declaration, * that Christ Jesus is 
made of God to us wisdom, and righteous- 
ness, and sanctification, and redemption :' 
That he hath given himself for us, hath 
given himself to us, with all the blessings 
of his purchase, of his Spirit, and of eter- 
nal life." 

P. 421. c. 1. 1. 36. " That we all deserve 
this misery, is beyond dispute. We are also 
told, that the Lord Jesus has satisfied di- 
vine justice." 

P. 421. c. 2. 1. 17. "You are still corrupt ; 
does this exclude you from being the very 
person for whom the Saviour's righteous- 
ness is intended, and to whom it is pro- 
mised. ?" 

P. 421. c. 2.1. 43. "And sure it cannot be a 
fanciful persuasion of our health which ren- 
ders us proper objects of his recovering 
grace. " 

P. 422. c, 2. 1. 8. " I behold it (Theron's 
title) perfectly clear, not because you long 
or pray for it, but because the all-sufficient 
righteousness is granted to you a sinner in 
the record of the gospel." 

P. 422. c. 2. 1. 31. " if any man, however 
unworthy his person, or obnoxious his cha- 
racter, thirst ; thirst for something to make 
him happy — let him not seek to that which 
satisfieth not ; but let him come to me, the 
fountain of living waters, and drink his fiJl. 

" The clergyman," &c. 

P. 423. c. 1. 1. 23. " They are to be enjoyed 
by every one. No exception is made." 
"p. 423. c. 1. 1. 55. '* To us (says the prophet) 
a child is born." 

P. 423. c. 2. 1. 20. " Since the Lord Jehovah 
has given us his Son, and all his unutter- 
able merits ; and also seals this grant unto 
us, in every sacramental ordinance ; wKy 
should we not confide in it, as firmer than 
the firmest deed, and far more invaluable 
thai) any royal patent ?" 

" Ther. My servant never," &c. 

P. 427. c 2. 1. 17. " It seems to be quite 
out of my reach." 

" Asp. That is, because you still imagine 
something to be done by you, to entitle to 
this immaculate and perfect righteousness. 
You give no credit to those declarations of 



THEROiN AND ASPASIO. 



017 



Heaven, which bring it near to your view, ] 
and home to your condition. Kemember 
rather the words of our Lord, ' Come unto 
me, all ye that are weary, and heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest.' " 

P. 427. c 2. 1. 54. " Nothing short of these 
mercies can aflford any satisfaction to the 
guilty conscience, or true satisfaction to the 
restless soul. 

" Say not, then, my dear friend, that Christ 
and the blessings of his purchase, are be- 
yond your reach. They are now, even now, 
at your door." 

P. 428. c. l.l. 60. " If you heard his voice, 
you would believe on him agreeable thereto. 
You then open the door, and he sups with 
you, makes his abode with you, manifests his 
salvation, and communicates his blessings. 
If you believed his promising word, you 
would no longer hesitate to believe on him 
accordingly. You then sup with him. 
This will be refreshing to your distressed 
soul, as the most sumptuous banquet to the 
famished stomach and craving appetite." 
Expunge all from here to the words, 

" Titer. This I believe That I am a 

lost sinner," &c. 

P. 428. c. 2.1. 38." He that believes on the 
Son, hath — a chimerical? far from it — a 
real substantial happiness ; even everlast- 
ing life." 

P. 428. C.2. 1. 56. " Can you doubt of his 
willingness to save the chief of sinners ? or 
his sincerity in his declarations ? Then go 
to Mount Calvary." 

P. 429. c. 1. 1.13. " What a stranger was I 
then to the blindness of my understanding, 
and the hardness of my heart ! to my bond- 
age under imbelief, and my natural averse- 
ness to the way of salvation by grace, 
through faith ! 

" Asp. Are you sure this is not now your 
case ? This sentiment, though ever so just, 
will not palliate your present infidelity. 
Since the great Jehovah has declared the 
grant of his Son to you a sinner ; since he 
has thus given to you eternal life in him ; 
since he has warranted your immediate re- 
ception and enjoyment, by his commands, 
invitations, and promises ; you make him 
a liar in all, you reject his word as not 
to be depended on, every moment, you thus 
unbelievingly hesitate." Expunge from here 
to 

" Ther. But is not faith the work of 
God's Spirit ? How, or in what manner," 
&c. 

p. 429. c. 2. 1. 10. " I very much question 
whether I shall ever be able to attain it. 

" As]7. The true belief, Theron, has no 
existence without its proper object, Christ, 
and is never to be considered in the light 
you speak of; that is, as a must refined 
and exalted virtue. When, upon the divine 
grant in the word, you behold Christ as 



your given righteousness and strength, then 
you truly believe ; you believe God's truth, 
which can never deceive ; you receive the 
gift which enriches you with grace and glory. 
But permit me to ask," &c. 

P. 4.36. c. 2. 1. 16. " If you rely on the all- 
sufficiency of his gracious declarations, as 
the foundation of immediate tmst or confi- 
dence, as well as the all-sufficiency of his 
power." 

P. 436. c 2. 1. 23. " Let the most wretched 
sinner, and most afflicted soul, trust in the 
name of the Lord." 

In note, p. 4-39. " "We only affirm, that 
an appropriating persuasion of salvation by 
Christ alone, is that confidence which pro- 
perly answers to the divine report and grant 
of a Saviour to be believed on for everlast- 
ing life." 

P. 442. c. 2. 1. 3.3. "Asp. The if is what I 
greatly question ; but of this I am certain, 
that you are still inclined to spare Agag." 

P. 442. c. 2. 1. 56. " You ask. Whether the 
state of these persons is safe, and their faith 
real ? I answer. What evidence is there of 
their safety, or their faith, while Christ, the 
only security, is neglected, and the free grant 
of him to sinners thus disbelieved ? Besides, 
why should," &c. 

P. 443. cl.l. 43. "God has freely loved me, 
so as to give his Son unto me ; Christ has 
graciously died for me, to take share in his 
death as my own ; and the Holy Ghost 
sanctifies me, in the belief and appropriat- 
ing confidence arising from these precious 
truths." 

P. 443. c. 2. 1.59. " When the divine Spirit, 
speaking in the gracious declarations of the 
gospel, manifests the grant of Christ to me 
a sinner, then am I enabled to receive and 
appropriate his death as the desert of my 
sins, and his obedience as the matter of ray 
justification." 

P. 445. cl.l. 3.3. « May I firmly believe on 
Christ for everlasting life ? May I firmly 
believe, that in this infinitely meritorious 
Redeemer I have granted unto me pardon 
and acceptance?" &c. 

. P. 445. cl.l. 42. " I do more than pardon 
my dear Theron : I feel for him, and I 
sympathize with him ; not because he has 
not sufficient evidence from God's word for 
trusting in Christ for everlasting life, but 
because I have also felt that perverse ten- 
dency in my own heart, to mistrust the in- 
fallible word of my God, as though he was 
less to be depended on than fallible man." 

In like manner were to be corrected, all 
other passages in his writings which might 
be understood as making ihirstings, awaken- 
ings, earnest prayers, sorrows, tears, good 
desires, or sense of unworthiness, as the en- 
couragement for confidence. This Mr. 
Hervey acknowledged was inconsistent with 
his main design, which was to come to God 



618 



MARSHALL IMPROVED. 



by Him only who was'able to save, to save 
to the uttermost : but he had been drawn 
sometimes into this way of expressing him- 
self by too great a regard for the ciurrent cus- 
toms ; and not considering, that, till the 
divine relieving truth appear in view, the 
wishes and desires of the distressed are as 
much pointed against the salvation of the 
guilty, as the carelessness of the profane. 
He was sensible, that " the gospel history 
gives us no instance of an unbeliever dili- 
gent to obtain faith ;" and therefore intend- 
ed to expunge every thing that tended to 
encourage such mistakes, 
r ' When he took notice of "a speculative 
assent to all the 'principles of religion," he 
intended by it such agreeing with the cur- 
rent opinions as will stand consistent with 
sentiments quite subversive of the saving 
truth : Not such a knowledge of the truth 
as the apostle speaks of, when he says, 
" Ye know the truth, and that no lie is of 
the truth." He well knew, that there was 
no man, but he that is taught of God, could 
be satisfied with the apostolic account of 
salvation ; and would have informed Theron, 
had he another opportunity, *' that if he at- 
tempted to do any thing, easy or difficult, 
under the notion of an act of believing, or 
any other act, in order to his acceptance 
with God, he only thereby heaped up more 
wrath against himself." j 
He was also sensible, that a man may be 
very useful and amiable amongst men, and. 



at the same time an utter enemy to the 
grace of God's kingdom ;— that he had been 
too forward in commendations of those who 
were no friends to apostolic Christianity. 
His design was only to commend what was 
amiable in every one, passing over their 
blemishes. In this design, he acknowledged, 
he was carried to an extreme. When he 
says of Erasmus and Locke, that they sat 
at the feet of Jesus, he only meant to ex- 
press, in an elegant way, that they betook 
themselves to the reading of the Scriptures, 
and not to vindicate their notions. 

And he counted it an observation well 
worthy regard that " it may be maintained 
by some, that conversion is carried on by 
grace assisting nature ; and by others, that 
this matter is wholly conducted by irresisti- 
ble grace ; and yet both sides may be equal- 
ly disaffected to that doctrine which main- 
tains the work finished by Christ on the 
cross, to be the only requisite to justifica- 
tion. And that while many Christian 
teachers maintain, that no man can be emi- 
nently virtuous without divine energy, they 
say no more than Heathen philosophers 
have said before them." 

These remarks and observations may be 
sufficient to direct the intelligent reader of 
Theron and Aspasio to avoid needless ob- 
jections, and also to improve that perform- 
ance more agreeably to the Scriptures and 
the author's own mind. 



It appears by the Letters prefixed to this Defence, that an improvement of Mr. Marshall's book was intended, 
to obviate as much as possible all objections ; which through the pressing importunities of the printer, and 
Mr. Hervey's hopes of accomplishing a fourth volume of Theron and Aspasio, was not executed. The 
following is a plan of such improvement, where, by changing the fourteen directions into the form of As- 
sertions or Propositions, the strongest objections are enervated. 



Assertion I. — That practice and manner 
of life which the Scripture calls holiness, 
righteousness, or godlhiess, obedience, true 
religion, is not attained by our most resolved 
endeavours, but is given through the know- 
ledge of him that has called us to glory and 
virtue. 

Assert. II. — No man can love God till 
he knows him, nor till he knows him to be 
his everlasting friend. Therefore, the spring 
of true holiness is a well-grounded persua- 
sion of our reconciliation with God, and of 
our future enjoyment of the everlasting 
heavenly happiness, and of sufficient strength, 
given in him for all he calls us unto. 

Assert. Ill — These endowments, so ne- 
cessary to the obedience of love, are con- 
tained in the fulness of Christ, and are enjoy- 
ed only by union and fellowship with him. 

Assert, IV. — The mean or instalment 
whereby the Spirit of God accomulisheth 



our union with Christ, and our fellowship 
with him in all holiness,* is the gospel, 
whereby Christ entereth into our hearts, 
begetting us to the faith whereby we actU'. 
ally receive Christ himself, with all his ful- 
ness, unto the hope of eternal life by him. 
And thus by the influence of the Spirit of 
truth, we unfeignedly believe the gospel, 
and also believe on Christ as he is revealed 
and freely promised [to us therein, for all 
his salvation. 

Assert. V. — The practice of true holiness 
is not attained by any endeavours of our na- 
tural state, but is a blessing of that new 
state given in Jesus Christ, and partaken 
of by union and fellowship with Christ 
through faith. 

Assert. VI. — Those that endeavour to 
perform sincere obedience to all the conv- 
mands of Christ, as the condit^'on whereby 
they are to procure for themselves a right 



MARSHALL RECOMMENDED. 



619 



and title to salvation, and a good ground to 
trust on him for the same, do seek their 
salvation by the works of the law, and not 
by the faith of Christ as he is revealed in 
the gospel ; and they shall never be able to 
perform sincerely any true holy obedience 
by all such endeavours. 

Assert. VII. — We are not to imagine, 
that our hearts and lives must be changed 
from sin to holiness, in any measure, before 
we may safely venture to trust on Christ 
for the sure enjoyment of himself and his 
salvation. 

Assert VIII. — True holiness of heart 
and life hath its due order where God hath 
placed it, that is, after union with Christ, 
justification, and- the gift of the Holy Ghost. 
It is not therefore to be expected but in 
that order, as what accompanies salvation. 

Assert. IX. — It is only by the comforts 
of the gospel, revealing a just God and a 
Saviour, that God works in us to will and 
to do of his good pleasure. 

Assert. X. — The comforts of the gospel 
necessary to Christian obedience, contain 
sufficient grounds of assurance of our sal- 
vation, not because we believe, but in a way 
of immediate tnist and confidence. There- 
fore, instead of seeking other methods of 
peace and holiness, we must endeavour to 
believe or trust on Christ confidently ; per- 
suading and assuring ourselves, according to 
the divine declarations, that God freely 



gives to lis an interest in Christ and bis 
salvation, according to his gracious pro- 
mise. 

Assert. XI — It is therefore belonging 
to the practical part of the Christian life, to 
maintain the same immediate trust and con- 
fidence in dependence on the divine faith- 
fulness, not to sufl?er us to be confounded, 
that so our enjoyment of Christ, union and 
fellowship wdth him, and all holiness by 
him, may be contiimed and increased in us. 

Assert. XII. — The Scripture calls upon 
Christians to walk no longer according to 
the principles or means of practice that be- 
long unto the natural or original state of 
man, but only according to that new state 
given in Christ which we receive by faith, 
and the principles and means of practice 
that properly belong thereunto ; and to 
strive to continue and increase in such a 
manner of practice. 

Assert. XIII. — All ordinances of divine 
appointment, for the establishment and in- 
crease of our faith and love, are to be con- 
siderea only in this way of believing in 
Christ, and walking in him according to 
this new state given in him. 

Assert. XIV. — That we may be con- 
firmed in holiness only by believing in 
Christ, and walking in him by faith, accord- 
ing to the former assertions, we may take 
encouragement from the great advantages of 
this way, and excellent properties of it. 



A RECOMMEND A TOR Y LETTER from Mr. HER VEY, to the Publisher of 
a New Edition of MARSHALL on Sanctifcation. 



Sir, — It gives me no small pleasure to 
hear, that you are going to republish Mr. 
Marshall's Gospel Mystery of Sanctifica- 
tion.* The instruction, consolation, and 
spiritual improvement, which I myself have 
received from that solid and judicious trea- 
tise, excite in me a pleasing hope, that it 
may be equally instructive and advantage- 
ous to others. 

The recommendation of it in Theron 
and Aspasio, \\Tth which you propose to 
introduce the new edition, is at your ser- 
vice. To tliis proposal I consent the more 
readily, because Mr. Marshall's book may 
be looked upon as no improper supplement 
to those Dialogues and Letters, the author 
of which intended to have closed his plan 



* It is said, by the very best judge of propriety in 
sacred writing, " Great is the mystery of godliness," 
} Tim. lii. 16. This passage, I presume, Mr. Mar- 
shall had in his view, when he pitched upon a title 
fcr his book. And this passage will reudc r it supe- 
rior to all ceasure» uaexceptaonabJy just and proper. 



with a dissertation on practical holiness, or 
evangelical obedience. But this design 
was dropped, partly on account of his very 
declining health, partly because the work 
swelled under his hands far beyond his ex- 
pectation. 

He has been advised once more to re- 
sume the pen, and treat that grand subject 
with some degree of copiousness and parti- 
cularity. If ,he should be enabled to exe- 
cute what he acknowledges to be expedient, 
the doctrines already discussed, and the pri- 
vileges already displayed, will furnish the 
principal materials for /his essay. Justifi- 
cation, free justification, through the right- 
eousness of Jesus Christ, is the sacred 
fleece from which he Avould spin his thread, 
and weave his garment ; agreeably to that 
important text, " Ye are bought with a 
price, therefore glorify God," 1 Cor. vi. 20. 
If providence, in all things wise, and in all 
things gracious, should see fit to w^ithhold ei- 
ther time or ability for the accomplishment of 



620 



MARSHALL RECOMMENDED. 



my purpose, I do, by these presents, nomin- 
ate and depute Mr. Marshall to supply my 
lack of service. 

Mr. Marshall expresses my thoughts ; he 
prosecutes my scheme ; and not only pur- 
sues the same end, but proceeds in the 
same way. I shall therefore rejoice in the 
prospect of having the Gospel Mystery of 
Sanctification stand as a fourth volume to 
Theron and Aspasio. Might I be allow- 
ed, without the charge of irreverence, to 
use the beautiful images of an inspired 
writer, I could with great satisfaction say, 
" If this be a wall, that will build upon it 
a palace of ivory ; if this be a door, that 
will enclose it with boards of cedar." Cant. 
\'iii. 9. 

Mr. Marshall represents true holiness as 
consisting in the love of God, and the love 
of man ; that unforced, unfeigned, and most 
rational love of God, which arises from a 
discovery of his unspeakable mercy and in- 
finite kindness to us ; that cordial, disin- 
terested, and universal love of man, which 
flows from the possession of a satisfactoiy 
and delightful portion in the Lord Jeho- 
vah. These duties of love to our Creator 
and our fellow- creatures, are regarded as the 
sum and substance of the moral law ; as the 
root from which all other branches of pure 
and undefiled religion spring. Holiness, 
thus stated, is considered, not as the means, 
bat as a part, a distinguished part, of our 
salvation ; or rather as the very central 
point, in which all the means of grace, and 
all the ordinances of religion, terminate. 

Man, in a natural state, is absolutely in- 
capable of practising this holiness, or en- 
joying this happiness. If you ask, What 
is meant by a natural state ? It is that state 
in which we are under the guilt of sin and 
the curse of the law, are subject to the 
power of Satan, and influenced by evil pro- 
pensities. From this state none are re- 
leased, but by being united to Christ ; or, 
as the apostle speaks, by " Christ dwelling 
in the heart through faith." Eph. iii. 
17. 

Faith, according to Mr. Mai-shall, is a 
real persuasion that God is pleased to give 
Christ and his salvation ; to give him free- 
ly, without any recommending qualifica- 
tions, or preparatory conditions ; to give 
him, not to some sinners only, but to 7ne a 
^ sinner in particular. It is likewise an ac- 
tual receiving of Christ, mth all the bene- 
fits, privileges, and promises of the gospel ; 
in pursuance of the divine gift, and on no 
other warrant than the divine grant. This 
last office is particularly insisted on, as an 
essential part, or as the principal act of 
faith ; to perform which there is no ration- 
al, no possible way, unless, as our author 
declares, we do in ^ome measure persuade 



and assure ourselves* that Christ and his 
salvation are ours. 

As faith is such a persuasion of the 
heart, and such a reception of Christ, it as- 
sures the soul of salvation by its own act, 
antecedent to all reflection on its fruits or 
effects, on marks or evidences. It assures 
the soul of acquittance from guilt, and re- 
conciliation to God ; of a title to the ever- 
lasting inheritance ; and of grace sufficient 
for every case of need. By the exercise of 
this faith, and the enjoyment of these bless- 
ings, we are sanctified ; conscience is paci- 
fied, and the heart purified ; we are deli- 
vered from the dominion of sin, disposed to 
holy tempers, and furnished for an holy 
practice. 

Here, I apprehend, our author will ap- 
pear singular ; this is the place in which 
he seems to go quite out of the common 
road. The generality of serious people 
look upon these unspeakable blessings as 
the reward of holiness, to be received after 
we have sincerely practised universal holi- 
ness ; not as necessary, previously neces- 
sary, to perform any act of true holiness. 
This is the stumbling-block which our le- 
gal minds, dim with prejudice, and swollen 
with pride, will hardly get over. However, 
these endowments of our new state are, in 
our author's opinion, the effectual, and the 
only effectual expedient, to produce sancti- 
fication. They are the very method which 
the eternal Spirit has ordained, for our 
bringing forth those " fruits of righteous- 
ness which are by Jesus Christ unto the 
glory and praise of God," Phil. i. 11. 
Whereas, if there be any appearances of 
virtue, or any efforts of obedience, which 
spring not from these motives and means 
of practice, Mr. Marshal! treats them as 
" reprobate silver he cannot allow them 
the character of gospel holiness. 

This is the plan, and these are the lead- 
ing sentiments of the ensuing treatise. To 
establish or defend them, is not my aim. 
This is attempted, and I think executed, in 
the work itself. My aim is, only to exhi- 
bit the most distinguishing principles in one 
sketch and clear point of view, that the 
reader may the more easily remember them, 



* It is not by this expression affirmed or insinuat- 
ed, that we are able to produce faith in ourselves by 
any power of our own. This self-sufficiency the au- 
thor has professedly and frequently disclaimed, as- 
serting, that "the Spirit of God habitually disposes 
and inclines our hearts to a right performance of this 
most important act." — This manner of speaking is 
used, I imagine, for two reasons : To point out the 
first and chfef work which we are to be doing, inces- 
santly and assiduously, till our Lord come: To re- 
mind us, that we must not expect to have faith 
wrouglit in us by some fatality of supernatural oper^ 
ation', without any application or endeavour of our 
own; but tliat we must make it our diligent endea- 
vour, and our daily business, to believe in Christ. 
We must " labour to enter into this rest, and show 
all diligence to the full assurance of hope." 



MARSHALL RECOMMENDED. 



621 



and by this key enter the more perfectly 
into the writer's meaning. Let him that is 
spiritual (I Cor. ii. 15,) judge, and reject 
or admit, as each tenet shall appear to cor- 
respond or disagree with the infallible 
word. Only let candom', not rigour, fill 
the chair ; and interpret an unguarded ex- 
pression, or a seemingly inconsistent sen- 
tence, by the general tenor of the discourse- 
We are not to expect much pathos of 
address, or any delicacy of composition. 
Here the gospel diamond is set, not in gold, 
but in steel — not where it may display the 
most sprightly beam, or pour a flood of 
brilliancy, but where it may do the most 
signal service, and afford a fund of useful- 
ness. Neither is this book so particularly 
calculated for careless insensible sinners, as 
for those who are awakened into a solici- 
tous attention to their everlasting interests, 
who are earnestly inquiring, with the Phi- 
lippian jailor, " What shall I do to be sav- 
ed?" Rom. viii. 24; or passionately cry- 
ing, in the language of the apostle, " O 
wretched man that I am ! who shall deli- 
ver me from the body of this death ?" Kou.. 
vii. 24. If there be any such, as no doubt 
there are many in the Christian world, I 
would say, with regard to them, as the Is- 
raelitish captive said concerning her illus- 



trious but afflicted master, " Would God 
my master were with the prophet in Sa- 
maria ; for he would recover him of his 
leprosy," 2 Kings v. 3. O that such pei- 
sons were acquainted with the doctrines, 
and influenced by the directions, contained 
in this treatise ! They would, under the 
divine blessing, recover them from their 
distress, and restore them to tranquillity ; 
they would " comfort their hearts, and 
thereby establish them in every good word 
and work." 2 Thess. ii. 17. 

But I am going to anticipate what the 
following extract speaks.* I shall there- 
fore only add my hearty wishes, that you 
may meet with encouragement and success 
in the publication of this truly valuable 
piece. Since there is, in this instance, an 
evident connexion between your private in- 
terest and the general good, I think you 
may promise yourself the appi'obation and 
acceptance of the public, as you will assur- 
edly have all the support and assistance 
that can be given by, Sir, your humble ser- 
vant, J. HERVEY. 



* This extract, or the recommendation given of 
this excellent book, entitled, The Gospel Mi/stei^ of 
Sunctrfication, is to be found in our author's works, 
p, 440, note. 



Weston- Favel, near Northampton, 
Nov. 5, 175G. 



ENU OF THERON AND ASPAblO. 



SERMONS 

ON 

SEVERAL IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. 



PREFACE 



The following two Sermons have been 
judged too excellent to be suppressed. 
They were preached, according to the best 
information, at Biddeford, in the year 1743. 

As to their authenticity, they carry in 
themselves the strongest internal evidences 
of their being genuine. Whoever reads 
them, will know who wrote them. " Cele- 
brated writers," as this excellent author ob- 
serves elsewhere, "have a style peculiar to 
themselves." This was eminently true of 
himself. His performances (some of his 
letters excepted, written in the younger 
part of his life) are indeed " as apples of 
gold in pictures of silver ;" transmitting the 
most precious truths through the channel 
of the most elegant, correct expression, and 
adorning the doctrines of God our Saviour 
with all the heightening graces of exquisite 
composition. When Hervey's pencil gives 
the drapery, truth is sure never to suffer by 
appearing in an ill dress. His prose is, in 
general more lovely and harmonious, more 
chastely refined, and more delicately beauti- 
ful, than half the real poems in the world. 
With Hervey in their hands, his delighted 
readers will nigh find themselves at a loss 
which they shall most admire — the subli- 
mity and sv/eetness of the blessed truths he 
conveys, or the charming felicity of their 
conveyance. There is, if the term may be 
allowed, a sort of family likeness discerni- 
ble in all this author's pieces. You disco- 
ver the lively signatures of the parent in 
every one of his offspring. They not only 
carry the superscription of his name, but 
likewise bear the image of his genius, and 
are himself at second-hand. A mong others, 
the ensuing performance may be consider- 
ed as a transparent medium, a screen of 
crystal, through which the original writer is 



distinctly seen, and known from every other : 
a circumstance which, with me, has .more 
convincing weight than the extrinsic attes- 
tation of a thousand witnesses. 

The copy, from which these sermons 
are printed, was lately transmitted to me 
for publication, by a most valued friend of 
Exeter. I deem it a particular happiness 
that so choice a treasure should pass, through 
my unworthy hands, to the church of God. 
And I rejoice the rather, as I have, by this 
means, an opportunity of doing myself the 
honour to bear the most open and public 
testimony to that grand, fundamental, ines- 
timable doctrine of a sinner's " full, free, 
and final justification, by the alone obedi- 
ence and sacrifice of Jesus Christ the 
righteous." 

I shall not detain the evangelical reader 
from this feast any longer than just to as- 
sure him, that neither my excellent friend, 
who communicated the copy to me, nor 
myself, who communicate it to the world, 
propose to ourselves any sort of pecuniary 
advantage from this publication ; nor will 
we accept of any, should the sale be ever 
so great. 

Respect for the memory of that holy man 
of God who preached these sermons, and .a 
hope of their being made useful to such as 
read them, were the motives which induced 
us to send them abroad. One would wish 
to gather up the very fragments that remain 
of so distinguished a writer, and that no- 
thing so apparently calculated for general 
benefit might be lost. 

I thought it necessary to add two or three 
occasional notes, of whose propriety the 
reader will judge for himself. 

Augustus Toplady. 



Westinmster, JuIj/ 8, 17G9. 



SERMON I. 



MANY MADE RIGHTEOUS BY THE OBEDIENCE OF ONE. 



Two Sermons Preached at Biddeford, 1743. 



Rom. v. 19.—" By the obedience of One shall many be made riglvteous.*' 



" By the works of the hnv shall no man 
.iving be justified," was not long ago the 
Mibject of a public discourse ; and, I hope, 
li is frequently been the subject of our private 
consideration. O that the important truth 
may be written most intelligibly upon our 
l-.earts, and beget in us a sound humility and 
^uT evangelical poverty of sphit ! We then 
pulled up the wrong foundation ; and now 
))ermit me to establish the right. We then 
warned you of the sandy foundation ; and now 
permit me to lead you to the Rock of ages, 
where you may safely repose all your confi- 
dences, and build with the utmost security 
fo)' a blissful eternity. This is pointed out 
in the scripture before us ; which, though 
concise in its expressions, is rich and co- 
])ious in its meanings, and breathes the very 
spirit of the gospel. 

" By the obedience of One shall many 
be made righteous," The One mentioned in 
the text, is the man Christ Jesus. The obedi- 
ence, spoken of, includes both his active 
and passive obedience ; the labours of his 
life, and the agonies of his death : all which 
he exercised and suffered in conformity to 
his Father's will, for the sake of fallen men ; 
that they, by his righteousness, might be 
made righteous ; that, havhig these creden- 
tials, they may be admitted into the court of 
heaven ; and carrying this passpoi t, may be 
admitted into " the everlasting habitations." 

This docti'ine I take to be the most sweet 
and precious part of our Christian faith ; 
that which gives the most pure and undivid- 
ed honour to God ; which yields the most 
reviving and solid comfort to the sinner ; 
and in the most endearing and effectual man- 



ner promotes every mterest of holiness. 
But as much as it is little understood by 
some, entirely exploded by others, and scarce 
ever thought upon by more ; let us crave 
your impartial attention while I clear up and 
confirm it and not only crave your atten- 
tion, brethren, but implore the renewing and 
enlightening influence of divine grace ; with- 
out which, I am aware, my words wall be 
unintelligible to some, and appear, perhaps, 
ridiculous to others ; for " the natural man 
discerneth not the things which are of the 
Spirit of God ;" on the contrary, " they are 
foolishness unto him." Depending, there- 
fore, on divine grace, let us examine, 

I. How the obedience another can make 
us righteous. 

II. How sxifficient Christ's obedience is 
for this purpose. 

III. How worthy this method of becom • 
ing righteous is of all acceptation ; and then, 

IV. Give some few directions, that may 
dispose us to rely on, and prepare us to re- 
ceive the righteousness of Jesus Christ. 

I. Let us examine how the obedience of 
another can make us righteous. This point 
may be proved and illustrated, 

1 . P'rom the nature of a surety. 

2. From Christ's dying as a sinner for 

us. 

3. From Adam's sin being imputed to us. 

1 . The doctnne of our being made right- 
eous through the obedience of Christ, may 
be proved and illustrated from the nature of 
a surety, who is one that undertakes and en^ 
gages for another. Let us suppose the par- 

•2 s 



MANY MADE 

ties were Paul and Onesimus. Onesimus 
was Philemon's slave. The slave disobey- 
ed his master, ran away from him and his 
service. Not only deserted his service, 
but stole his goods ; turned fugitive and 
thief at once. For the first of these crimes 
he deserves stripes and a rod ; for the 
last, death and the gallows. St. Paul meet- 
ing with Onesimus, learns the state of his 
condition ; and, having been the means of 
his conversion to Christianity by his preach- 
ing, and of his reconciliation to God through 
Jesus Christ, offers to become his mediator 
with his offended master. In order to exe- 
cute which office more effectually, he puts 
himself in the criminal's stead, becomes 
answerable for his villany, and takes upon 
Inm to make full reparation for the injuries 
he had done to his master : " If he hatli 
wronged thee ought," says the beneficent 
apostle, " or oweth thee ought, put that to 
thy account ; I Paul haye written it with 
mine own hand, I will repay it." By this 
means, the renegade slave is discharged, and 
Paul the innocent apostle becomes debtor. 
But how ? Not actually but imputatively ; 
for neither has Onesimus repaid, nor Paul 
stolen ought ; but, by virtue of the under- 
taken suretyship, Onesimus's debt lies upon 
Paul, and Paul's freedom turns to the ac- 
quittance of Onesimus. 

Thus it is in the matter of justification. 
We bad all sinned in Adam ; forfeited the 
favour of God. In order to our reconcile- 
ment, God required a full satisfaction to his 
justice, and a perfect obedience to his laws. 
These we could not possibly render in our 
own persons; therefore, Christ graciously 
presented himself, and undertook to perform 
both in our stead. Upon me, says the com- 
passionate Redeemer, upon vie be their of- 
fences laid. If they have transgressed, let 
vengeance make its demands on me ; I will 
repay to the very utmost farthing ; and for- 
asmuch as through the weakness of their 
mortal nature, they are not able to yield an 
exact conformity to the divine laws, I am 
willing to " fulfil all righteousness," in their 
stead and behalf. *' Lo ! I come to do thy 
will, O my God !" I do it, not for myself, 
but for them, that the merit of my obe- 
dience may redound to my people, and that 
they, through my righteousness, may be 
made righteous. 

2. The doctrine of our being made right- 
eous through Christ, may be inferred from 
Lis dying as a sinner for us. It is a very 
remarkable passage, a,n4 full to our purpose, 
where the apostle declares, that the Al- 
mighty Father made his Son, " who knew 
no sin, to be sin for us, that we might be 
made the righteousness of God in him" 

How you may be affected at present with 
such a scripture, brethren, I cannot deter- 
mine J but if ever you come to the know 



RIGEtTEOUg 

ledge of yourselves, and the heinousness of 
your sins, and the worthlessness of your du- 
ties, such a text will be sweeter to you than 
the honey or the honey-comb to your taste, 
and more refreshing than the richest cordial 
to your souls. However, from St. Paul's 
declaration, we gather this preciotis trath, 
that we are made righteous before God, in 
such a manner as Christ was made a sinner 
for us : not by any personal demerit ; for 
he had done no sin, neither was guile found 
in his mouth ; but " the Lord laid on him 
the iniquities of us all." 

In like manner, how are the greatest 
saint is made righteous before God ? Not by 
any personal merit. They have done no- 
thing that can deserve God's love, or that 
is worthy of a reward ; but God looks upon 
them as interested in his dear Son's obedi- 
ence, and so rewards them purely for their 
Saviour's sake. God visited our sins upon 
him ; and God rewards his merits upon us : 
God accounted our transgressions to be 
his ; and, on this footing, he was punished! 
as a malefactor : and God esteems his 
righteousness as ours ; and by virtue of this 
imputation, we are accepted as complete. 

3. Once again, the doctrine of our being 
made righteous through the obedience of 
Christ, may receive stronger proofs and 
fuller illustrations from Adam's sin being 
imputed unto us. This is an undoubted 
truth, written, as it were, with a sunbeam 
in almost every page of Scripture. St. 
Paul assures us that " in Adam all die." 
And if so, it is certain, that in Adam alf 
sinned. Tell me now, how "came that per- 
sonal sin of Adam to be charged upon us ? 
how can his having eaten the forbidden fruity 
render us liable to death and damnation f 
How, but by imputation ? Adam was a 
public person; he represented the whole 
race of mankind ; his act was imputed to 
his whole posterity. Such a communion 
there is between Christ and his elect : he^ 
too, was a public person ; he was a repre- 
sentative of all his chosen ones ; and his 
obedience is looked upon as theirs. Thus 
believers are made righteous by the obedi- 
ence of their everlasting head, Christ Jesus, 
even as they were made sinners by the 
transgression of their mortal father, Adam 5 
because t)f the analogy and similitude there 
is between his righteousness to j.ustify, and 
Adam's iniquity to condemn.* 



« Mr. Hervey seems htre to have fetcl an eye to' 
I Cot. XV. 22. " For as in Adam all die, even so in 
Christ shall all be made alive." Th^ ^ecvn;, or aU, 
affirmed by the apostle to have died ia Adam, are the 
same jravTEf, or all, that shall be rnade alive in 
Christ ; namely, all the members of Christ's mystic 
body ; all that church which he loved, and for which 
he gave himself to death. There are two reasons, in 
particular, which determine the meaning of the word 
all, in this passage, to the elect, and to them only : 1. 
Throughout the whole context St. Paul treats solely 
of the first resurrection ; the resurrection of the just^ 



BY THE OBEDIENCE OF ONE. 



627 



Let lis now- make a pause, and review 
our attempt. We have endeavoured to ren- 
der the doctrine of the text somewhat clear- 
er, by considering the nature of a surety, 
from Christ's being made " sin for us," and 
from the " imputation of Adam's offence" 
to us. But these, alas ! are points little 
known to the world. Cornipt nature is 
prejudiced against them, and Satan is stu- 
dious to hide ihem from our eyes. Let us 
beseech " the God and Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ" to reveal the "mystery of 
godliness " in our hearts, that we may be- 
lieve in Jesus Christ as the Son of God, 
and only Saviour of the world ; " and that 
believing, we may have life," not through 
any fancied goodness of our own, but en- 
tirely " through his name." 

II. Let us now just take notice, how 
sufficient Christ's obedience is for the pur- 
pose of justification. It is a most incom- 
parably excellent obedience : it exceeds not 
only the righteousness of innocent and up- 
right Adam, but the righteousness of an- 
gels, principalities, and powers. Extol this 
righteousness as high as words can reach, 
or ideas soar ! for it is the righteousness of 
incarnate Divinity; wrought out by hlin 
who was God and inan in one Christ 
whose divine nature gave an infinity, both 
oif efficacy and of dignity, to all he did. 
*' To you that believe " the Godhead of Je- 
sus, his righteousness must needs be incon- 
ceivably precious : you will not, you cannot 
think it strange, that a whole world of be- 
lievers should be accepted through it, and 
owe all their salvation to it. The prophet, 
in the most express terms, sets his seal to 
this truth when he affirms, that the Lord, 
the supreme and incomprehensible Jehovah, 
is "our righteousness:" and who would 
forsake the " everlasting Rock," in order to 
lean on a bruised reed ? who w^ould quit an 
illustrious »-o6e, for scanty covering and filthy 
rags? St. Paul accounted "all things but 
loss," in comparison of his Saviour's ngh- 



teousness. Yea, his own eminent holiness, 
and transcendent usefulness, he regarded no 
more than dross and dung, that he might 
" win Christ and be found in Him." This 
is the righteousness, whose influences ex- 
' tend to the earliest days, and will reach to 
the most distant ages. By this the holy 
men of old enjoyed the favour of God ; by 
this alone the generations yet unborn will 
enter into their master's joy. In a word, 
this is the " hope, the sure and sole hope of 
all the ends of the earth, and of them that 
remain in the broad sea :" for in every Na- 
tion under heaven, and through all the re- 
volutions of time, God is well pleased with 
sinners only in his beloved Son. Let me 
draw one remark from the whole, and I 
have done. Let me observe the difference 
between the law of nature, and the law of 
Moses, and the law of faith- The law of 
nature says, " Live up to the duties of thy 
reason, and the conviction of thy own mind, 
and thou shalt be safe." The law of Mo- 
ses saith, " Keep the commandments, and 
execute all the statutes, and thy salvation 
shall be sure." But fiiith saith, " ThoU 
needest not attempt these impossibilities. 
Christ hath done both, hath done all, in 
thy stead. He hath improved the light of 
nature, and fulfilled the whole law of God ; 
and this in the capacity of thy Surety." 
Go then to thy Redeemer ; lay hold on his 
righteousness. Believe truly in Christ 
Jesus, and what he hath done shall be ac- 
counted thine. Thy eternal felicity is al- 
ready procured. Thou bast nothing el6e to 
do, but to look upon it as thy certain por • 
tion, and inalienable inhieritance, through 
Christ ; and to live in humble and cheerful 
expectation of that great day, when thy 
free title shall be changed into actual pos- 
session. And, in the mean time, love that 
divine Benefactor with all thy heart, and 
study to please him in all holy conversation 
and godliness. 



8ERMON li. 



Roil. V. ]9.—'< By the obedicllce of One shall many be made righteous 



In the book of Job, iv. 13 — 17, we have 
a very awakening lesson of humiliation, 



the resurrection to life eternal. He says riot one word 
in this cl)apter concerning the resurrection of the un- 
godly ; but confines himself singly to that of true be- 
lievers. 2. He, in the very next verse, expreesly points 
out the \>ersons of whose resurrection he here speaks : 
these, he tells us; are " those that belong to Christ, 
and are his own peculiar property ; who were given 
to him, by the Father, in the covenant of redemption ; 
F.nd in whom he has a special inamissible inteiest." 



most admirably calculated to impress the 
thought, aiid to bring down the conceited 
mind. Eliphaz relates a vision.* When 
midnight drew her black curtains over the 



* In the present sermon, the description of Eli- 
phaz's vision resembles'the primary sketch, the ualied, 
imperfect outlines of a inasterly picture ; but, in the 
Contemplations on the Night, we behold the picture 
completely finished; and touched, 1 had almost said> 
into the % ery pt-iiection of grandeur and beauty. 



628 



MANY MADE RIGHTEOUS 



world, when darkness and deep silence reign- 
ed through the whole universe, in these 
solemn moments a spirit passed before his 
face. Fearfulness and astonishment seized 
the beholder ; his bones shivered within him ; 
his flesh trembled all over him ; and the 
hairs of his head stood erect with horror. 
In the midst of these tremendous circum- 
stances, a voice broke forth from the fiery 
phantom — a voice, for its importance, wor- 
thy to be had in everlasting remembrance ; 
and, for its awfulness, enough to alarm a 
heart of stone. It spake to this effect, 
" Shall mortal man be just before God ? 
shall a man be pure in the sight of his Mak- 
er ?" The words thus translated breathe a 
wonderful dignity of sentiment ; and lead 
our minds into the most exalted notions of 
God Almighty, immaculate and inconceiv- 
able. Certainly they comprise one of the 
most powerful antidotes against the pride 
and haughtiness natural to fallen man, that 
can possibly be imagined. They are a to- 
ken, in this sense, truly worthy of the aw- 
ful Being who uttered them, and that air 
of vast importance with which they were 
introduced. Our translation sinks the idea 
exceedingly. It tells us no more than what 
all the world must acknowledge at the very 
first reflection ; and so scarce deserves to 
be ushered in with so great solemnity. It 
seems also to oppose what no one can de- 
ny, or have insolence enough to maintain : 
for none, I should imagine, even Lucifer 
himself, could ever presume to think him- 
self more just, more pure, than the original 
and standard of all perfections. No : let 
a person be esteemed ever so just, in com- 
parison of his fellow-sinners ; let him be ac- 
counted most eminently holy, by those that 
are polluted clay like himself ; yet, before in- 
finite and uncreated purity, O let him be 
greatly abased ; let him put his mouth in the 
dust, take shame tohimself, and cry out, "Un- 
clean ! unclean !" According to this trans- 
lation of the words, you see the doctrine of 
man's universal depravity is as ancient as 
the times of Job ; and that there is no pos- 
sibility of being justified by any personal 
accomplishments or acquirements, was ex- 
pressly taught in those early ages. 

O that it may be as unfeignedly believ- 
ed in these latter days ? " But if this be 
the case," says an inquisitive hearer; "if 
all men are become abominable ; if their 
best deeds are stained, and there are none 
that are righteous before God, no not one ; 
how shall they be accepted when they are 
judged?" Wliy, by a method tbat lies 
vastly beyond the reach of human wisdom 
or device. By a method, that was but 
dimly hinted at in the generations of old, 
but is clearly revealed by the apostles and 
preachers of the gospel ; even by the obe- 
dience of Jesus Christ • by a righteousness 



not wrought % us, but imputed to us. The 
nature of which imputation we have already 
illustrated, and shown the sufficiency of our 
Redeemer's obedience for this purpose. 
Which two points being despatched, 

III. I am to show you how "worthy of 
all acceptation" this method of becoming 
righteous is ; and that, as it is perfectly con- 
sonant to the ancient prophecies ; as it 
gives the highest glory to God ; and as it 
yields the richest consolation to man. 

1. This method of becoming righteous 
through the obedience of Christ, is per- 
fectly consonant to the tenor of ancient pro- 
phecies. In the patriarchal age, God pro- 
mised to Abraham, and renewed the gra- 
cious assurances to Isaac, " that in his seed 
all the nations of the earth should be bless- 
ed." Now, what was this but a discovery 
of this evangelical doctrine ? It was, indeed, 
somewhat obscure then ; but it is clear as' 
the day now. The seed of Abraham is 
doubtless our glorious Mediator, who, in 
the fulness of time, took flesh, and was 
born of a descendant from Abraham. In 
him all the elect under heaven shall be 
blessed. Observe, not in themselves, not 
for any excellency that is in them ; but in 
him they shall inherit all heavenly blessings. 
He is the Alpha and Omega of our happi- 
ness ; the beginning and the end, the cause 
and the consummation of all our joy. He 
is the only spring and fountain of all bless- 
edness, as much as yonder sun is the only 
fountain of this light that now shines around 
us. Every ray of light that falls upon our 
eyes, proceeds altogether from that bright 
luminary; we do nothing towards enkind- 
ling it ; we only use its beams, and rejoice 
in its splendour. So fallen man can do no- 
thing towards procuring the favour of his 
almighty Maker ; but can only, by faith in 
Jesus Christ, receive it, already procured ; 
and testify his gratitude for it, by a cheer- 
ful obedience. 

In the prophet Isaiah, we find the follow- 
ing passages. God the Father, speaking 
of his obedient and beloved Son, has this 
remarkable expression : " By his knowledge 
shall my righteous servant justify many." 
Here infinite Wisdom informs the whole 
world, howthey must expect justification and 
final acceptance. It is entirely through liis 
dear Son, our divine Mediator : His holy life 
and propitiatory death are the only procur- 
ing causes of our forgiveness, the only con- 
ditions of our salvation ; and a true know- 
ledge of him, a right belief in him, make 
the merit of both our own.* 



* From a saving knowledge of Christ, and by faith 
in him, we are manifestatively interested in what lie 
has done and suffered. Our interest in his righteous- 
ness must, in the very nature of things, have been 
prior to our sense of interest in it ; otherwise all sense 
of it would be delusive, and conversant with a non- 
entity. 



BY THE OBEDIENCE OF ONE. 



629 



God says not, he shall make them capa- 
ble of reconciliation ; he shall in part justi- 
fy ; he shall fill up their deficiency, and per- 
fect what is wanting in their duties. No ! 
out he shall accomplish the whole work ; he 
shall execute the great office without a ri- 
val ; without a partner, he will justify the 
faithful, and not they themselves. I 

2. This method of becoming righteous, 
through the obedience of Christ, is worthy 
of all acceptation, because it gives the 
highest glory to God. Nothing can be so 
effectually calculated to abase the sirmer, 
and exalt the Saviour, as this way of ob- 
taining salvation. This will bring down 
the lofty look of man ; this will lay every 
assuming thought in the very dust, and 
leave the Lord alone glorious and exalted. 
This thoroughly secures to God his great 
prei'ogative, and utterly excludes human 
boasting, and brings unmingled honour and 
glory to the Surety of men. Whereas, was 
life eternal the roward of their own works, 
there would be some pretension for self- 
admiration. Men would arrogate some of 
the merit to tiiemselves, and say in their 
hearts, My power, and the might of my 
hands hath gotten me this wealth." If they 
were to expect the blessing of the eternal 
state as wages which they have earned, O 
what a damp would this strike on their 
thankfulness ! how little would they think 
themselves obliged, and, indeed, how little 
would they be obliged, to God their Saviour 
on this footing ! But, when saints in light 
view their heavenly inheritance ; when they 
survey that great, exceeding great and eter- 
nal weight of glory, and remember that they 
did nothing to deserve all this ineffable fe- 
licity ; that if it had not been procured en- 
tirely by their dying and obedient Saviour, 
they had been everlastingly banished from 
the realms of blessedness; O what pui-e 
iind fervent gratitude must this inspire them 
with ! what an emphasis and ardour, while 
they utter that devout acknowledgment, 

Not unto us, O Lord ! not unto us, but 
unto thy dear and adorable name be the 
praise ! We were enemies in our minds, 
and by our wicked works ; but thou hast 
redeemed us unto God by thy blood : all 
our choicest actions were polluted and un- 
clean ; but thou hast worked out for us a 
perfect and everlasting righteousness." 

Thus v\'ill adoration and love be given to 
the Lamb that was slain ; every crown will 
be cast low before the throne, and wear 
this humbling motto, " Not by works of 
righteousness which we have done, but ac- 
cording to his mercy he saved us." O the 
depths both of the wisdom and goodness of 
God ! Goodness, in establishing such a 
method of salvation for us, in all things so 
well ordered and sure ! Wisdom, in cutting 
off all occasion of self-glorying, and bring- 



ing man to the deepest humiliation, even 
while it exalts him to the heaven of hea- 
vens ! 

3. This method of becoming righteous 
through the obedience of Christ, is worthy 
of all acceptation, because it administers 
the richest consolation to man ! it is an 
inexhaustible spring of satisfaction and re- 
pose. 

Luther, that renowned reformer, and 
great champion for the Protestant cause, 
when he broke away from the mists of Po- 
pery, and began to understand this most 
noble peculiarity of Christianity, declared,- 
that " the gate of Paradise seemed to fly 
open to his view j that he had a glimpse of 
its beauty in contemplating this sacred truth, 
and a taste of its delights in believing it ; so 
sweet a composure and such a charming 
tranquillity did it diffuse through his mind." 
Nor do I wonder at his saying, " for, while 
we are ignorant of this doctrine, there is 
nothing but horror and dread around us." 
If we strike this text from our Bible, or this 
article from our creed, all is dismal and dis- 
tressing. Turn which way you will, the 
prospect is uncomfortable. If we look to 
ourselves, we shall find misery and guilt ; if 
to God, nothing but indignation and dis- 
pleasure. But this brightens up the whole 
scene. Let us observe, in the character of 
a feeble Christian, and of an awakened pro- 
fligate, what glad tidings the gospel is by 
virtue of this doctrjne, and what a miserable 
comforter it would be without it. The lan- 
guage of the former, in his private medita- 
tions, must proceed in some such maimer 
as this : " Wherewithal shall I come before 
the most high God ? Shall I offer him my 
pious services ? Alas! they are miserably defi- 
cient ; they issue from a corrupt stock, and 
cannot but be corrupt shoots. I have done 
nothing that is worthy of his acceptance ; 
how then shall I stand in his sacred presence ! 
I strive to be perfect and entire, and wanting 
nothing ; but 1 feel myself to be poor and 
indigent, and wretchedly defective. O whi- 
ther shall I go, but to him who is appoint- 
ed for this very purpose — that the bones 
which are broken by misery and guilt, may 
rejoice ; that the hands which hang down 
through self-condemnation and despondency 
may be lifted up ? Thither then will I turn, 
frail and dispirited as I am, and cast all my 
burden upon the Lord Jesus Christ : in his 
unspotted righteousness, and in nothing else, 
can the sole of my foot find any rest. When 
doubts arise, and fear, like a gloomy cloud, 
thickens around me, this Sun of righteous- 
ness shall dissipate the gloom in all my pil- 
grimage : this shall be my constant song ; 
in all my anxieties this shall be my only 
cordial : " Why art thou cast down, O my 
soul, and why art thou so disquieted within 
me? O put thy trust in Jesus Christ, !" 



630 



MANY MADE RIGHTEOUS 



His merits, and not thine own works, are 
the horn of thy salvation : " whosoever be- 
hevelh in him, shall not be confounded." 
And as for the pow sinner brought to a 
sense of his enormous crimes, methinks I 
hear him bewailing his condition in some 
such disconsolate manner : " O wretched 
man that I am ! how shall I attain the fa- 
vour of God ? My sins are multiplied above 
number, and aggravated beyond expression. 
I cannot make any satisfaction for what is 
past, much less can I win the divine good- 
will for the future. I am polluted, root and 
branch ; what can I do ?" Truly, sinner, 
I know not what thou canst do,;unless thou 
comest to Jesus Christ ; there is not a gleam 
of hope, or a grain of comfort, in all the 
universe besides. If- thou lamentest thy 
folly, and seest thy undone state, " with the 
Lord there is mercy," abundant mercy, and 
\vith the Lord Jesus Christ there is " plen- 
teous redemption." If thou canst rely on 
Christ, thy iniquities shall be done away 
like a morning cloud ; if thou canst believe 
in Him, thy debts are cancelled through his 
blood ; and that which thou art unable to 
perform, he hath fulfilled for thee. See 
how consonant this doctrine is to the whole 
series of scripture, and the voice of ancient 
pjophecies ! See what an unshared revenue 
of glory and thanksgiving it brings unto the 
blessed God ; both supporting the feeble 
Christian amidst all his infirmities, and 
opening a door of hope to the awakened 
sinner, notwithstanding all his - impieties ! 
Surely, then, this precious doctrine is wor- 
thy of all acceptation : surely we have rea- 
son to receive it with all imaginable thank- 
fulness ! But lest it should, after all, seem 
to us an idle tale, rather tliau glad tidings 
pf great joy, let me, 

IV. Give some directions that may dis- 
pose us to rely on, and prepai^e us to re- 
ceive, the righteousness of Jesus Christ. 

First, Bring a child-like mind to the con- 
sideration of it. Lay aside prepossessions, 
and meekly receive the ingrafted word with 
a teachable simplicity. Let ws sit at the 
feet of Jesus, and, like very little children, 
learn heavenly wisdom from his gospel. If 
we are conceited of our abilities, and lean 
to our own understanding, God may punish 
our pride by leaving us in the dark ; for he 
" hides these things from the wise and pru- 
dent, and reveals them unto babes." You 
must acknowledge your natural ignorance, 
^nd implore the teachings of his blessed 
Spirit ; for this is his peculiar o£&ce, to " con- 
vince the world of righteousness ;" that is, 
to convince the world of the fulness of the 
Kedeemer's righteousness, of its unsearch- 
able riches, and of its absolute sufficiency 
to justify his people. 

Secondly/, If you would not be offended 
at this doctrine, get a deep sense of " your 



own unrighteousness." It is the want of 
this conviction that indisposes men for a 
reliance on Christ : so long as they fancy 
themselves " rich and increased in gjoods," 
they will never be concerned to seek the 
fine gold of their Saviour's obedience. 

And, indeed, he came not to caU the 
righteous ;" his gospel is of such a nature, 
that the self-justiciary will discern no come- 
liness in it ; it will feed the hungry and 
" poor in spirit" with good things ; but the 
rich, and those that are " righteous in their 
own eyes," it will send empty away. 

Labour therefore to see your own vile- 
ness, and then the merits of a Saviour wiU 
be precious. Be sensible of your own na- 
kedness, and then the robe of a Redeem- 
er's righteousness will be prized indeed. 
Consider yourselves as " insolvent wTetch- 
ed bankrupts," who have nothing, who can 
do nothing that is spiritually good ; and 
then the perfect obedience, the full satis- 
faction of your divine Surety, will be " as 
health to your soul, and as marrow to your 
bones." 

Third!?;, Pray for faith. It is faith that 
unites to Jesus Christ. By faith you are 
implanted into him. Faith is the hand that 
lays hold on the Saviour's merits : " By 
faith ye are saved," says the apostle. This 
appears to the soul, the great salvation pur- 
chased by our dear Redeemer ; therefore, 
beseech God to beget in you this lovely, 
and lively faith, whereby you may lay hold 
on Christ, cleave most inseparably to 
Christ, and, renouncing every other refuge, 
lay the whole stress of your souls solely on 
Christ, as a shipwrecked mariner reliii- 
quishes all his sinking, cargo, and clings on- 
ly to the planks that may float him safe to 
shore. Seek this blessing to yourselves, 
brethren ; and if ever I forget to join my 
best supplication to yours, let my tongue 
cleave to the roof of my mouth." My 
" heart's desire and prayer to God," shall 
always be, that you may " believe to the 
saving of your souls." And a holy con- 
versation will be a sign unto you that your 
faith is real. A life of sincere holiness can 
spring from nothing but from this divine 
head, Christ Jesus. " By this shall all men 
know that ye are his disciples, if ye live by 
his Spirit, and walk as he walked." By 
this, likewise, your own consciences may 
be assured, that God hath given you an in- 
terest in his dear Son, and sent him to bless 
you — if he has " turned you from your ini- 
quities, and created you anew unto good 
works." 

Give me leave, at the close of all, to ask 
you with all simplicity. Have you under- 
stood these things ? do you believe this re- 
port ? or am 1 as one that speaketh a para- 
ble? 

If any be of this cpiuion I shuU address 



BY THE OBEDIENCE OF ONE. 



631 



them in the words of St. Paul to the Gal- 
itians, and commit them to enlightening 
grace. The apostle, inculcating this very 
point, and persuading them to this self-same 
belief, says, " Brethren, be as I am, for I 
was as ye are," Gal. iv. 12. Thus the 
words I would translate ; and then they are 
very pertinent to the purpose, and applica- 
ble to you and me j and, when paraphras- 
ed, will run thus : " I do not wonder, bre- 
thren, that ye are prejudiced against this 
doctrine. I myself was strongly possessed 
with such prejudices. I verily thought 
that my own righteousness would, at least, 
bear a part in procuring my acceptance with 
the eternal Majesty. Determined I was, 
in some measure, ' to stand on my own 
bottom and advance ray plea for life ever- 
lasting from my own holy endeavours. 
But now these arrogant resolutions and 
vain confidences are dropt. I now disa- 
vow all such pretensions. God hath 
brought me to a sounder mind. And as 
ye have been partakers with me in m.y mis- 



take, be partakers also of my righter judg- 
ment. I trusted to I knew not what : 
but * now I know in whom I have believ- 
ed.' I put myself, and the whole of my 
salvation, in my adored Immanuel's hands ;' 
and doubt not of his sufficiency for my se- 
curity. Henceforward I set my heart at 
rest, not because I have gone through such, 
offices, or done such duties ; but because 
my Redeemer is mighty and meritorious.' 
' It is God, the incarnate God, that justi- 
fies me ? who is he that shall condemn me ?' 
Never, never shall my heart cry to divine 
justice, ' Have patience with me, and I 
will pay thee all this were the language 
of gross ignorance, or gi'eat presumption. 
But in all my temptations, in every discour- 
agement, this shall be my acknowledgment, 
this shall still be my earnest prayer, The 
righteousness of thy obedience, most bless- 
ed Jesus, is everlasting ; O grant me an 
interest therein, and I shall live." Amen, 
amen ; so let it be, O Lord. 



SERMON III. 

THE MINISTRY OF RECONCILIATION, 

Representing the benign tendency of the gospel ; and that it is the friendly office of ministers, as the am- 
bassadors of Christ, to press men with all .imaginable tenderness, humility, and earnestness, to accept 
the treaty of reconciliation, as established in him, and urged by him, while on earth. 

Preached at the Parish Church of All- Saints, in Northampton. 



2 Cor. V. 18.— "All things are of God, wliohath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to 
us the ministry of reconciliation." 



» The love of God, that supremely glo- 
rious and supremely gracious Being, is, of 
all other tempers, the m^ost delightful and di- 
vine ; a sacred flower, which in its early 
bud is happiness, and in its full bloom is 
heaven. To plant this noble principle in 
the breast, to cultivate its growth, and bring 
it to maturity, is the grand end of all reli- 
gion, and the genuine fruit of faith unfeign- 
ed. Angels are happy, because the love of; 
God triumphs eternally, and without a ri- 
val, in their exalted affections. True be- 
lievers are happy, because the love of God, 
in a prevailing degree, is shed abroad in 
their hearts. The gospel is a dispensation 
of happiness, because it discovers the su- 
perabundant loving-kindness of God to 
man, and urges the most engaging motives 
for our ardent love to his almighty Majes- 
ty. 

The gospel represents the great God, 
not only as bestowing upon his creatures 



all the good they enjoy, but as effecting 
their reconciliation to his own adorable self, 
effecting this most desirable of all blessings, 
not barely by vouchsafing a pardon, but a 
pardon procured by the death of his Son, 
and by this enriching circumstance, infinite- 
ly erhanced, arrayed in all the charms that 
heaven itself could give. To render the 
purposes of his love more eftectual and ex- 
tensive, he has instituted an order of men 
to publish these glad tidings ; and to invite, 
yea, to beseech the world, to partake of the 
exceeding riches of his grace. All which 
the apostle has expressed in my text, with 
his usual energy and conciseness : " All 
things are of God, who hath reconciled us 
to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given 
to us the ministry of reconciliation." 

From which words, permit me, with all 
that simplicity which becomes a minister of 
the humble Jesus, 

L To enlarge a little upon that glorious 



632 



THE MINISTRY 



and amiaWe representation of the blessed 
God, discoverable even by the light of na- 
ture, " All things are of him." 

II. To remind you, how much more il- 
lustriously the delightful attributes of the 
Deity are displayed in the accomplishment 
of our redemption ; in that " he hath re- 
conciled us to himself by Jesus Christ." 

IJI. To observe the benign import and 
beneficial tendency of the gospel ministry, 
expressed in that remarkable clause, " He 
hath given to us the ministry of reconcilia- 
tion." 

First, then, let me enlarge a little upon 
that glorious and amiable representation of 
the blessed God, discoverable even by the 
light of nature, " All things are of him." 
Heaven and the heaven of heavens are his, 
with all their hosts. Thrones and domi- 
nions, principalities and powers, all the 
happy beings that sit at the fountain-head 
of felicity, were produced by his power, are 
supplied with blessings from his hand, and 
are filled with joy from his countenance. 
If we trace the various emanations of com- 
fort and advantage that refresh our lower 
world, we shall find reason to acknowledge 
with the Psalmist, " All our fresh springs 
are in God." The day is thine, says the 
same sacred writer, and the night is thine ; 
thou hast prepared the light and the sun. 
The magnificent luminaries in the sky are 
lamps of the Lord ; hung up on high, to 
dispense the cheering gift of light amidst 
all the families of nature. The interchanges 
of night and day, with the vicissitudes of 
revolving seasons, are his ministers ; all sent 
on errands of kindness, and bringing the 
most valuable presents in their hands. The 
innumerable variety of living creatures, and 
of nutrimental vegetables, are the portion, 
not which our own industry has procured, 
but which pur heavenly Father's bounty has 
settled upon us. 

Every great endowment, bestowed on the 
children of men ; every noble achievement, 
accomplished by renowned personages ; 
these derive their original from the uncreat- 
ed Fountain of perfection and of power. — 
If Solomon is possessed of enlarged wisdom 
and kingly qualities ; he expressly acknow- 
ledges, it is from the Lord, superintending 
human affairs, that such kings are advanced 
to reign ; and by the Lord enlightening their 
minds, that such princes decree justice- If, 
at one period, Nebuchadnezzar pursues his 
conquests with irresistible impetuosity, it is 
to scourge the offending people of the Lord, 
and banish idolatry from their worship, as 
the driving wind swept the chaff from their 
floors. If, at another juncture, Cyrus is 
equally victorious, and " comes upon princes 
as upon mortar, and as the potter treadeth 
clay it was the Lord of hosts that raised 
up this accomplished commander from the 



East, and bid him execute his designs of 
restoring love to his reformed nation. All 
those arts which meliorate, and sciences 
which embellish life, even these are from 
the Lord, " who is wonderful in counsel, 
and excellent in working." 

The time would fail me to enumerate 
particulars. Whatever is beneficial to com- 
munities, or comfortable to individuals ; 
whatever springs from the rain of heaven, 
or is produced by fruitful seasons ; what- 
ever administers to the improvement, or 
cheers the heart of man ; all, all acknow- 
ledge God for their Author. He is the 
giver of every good and perfect gift. The 
whole earth is filled with the profusion of 
his beneficence. And where, where is* the 
creature that has not tasted, that does not 
subsist on, the inexhaustible stores of his 
bounty ? And, though affliction also comes 
from the Father of our spirits, yet this is no 
derogation from his tender mercies ; since 
he chastens not with an arbitrary severity 
but with a parental pity ; he chastens only 
to amend ; and these light, these transient 
tribulations, are preparatives for an exceed- 
ing great and eternal weight of glory. 

And is not such a Being worthy of our 
highest admiration, and our devoutest love ? 
Has he not, by such ineffable excellencies, 
such unmeasurable benignity— has he not 
an undoubted claim to the affections of our 
hearts, the praises of our tongues, and the 
unintermitted services of our lives ? He is 
the source of all our good ; should he not 
also be the centre of all our gratitude, and 
of our whole obedience ? But our obliga- 
tions will rise immensely higher, if we con- 
sider, 

Secondly, How much more illustriously 
the delightful attributes of the Deity are 
displayed in the accomplishment of our re- 
demption ; in that " he hath reconciled us to 
himself in Jesus Christ." Man was creat- 
ed upright, immaculate, and in the image of 
God. Heavenly wisdom shone bright in 
his understanding, and true holiness sat en- 
throned in his heart. But how soon, how 
fatally, did he fall ! from what height of 
perfection, to what depth of degeneracy ! 
Since that destructive transgression, all flesh 
has corrupted his way ; every man is become 
brutish in his knowledge ; and the imagina- 
tion of the thoughts of his heart is only evil 
continually. " Our iniquities separated be- 
tween us and our God, and our sins hid his 
face from us," as from an abominable ob- 
ject. Nay, our sins accused us at his right- 
eous tribunal, and, like the blood of Abel, 
cried to heaven for vengeance. Vengeance 
and fiery indignation was our expected doom, 
and eternal death the wages due to our of- 
fences. What rendered the misery of man- 
kind still more excessively deplorable, and. 
only not desperate, was, that they were 



OF RECONCILIATION. 



633 



without strength ; without any power to I 
muke satisfaction for their provocations, or 
extricate themselves from this abyss of wo. 
O wretched, wretched man, if left in this 
state of guilt and rain ! If abandoned by 
the God from whom thou hast ungratefully 
revolted, better had it been for thee never 
to have existed. 

But behold the kindness and love of God 
our Saviour ! Hearken to the sounding of 
his bowels and of his mercies toward us ! 
" I have seen," said he, (as in the case of en- 
slaved Israel), " I have seen the affliction of 
my fallen creatures. They have undone 
themselves, but in me (Hos. xiii. 9,) is 
their recovery. Satan has deceived, and, 
deceiving, has destroyed them ; but I, even 
I, will deliver them." Wherewithal will 
the Lord accomplish this design ? By his 
free unmerited goodness. By the blood of 
bulls, or of goats, or of all the cattle upon a 
thousand hills ? Contemptible to the last 
degree are such beggarly oblations ; only, 
so far they typify the all-glorious sacrifice. 
Was an angel chai'ged with this important 
business, or the highest seraph bidden to 
interpose as the repairer of our breach ? 
The angels were absolutely incapable of 
executing so great a work. It required a 
far abler agent to negotiate our reconcilia- 
tion. It must cost incomparably more to 
redeem guilty souls. Therefore the God 
of our salvation " laid the help upon one 
that is mighty." He appointed, to the most 
momentous of all offices, the most illustri- 
ous of all beings : He appointed his own 
Son, the brightness of his glory, and the 
express image of his person. 

Behold then the Son of God taking oiu- 
nature, that he may act as our mediator 
Admirable constitution ! full of wonder and 
full of grace ! How joyful to the sinner ! 
The work must infallibly prosper in such 
hands. Such a surety cannot fail of suc- 
ceeding in all he undertakes. How gra- 
cious in the Father ! Could there be a 
stronger assurance, or a more emphatical 
demonstration of his boundless beneticence, 
than to send the Son of his bosom ; the 
Son of his eternal delight ; the Son dearer 
to him than all worlds ! How condesceiid- 
itig in the Saviour ! Would Ahasuerus ab- 
dicate his imperial diadem, or the great 
ruler of Babylon forego the honours of his 
enlarged dominions, to attend on the wel- 
fare of some ignoble captive that grinds at 
a mill, or of some infamous malefactor that 
is chained in a dungeon ? Yet the everlast- 
ing ])otentate of heaven and universal na- 
» lure undertakes a more humbling office of 
friendship, for a race of abject creatures, 
that dwell in dust and were doomed to hell. 
Let every child of Adam look unto Christ 
by faith, as all the people of Israel looked 
unto Moises, when he went into the taber- 



nacle of the congregation to intercede be- 
fore the Lord. See Exodus xxxiii, 8. 

We have seen the person reconciling, let 
us next contemplate the manner of recon- 
ciling : A subject equally astonishing and 
delightful ! The Father reconciled us to 
himself, by laying upon his Son the iniqui- 
ties of us all ; by admitting him to stand in 
our stead, and hy exacting from him the 
punishment which he had incurred. God 
reconciled us to himself, not only by the 
humiliation, but by the suffering of this 
Prince of heaven ; and not by some slighter 
suffering, but by his suffering unto death'; 
and not by his undergoing a common death, 
but the most ignominious and tormenting of 
all deaths, the death of the cross. " It 
pleased the Father," says the apostle, " to 
reconcile all things to himself ; making 
peace by the blood of the cross." Because 
we deserved shame, the Lord of glory 
was numbered with malefactors, and load- 
ed with infamy. Because we deserved the 
bitterness of death, the Lord of life endur- 
ed the pangs of dissolution, in their unabated 
and most racking extremities. Because we 
were obnoxious to the curse of the law, 
therefore the ever-blessed '* Jesus delivered 
us from the curse of the law, being made a 
curse for us." 

Glorious propitiation ! and altogether as 
complete as glorious ! What now shall ter- 
rify the true believer? What shall stand 
between him and his eternal hopes ? Shall 
Satan muster up his accusations, and set 
them in frightful array? Yet, though there 
may be much guilt, there is no condemna- 
tion to them that are in Jesus Christ. Does 
the law take the guilty mortal by the throat, 
and, with its rigorous severity, say, " Pay 
me that thou owest ?" It is paid, fully paid 
by the intervention and suretyship, not of a 
mean man, but of the mighty God made 
flesh. Does divine justice demand satis- 
faction for the wrongs received from sin- 
ners? It is not only satisfied, but most 
awfully glorified, by this wonderful oblation. 
In short, this is a full, perfect, and sufficient 
sacrifice for the sins of the whole world. It 
vindicates the honour of God's holiness ; it 
displays his unsearchable wisdom ; it mani- 
fests his unutterable goodness ; it gives the 
most magnificent and lovely lustre to all 
the divine perfections. May we not then, 
looking unto our bleeding Saviour, and 
pleading his inestimable propitiation, ven- 
ture to adopt the apostle's challenge ? 
" Who shall lay any thing to the charge of 
God's elect ? it is God that justifieth," not 
imputing our trespasses unto us, but trans- 
ferring them to his dear Son. " Who is 
he that coudemneth? It is Christ that 
died," and by his precious death hath made 
reconciliation for iniquity, and brought in 
everlasting rigliteousness. 



634 



THE MINISTRY 



I have been the more copious upon this 
subject, because it is nqt only the grand 
point in my text, but is the very heart of 
the gospel ; the fountain of all our com- 
forts, and the foundation of all our hopes. 
But I proceed, and with greater brevity, 

Thirdlyy To observe the benign import 
and beneficial tendency of the gospel min- 
istry, expressed in that remarkable clause, 
" He hath given to us the ministry of re- 
conciliation." Here I am not attempting 
to magnify my office, or to aggrandize the 
ministerial character ; but only to render 
our services acceptable to our brethren. 
Some persons, whether through prejudice 
or mistake, are apprehensive of being terri- 
fied by our message, " or tormented before 
the time" by our doctrine. But can the 
news of reconciliation to the Lord God of 
hosts terrify, or the offer of remission of 
sins torment ? How welcome should be the 
approach, or, to speak in the elegant lan- 
guage of a prophet, " how beautiful the feet 
of him who bringeth good tidings!" And 
can there be better tidings, more reviving, 
or more transporting, than those of the 
everlasting gospel ? which saith unto Sion, 
*' Thy iniquity is taken away, and thy sin 
purged ;" thy God is reconciled ; and in- 
stead of abhorring thee as a rebel, is willing 
to embrace thee as a child. When our ar- 
mies have been in the field, and some very 
important, some decisive engagement draw- 
ing near; with what eagerness have you 
expected, and with what delight have you 
received the account of complete - victory 
gained ! And is not our report equally 
worthy of all acceptation, which declares 
Satan vanquished, and sin destroyed ; de- 
clares death abolished, hell deprived of its 
prey, and all the rich advantages of peace 
with heaven restored ? When Peter lay 
bound in prison, was the angel an unwel- 
come minister, who struck away his fetters, 
opened the gates of iron, and transmitted 
him, free and unmolested, to the cordial 
salutations of his friends ? As you are all, 
by nature, in bondage to sin, our business 
is, to take you by the hand, and lead you, 
out of this ignominious slavery, into the 
glorious liberty of the sons of God ; while 
the Spirit of the Most High breaks off your 
shackles, and makes you free indeed. What 
manna can be more refreshing than such a 
message? what balm more healing than 
such a service ? If at any time we arm our 
words with terror, and denounce the ven- 
geance of God on every soul of man that 
doth evil; this is only to awaken you from 
that gay insensibility which would lull you 
into irretrievable ruin. It is like the ga- 
thering clouds, and the distant bursts of 
thunder, which might warn Noah to retire 
into the ark, before that infinitely more tre- 
mendous deluge can:e, which was to sweep 



the careless world away. Whether, there- 
fore, we display the allurements of divine 
love, it is for your delight ; or whether we 
bend the bow of divine indignation, it is 
for your benefit — to win you to happiness, 
to drive you from misery. So that in every 
respect, and by all oiu" ministrations, we are 
to be " helpers of your faith, and furtherers 
of your joy." 

And let not any one suspect, that a mes- 
sage of such free and rich grace has a ten- 
dency to soothe men into supineness, or 
serve the cause of licentiousness. It is, of 
all other expedients, most effectually calcu- 
lated to reconcile us to God, in another 
sense of the word ; to subdue our enmity, 
and captivate our perverse affections; to 
impress our alienated hearts with adoring 
gratitude, and engage our refractory wills 
to dutiful obedience. For, can we be cold 
and indifferent to such immense benignity ? 
can we affront and grieve such unspeakably 
tender kindness ? What effect had David's 
clemency in sparing Saul's life, when it was 
in the power of his hand to have despatched 
that implacable enemy ? It overcame, for a 
while, even malice itself ; it fetched teai's 
of sorrow from the persecutor's eyes, and 
expressions of the most endeared aflfections 
from his lips. 1 Sam. xxiv. 16. And when 
God, the God to whom vengeance belong- 
eth, not only spares us guilty wretches, but 
punishes his immaculate Son in our stead ; 
when he bids the sword of justice pass by 
our devoted heads^ and sheathe itself in the 
heart of his beloved Son j can we resist 
such heavenly goodness ; can we spurn such 
bowels of mercy ? Must not love so divine 
and infinite melt even the most obdurate 
heart ? make us fling down, with abhorrence, 
the weapons of rebellion, and constrain us, 
sweetly constrain us, to obedience ?* 

Let me now, conformably to my sacred 
commission, beseech you all to be recon- 
ciled. Especially let me beseech the hum- 
ble penitent, and the haughty self-righteous 
moralist. Ye humble penitents, that are 
convinced of sin, and mourn for sin, be of 
good comfort : God has abounded in the 
riches of his grace towards you, and has 
given you a ransom to rely on, of higher 
dignity than all heavens, of more value than 
all worlds. The men of Tyre made Blas- 
tus, the king's chamberlain, their friend, 
Acts xii. 20 ; the God of glory has consti- 
tuted his dear Son your atoning sacrifice, 
your prevailing advocate. The men of 
Tyre desired conditions of peace ; the Lord 



* Mr. Hervey had added, by way of a note, the 
following words, in the copy which he transcribed, 
and from which this is printed. When I preached 
this sermon, I recapitulated in this place, (as you, or 
any reader may do if he pleases,) the preceding heads; 
but I thought it unnecessary to transcribe suc{i 8 
capitulation." 



OF EECOKCILIATION. 



63d 



Jesus hath both obtained and fulfilled the 
conditions of your peace^ Could there be 
a more glorious person chosen to act as 
your reconciler, than the Prince of heaven, 
and heir of all things? Could there be a 
more effectual method of reconciliation, 
than his obedience unto death, even the 
death of the cross ? Fly then to this all- 
sufficient Redeemer. Rely on his most 
meritorious and satisfactoiy sufferings. Be 
your sins ever so numerous, ever so enor- 
mous, these need be no b^- to your accept- 
ance. For God has received an atonement ; 
an infinite atonement God has received. 
So that he can admit you to his favour, un- 
worthy as you are, without the least ble- 
mish to lus avenging justice. He can, he 
will admit you as freely, as if you had never 
done amiss. Trust, therefore, in your re- 
conciling Saviour. Place a cheerful confi- 
dence in his propitiating merits. Only let 
the grace of God, which has appeared with 
such transcendent loveliness in the bleeding 
Jesus, let this grace teach you, with a pre- 
vailing efficacy, '* to deny all ungodliness 
and worldly lusts, and to live soberly, right- 
eously, and godly, in this present world." 

As to those of a contrary character, who 
are righteous in their own eyes, what shall 
I say ? Shall I decry the exercise of mor- 
ality, or disparage the duties of holiness ? 
God forbid. The gospel is a doctrine ac- 
cording to godliness, and true holiness is 
the health, is the happiness of the soul. 



These duties, issuing from faith, and re> 
commended by the intercession of Christ, 
are acceptable to the divine Majesty. But 
these are not your Saviour. God has not 
reconciled the world to himself by their 
own pious practices, but by his Son Jesus 
Christ. Can your charitable deeds expiate 
your innumerable offences ? As socm may 
a single drop of pure water correct and 
sweeten the unfathomable brine of the 
ocean. Can your defective performances 
satisfy the demands of a perfect law, or 
your wandering devotions screen you from 
the displeasure of an injured God ? As 
well may your uplifted hand eclipse the 
sun, or intercept the lightning when it 
darts through the bursting cloud. Ther« is 
no other name given under heaven, where- 
by you may be reconciled to God, and 
saved from wrath, but only the name, only 
the name, remember, of Jesus Christ. 
Here fix your hopes, and you shall never be 
disappointed. Fix them on any other ob- 
ject, and everlasting confusion will ensue. 
We beseech you therefore, in God's stead, 
we beseech you for your own soul's sake, 
reject not this abundant mercy, neglect not 
this great salvation. 

Now unto Him who has reconciled us to 
himself, and washed us from our sins in his 
Son's blood, be glory and thanksgiving, 
love and obedience, henceforth and for 



A Dbpbnck, by R. of the foregoing Sermon, from the groundlees objections raised against it by some 

inconsiderate readers. 



It is scarcely credible that any one should 
assert, that Mr. Hervey's posthumous ser- 
mon on the " Ministry of Reconciliation is 
contradictory to the Dialogues in Theron 
and Aspasio, and affirm, that it has done 
injury to the work." But such an asser- 
tion is easily refuted. This complaint is 
either lodged by the friends or foes of the 
deceased : If by his friends, then I suppose 
it is because the doctrine of imputed right- 
eousness, which makes so great a figure in 
those Dialogues, is not mentioned in the 
sermon. These people would do well to 
consider, that if it is not mentioned, it is 
strongly implied ; and what is strongly im- 
plied in this place, cannot be contradictory 
to what is expressed in others. In that 
sermon, do we not read in the strongest 
terms, " That our iniquities are imputed to 
Christ, by the Father's admitting him to 
stand in our stead, and exacting from him 
the punishment which we had incurred ?" 
Do we not here find " God reconciling us 
to himself, not only by the humiliation, but 
by the sufferings of the Prince of heaven, 



and not by some slighter sufferings, but by 
his sufferings unto death ; and not by his 
undergoing a common death, but the most 
ignominious and tormenting of all deaths, 
the death upon the cross ?" 

And as we find the imputation of our 
sins so plainly asserted here, so we find in 
the Dialogues, that *' this part of our Lord's 
meritorious humiliation is, by a very usual 
figure, put for the whole. The death of 
Christ includes, not only his sufferings, but 
his obedience. The shedding of his pre- 
cious blood, was at once the grand instance 
of his sufferings, and the finishing act of 
his obedience. In this view it is consider- 
ed, and thus it is interpreted by his own 
ambassador, who, speaking of his divine 
Master, says, ' He was obedient unto 
death, even the death of the cross.* When 
the Scripture ascribes our justification to 
the death of Christ, we are not to think 
that it would set aside, but imply his obe- 
dience." Now, if we are not to think this 
of the Scripture, in Mr. Hervey's opinion, 
how then can we think it of him ? And, 



636 



THE MINISTRY 



without thinking it, where lies the inconsis- 
tence between the sermon and the Dia- 
logues ? 

But I rather imagine, that the charge is 
brought by Mr. Hervey's enemies. Some 
of these people, to avoid being thought So- 
cinians, seem willing to allow the satisfac- 
tion of Christ, while they declare against 
the doctrine of justification by the imputa- 
tion of his righteousness ; and such are ex- 
tremely willing to interpret Mr. Hervey's 
silence into a consent to their own perni- 
cious sentiments. Theron and Aspasio is 
a dead weight upon them ; they have not, 
nor can they answer it ; willingly, therefore, 
would they come off by saying the author 
had contradicted himself. But false is their 
pretence, and as false is their profession. 
That they allow the satisfaction of Christ 
for imputation, is as reasonable, and as jus- 
tifiable, in the one case as in the other : 
they both stand upon one and the same 
footing, so he that throws down one throws 
down both ; whoever rejects the doctrine of 
our Saviour's righteousness being imputed 
unto man, rejects, by so doing, the doctrine 
of man's sins being imputed to our Saviour, 
and all the consequences of it ; or, in other 
words, he who rejects the doctrine of free 
justification, rejects, by so doing, the doc 
trine of Christ. 

As the main design in writing Theron 
and Aspasio, was to prove the fundamen- 
tal doctrine of justification by the imputed 
righteousness of Christ ; and as it appears 
that the sermon does not contradict it in 
this most important article ; I suppose it 
will be allowed, that the charge of contra- 
diction, as to what is most material, is en- 
tirely got over. But, perhaps, in a matter 
of less consequence, it may still be object- 
ed, that Mr. Hervey, in the Dialogues, ap- 
pears plainly to be Calvinistic in the doc- 
tJ-ine of particular redemption ; but in the 
sermon he says expressly, that " Christ's 
death is a full, perfect, and sufficient sacri- 
fice for the sins of the whole world." The 
Church of England says this, as well as 
Mr. Hervey, in the office for the Commun- 
ion ; and yet no unprejudiced person will 
question but she is perfectly Calvinistical 
in her Articles and Homilies. 

The truth is, there is no Calvinist but 
will allow, that the satisfaction of Christ is 
full, perfect, and sufficient for all ; but then 
they distinguish between the sufficiency and 
efficiency of his sacrifice. With regard to 
the value of the oblation, it is sufficient for 
the redemption of every man ; with regard 
to its efficacy, as every man is benefited by 
tl^e death of Christ, so Christ died for him ; 
but these benefits are not of one kind. 
Some are common to every man ; all the 
earthly blessings which unbelievers enjoy, 
are the fruits of Christ's death ; so far 



they are benefited by him, so far he died 
for them ; other benefits belong to the 
members of the visible church, and are com- 
mon to all those who live under the gos- 
pel ; many graces such may receive from 
Christ, which, through their own fault, are 
not saving ; and, so far as they are benefit- 
ed by Christ, so far Christ died for them j 
other benefits still, according to the will of 
God and the intention of the Mediator, are 
peculiar to those which he himself says are 
given unto him by the Father— his sheep, 
his elect — such as a true faith, regeneration^ 
sanctification, adoption, &c. In this sense, 
say those Christians called Calvinists, 
Christ died for his people only, to bring 
them eflfectually to grace and to glory. 
This system only is consistent with Mr. 
Hervey's notion of free grace. 

The Arminian scheme is, That Christ 
died with a purpose to make the salvation 
of every man in the world possible, without 
any manner of difference, whether they are 
believers or unbelievers : that he died, not 
to bring any man actually to salvation, and 
make him a partaker of righteousness and 
life, but to purchase a possibility of salva- 
tion and reconciliation, so far as that God 
might, consistent with his justice, receive 
men into favour upon condition of faith and 
repentance. This faith and repentance, 
say they, Christ merited not ; for if he had, 
then God had been bound to give them un- 
to every man, and so every man must have 
been saved. Thus, you see, according to 
these gentlemen, Christ died equally for all 
the world ; and the reason why some are 
saved, lies wholly in themselves, in attain- 
ing to that faith and repentance, by the 
good use of their natiu-al powers, which 
Christ did not purchase for them. This is 
the meaning of every Arminian,* let him 



* That the reader may still more clearly ai)i)rehend 
the doctrine of Mr. Hervey, who was a Calvinist, and 
the difference between him and the Arminians, the 
following note is subjoined. 

The Arminians are supposed by some (who are 
not sufficiently acquainted with their tenets) to main- 
tain that we are to do something for ourselves, and 
Christ to do the rest ; or, in other words, that we 
have partly a righteousness of our own, and that Je- 
sus Christ is to make up the deficiencies of that righ- 
teousness. This, however, is not the common divi- 
nity of the Arminians. They have no such notion of 
a patch-work justification, or that we are saved partly 
by the imputation of Christ's merits to make up the 
deficiencies of our own. But the principles of their 
scheme are briefly these : That Christ is the sole and 
only author of our salvation, not by imputing his 
righteousness to us, but by purchasing such favoura- 
ble terms of reconciliation for us, and by restoring to 
us such abilities to fulfil them, by means of which we 
can only become capable of being justified in the 
sight of God. Therefore we say, that those in this 
life who have used well the grace that is given them, 
and conformed to the terms of the gospel, God doth 
justify. That is, were he to call them to the bar of 
judgment and try them, he would acquit, or pro- 
nounce them not guilty. Because Christ, by his me- 
ritorious death and sufferings, having purchased 
for them the law of repentance, as the law by which 



they are to be judged and tried ; and they having 
«is ' tluough grace fulfilled the law, i, e. become true pe- 



OF RECONCILIATION. 



637 



express himself however he will. And 
how far this is consistent with Mr. Her- 
vey's exhortations to the self-righteous mo- 
ralist, in the close of this sermon, I believe 
I need not tell you. Indeed, Mr. Hervey 
engages not here in the controversy at all ; 
but (going upon what both sides are agreed 
in, viz. the sufficiency of Christ's sacrifice 
to save all that will believe) he invites all 
Ills hearers to fly unto him |for salvation. 
Now, if he never enters into the merits of 



the cause, how can he be guilty of incon- 
sistency? 

Upon the whole, then, this is a most ex- 
cellent sermon. As the Dialogues in The- 
ron and Aspasio were, so is this, the true 
offspring of him who now rests from his 
labours, and his works do follow him ; the 
ofispring of him who always sought to ex- 
alt the Saviour, to humble the sinner, and 
to promote holiness. 



SERMON IV. 

THE CROSS OF CHRIST THE CHRISTIAN'S GLORY. 

Preached at the visitation of the Rev. John Brown, D. D. Archdeacon of Northampton, 
held at Ml- Saints Church in Northampton, on the 10th of May 1753. 



Gal. vi. 14.— ''God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.' 



The cross of Christ was the favourite 
topic of St. Paul's contemplation : The 
cross of Christ was the chosen subject of 
his sermons, and the grand theme of his 
writings. At all times, and in every ca- 
pacity, he professed, he avowed, he gloried 
in the cross of Christ. Nay, what is very 
remarkable, he gloried in nothing else ; and 
what is still more observable, he abhorred the 



nitents, God therefore, for the above merits of Christ, 
admits of their qualifications, forgives them their of- 
fences, and rewards them as if they had never offend- 
ed. Here then is no splitting of the imputation, no 
copartnership with Christ; but Christ's righteousness 
is represented as the sole procuring cause of our sal- 
vation, and ours as only the applying cause, by per- 
forming the requisite conditions: i. e. They both 
tend to different ends; one to procure the terms of 
justification, and the other to perform them. So 
th:it, in short, according to this scheme of the Armi- 
nians, our justification is not made up partly of 
Christ's righteousness, and partly of our own; for 
his righteousness is not partly imputed, but not at all 
imputed, in the Calvinistical sense of imputation. 
In order to make this difference of opinion still clear- 
er, it must be observed, that the Calvinists (being ac- 
customed to their ideas of imputative righteousness) 
imagine that when the Arminians affirm the ne- 
cessity of inherent righteousness in order to just- 
ification, that they mean, a borrowing of Christ's 
imputative righteousness to make up .the defi- 
ciencies of our own. V^^hereas, the Arminians, in 
fact, suppose, that Christ did not, in any degree, fulfil 
the terms of justification in our stead ; but, on the 
contrary, having purchased them for us, and procur- 
ed us sufficient powers and abilities of performing 
them, he left us to co-operate with those powers, and 
so to fulfil them ourselves." This is a fair, candid, 
and consistent state of the Arminiap doctrme, No 
one can say it is misrepresented; for it is here given 
in the very words of an eminent divine, and dignitary 
of the Church of England, who is himself an Armini- 
an. How much superior the Calvinistic (which was 
Mr. Hervey's) . doctrine is, to humble the sinner, to 
exalt the Saviour, and to promote holiness, let every 
reader judge. 



thoughts of glorying in any thing else. He 
speaks of such a practice in the language 
of detestation and dread, accounting it a 
high degree both of folly and of wickedness : 
" God forbid that I should glory, save in 
the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." 

It may therefore be an employ worthy'of 
our present attention, to inquire into the 
nature, the reasonableness, and the wisdom 
of this resolution. All which, I hope, will 
appear, if we consider, 

I. In what the apostle would not glory. 

II. In what he did glory. 

III. What reason he had to glory in the 
cross of Christ. 

These points being briefly despatched, I 
shall beg leave to add a word of application, 
suggested by the tenor of the discourse, and 
adapted to the circumstances of my several 
hearers. And may that adorable Jesus, 
who has exchanged his cross for an heaven- 
ly crown, accompany all with his divine 
blessing ! 

Let us then inquire, 

1. In what the apostle did not glory. 
Not in the greatness of his learning as a 
scholar. He was brought up at the feet of 
Gamaliel ; educated by the most famous 
tutor of the age. Nor was his genius or 
his industry inferior to the other advantages 
of his education; Yet all these advantages, 
with their correspondent acquisitions, he 
accounted no better than pompous ignorance, 
or refined folly. 

Not in the strictness of his life as a Jew. 
In this respect he profited above his equals ; 



638 THE CROSS 

** was taught according to the perfect man- 
ner of the law of the fathers, Acts xxii. 3 ; 
after the strictest sect of their religion he 
lived a Pharisee," Acts xxvi. 5 ; was zeal- 
ous, exceedingly zealous, of the whole cere- 
monial law, and of all the traditional con- 
stitutions. Which accomplishments must 
finish his character among his countrymen ; 
must open his way to some of the first hon- 
ours of the nation ; and give him a name- 
among those worthies who were reputed the 
excellent of the earth. But what others 
counted gain, this he counted loss for Christ. 

Not in the eminency of his gifts, nor in 
the extent of his usefulness as a Christian 
minister. He had been caught up into the 
third heaven ; had heard the words of God, 
and seen the vision of the Almighty; had 
wrought all manner of wonders, and signs, 
and mighty deeds. What was still more 
valuable, he had planted churches, and con- 
verted souls. His labours were gone out 
into all lands, and his words into the ends 
of the earth. Yet all these acqukements, 
before the infinite God, were defective ; all 
these performances, in point of justification, 
were insufficient. Therefore in none of 
these he gloried. Which reminds me of 
the second inquiry. 

H. In what the apostle did glory. He 
gloried in a cross. Strange ! What so 
scandalous as a cross ? On a cross rebelli- 
ous slaves were executed. The cross was 
execrable among men, and accursed even by 
God, Gal. iii. 13. Yet the apostle glories 
in the cross. Crucifixion not being used 
among us, the expression does not sound 
so harsh, neither is the idea so horrid. But 
to the ear of a Galatian it conveyed much 
the same meaning, as if the apostle had 
gloried in a halter, gloried in the gallows, 
gloried in a gibbet.* 

" Stupid creature," perhaiis some may re- 
ply, "to imderralue the most substantial 
endowments, and glory in infamy itself !" 
But stop a moment, and hear the apostle 
farther. He glories in the cross of Christ ; 
that illustri:ous person, who was anointed 
to be the all-instructing Prophet, the all- 



* Some persons, I am infonned, were disgusted at 
U'.ese words, halter, gallows, gibbet ; they are so hor- 
ribly contemptible! To whom I would reply, that 
the cross, in point of ignominy and torment, mcluded 
all this and more. Unless the EngUsh reader forms 
to himself some such image, he wiU never be able to 
apprehend the scandalous naturei and shocking cir- 
cumstances, of his divine Masters death. 

The words, I must confess, were diversified, and 
the sentiment was reiterated, on purpose to affect the 
mind with this astonishing truth. Neither can I pre- 
vail upon myself to expunge the expressions, unless I 
■could Substitute others of a more ignominious and 
execrable import* Only I would beg of the serious 
reader to spend a moment in the following reflection : 
" iRitso, that a polite and delicate ear can hardly 
endiire so much as the sound of the words ? How 
amazing then was the condescension ! how charming 
and adorable the goodness of God's illustrious Son to 
l>ear all that is signified by these intolerably, vile 
terms !- -bear it willingly, bear it cheerfully, for us 
men, and our Salvation '." 



OF CimiST 

atoning Priest, and the. all- conquering King 
of the church. In the cross of Christ Jesus ; 
who, by the discharge of all those import- 
ant ofiices, should save his people from the 
dominion of sin, and from the damnation of 
hell. In the cross of Christ Jesus our 
Lord ; and not ours only, but Lord of all ; 
who doth according to his will in the army 
of heaven, and among the inhabitants of 
the earth, Dan. iv. 35 ; who hath on his 
vesture, and on his thigh a name written, 
King of kings, and Lord of lords ' Rev. xix. 1 6. 

And is it possible for any human heart 
to contemplate the cross of so divine a be- 
ing, and not to glory ? Is it possible to 
say, Angels, he rules over you ; but he died, 
he died on a cross for me ; and not exult in 
such transporting beneficence ? This will 
be more evident, if v/e examine, 

III. What reason the apostle had to glory 
in the cross of Christ. The cross, though 
in itself an ignominous tree, yet being the 
cross of Christ, is infinitely ennobled. It 
becomes the tree of life ; it bears the di- 
vinest fruit; its clusters are all spiritual 
and heavenly blessings. Two or three of 
those clusters you will permit me to select ; 
and may the God of all mercy make them 
better than a feast to every humble soul ! 

One blessing is the pardon of sin : the 
pardon of all sin, original and actual ; sin 
that is remembered, and sin that is forgot- 
ten ; sin however circumstanced, or how- 
ever aggravated. The pardon of all was 
purchased by the death of Christ ; conri- 
pletely purchased : so that, against the true 
believer, sin shall never rise up in judgment ; 
" shall not so much as be mentioned unto 
him," Ezek. xviii. 22 ; shall be done away, 
as though it bad never been. For thus 
saith the ambassador of the Prince of Peace, 
*' Be it known unto you, men and brethren, 
that through this man is preached unto you 
the forgiveness of sins ; and by him all that 
believe are justified from all things," Acts 
xiii. 38, 39. Oh, my soul ! my guilty soul ! 
what are all the kingdoms of the world, and 
the glories of them, compared with this in- 
effable blessing ! Yet this is but one among 
a multitude. 

Another benefit accruing from the cross 
of Christ, is reconciliation with God. " When 
we were enemies, we were reconciled to 
God by the death of his Son," Rom. v. 10. 
Not pardoned only, but accepted ; from a 
state of enmity, restored to a state of fa- 
vour ; even that " favour which is better than 
life," Psalm Ixiii. 3 : A privilege of such 
superlative excellency, that it was celebrat- 
ed in the hymns of angels. When the hea- 
venly host uttered a song, this was the sub- 
ject of their harmonious joy; " Glory be 
to God in the highest ; and on earth, peace, 
good will towards men," Luk« ii. 14. By 
the birth of this wonderful child, and the 



THE CHRISTIAN'S GLORY. 



(t^ath he shall sustain, peace is made be- 
tween heaven and earth ; and not peace 
only, but a divine friendship commences. 
God regards the poor apostate race of men, 
not only without indignation, but with com- 
placency and delight: "He rejoices over 
them to do them good." Deut. xxviii. 63. 

Another benefit is holiness ; or, if ;you 
please, the true, the Christian morality. 
Let none think the believer in Jesus dis- 
parages true morality. True morality is the 
image of the blessed God ; it is most char- 
mingly delineated throughout the whole 
Bible ; it is the beginning of heaven in the 
human soul ; and its proper origin is from 
the cross of our divine Master. For through 
the merits of his death, sinners are made 
partakers of the Holy Spirit ; who writes 
upon their hearts, and makes legible in their 
conversation, what was anciently written 
upon the mitre of the high-priest. Holiness 
to the Lord. And, oh ! what a motive is 
the cross of Christ to the exercise of every 
virtue ! " He died — my Lord, my Judge, 
tny King, died — to redeem me from all ini- 
quity, and make me zealous of good works." i 
How powerfully, far beyond any naked in- 
structions or abstract reasonings, do such 
considerations invite us, urge us, constrain 
us, (2 Cor. V. 14,) to renounce :'.ll ungod- 
liness, and adorn the gospel of God oiu- Sa- 
viour ! 

Another blessing is victory over death. 
This also is the fruit of that once detested, 
but now ever-beloved tree. For thus it is 
written, " That, through death, he might 
destroy him that had the power of death, 
that is, the devil ; and deliver them who, 
through fear of death, were all their lifetime 
subject to bondage," Heb. ii. 14, 15. The 
devil is said to have the power of death ; 
because, by tempting too successfully our 
first parents, he brought death into the 
world ; because, by tempting their posteri- 
ty to sin, and too often prevailing, he arrays 
death in horror ; he arms death with its 
sting. But Christ, by expiatingour guilt, has 
disarmed this last enemy; has taken away its 
sting; and made it not loss, but gain to 
die, Phihp. i, 21. The gay, and the healthy, 
know not how to form an estimate of this 
deliverance ; nor can any words of mine 
describe it with proper energy. Go to dy- 
ing beds ; there you will learn its true 
worth. Ask some agonized friend j he, and 
he alone, can tell yoti, what a blessing it is to 
have the king of terrors converted into a 
messenger of peace. . 

One blessing more I would mention, and 
earnestly wish it, in due time, to all my 
hearers-^an entrance into heaven. This 
too is the produce of our Redeemer's cross. 
St. John saw a bright assembly of happy 
beingsj clothed with white robes, and palms 
iu their bands, rejoicing before the throne 



639 

of God. " These," said one of the vener- 
able elders, " are they who came out of 
great tribulation, and have washed their 
robes, and made them white in the blood of 
the Lamb." Therefore " are ttiey before 
the throne, Rev. vii. 9. 14, 15. They came 
out of great tribulation:" they suffered, it 
is probable, in the service of Christ : per- 
haps they laid down their lives for his sake. 
But this was not their passport into the re- 
gions of bliss. *' They washed their robes 
in the blood of the Lamb :" they had ap- 
plied to their own souls the merits and 
atonement of the crucified Jesus. By this 
means, they were presented withou^: spot, 
and blameless ; on this account they were 
admitted to " see the King of heaven in his 
beauty," Isaiah xxxiii. 17, and to be ever, 
ever with the Lord. 

Since then the cross of Christ was de- 
monstrative of such stupendous love ; since 
it is productive of benefits innumerable, in- 
valuable, and eternal j was there not a cause 
for the apostle to glory on this behalf? Nay, 
might not the very stones have cried out, 
to reproach him with insensibility and hi- 
gratitude, if he had neglected to glory in 
the cross of Christ ? And since this love 
was shewed, these benefits were procuredj 
not for him only, but for us, and for all ge- 
nerations ; does not this afford me an op- 
portunity of applying the doctrine to each 
particular hearer ? 

1. Let me address, or rather let me con- 
gratulate, my brethren in the ministry. 
Though you cannot control the laws of na- 
ture, though you cannot see into the secrets 
of futurity, you have the same cause of glo- 
rying with the very chiefest of the apostles ; 
a cause of glorying, which that holy man of 
God esteemed far above all such miracul- 
ous abilities. You have the cross of Christ, 
For your study, as men 
For your hope, as Christians ; 
For your preaching, as ministers. 
For your study, as men. Here the l eason- 
irig faculties may exert themselves with 
everlasting improvement and everlasting 
delight. Here we contemplate the won- 
ders, the unparalleled wonders of a God 
made man ; dying as a pattern of pa- 
tience, as a martyr for truth, as an all-perfect 
sacrifice for sin. Here the Lord Jehovah hath 
fully granted, what his servant Moses (Exod. 
xxxiii. 1 8,) so earnestly requested — he hath 
made all his glory to pass before the astonish- 
ed eyes of angels and of men. Here justice has 
set her most awful terrors in array ; even 
while goodness appears, with inexpressible 
loveliness, and the most attractive beauty. 
Here truth, more unshaken than a rock, 
takes her immoveable stand; and mercy, 
tenderer than the mother's tear, yearns with 
bowels of everlasting pity. In a word, the 
cross of Christ is a conspicuous theatre, on 



640 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST 



which all the divine perfections unite, and 
harmonize, and shine forth with transcend- 
ent lustre. 

As Christians, we have, in the cross of 
Christ, the richest provision for our own 
spiritual wants. This is a foundation of the 
sublimest hope, and a fountain of the -most 
exuberant joy : this affords matter for the 
deepest humility, and yields fuel for the 
most flaming love. Faith in our crucified 
Jesus is an ever-active principle of the most 
cheerful and exact obedience ; is an ample 
and inexhaustible magazine, from which we 
may fetch arms to conquer, absolutely con- 
quer, the allurements of the world, the soli- 
citations of the flesh, and the temptations 
of the devil. By this a way is opened for 
us into the holy of holies : and what may 
we not venture to ask, what may we not 
expect to receive, who have the blood of 
the everlasting covenant to plead, in all our 
approaches to the throne of grace ? Having 
therefore such an high-priest, having in his 
cross unsearchable riches, who shall make 
our glorying void ? what shall hinder us 
from rejoicing and saying, " Blessed be God 
for these opening beauties of spring ! Bless- 
ed be God for the expected fruits of au- 
tumn ! Blessed be God for ten thousand 
thousand gifts of his indulgent providence ! 
but, above all, blessed be God for the cross 
of Christ ?" 

As ministers of the gospel, we are not 
left to set before our hearers a system of 
refined heathenism ; or to entertain them 
with cold, spiritless lectures of virtue. No ; 
we have the infinitely tender love, the im- 
mensely free grace, of the bleeding, dying 
Immanuel, to display, to improve, to en- 
force. And is there a topic in the whole 
compass of oratory, is there an argument 
amidst all the stores of reason, so admira- 
bly calculated to touch the finest movements 
of the soul ? to strike all the inmost springs 
of action with the most persuasive, the most 
commanding energy ? Would we alarm the 
supine, or intimidate the presumptuous ? 
we may call them to behold God's own Son 
weltering in blood, God's own Son trans- 
fixed with the arrows of justice : we may 
bid them consider, if judgment begins with 
the immaculate Mediator, where shall the 
irreclaimable sinner appear? how will he 
escape the stroke ? how bear the weight of 
God's everlasting vengeance? Would we 
comfort the distressed ? we may point them 
to an atonement whose merits are infinite, 
and able to save to the very uttermost, 
Heb. vii. 2.5 ; we may lead them to a right- 
eousness, whose efficacy is unbounded, and 
sufficient to justify the ungodly. And what 
balm can be so sovereign for a wounded con- 
science ? Are we to support the weak, and 
cnimate the donbting? here w may show 
them promises, free promises, exceeding 



great and precious promises, ratified by the3 
oath of Jehovah, and sealed by the blood 
of his Son. And what cordials can be so 
restorative to the drooping Christian ? 

In short, the doctrine of the cross is suited 
to answer all the great ends of our ministry, 
an^ promote all the truly valuable interests 
of our people. By this the Holy Spirit 
delights to work ; and this, " O Satan, shall 
be thy plague ;" this, O sin, " shall be thy 
destruction." Hosea xiii. 14. However, 
therefore, the cross might be to the Jews a 
stumbling block, and to the Greeks foolish- 
ness ; God forbid that we should glory in 
any thing else. Let this be the Alpha and 
Omega, the beginning and ending of all our 
public ministrations. Let us leave a savour 
of this knowledge, which is far better than 
precious ointment, in every private com- 
pany ! Let it appear, from all our conversa- 
tion, that the affections of our heart, and 
the labours of our life, are devoted, wholly 
devoted, to our adored Redeemer's cross. 
Happy the people who are under the cave 
of such ministers ! and blessed the ministers 
who walk according to this rule ! ' 

2. Let me exhort all true believers ; those 
who are vile in their own eyes, and to whom 
Christ alone is precious. Remember, bre- 
thren, wh,at is written in the prophet ; it is a 
description of your state, it is a direction for 
your conduct : " In the Lord, the Lord Jesus 
Christ, shall all the seed of Israel be justified, 
and in him shall they glory." Isaiah xlv. 25. 

het none say, that religion is a gloomy 
or uncomfortable state ; I call upon you 
this day to rejoice. Let none say, religion 
is a mean or despicable thing ; I call upon 
you this day to glory; and have the divine 
authority for both.* You will dishonour 
the blessed Jesus, you will disparage his 
surpassing excellency, if you do not confide 
in him, and make your boast of him. Christ 
is King of heaven, Christ is Judge of the 
world, Christ is God over all. A nd of such 
a Saviour shall we not glory ? Yes, verily ; and 
in all circumstances, and on every occasion. 

Amidst your manifold infirmities glory 
in Christ. For, though he was crucified in 
weakness, he hath all power in heaven and 
earth. And it is written before him, it is 
one of his immutable decrees, " sin shall 
not have dominion over you." Rom. vi. 14. 
Amidst your various failings, glory in Christ- 
For his righteousness covers all your imper- 
fections, his righteousness secures you from 
wrath and condemnation ; and, though de> 
ficient in yourselves, you are complete in 
him. Col. ii. 10. Under the pressure 
of tribulations, lift up your heads, and glory 
in the cross ; because the Captain of your 

* K.ctup(;a./:^ia, the word in our text, denotes the 
act of rejoicing, as well as of glorying. Thus it i ; 
translated, Rom. v. 11. And indeed this it .always 
implies. See Psiihn v. 11. Psalm cxlix. 5. Se-v" 
! tians. 



THE CHRISTIAN'S GLORY. 



641 



salvation was made perfect through suffer- > 
ings. li you suffer with him, you shall also 
reign with him. And the sufferings of this 
present time are not worthy to be compared 
with the happiness which Christ has pur- 
chased with his agonies, and will quickly 
bestow on his people. When death ap- 
proaches — death that cuts off the spirit of 
princes, and is terrible among the kings of 
the earth — do you still glory in the cross. 
Adhering to this banner, you may boldly 
and triumphantly say, " O death, where is 
thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ?" 
1 Cor. XV. 55. When that great tremen- 
dous day shall come, which puts an end to 
time and terrestrial things ; when that aw- 
ful, that majestic voice is heard, which com- 
mands all the race of Adam to appear at 
the bar ; then, my dear brethren in Christ, 
then also shall you glory in the cross. 
When others, in an agony of terror, call 
upon rocks to fall on them, and mountains 
to overwhelm them, this shall be your se- 
date appeal ; rather, this shall be your he- 
roic challenge : " Who shall lay any thing 
to the charge of God's elect ? It is God 
that justifieth, who is he that condemneth ? 
It is 'Christ that died." Rom. viii. 33, 34. 
Then shall you enter the harbour of eternal 
rest ; not like a shipwrecked mariner cleav- 
ing to some broken plank, and hardly es- 
caping the raging waves ; but like some 
stately vessel, with all her sails expanded, 
and riding before a prosperous gale. 

3. Let me caution the self-righteous ; 
those who more frequently think of their 
own piety than of Christ's obedience ; are 
more apt to cry out with the Pharisee, " I 
am no extortioner, no adulterer," than to 
confess with the publican, " God be merci- 
ful to me a sinner." What shall I say to 
these persons ? Let me not be thought cen- 
sorious, when my only aim is to be faithful. 
Beware, I beseech you, beware lest you 
build for eternity, not on a rock, but on 
the sand. However you may appear in 
your own sight, before the adorable majesty 
of the everlasting God, before the consum- 
mate perfection of his holy law, you are less 
than nothing, you are worse than nothing ; 
you are, indeed you are, deficiency and sin. 
Renounce, therefore, renounce all depend- 
ence on self. Trust no longer iri a refuge 
of lies ; lest all your admired attainments, 
at the day of final retribution, be like straw, 
and hay, and stubble, in Nebuchadnezzar's 
burning .fiery furnace. Imitate the blessed 
penman of my text. Are you blameless in 
your external carriage? so was he. Are 
you exemplary in many points ? so was he. 
Yet all this righteousness he ""accounted 
but dung, for the excellency of the know- 
ledge of Christ .Jesus the Lord.'" Phil, iii. 
8. Be th^s your pattern. Write -emptines? 
iipon yc'.ir own duties, emptiness upon your 



own works ; and you shall be tilled with all 
the fulness of God your Saviour. Every 
other cause of glorying will be like the 
morning cloud, or the early dew, which 
passeth away, Hos. vi. 4, but this cause of 
glorying will " stand fast for evermore as 
the moon, and as the faithful witness in 
heaven." Psalm Ixxxix. 37. 

Can I conclude without adding a word 
of admonition to the wicked ? those, I 
mean, who are enemies to the cross of 
Christ ; who mind earthly things, but nei- 
ther hunger nor thirst after righteousness. 
My soul remembers the wormwood and the 
gall of such a state, and cannot but tenderly 
pity these unhappy people. Alas I my 
friends, what have you to glory in? The 
devil and his angels expect, ere long, to glory 
in your destruction. Those malignant fiends 
are eyeing you as their prey, and are impa- 
tient to begin your torment. Great, inexpres- 
sibly great, is your danger : the Lord Al- 
mighty open your eyes to discern it. Never- 
theless, your case is not desperate. You 
may yet be delivered, " as a bird out of the 
snare of the fowler." Look unto the crucified 
Jesus. Why does he hang on that bloody 
tree ? why are his hands pierced with iron ? 
why is his body racked with pain ? why his 
heart torn with anguish ? It is for you sinners, 
for you. That blood is poured out, to cleanse 
you from guilt ; those wounds are sustained, 
to heal your consciences ; that anguish is en- 
dured, to obtain rest for your souls. In that 
mangled body " dwells all the fulness of 
the Godhead." Col. ii. 9. Great, beyotid 
imagination great, is the merit of those suf- 
ferings. Why then, O why will you die ! 
why will youperish for ever, who have an all- 
sufficient propitiation in the cross of Christ ? 
Fly to this sanctuary -. fly, before it be too 
late : fly without a moment's delay. It is an 
inviolable sanctuary. None ever perished 
that fled by faith to the compassionate and 
divinely compassionate Redeemer. His 
death shall be a full satisfaction for your ini- 
quities. A sense of his immensely rich good- 
ness shall win your affections ; shall incline 
(what all thethreateningsof damnation could 
never effect) shall incline you to loath your 
sins, and to love his service ; shall smooth 
your path, and expedite your progress, to the 
regions of immortal honour and joy. 

Having now, with great plainness of 
speech, addressed my brethren in the min- 
istry ; having exhorted believers, cautioned 
the self-righteous, and warned the wicked ; 
let me commend the whole to your serious 
recollection, and to God's gracious bene- 
diction. And, " O Lord most holy ! O 
God most mighty ! O holy and merciful 
Saviour ! by thine agony and bloody sweat ; 
by thy cross and pa.sf.ior!," let not the word 
no^v ?pcken he in vain in ihe Lorn J Ar/ieAt 
and nne^'i. 

2T 



THE 

TIME OF DANGER, 

THE MEANS OF SAFETY, 

AND 

THE WAY OF HOLINESS; 

BEING 

Thxi substance of Three Sermons Preached on the Public 
Fast Days, in 1757. 



PREFACE. 



Should any one ask, "Why does this 
author publish his sermons, when the fast 
is gone and forgotten ?" For this very rea- 
son he publishes, that the fast, though gone, 
may not be forgotten j that we may remem- 
ber "the sms we confessed, and the miseries 
we deprecated ; remember the vows of 
God, which are still upon us ; and the snares 
of death, which are still around us. 

Should it be further asked, " Why does 
he obtrude himself on the public, when so 
many eminent writers have already made 
their appearance ? Does he bring with him 
any distinguished excellency of composition, 
any superior force of argument, or uncom- 
mon delicacy of sentiment ?" No such thing. 
He "pretends to nothing refined or extraor- 
dinary ; he affects neither brilliant thought 
nor polished style : equally remote from 
nice criticism and profound learning, his 
discourses are studiously plain, and brought 
down to the level of the meanest capacity. 

" What then is his motive ?" This is the 
very truth. In several of the sermons pub- 
lished on this occasion, the one thing need- 
ful seems to be overlooked. Christ and his 
free grace, Christ and his great salvation, 
are either totally omitted, or but slightly 
touched. Where these are but slightly 
touched, the door of hope and the city of 
refuge are shown, as it were, through a mist, 
dimly and indistinctly. We have no more 
than a transient glimpse of the desirable 
objects ; and only so much light as is suffi- 
cient to bewilder, rather than direct. Where 
they are totally omitted, the door of hope is 
barred, and the city of refuge withdrawn 
from our view. In this case, being without 
Christ, we are without consolation ; and 
may justly complain, with the mourning 
prophet, " The Comforter, that should re- 
lieve our souls, is far off." 

Through the following discourses, a con- 
stant regard is paid to the redemption which 
is in Christ Jesus ; to his all-atoning blood, 
and his everlasting righteousness ; which i 
are the grand means, both of comforting our 
hearts, and sanctifying our nature. Indeed, 
the principal aim of the whole is, to display 
the unsearchable riches of Christ, the match- 
less efficacy of his death, and that perfect 
fieeness with which all his invaluable bene- 
liis are bestowed. " To those who believe, 
he is precious :" and to those who are con- 
vinced of sin, these salutary truths will be 



[ their own best recommendation. Such 
readei-s will excuse a multitude of blemishes, 
provided they find Jesus who was crucified ; 
Jesus, who is the desire of all nations ; Je- 
sus, than whom no other foundation can be 
laid, either for present holiness or future 
happiness. 

As these sermons were not preached to 
gratify a curious taste, neither are they pub- 
lished with any fond prospect of reforming 
a sinful nation. Sincerely as the author 
loves his country, and ardently as he desires 
the saivation of his countrymen, he is noc 
so vainly sanguine in his expectations. But 
this he will venture to assert, that if ever a 
reformation is prodticed, it must, under 
the influences of the eternal Spirit, be 
produced by the doctrines of free grace, and 
justification through a Redeemer's righteous- 
ness. Till these doctrines are generally in- 
culcated, the most eloquent harangues from 
the pulpit, or the most correct dissertations 
from the press, will be no better than a 
pointless arrow and a broken bow. 

This also he will venture to hope, that 
the discourses may here and there meet 
with some poor sinner, who is smitten with 
a sense of guilt, and alarmed with appre- 
hensions of danger ; who desires nothing so 
much as to find a resting-place, where he 
may be free from the terrors of co<iscience, 
and safe in the day of trouble. This free- 
dom and this safety are to be found only, 
are to be found infallibly, in the blessed Je- 
sus and the blood of sprinkling. If such a 
reader, by the following pages, is conduct- 
ed to this divine sanctuary, the writer is 
satisfied, is xewarded, enjoys the utmost of 
his wishes. 

Then, instead of soliciting the voice of 
fame, or coveting the wreath of honour ; in- 
stead of giving himself any concern about 
the officious critic ; he will thankfully adore 
that Almighty hand " which confirmeth the 
word of his .servant, and performeth the 
I counsel of his messengers." Isa. xliv. 26. 
For, oh ! how insipid is the praise of men, 
compared with the exalted pleasure of glo- 
rifying God, and edifying an immortal soul ! 
How harmless is defamation from a fellow- 
creature, when our great Creator smiles ; 
and is pleased, by " weak things, and by 
things that are despised," 1 Cor. i. 27, .28, 
to accomplish the purposes of his infinite 
grace and everlasting love. 



SERMON V. 

THE TIME OF DANGER. 



Hkb. xl. 28.—" Through faith he kept the passover, and the sprinkhng of blood, le«t he hat destroy*! the 
first-bom should touch them," 



Ir we consult the history to which these 
words refer, we shall find the Israelites in 
a state of great affliction. The Egyptians 
oppressed them ; very heavily laid the yoke 
upon them ; and made their lives bitter with 
hard bondage. The misery of his people 
God pities, and is resolved to redress. Ac- 
cordingly, he sends Moses, in the quality 
of his ambassador, to demand their release. 
The king of Egypt most insolently replies, 
^' Who is the Lord, that I should obey his 
voice, to let Israel go ? I know not the 
Lord, neither will I let Israel go." God, 
to chastise his insolence and obstinacy, in- 
flicts a variety of plagues on him and his 
subjects ; in contempt of all which. Pharaoh 
hardens his heart, persists in his disobedi- 
ence, and refuses to let the people go. At 
last, says the Lord, *' I will bring one 
plague more upon Pharaoh and upon Egypt," 
Exod. xi. 1, which shall infallibly accom- 
plish my purpose. Be their hearts hard as 
the nether-mill-stone, this shall make them 
feel : be their resolution stubborn as an 
iron sinew, this shall make it bend. " About 
midnight, will I go out into the midst of 
Egypt, and all the first-born in the land of 
Egypt shall die." Exod. xi. 4, 5. 

But as the Israelites then dwelt in Egypt, 
how should they be safe amidst the general 
desolation ? Will it be said, the Israelites, 
being the people of God, were not exposed 
to this punishment, had no reason to feai 
the infliction of this vengeance ? None that 
remembers how all the world is become 
guilty before God, will affirm this ; none 
that considers how rebellious and idolatrous 
the Israelites were, can suppose this. And 
every one who has read Ezek- xx. 8, must 
allow, that there was no difference in this 
respect. The one people were criminal as 
well as the other. All of them most righ- 



teously deserved the afflictive stroke, Grace, 
free and sovereign grace alone, must make 
the distinction. 

Since this was the case, it may reasona- 
bly be asked, how shall the Israelites be 
safe ? The Lord himself directs Moses to 
a method, which should effectually secure 
aU the families of Israel, while death en- 
tered into every habitation of the Egypti- 
ans. The method, its execution, and suc- 
cess, are all specified in the text : " By faith 
Moses kept the passover, and the sprinkling 
of blood, lest he that destroyed the first-born 
should touch them." "VVTiere we may ob- 
serve, 

I. A very dreadful danger ; signified by 
the destruction of the first-horn. 

II. A method of security from this dan- 
ger ; effected by keeping the passover, and the 
blood of sprinkling. 

III. The success of this method ; de- 
noted by the destroyer Twt so much as touch- 
ing them. 

The good Lord enable us to open and 
apply the words thus divided ! Then we 
shall see their suitableness to the present 
occasion ; and, I hope, feel their salutary 
influence on our souls, 

I. A very dreadful danger ; signified by 
the destruction of the first-born. — The 
Lord had already put his hand to the sword. 
It was even now drawn from the scabbard^ 
and had received a commission to go forth ; 
to go forth that very night ; to walk through 
all the land of Eg3'pt ; and to be bathed 
before the morning light in the blood of the 
first-born, all the first-born, from the haugh- 
ty king that sat on the throne, even to the 
slave that toiled at the mill, and the very 
sheep that yeaned in the field. Tremen- 
dous, as well as inevitable blow ! O what 
an alarm will it create, and what affliction 



646 



THE TIME OF DANGER. 



will it spread '. make' every heart sad, and 
every house a scene of mourning ! " Therfe 
shall be a great ciy throughout all the land 
of Egypt, such as there was none like it, 
nor shall be like it any more." Exod. xi. 6. 
, And is not the present time a time of 
immment danger? are not the judgments 
of the Almighty now abroad in the world ? 
have not earthquakes shaken kingdoms, and 
rent the foundations of nature ? have they 
not spread terror through our own and dis- 
tant nations ; laid wealthy towns and mag- 
nificent cities in ruin ; and swallowed up or 
destroyed unknown multitudes of our fel- 
low-creatures ? 

Is not the sword of slaughter drawn ? has 
not V. ar hung out her bloody flag ? are not 
the flames kindled in Europe and America ; 
on the land and on the ocean ? are they not 
gathering strength daily ; spreading their 
rage continually ; and threatening to over- 
run all ? 

If we were evidently superior to our ene- 
mies in number and power, in vigilance and 
unanimity, yet the events of military under- 
takings are very uncertain. " The battle is 
not always to the strong," Eccles. ix. II. 
Success and victory depend upon a hand 
higher far than the arm of flesh. " With- 
out me," saith the Lord, "they shall bow 
down under the prisoners, and they shall 
fall under the slain." Isaiah x. i. 

But are we not at war with one of the 
-most potent, insidious, enterprising king- 
doms in the world ? Is there not great rea- 
son to suppose, that they will soon be join- 
ed by their neighbours the Spaniards ? And 
if we have been worsted by one, how shall 
vre contend with their united force ? Con- 
sidering the situation and behaviour of the 
ungrateful Austrians, have we not cause to 
guspect the junction of a third popish power 
against our religion and liberty ? Will not 
the court of Rome, with all her bigotted 
adherents, urge and instigate them to be 
active in this couiederacy ?* will they not 
at this juncture, the most favourable for 
the prosecution of their purpose that any 
age has aflbrded, or their own sanguine zeal 
can desire — will they not exert their utmost 
ability to crush the Protestant cause, and 
extirpate the Protestant name ? 

Should the enemy make a descent upon 
our island, what can we expect, but that 
our island be turned into a field of blood ? 
They who have always been jealous of our 



« When the pope heard of the alliance lately es- 
tablished between the houses of Bourbon, and Aus- 
tria, Hui.^ary,, and Bohemia, streiigthened by the 
unexpei tsd accessioi. of Russia, he cried out with an 
air of triumph, O adnnvabile rnmmercium c^eneris 
humani ! " A.dmii-ab!e association and inteircourse 
of mankind!" Promisiiig hiinsei;', I ^uir-n fiorr 
this remarkable turn of affairs, such advautn^cs tc 
die cause and iuteresis of popery as exceeded even 
^11 his hopes. 



interest and influence, bave now addeu rage 
to their jealousy. Their resentment, like 
the burning fiery furnace, is heated seven 
times hotter than usual. We should cer- 
tainly find them, as the Scripture speaks, a 
bitter and hasty nation, Hab. i. 6, and, 
without the spirit of prophecy, may venture 
to declare. Wo be to England, if God 
should now deliver it into the hands of the 
French. 

Some perhaps may cry, These fears are 
all chimerical. There is no ground for 
such discouraging suggestions. We do 
not question but we shall be a match, and 
more than a match for our adversaries." 
To this confident boasting let not my 
tongue, but let the course of events, let the 
disposals of providence reply. Have we, 
then, been superior in the day of trial ? 
Alas ! have we not lost Minorca? is not 
Oswego gone ? a general slain, and his army 
cut in pieces ? an admiral condemned to be 
shot to death, and his fleet defeated by, an 
inferior number of the enemy's ships ? Are 
not ravages and depredations made almost 
continually upon our colonies in America ; 
and horrible unheard-of cruelties committed 
by the savages on the persons of our fellow- 
subjects? What have we reaped from the 
late campaign, but disappointment, loss, 
and shame? 

Are not all these things apparently against 
us ? will they not dispirit our men, and im- 
bolden our foes? will they not make our 
allies backward to come in with their suc- 
cours, and render the powers that are un- 
engaged afraid to declare themselves on our 
side ? 

All these circumstances considered, the 
present appears to be a time of uncommon 
danger ; afiairs, look wherever we will, 
wear a lowering aspect. " Our sky is 
black with clouds, and there is the sound 
of abundance of rain." I Kings xviii. 
Judgments seem, more than seem, to be 
hovering all around us. How soon they 
may fall, God only knows ! 

" If God indeed were for us," we might 
trust, and not be afraid; we might look 
danger in the face, and boldly say, " Who 
shall be against us?" Rom. viii. 31. But 
is this the case ? are we " a righteous na-^ 
tion, that keepeth the truth?" Isaiah xxvi. 
2. Is there sufficient reason to believe, that 
the Holy One of Israel is our defence ? Are 
we not, on the contrary, a sinful generation, 
a people laden with iniquity ? is there not 
abundant reason to fear lest our God should 
say, in terrible indignation, "They are joined 
to idols, let them alone?" Hos. iv. 17. 
In order to determine this point, let us ex- 
amine our \rays. Nothing can be more 
proper for a day of humiliation. Are not 
we, like the Egyj)tiaDS, in a state of great 
danger? if we consider, 



THE TIME OF DANGER. 



647 



1. The sins of our nation. 

2. The judgments of God denounced up- 
on such sins. 

3. The certain execution of those judg- 
ments, unless we % to the appointed re- 
fuge. 

1 . Consider the sins of our nation. Here 
I shall mention some, and only some of 
those abominations, which, wherever they 
are found, cannot fail to provoke the eyes 
of God's glory, and render either a person 
or a people ripe for his vengeance. 

The Christian Sabbath is an inestimable 
privilege to the church of Christ ; it is a 
happy means of building us up in know- 
ledge, of establishing us in faith, and pre- 
paring us for our everlasting rest. Yet, is 
it not shamefully profaned in city and in 
country ? What xnultitudes waste it in idle- 
ness, or squander it away in unedifying 
conversation ; making it by far the most 
useless and contemptible day of the week ? 
This they do even though God strictly 
charges, saying, " Remember ye the Sab- 
bath day," not barely to abstain from your 
ordinary works, but to keep it holy," 
Exod. XX. 8, devoting it entirely to holy 
purposes, and religious exercises. This 
they do, even though God solemnly threat- 
ens, saying, " If ye will not heca-ke;i v.nto 
me, to hallow the Sabbath day, then will 
I kindle a fire in your gates, and it shall 
devour the palaces of Jerusalem, and 
it shall not be quenched." Jer. xrii. 
27. 

Is not the name of God great, wonder- 
ful, and holy ? ought it not to be used with 
the deepest veneration, and magnified above 
all things ? But is it not audaciously dis- 
honoured, and impiously blasphemed ? dis- 
honoured by customary and wanton, blas- 
phemed by false and perfidious swearing ? 
Has not the most high God declared, that 
he will in no wise hold such daring wretches 
guiltless ? Yet how do these daring wretches 
swarm, like the locusts of society, in our 
polluted land ! O England, how is thy air 
tainted with this breath of the infernal pit ! 
how do thy streets resound, most horribly 
resound, with this language of hell ! And 
will not the Almighty Lord make thee 
know, know by bitter experience, what 
that meaneth which is spoken by his pro- 
phet, " Because of swearing, the land 
moumeth." Jer. xxiii. 10, mourneth under 
afflicting visitations, and desolating judg- 
ments ? 

Is not the Scripture a singular blessing ? 
Yes, it is celebrated by the Psalmist as the 
sovereign blessing ; that which crowns the 
other Instances of divine goodness ; " He 
sheweth his word unto Jacob, his statutes 
and ordinances unto Israel." It is also 
celebrated as a most distinguishing bless- 
ing, from which multitudes are excluded : 



" He hath not dealt so with all nations, 
neither have the heathen knowledge of his 
laws," Psalm cxlvii. 19, 20- Should not 
then the Scripture be precious to our 
souls ; more precious than fine gold ; 
sweeter also than honey, and the droppings 
of the honeycomb ? Should we not ex- 
ercise ourselves in it day and night, Psalm 

i. 2 ; reading it by day, meditating on it by 
night ? Should we not make it the most 
delightful subject of our conversation ; talk 
of it to our children, our domestics, our 
neighbours ; when we lie down, and rise 
up ; when we walk by the way, and sit in 
the house ? Deut. vi. 7. But where are the 
persons who bear such a superlative esteem 
for the Bible ? where is the company that 
delights to converse on those oracles of 
truth ? where are the parents that diligently 
instruct their children, and feed them with 
the milk of the word ? Diversion of every 
kind engages their attention, and the most 
trifling impertinence employs their tongue ; 
but the Lord's word is insipid, if not irk- 
some. His word is treated, even by Pro- 
testants, as the manna was treated by the 
Israelites, who had the ingratitude and im- 
pudence to say, " Our soul loatheth this 
light bread," fs'^umb. xxi. 5. A plague 
from the Lord of hosts was the conse- 
quence of their contemptuous treatment of 
the meat that perisheth. Of how much 
sorer punishment shall we be thought wor- 
thy, who contemn the food which endur- 
eth to everlasting life ? 

God hath reserved the unjust, saith the 
Scripture, unto- the day of judgment, to be 
punished ; " chiefly those who walk after 
the flt'sh in the lusts of uncleanness," 2 Pet. 

ii. 10. Is not this iniquity rampant among 
the inhabitants of England ? What \e\\d 
pictures are exposed to view ! what filthy 
writings are suffered to see the light ! fuel 
for lust, and incentives to debauchery. 
What is wit, in our days, but either some 
lascivious hint, or some licentious abuse of 
Scripture ? Are not the wanton enter- 
taiiunents of the stage, and other seminar 
ries of lewdness, countenanced, supported, 
thronged ? Can you acquit our cities and 
towns of drunkeimess, revellings, and 
abominable excesses ? Are not these, and 
all soi ts of filthiness, found in our skirts ? 
If so, hear the word of the Lord, and let it 
sink deep into every heart; " when 1 had 
fed them to the full, they then commit- 
ted adultery, and assembled themselves 
by troops in the harlots' houses. They 
were as fed horses in the morning ; every 
one neighed after his neighbour's wife. 
Shall I not visit for these things ? saith the 
Lord ; and shall not my soul be avenged 
on such a nation as this ?" Jer. v. 7, 8, 9. 

Is not religion, vital religion, very much 
upon the decline ? Dees n not, evcji 



648 



THE TIME OF DANGER. 



among the serious, wear a sickly dying as- 
pect? What niiiltitiides profess to know 
God, but in works deny him ? and, quite 
destitute of the power of godliness, content 
themselves with the mere form ? Where- 
as, if any, in imitation of the first believers 
and preachers, are fervent in spirit, serving 
the Lord with alacrity and zeal ; these per- 
sons, instead of being encouraged, are op- 
posed ; instead of being esteemed, are re- 
proached. Of such persons even the ma- 
lignant spirit could bear witness, " These 
are the servants of the most high God, who 
shew unto us the way of salvation," Acts 
xvi. 17. But among us, who call ourselves 
Christians, who pique ourselves upon be- 
ing the pm-est church in Christendom ; 
among us, such persons are deemed the 
visionaries of the age, the disturbers of so- 
ciety, and the men that would " turn the 
world upside down," Acts xvii. 6. The 
ministers who are most faithful, and the 
people who are most exemplary, are a de- 
rision and a bye-word among their neigh- 
bours. Thus, in Israel, " they mocked the 
messengers of God, and despised his words, 
and misused his prophets." But it was to 
the confusion of those scoffers, and the ruin 
of their country ; " for the wrath of the 
Lord arose against his people, till there was 
no remedy. Therefore he brought upon 
them the Icing of the Chaldees, who slew 
their young men with the sword, in the 
house of their sanctuary ; and had no com- 
passion upon young man or maiden, old 
man, or him that stooped for age," 2 Chron. 
xxxvi. 16, 27, 

Are we not abandoned to a spirit of car- 
nal confidence ? When do we discover 
any reliance on the Almighty, or ascribe 
any of our success to his gracious interpo- 
sition ? It is not God, but our sword that 
shall help us. Or, if any unseen power 
is acknowledged, it is not the Lord of 
Hosts, but good fortune. One would 
almost imagine, that we were ashamed of a 
heavenly ally ; and thought it a disgrace to 
own ourselves dependent on Omnipotence. 
Is not such a temper a national infatuation, 
:ind the harbinger of national judgments? 
Zedekiah and the men of Judah forgot or 
neglected the Rock of their salvation, and 
made Pharaoh's army their confidence. 
But see what was the issue, or hear it from 
the mouth of him who fulfilled the word 
of his servants ; " Though ye had smitten 
the whole army of the Chaldean? that fight 
against you, and there remained but wound- 
ed men among them, yet should they rise 
up every man in his tent, and burn this 
city with fire," Jer. xxxvii. 10. 

Should you say, This is a false charge ; 
have we not this very day publicly acknow- 
ledged, that, " without the divine aid, the 
wisest counsels of frail men, and the mul- 



titude of an host, and all the instruments 
of war, are but weak and vain ?" Have we 
not likewise expressly declared; that, *' not 
confiding in the splendour of any thing that 
is great, or the stability of any thing that 
is strong here below, we do most humbly 
fiee to the Lord for succour, and put our 
trust under the shadow of hjs wings ?"* I 
would to God we believed that acknow- 
ledgment, and acted conformably to this 
declaration. We should then be very dili- 
gent to propagate religion among our sol- 
diers and sailors ; we should seek for such 
officers and commanders as are men fear- 
ing God ; we should be as desirous to es- 
tablish our troops in godliness, as to tniin 
them up in military discipline. But is it 
thus with our army ? is it thus with our 
navy ? — Visit a man of war : You will 
think yourself, not in one of the bulwarks: 
of our island, but in a little hell. Observe 
the gentlemen of the sword : Concerning 
the generality of them you will have reason 
to ask. Are these Christians ? are they not 
incarnate devils ?t And can we expect 
that the infinitely pure God will go forth 
with such hosts ? will he not rather become 
"their enemy, and fight against them?" 
Isaiah Ixiii. 10. 

What ignorance prevails, especially 
among the lower ranks of people ! The 
grossest ignorance of themselves and of 
God our Saviour ; the grossest ignorance 
of grace and salvation by a Redeemer's 
righteousness ; the grossest ignorance of 
the veiy first principles of our holy reli- 
gion. To do evil they are wise ; but to do 
good, to believe in Jesus Christ, to love 
and glorify him who bought sinners with 
his blood ; to do all, to do any of this, they 
have no knowledge. And is it a small 
matter to be thus children of darkness ? 
is not the soid alienated from the life of 
God through ignoi'ance? Eph. iv. 18; does 
not this displease the most high God, and 
provoke the Holy One of Israel ? Let his 
own word determine ; " It is a people of 
no understanding ; therefore, he that made 
them, will not have mercy on them, and 
he that formed them, will shew them no 
favour," Isa. xxvii. 11. Are these impo- 
tent menaces made only to be contemned ? 
then we may dismiss our feai's. But if they 
are the word of God, which liveth and abid- 
eth for ever, then we have reason to cry, 
"> What will become of England ?" 

In a word, religion, both as to knowledge 
and practice, was never at so low an ebb, 
since the Reformation took place ; nor 
luxury, and immorality of every kind, at 



* The form of praver appointed for the fast. 

t Does this sound harsh or will any other part 
of the charge advanced in these discourses prove ol- 
fensive? I am sorry there should be any occasion 
for such language ; But I dare not retract it. 



THE TIME Oh DANGER. 



649 



such an eiiorrqous height. Where now 
are our rulers ? Are they zealous for God, 
and valiant for the truth ? have they cour- 
age to stem the torrent, or to oppose the 
overflowings of ungodliness? Where are 
the grandees and magistrates ? Warm with 
generous indignation, do they snatch the 
spear ; and, like the gallant Phinehas, smite 
through the loins of iniquity ? Alas ! have 
not our great men " altogether broken the 
yoke, and burst the bonds ?" Jer. v. 5. Are 
they not, generally speaking, the ringleaders 
in transgression; as eminent for their con- 
tempt of God, as for the affluence of their 
circumstances ? " Yea, the hand of the 
princes and rulers hath been chief in the 
several trespasses," Ezra ix. 2. But will 
that dignity which they have abused ; will 
that authority which was lent them for bet- 
ter purposes ; will those distinctions be a 
security to them or their country in the day 
of visitation ? Hear what the righteous Lord 
says, who is higher than the highest, and 
able to execute all his decrees ; " It is the 
sword of the great men that are slain, which 
entereth into their privy chambers. I have 
set the point of the sword against all their 
gates, that their hearts may faint, and their 
ruins be multiplied," Ezek. xxi. 14, 15. 
Gates, be they ever so strongly fortified, or 
ever so faithfully guarded, are no fence 
against the point of Jehovah's sword. And, 
if sin is suffered to enter, judgments will 
assuredly follow : judgments will follow even 
the most powerful and wealthy sinners ; will 
pursue them like an eager blood-hound ; 
will haunt them like a dismal ghost ; will 
force a way into their palaces, nay, into their 
closest retirements ; and never remit the 
chase, till fainting of heart ends in multipli- 
ed ruin — in the ruin of themselves, their 
families, their country. 

Amidst all these crying evils, are we nort 
presumptuously secure ? is there not a de- 
plorable spirit of stupidity, which blinds our 
eyes, and renders us insensible ? Scarce 
any one lays these miseries and dangers to 
heart. Who moumeth for the abomina- 
tions of the l^id? who stirreth up himself 
to call upon God, if so be he may yet be 
entreated, and have mercy upon Zion ? Are 
we not too much like the intoxicated sinners 
of the old world ? " They ate, they drank ; 
they bought, they sold ; they planted, they 
builded." They gave themselves wholly up 
to sensual gratifications and inferior cares, 
disregarding all the admonitions of Noah, 
and all the tokens of impending vengeance ; 
"till the divine long-suffering ceased ; the 
universal flood came, and, with irresistible 
violence, swept them all away," Luke xvii. 
27. Are we not in the condition of those 
supine, senseless people, spoken of by the 
■prophet Zephaniah ? " It shall come to pass 
at that day, that I will search Jerusalem 



with candles, and punish the men that are 
settled upon their lees ; that say in their 
heart. The Lord will not do good, neither 
will he do evil." And may we not justly 
expect their awful doom ? '* Therefore their 
goods shall become a booty, and their 
houses a desolation. Their blood shall be 
poured out as dust, and their flesh as the 
dung. Neither their silver nor their gold 
shall be able to deliver them in the day of 
the Lord's wrath : but the whole land shall 
be devoured by the fire of his jealousy," 
Zeph. i. 12, &c. 

As a farther aggravation of our crimes, 
have we not been incorrigible, amidst the 
most compulsive and the most winning mo- 
tives to amendment ? We have been visit- 
ed with a contagious distemper among our 
cattle ; which, we were appreliensive, might 
have introduced a plague among the human 
race. From this fear we have been deliver- 
ed ; but are we delivered from our evil 
works, and have we renounced all ungodli- 
ness ? Rebellion broke out in our island ; 
threatening to overthrow our Protestant go- 
vernment, and deprive us of our reformed 
religion ; threatening to deprive us of out- 
liberty and its privileges, of our peace and 
its comforts. This storm also was soon blown 
over, andtranquillityrestored to our land. But 
did we return every one to the Lord our God, 
who dealt so graciously with us ? Earth- 
quakes have shattered otherkingdoms, have 
destroyed other cities ; while they only ad- 
monished, not injured, us and ours. Has 
this goodness, this distinguishing goodness 
of God, led us to repentance? Were we 
not lately preserved from the most calami- 
tous of all temporal losses — from losing 
the precious fruits of the earth ? When the 
com was ripe, and ready for the sickle, who 
can forget the lowering sky, and the descend- 
ing rains, which held back the husbandman's 
hand, and forbade the gathering. A few 
more days of such unseasonable weather had 
inevitably spoiled the produce of the ground, 
and destroyed the staff of life. But divine 
Providence, at the very hour of need, re- 
strained the immoderate showers ; bade the 
sun shine forth with peculiar brightness ; 
and gave us the expected weeks of the har- 
vest : thus rescuing us from famine, per- 
haps from pestilence, probably from mu- 
tiny, certainly from a train of evils, the 
particulars of which we cannot so much as 
imagine. But is there not too much ground 
for the complaint, sopalheticaJly urged, and 
so frequently repeated, by the prophet, 
" Though I have done all this for you, yet 
have ye not returned unto me, saith the 
Lord?" Amos iv. 6. 8—11. 

Behold, now, the state of our nation. 
Our sins abound, and are grown up to hea- 
ven ; sins of every, even the most horrid 
kind ; sins among all ranks, from the highest 



630 



THE TIME OF DANGER. 



to the lowest. In our sins we persist, 
though wooed, as it were, with the choicest 
mercies ; though made to smart under va- 
rious judgments ; though threatened with 
far more afflictive visitations. And will the 
great, the mighty, the immortal God, al- 
ways bear with such apeople? willhe receive 
the most horrible indignities, and still, still 
refrain himself? Surely he wU awake, as 
one out of sleep ! surely he will say, with 
a determined indignation, " Ah ! I will ease 
me of mine adversaries, and avenge me of 
mine enemies !" Isa. i. 24. Has he not 
shewed us evident tokens of his displeasure ? 
is he not filling all his dispensations with 
marks of anger ? And what, O what may 
be the end of these beginnings ! how dole- 
ful, how destructive ! unless sovereign grace 
interpose ; bringing us, by faith in the Son 
of God, to unfeigned repentance and new- 
ness of life. Some notion we may form 
concerning the end of these things, by un- 
folding the second point 

2. The judgments of God denounced on 
such sins. Where such iniquities prevail, 
we might naturally conclude, that the divine 
indignation is awakened, and the divine 
vengeance lingereth not. Is there a God ? 
does he behold the children of men? is his 
nature infinitely pure and holy ? Surely then 
he cannot, he will not suffer the most out- 
rageous violations of his sublime perfec- 
tions to pass unpunished. Thus we might 
argue from the nature of God ; this we 
might conjecture from the aspect of things. 
But we have a more sure word of prophe- 
cy : in this word, " the wrath of God is 
revealed against all ungodliness and uin-ight- 
eousness of men," Rom. i. 18. And see ! 
in what flaming colours, by what frightful 
images this wrath is represented, these judg- 
ments are described ! 

. They are likened to a lion rending his 
prey. The Lord hath been " unto Ephraim 
as a moth, and unto the house of Judah as 
a worm." He hath dispensed milder cor- 
rections ; afflicting them in measure, and 
withholding inferior comforts. His judg- 
ments were like a moth fretting the gar- 
ment, or like a worm corroding the wood, 
in both which cases the consumption ci'eeps, 
as it were ; the wasting operates silently, 
and proceeds slowly. Thus the chastising 
Jehovah acted, giving the people space for 
recollection, and looking for repentance ; 
but no repentance was produced ; they con- 
tinued irreclaimable, adding sin to sin. 
Then says the Lord, " I will be unto 
Ephraim as a lion ;" which, all fierce and 
ravenous, rushes upon a lonely traveller. 1 
will now come forth, as an incensed and ir- 
resistible adversary, and be " as a roaring 
lio« to the house of Judab. I, even 1, wlio 
I m omnipotent, will tear, will destroy them 
^'lith a mighty hand ; and go away, ajtiated 



with slaughter and vengeance. I will take 
away both prince and people; I will take 
away their very place and nation ; and none 
shall have power to effect, or courage to 
attempt a rescue." Hos. v. 12 — 14. If ^ 
God do thus to perverse and incorrigible 
Judah, why should we imagine that he will 
deal otherwise with perverse and incorrigi^ 
ble England ? 

They are described by a flood. " Now 
therefore behold the Lord bringeth up up- 
on them the waters of the river, strong and 
many, even the king of Assyria and all his 
glory ; and he shall come up over all his 
channels, and go over all his banks. And 
he shall pass through Judah ; he shall over- 
flow and go over ; he shall reach even to 
the neck, and the stretching out of his wings 
shall fill the breadth of thy land, O Im- 
manuel !" Isa. viii. 7, 8. The king of As- 
syria and his army, determined to invade 
Judah, are signified by the waters of the 
river. These the Lord bringeth up ; over- 
ruling the puq)oses of ambitious princes, 
and making even their wicked designs sub- 
servient to his holy will. They are, like 
the waters of an imm_ense flood, strong and 
many ; their multitude innumerable, and 
their force unconquerable. For they shall 
come with all their glory j with their choic- 
est troops, their ablest commanders, and 
their whole warlike artillery. " He shall 
come up over all his channels, and go over 
all his banks ;" from all parts of his vast 
dominions, his troops shall be assembled ; 
each province shall be drained of its bravest 
inhabitants ; and all unite to render this 
expedition one of the most formidable that 
ever was undertaken. " He shall pass 
through Judah ;" not only make inroads 
upon the frontiers, but push his way through 
the country, and penetrate the very heart of 
the kingdom. He shall overflow ; spread 
terror and desolation on every side, and in 
every quarter. He shall go over villages, 
towns, citi'es, tribes, and bear down all be- 
fore him. He shall reach even to the neck ; 
his ravages shall extend even to the royal 
city, to the very gates of the metropolis ; 
threatening destruction to the palace of the 
king, and the walls of the temple. The 
stretching out of his wings, the several de« 
tachments and parties of his victorious ar- 
my, shall till the breadth of the land with 
havoc, slaughter, and ruin ; even of thy 
land, O Immanuel. Their relation to thee 
shall procure no favour, shall afford no pro- 
tection. They have dishonoured that good- 
ly name wherewith they were called : there^ 
fore that goodly name shall no longer stand 
in the breach, but pour itself with the tor- 
rent, and render it irresistible. Such an 
inundation of judgments so terrible, so de- 
structive, have not we deserved, may noc 
we expect ? 



THE TIME OF DANGER. 



651 



These judgments are compared to fire, 
and to the fiercest of fires, that which glows 
in a furnace. " The house of Israel is to me 
become dross ; all they are brass, and tin, 
and iron and lead, in the midst of the fur- 
nace ; they are even the dross of silver. 
Therefore thus saith the Lord God, because 
ye are all become dross, behold, therefore, I 
will gather you into the midst of Jerusalem. 
As they gather brass, and iron, and tin, and 
lead, into the midst of the furnace, to blow 
the fire upon it, to melt it ; so will I gather 
you, in mine anger and in my fury ; and I 
will leave you there, and melt you. Yea, I 
will gather you, and blow upon you in the 
fire of my wrath, and ye shall be melted in 
the midst thereof." Ezek. xxii. 18- — 21. 
Astonishing words ! And they are doubled ! 
they are redoubled ! in order to alarm the 
insensible sinners : as the sword, by being 
brandished in many a dreadful circle over 
the criminal's head, strikes terror into his 
apprehensions, before it does the work of 
vengeance on his heart. This generation 
is become brass, impudent in their wicked- 
ness. They have a whore's forehead ; they 
cannot blush at their iniquities ; but glory 
in their shame. They are tin, a degenerate 
race, children that are corrupters. They 
have forsaken the good old way, and swerv- 
ed from the example of their fathers. With 
regard to hardness of heart, they are as iron ; 
impenitent amidst all their guilt ; obstinate- 
ly tenacious of their vices ; and not to be 
wrought upon by any addresses, not to be 
reclaimed by any expedients. In another 
respect, they are as lead ; stupid and sottish, 
pliable to evil, but for any good purpose 
unmeet, to every good work reprobate. Be- 
cause they are so exceedingly sinful, they 
shall be overtaken by God's anger, and sur- 
rounded by his fury ; as metals cast into 
the midst of a furnace are surrounded with 
tiie raging heat. The flame of this wrath 
shall be blown, as with a vehement wind, to 
its utmost height. In this furnace they 
shall be left, to this wrath they shall be 
abandoned ; till, by a complication of afflic- 
tions, resembling the complication of their 
vices, they are overcome, subdued, and even 
melted ; so melted, as to be either purged 
from the dross of their iniquities, or else 
blended together in one promiscuous ruin. 

These judgments are described by the 
terrible representation of an eiid : An end 
of affluence and prosperity, of which we 
have gloried ; an end of power and strength, 
in which we have trusted ; an end of all 
national blessings, which we have not im- 
proved to God's honour, but turned into 
licentiousness. " Thus saith the Lord God, 
An end, the end is come upon the four cor- 
ners of the land. The sword is without, 
and the pestilence and the famine within : 
he that is in the field, sliuU die with the 



sword ; and he that is in the city, pesti- 
lence and famine shall devour him." Ezek. 
vii. 2, 15. For this we have been ripening, 
by an .un intermitted course of ungodliness 
and iniquity. And what can be expected 
by an impenitent people, hating to be re- 
formed? What, but that judgments, which 
have long been suspended, should at last be 
inflicted? " An end is come: it is come 
upon the land." It is a national visitation, 
not confined to a part, but extending to the 
whole kingdom. " Upon the four corners 
of the land:" No place shall be exempt; 
nothing secure ; neither that which seems 
to be most secret, nor that which lies most 
remote. The vengeance is universal and 
inevitable. The executioners of this ven- 
geance take their stand, within and without, 
at home and abroad ; so that to fly from 
one, is only to fail into the hands of an- 
other. " He that is in the field shall find 
i!0 way to escape, but shall die with the 
sword. He that is in the city shall obtain 
no protection, but famine and pestilence 
shall devour him." Every city shall be a 
charnel-house, and every field a field of 
blood. In city and country sin has prodi- 
giously abounded ; therefore, in city and 
country, desolation shall be made, death 
shall be multiplied, niiseiies shall abound. 

These are some of the images by which 
the judgnients and the wrath of God are 
represented in the Scriptures. But when 
all images are used, when fancy itself is ex- 
hausted, we may truly cry out with the 
Psalmist, " Who knoweth the power of 
thine anger ?" Psalm xc. 11. If God whet 
his glittering sword, and his hand take hold 
on judgment, what can withstand it, or who 
can sustain it ? If his wrath be kindled, ye?, 
but a little, "it shall consume the earth 
with her increase ; it shall set on fire the 
foundation of the mountains, and burn to 
the lowest hell." Deut. xxxii. 22. 

" When the lion has roared," says the pro- 
phet, "who will not fear?" When the 
most high God hath spoken, spoken such 
terrible things in righteousness, who will 
not lay them to heart? O how deep is 
that sleep, how deadly is that lethargy, 
which the voice of him who shakes the 
heavens does neither alarm nor awe ! 

Lest you should begin to say within 
yourselves, These threatenings are applica- 
ble only to the Jews, I proceed to show, 

3. The certain execution of these, or 
some such judgments on us, unless we fly 
to the appointed refuge. 

God is an infinite speaker. In his word, 
he addresses himself to all generations of 
men, and to eveiy individual of the human 
kind, where his holy revelation is made. It 
is therefore a certain rule, that when any 
peopl-e, enlightened. by the glorious gospel, 
become like Jerusalem universally and ^'n- 



652 



THE TIME OF DANGER. 



Gorrigibly corrupt, they do in Jerusalem's 
doom read their own. 

God is tlie same yesterday, to-day, and 
for ever. He remembereth his threatenings 
as well as his promises, to a thousand gen- 
erations. Whatsoever of either kind hap- 
pened to our forefathers, " happened to them 
as ensamples to us. And whatsoever was 
vyritten aforetime, was written for our learn- 
ing." Observe, it was written, not for our 
amusement, but " for our learning and ad- 
monition," 1 Cor. X. 11; that we may, as 
in a mirror, see our own picture ; and, as 
from an oracle, learn our own destiny. 

Is it not in a manner necessary, for the 
manifestation of God's inflexible justice, and 
his unalterable hatred of sin, that judgments 
should take their course, when iniquity rears 
its head, and refuses to be controlled ? At 
such a iuncture, does not every one of the 
divine attributes cry aloud, " O Lord God, 
to whom vengeance belongeth ; thou God, 
to whom vengeance belongeth, shew thy- 
self." And how can the justice of God, 
with regard to a wicked nation, be shewn, 
but by executing his vengeance upon them 
in temporal calamities ? 

Consider, sirs, the very essence of nations 
and political communities is temporal, pure- 
ly temporal. They have no duration, no 
existence, but in this world. Hereafter 
sinners will be judged and punished sift'gly, 
and in a personal capacity only. How then 
shall He, who is ruler among the nations, 
maintain the dignity of his government over 
the kingdoms of the earth, but by inflicting 
national punishments for national provoca- 
tions ; and for final impenitence, total des- 
truction ? 

Besides, has not the Lord always acted 
in this manner ? Go back to the generations 
of old. Contemplate Sodom and Gomor- 
rah, and the cities about them ; well water- 
ed every where, even as the garden of the 
Lord. Yet " this fruitful land is made bar- 
ren, those populous cities are turned into 
ashes, for the wickedness of them that dwelt 
therein," Psal. cvii. 34 ; for their pride and 
idleness, for their voluptuous and wanton 
indulgences. " For which thing's sake, the 
wrath of God" not only has come in former 
ages and in distant nations, but in every age 
cometh, andin every nation will come, "upon 
the children of disobedience." Col. iii. 6. 

Pass over to Babylon, the grandest city 
that the sun ever beheld ; which set cala- 
mity at defiance, saying in her heart, " I 
shall be a lady for ever," Jsa. xlvii. 7 ; how 
is she fallen, " swept with the besom of 
destruction !" Isa xiv. 23. Not so much as 
a trace or footstep of her ancient glory left! 
And shall we be safe, when those very ini- 
quities prevail among us, which razed the 
foundations of the Babylonian metropolis, 



and overthrew the magtijficence of the Baby- 
lonian monarchy ? 

Take a view of Constantinople, once the 
most flourishing Christian city in the world ; - 
where the first Christian emperor filled the 
throne, and Chiysostom, that great Chris- 
tian orator, the pulpit. Then it was glori- 
ously enlightened with the knowledge of Je- 
sus Christ. Grace and truth dwelt in it> 
and the beauties of holiness adorned it. But 
now the candlestick is removed. It is now 
given up to infidelity and barbarity ; is now 
full of darkness and cruel habitations. 

Come hither, then, ye careless ones, and 
see what desolations sin has made in the 
earth. On account of sin, Sodom was con- 
sumed as in a moment ; Babylon is totally 
destroyed;* Constantinople has lost hev 
glory. And will the Lord, the Lord- God, 
who is unchangeably just and holy ; will he 
spare that in one people which he has so 
severely corrected in another ? " He that 
chastiselh the Heathen, shall not he punish" 
us, when we do according to all their abo- 
minations ? 

Have we a license to sin with impunity ? 
are our sins less heinous than those of other 
people ? Quite the reverse. Considering 
the many blessings which we enjoy as a na- 
tion ; the many deliverances we have en- 
joyed as a protestant nation ; the number- 
less advantages for religious knowledge and 
religious practice, which we both have en- 
joyed, and do enjoy above all the nations on 
earth ; considering these circumstances, our 
wickedness is highly aggravated ; it is be- 
come exceeding sinful ; it " overpasses the 
deeds" ( Jer. v. 28,) of the most abandoned 
Heathens. What then can prevent our ruin ? 

Will you reply, *' We fast and humble 
ourselves before the Lord !" I ask, Do 
we fast from sin ? are our fast-days the be- 
ginning of a gospel reformation? When we 
abstain from our daily bread, do we turn 
by faith to Jesus Christ, that, eating his 
flesh and drinking his blood, we may live 
through him ?" John vi. 57 ; live in hoU- " 
iiess here, and live in glory hereafter, by 
applying his immaculate righteousness to 
our souls. If this is the case, we may en- 
tertain reviving hopes. The Scripture speaks 
good vvords, and comfortable words, to such 
people ; be their condition ever so vile, or 



* Will any, raised in their own conceit above the 
vulgar level, neglect these admonitions with a smile 
of disdain ? Because they can assign the second 
causes of some such evils as have been described, will 
they therefore quiet their spirits, amidst the alarm- 
ing prospect of judgments from heaven? Is not 
what we term the course of nature, the incessant ad- 
ministration of Providence ? The poverty and igno-' 
miny of the lazy vagabond ; the diseases of the de- 
bauchee, and tlie distresses of the spendthrift — are 
these less manifest signs of divine displeasure, be- 
cause they are the immediate effects of an evil coQf 
duct ? are they not as certainly the judicial, the penal, 
as they are the natural consequences of vice ? 



THE TIME OF DANGER. 



653 



their guilt ever so great. But, alas ! are 
we not just the same persons the day after 
our fast as we were before ? as vain in our 
conversation and as forgetful of God ? as 
fond of folly, and as negligent of divine 
grace ; as naad upon our idols of carnal gra- 
tification, and worldly gain ? If so, our 
fasts are not an acceptable, no, nor a rea- 
sonable service ; but a mere mockery of the 
omniscient Majesty. May he not justly 
use that upbraiding expostulation, " Will 
ye steal, and commit adultery, and svi^ear 
falsely, and walk after other gods," serving 
not the Lord Jehovah, but diverse lusts and 
pleasures ; and then, with hypocritical de- 
votion, " stand before me in this house 
which is called by my name?" Jer. vii. 9, 
10. 

Perhaps youare ready toallege, " Ouralms 
will deliver us." The son of Sirach exhorts 
us to " shut up alms in our storehouses and 
assures us, that "they shall fight for us 
against our enemies, better than a mighty 
shield and strong spear," Eccl'us xxix. 12, 
13. And when was there a greater flow of 
beneficence observable in our own, or in 
any land ? What sums have been given to 
the poor during this severe season of cold 
and scarcity ! what hospitals of various 
sorts, and other charitable foundations, have 
been set on foot, and are supported through 
the kingdom ! Let us beware, bi-ethren, 
lest those very things, which we look upon 
as our recommendation, should prove an 
oflfence. If our alms proceed not from 
faith in Jesus Christ, and an unfeigned 
zeal for the gloiy of God ; if they are not 
accompanied with a spirit of love to his 
name, and with a course of obedience to 
his commands ; hear what the Lord him- 
self says concerning such works : see M^hat 
a figure they make in his sight ; and then 
judge, whether they are likely to be a se- 
curity to our land. " I hate, I despise 
your feast-days, and I will not smell in your 
solemn assemblies. Though ye offer me 
burnt-oflferings, and your metit-ofl^erings, I 
will not accept them ; neither will I regard 
the peace- offerings of your fat beasts. 
Take thou away from me the noise of thy 
songs ; for I will not hear the melody of 
thy viols." Hymns of praise, you see, are 
no other than a noise in the Lord's ear ; 
the most costly services of religion are no 
better than a smoke in his nostrils ; unless 
judgment, and the love of (jod, run down 
as a river; unless righteousness, and the 
faith of Christ, abound as a mighty stream. 
Amos. V. 21— ,2+. 

Do you still conceit yourselves, that, be- 
cause there are many righteous persons re- 
maining, they will stand in the gap ; they 
will turn away the anger of the Lord, and 
be- as the chariots of Israel and the horse- 
nieri of Israd to our endangered state ? Hear 



what a charge the suprenne Jehovah gave 
to his prophet, w^hen the provocations of 
Israel were risen to a very high pitch : 
" Pray riot thou for this people, neither lift 
up cry nor prayer for them, neither make 
intercession to me ; for I will not hear 
thee." Jer. vii. 16. Amazing and awful 
prohibition ! Yet it is repeated again and 
again, Jer. xi. 14, and xiv, 11. God's 
professing people may, by their excessive 
wackedness, become so insufferably loath- 
some, that were the greatest saints to make 
supplication in their behalf, they should not 
prevail. Though Noah, Daniel, and Job, 
men mighty in prayer, and zealous for the 
welfare of their neighbours ; though these 
three men (who had each, by his single in- 
tercession, procured blessings from heaven) 
were uniting their petitions in the midst of 
this profligate generation ; " as I live, saith 
the Lord God, they shall deliver neither 
sons nor daughters ; they only shall be de- 
livered, but the land shall be desolate." 
Ezek. xiv. 16. 

The land shall be desolate. Doleful 
soimd ! dismal decree ! And has it not long 
ago been carried into execution ? was not 
Jerusalem ploughed as a field, and trodden 
down by the Gentiles ? are not the inhabi- 
tants rooted out of their dwellings, and 
scattered to all the ends of the earth ? while 
their country is given up for a prey and for 
a possessioH to strangers, to infidels, to 
Turks. 

Perhaps you will say, " The Jews cru - 
cified the Lord of glory, and rejected his 
gospel ; therefore wrath came upon them 
to the uttermost." And are we irmocent 
in this respect ? are not we verily, are not 
we greatly guilty concerning this thing ? Is 
Christ received into the hearts of men, with 
deep adoration of his person, as Immanuel, 
God with us ? do they glory and delight 
themselves in his complete redemption, as 
finished by the great God and our Saviour ? 
do they confide in hira alone for their justi- 
fication, as an infinite Surety, and as Je- 
hovah our righteousness ? do they depend on 
him alone for their sanctification, as Jesus, 
who saves his people from their sins, and 
sanctifies them through his blood ? do they 
count all things but dung, for the excellency 
of Christ, and his incomprehensible merit ? 
Alas ! is not his gospel, through the light 
of the world, disregarded and despised? 
is not his name, though a name above every 
name, derided and blasphemed ? are not the 
influences of his eternal Spirit, though the 
very life of our souls, exploded and ridicul- 
ed? They who would exalt the Saviour, 
would make every sheaf bow down to the 
Redeemer's, representing him as the Alpha 
and Omega, the beginning and the eading 
in the salvation of sinners — those preachers, 
those writers, those believers, are treated as 



654 



THE TIME OF DANGEE. 



" the foolish people that dwell in Sicht-.m." 
Eccl'usl. 26. 

What the Jews did through ignoi-ance, 
we, who call ourselves Christians, English- 
raen, Protestants ; we do knowingly, wil- 
fully, and of malicious wickedness. And 
if we thus trample upon the blood which 
alone can screen us ; if we thus crucify 
afresh that Jesus who is our only hope ; 
what can we look for, but vengeance and 
fiery indignation ? If we ourselves, with our 
own hands, demolish the only barrier, what 
can ensue but an inundation of wd'ath, tri- 
bulation, and anguisli? 

Consider these things, brethren. The 
Lord enable you to discern the signs of -the 
times ! Then you will acknowledge, that 
we have reason to be alarmed, to tremble, 
to be horribly afraid. Are not these ini- 
quities the Achans, that will assuredly bring 
distress and trouble, if not destruction, upon 
our country? are not these iniquities the 
Jonahs, that w^ill awaken the divine dis- 
pleasure, and deliver up our vessel to the 
tempest, if not to shipwreck ? 

Is any one disposed to say within .him- 
self, " Though others maybe guilty of these 
flagrant iniquities, yet am not I ?" Remem- 
ber, my friend, the prophet Isaiah : He was, 
at least, as free from these flagrant iniqui- 
ties as yourself ; yet he laments, and with 
painful apprehensions, the guilt of his 
countrymen, as well as his own. Isaiah vi. 
5. Remember King .Tosiah -. Though a 
holy man: and a just, he rent his clothes, 
and trembled at God's word denouncing ven- 
geance against an irreligious people. 2 
Kings xxii. 12, 13. 

Consider also, whether you have not 
been an accessory, even where you was not 
the principal. Though you have not joined 
with the more profligate sinners, nor sat in 
the seat of the scornful ; yet have you not 
connived at their impiety ? do their affronts 
offered to the King of heaven rouse you into 
a becoming zeal to vindicate his injured 
honour? or, "because iniquity has abound- 
ed, is not your love, and the love of many, 
waxed cold?" Matt. xxlv. 12. Have not 
the disciples, even the disciples of Jesus, 
been cowards and traitors ; while others 
have been professed enemies and rebels ? 

Besides, have not you, have not I, have 
not all contributed, in many, many instan- 
ces, to swell the score of national provoca- 
tions ? Is not every sin a disobedience of 
God's most holy command ? is not every 
sin a defiance of his uncontrollable author- 
ity? is not every sin an imitation of the 
devil? does it not create a kind of hell in 
the heart ? must it not therefore be incon- 
ceivably odious to the holy, holy, holy Loi d 
God of Sabaoth ? If so, how guilty are 
the very best among us? Is not this accurs- 
ed thing found in all our tents ? Josh. vi. 



18. Has not every one added to the load, 
that dreadful load, which is likely to sink 
the nation in ruin ? Should not every one. 
therefore, smite upon his breast, and say 
with the penitent, " What have I done !" 
and cry with the publican, " God be merci- 
ful to me a sinner !" 

Will you still flatter yourself, " All these 
judgments may be delayed; they may not 
come in my time ?" I answer, if there be 
any truth in God's word ; if any conjecture 
is to be made from the appearance of 
things ; these judgments are near ; they are 
at the door. They are like the axe in the 
executioner-s hand, which has been poised, 
has received its last elevation, and is now 
falling on the criminal's neck. Yet if these 
should be withheld for a season, will not 
sickness come upon you ? are not many 
disasters lying in ambush to seize you ? is 
not death sharpening his arrow ; perhaps 
fitting it to the string ; or even aiming at 
your life ? Is not the day, the dreadful day 
approaching, when the shout of the arch- 
angel and the tr*imp of God will be heard , 
when the dead shall arise, and heaven and 
earth flee away ? will not the Lord, the 
Lord God omnipotent quickly come, " with , 
ten thousands of his saints, to execute judg- 
ment upon all, and to convince all that are 
ungodly of all their ungodly deeds which 
they have ungodlily committed ; and of all 
their hard speeches, which ungodly sinners 
have spoken against him?" Jude 14, 15. 

Take then, my dear hearers, take the ad- 
vice of the greatest of preachers, and the 
wisest of men, " The prudent foreseeth the 
evil, and hideth himself." Prov. xxii. 3. 
Behold ! the rains are descending, and the 
flood is coming ; hasten, like Noah, hasten 
to your ark. See ! the skies are kindling 
all around, and the shafts of vengeance are 
ready to fly. Make haste, oh, make haste 
and delay not the time, to get into a hiding- 
place. Let me sound in your ears the an- 
gel's admonition ; and may the Lord of an- 
gels, may the Friend of sinners, convey it 
to your hearts ! " Escape for your lives, 
lest ye be consumed lest the judgments 
of God, and the wrath of God, more to be 
feared than a deluge of waters, more to be 
feared than a torrent of flames, surround 
you suddenly, seize you unavoidably, and 
overwhelm you in ruin, temporal and eter- 
nal. 

O that I might prevail ! O that God, 
would make you sensible of your peril ! O 
that man, woman, and child would ask, 
" How shall I fly from the wrath to come ? 
where shall I be safe in the day of visita- 
tion ?. Show me the ark ! show me the re- 
fuge I should then, with great satisfac- 
tion, proceed to answer .this inquiry ; and 
point out Christ to your souls, as the only 
hiding-place, as the sure hiding-place, where 



THE MEANS OF SAFETY. 



655 



you may certainly find safety. But this 
must be the business, the pleasing business, 
of" my next discourse. 

Let me beseech you, in the mean time, 
to lay these alarming truths to heart ; let 
them impress your consciences ; let them 
penetrate your souls. And O thou graci- 
ous, thou almighty Lord God, do thou 
command them to sink deep into all our 
minds j that we may, with Ezra thy priest. 



sit down ashamed and astonished (Ezra ix* 
3.) under a sense of our manifold iniquities : 
That we may, with thy servant Job, ab- 
hor ourselves, and repent in dust and ashes," 
Job xlii. 6 : That we may, in the words> 
and with the compunction of thy prophet, 
every one cry out, " Wo is me, for I am 
undone ; because I am a man of unclean 
lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people 
of unclean lips." Isa. vi. 5. 



SERMON VI. 



THE MEANS OF SAFETY. 



HEii. xi. 28. — " Through faith he kept the passover, and the sprinkling of blood, lest he that destroyed the 
first-born should touch them." 



We have been considering the danger of 
our nation, occasioned by the sin of its in- 
habitants; by the judgments of God de- 
nounced against such sinners ; by the cer- 
tain execution of his righteous threatenings, 
unless we fly to the appointed refuge. 
When such is the state of a nation, it is 
high time for the watchmen on her walls to 
lift up their voice ; not indeed to spread vain 
terrors, but to give notice of the approach- 
ing evil ; to warn the unwary ; to call in 
the stragglers ; and urge every one to re- 
tire into a place of safety. 

Having, in the preceding discourse, at- 
tempted to discharge this office, I shall 
now, brethren, as in the presence of the 
all- seeing God, ask. Have we been atten- 
tive to these things ? are we alarmed with 
a sense of our guilt and our peril ? have we, i 
with the prophet Isaiah, lamented om' own, 
and the sins of our people ? If so, we shall 
highly prize, we shall ardently desire, the 
same consolation, and the same relief, 
which the God of infinitely free goodness 
vouchsafed to his servant : " Then flew 
one of the seraphims unto me, having a 
live coal in his hand, which he had taken 
from off the altar, and he laid it upon my 
mouth," Isa. vi. 7 ; an action which repre- 
sents the very thing signified in the text 
by the sprinkling of blood. 

The altar typified Christ ; who is both 
the sacrifice that makes the atonement, and 
the altar that sanctifies the gift. The live 
coal seems to betoken the word of grace, 
and the word of life ; which brings the glad 
tidings of the gospel, and testifies of the 
bleeding Jesus. Laying this upon the 
mouth, very significantly denotes the appli- 
cation of Christ and his great atonement. 
When this is done under the influence of 
the Spirit, and by means of faith, then 
"iniquity is taken away, atid sin purged;" 
taken away from the sight of God, and 



purged from the sinner's conscience. Guilt 
is abolished ; fear ceases. But this leads 
us to our second particidar, 

II. The method of security from danger, 
effected by '* keeping the passover, and 
sprinkling the blood." 

Moses was apprized of a dreadful ven- 
geance to be inflicted on Egypt ; the most 
dreadful that ever was known since the be- 
ginning of their nation ; so dreadful, that 
it would make every ear tingle, and every 
heart bleed. The destroying angel was to 
pass through all the territories of Pharaoh, 
and smite every first-born both of man and 
beast ; so that, before the morning, there 
should be heaps of slain in the cities, the 
villages, the fields ; not a house exempt, 
not a family spared, not a herd nor a flock 
free from the fatal calamity. 

Moses feared the blow. He feared, as 
the text intimates, the least touch of the 
divine executioner's sword ; knomng that 
it would crush him and his people, as a 
moth is crushed by the falling millstone. 
He is therefore greatly solicitous to pro- 
vide for their welfare. But what expedient 
shall he use ? Shall he give them orders to 
close their windows, and bar their doors ; to 
erect fortifications, and stand upon their 
defence ? Alas ! before an invisible hand, 
armed with the vengeance of Heaven, all 
such precautions would have been as a 
spark before the whirlwind. Shall he as- 
semble the warriors, or detach parties of 
soldiers to patrole the streets and guard the 
houses ? Vanity of vanities ! the sword of 
the avenging angel would pierce through 
legions and legions of such guards, as light- 
ning penetrates the yielding air. Shall the 
whole congregation bend their knees, with 
solemn confession of their sins, and sincere 
resolutions of future amendment? This, 
though absolutely necessary to be done, was 
extremely improper to be relied on. It 



fi*"^'^ THE MEANS 

would have been relying on a broken reed, 
and despising the ordinance of the Holy 
One. 

The Lord himself appoints a method of 
preservation. Moses is directed to slay a 
lamb. Each family in Israel is to do the 
same. Having received the blood into a 
basin, they are to sprinkle it, not on the 
threshold, but on the lintel and side-posts 
of their doors. This shall be a sign to the 
destroying angel. Looking upon this sign, 
he will pass over the house ; will strike no 
blow, and execute no vengeance, wherever 
he sees the blood sprinkled. All this, in 
pursuance of the divine direction, being per- 
formed, with faith and tranquillity they wait 
the event. 

You will say, perhaps, "What is all this 
to us ? I answer, It is a pattern for our 
imitation. Are we then to do the very 
same thing? We are to do what their prac- 
tice typified. The shadow was theirs, the 
substance is ours. The blood of the lamb 
typified the blood of Christ, who is the 
Lamb of God, slain for the sins of the 
world. By the blood of Christ is fre- 
quently signified in Scripture, the whole 
merit of his life and death, of his actions 
and sufferings, of his trials and graces ; 
which satisfied God's justice, and magnified 
God's law ; which made propitiation for 
iniquity, and brought in an everlasting righ- 
teousness. Well does the apostle call it 
precious blood : Unspeakably precious are 
its effects. It appeaseth the wrath of God 
revealed from heaven, and makes peace be- 
tween the offended Creator and the offend- 
ing creature. Sprinkled on the conscience, 
it takes away all guilt, and secures from all 
vengeance. This, therefore, my brethren, 
this blood is our security. This is to our 
souls what the blood of the paschal Jamb 
was to the Israelitish families. The name 
of the Lord, the grace and goodness of God 
manifested in the death and obedience of 
Christ, is a strong tower ; not only the 
righteous person, but the distressed creature, 
and the endangered sinner, runneth unto it, 
and is safe. Prov. xviii. 10. 

Since this is a point of the utmost impor- 
tance, it cannot be too clearly displayed, or 
too strongly established. For this purpose, 
the Scripture gives us several most amiable 
and instructive views of Christ, as our re- 
fuge and safety. He is called a hiding-place, 
Isa. xxxii. 2. To a hiding-place people re- 
treat, and are secure from their enemies, 
even from those cruel enemies that seek 
their destruction. Thus the prophets, 
whom Obadiah hid by fifty in a cave, were 
secure from Ahab's tyranny and Jezabel's 
persecution. So the soul that fiies to Christ, 
that takes sanctuary under the blood of 
sprinkling, is secure Irom the most formida- 
ble of ail enemies; is secure from ail the 



OF SAFETY 

wrath due to sin, and from every accusation 
which Satan can bring. To such a person 
shall be fulfilled what is spoken by the pro- 
phet Jeremiah: "When the iniquity of 
Israel shall be sought for, there shall be 
none ; and the sins of Judah, they shall not 
be found." Jer. 1. 20. 

Christ is styled a " covert from the tem- 
pest." *< A man," says Isaiah, that is, the 
God-man Christ Jesus, "shall be as an 
hiding-place from the wind, and a covert 
from the tempest." Isa. xxxii. 2. W^hen 
the thunders roar, and the lightnings flash ; 
when the clouds pour down water, and a 
horrid storm comes on : all that are in the 
open air retire under the branches of a thick 
tree, or fly to some other commodious shel- 
ter. What storm can be so dreadful as the 
righteous vengeance of God, poured outupon 
a sinful nation ? What storm can be so 
dreadful as the eternal vengeance of God, 
poured out upon a sinful soul? To both 
these we are exposed, to both these we are 
justly liable. But Christ's blood and rights 
eousness are a covert. Hither we may fly 
and be screened, hither we may fly and be 
safe ; safe as was Noah when he entered ; 
the ark, and God's own hand closed the door,, 
and God's own eye guided its motions. For 
" there is no condemnation" of any kind, 
or from any quarter, " to them that are in 
Christ Jesus." Rom. viii. 1. 

Christ is compared to a stronghold. 
" Tufn ye to the stronghold," says the pro- 
phet Zechariah, chap. ix. 12. When sold- 
iers fly from a victorious army, being admit- 
ted into an impregnable castle, they are be- 
yond the reach of danger. They give their 
fears to the wind, and repose themselves in 
tranquillity. When sinners fly by faith to 
the dying Jesus, they also, from henceforth, 
are in " a tower of salvation," 2 Sam. xxii. 
51. They may say, each one for himself, 
" Soul, take thine ease: All thy guilt is 
laid upon thy Lord, and punished in thy 
surety. The flaming sword of justice is re- 
turned to the sheath, having received full 
satisfaction from the sufferings of Christ. 
The curse of a violated law is no more, 
having been executed to the utmost upon 
the person of my Redeemer. Nay, its 
curse is turned into a blessing. For Christ 
has redeemed us from the curse of the law, 
that the blessing of Abraham might come 
upon us Gentiles, Gal. iii. 13, 14, even the 
blessing of perfect reconciliation, and ever- 
lasting friendship with God most high." 

This leads me to mention another beau- 
tiful comparison, which represents Christ 
not only as the cause of safety, but as the 
source of consolation. He shall be " as ri- 
vers of water in a Arry place, and as the sha- 
dow of a great rock in a weary land," Isa. 
xxxii. 2. In u (ivy places burnt up for want 
of moisture, notiiing is bO desirable, nothing 



THE MEANS 

so 'refreshing as water. To the poor sin- 
ful soul, of whose condition the parched 
ground is a fit resemblance, Christ shall be, 
not barely as the morning dew, not barely 
as the transient shower, but as a river ; yea, 
as rivers of water that flow in copious and 
never-failing streams through the thirsty 
soil, making even the sandy desert green 
with herbage, and gay with flowers. In a 
sultry clime, where the sun pours insuffera- 
ble heat, and all things languish under the 
.glaring rays, nothing is so cheering to the 
labourer, nothing so welcome to the travel- 
ler, as a cool and gloomy shade. A poor 
soul, assaulted by the fiery darts of Satan, 
and distressed with the remembrance of for- 
mer iniquities, is this sultry clime, or wea- 
ry land. But Christ and his atonement are 
not barely as the boughs of an oak, which 
extend their coolness to a small distance ; 
not barely as the canopy of an alcove, 
Ihrough which much of the glowing influ- 

,,.,f!nce penetrates ; but like the shadow of a 
rock, a great rock, which projects the friend- 
ly shade over many a league, which has re- 
,pelled and excluded the sun through all pre- 

«/;eding ages, and gives you, as it were, " the 

^cold of snow amidst the heat of harvest. " 

v.Prov. XXV. 13. 

'i Here, then, brethren, is our security 
.amidst all peril. The blood, the righteous- 
ness, the infinitely glorious person of Christ; 
.these are our hiding-place, these are our co- 
vert, these are our stronghold. And 
blessed be God ! the doors stand wide 
open ; they are never shut, night nor day. 
The access is free for any, free for all, free 
for the greatest sinners. We are not only 
^.allowed, but we are invited ; nay, we are 
fijCommanded to approach, to enter, to enjoy 
ip\ie protection; or, as the words of the 
.text express it, to sprinkle the blood on our 
"jsouls. 

\. Sprinkle the blood on our souls ! You 
. will probably say, " What does this signi- 
fy ? What was done by Moses, when he 
: sprinkled the visible blood, we easily appre- 
hend ; but how can we sprinkle the blood 
,pf Christ, which we never saw ; the blood 
-of Christ, whom the heavens have receiv- 
,ed ?" This is one of those mysteries which 
J the natural man understandeth not ; he can 
form no notion of it ; it is foolishness to 
vjiis apprehension. Therefore, may the eter- 
^ nal Spirit both teach us to understand the 
doctrine, and enable us to practise'the duty ! 
To sprinkle the blood of Christ, is truly 
, to believe in Christ, in his infinite atone- 
ment and everlasting righteousness : it is to 
receive tliese blessings as God's free gift to 
men, to sinners, to ourselves in particular ; 
and having received, to make continual use 
of them in every time of trial, for eveiy oc- 
casion of need. 

Perhaps tiiis doctrine may become clearer, 



OF SAFETY. 657 

if we illustrate it by an exampie, A re- 
markable example we have in the practice 
of David. After the commission of his 
grievous crimes, he did in a very eminent 
manner sprinkle the blood : For he said un- 
to the Lord, " Thou s'halt purge me with 
hyssop," the instrument of sprinkling the 
typical blood, "and I shall be clean ; thou 
shalt wash me" in the fountain open for 
sin and for uncleanness, " and I shall be 
whiter than snow,'' Psalm li. 7. This foun- 
tain he looked upon as opened for his sins, 
and fully sufficient to cleanse him from all 
his filthiness ; so that he should be as fiee 
from spot, before the righteous Judge, as 
the snow on Salmon was free from stain. 
Had he said within himself, " My crimes 
are too great for this blood to expiate ;" or, 
" This blood cannot be shed for so vile an 
offender as I am he would then have put 
the atonement far from hirn, together with 
all its expiating virtue. This would have 
been, not to apply, but to throw away the 
blood ; not to sprinkle it upon the soul, but 
to pour it upon the ground. 

Come then, brethren ; come, fellow-sin- 
ners ; let us also, in this day of fear and 
danger, look unto Christ, as dying that we 
may live ; as made sin, that we may be 
made the righteousness of God in him ; as 
made a curse, that we may inherit eternal 
blessedness. Let us look unto Jesus as tak- 
ing our nature, and standing in our stead. 
Behold him apprehended as a thief ; igno- 
miniously bound, and marked with the lashes 
of the scourge. Behold him crowned with 
thorns ; his hair clotted, his face discolour- 
ed, his breast and shoulders all bedewed 
with his own most innocent olood. Behold 
him nailed to the cross ; hanging in the 
most racking posture, till all his bones are 
out of joint ; hanging amidst malefactors, 
forsaken of God, of angels and men. Be- 
hold him bowing his head in death, and 
stabbed to the heart with the executioner's 
spear. Thus behold him, and say, " Verily, 
this sufferer was the Son of God, and the 
Lord of glory. Verily, these sufferings 
wei-e the punishment due to my sins. In 
all this extreme anguish he bore my griefs, 
and carried my sorrows. He was oppres- 
sed, and he was afflicted, because I had 
done amiss, and dealt wickedly. He was 
cut off out of the land of the living, that he 
might make his soul an offering for my sins, 
and obtain eternal redemption for me." 

Thus behold the blessed Jesus ; thus, 
sinners, behold the Lord your righteous- 
ness ; with this look of application, with 
this appropriating fiiith. Be verily persuad- 
ed that you shall find mercy before a holy 
God, not because you >.ave any worthi- 
ness, but because Christ has incomparable 
merit ; that you shall never come into con- 
demnation, not because you have fasted and 
2 u '■ 



658 THE MEANS 

prayed, but because Christ is your great pro- [ 
pitiation. Be persuaded, that God has given 
his Son for you ; that God gives his Son I 
to you ; and together with him eternal life^ 
Be persuaded of all this, upon the best of 
foundations, the infallible word of God ; 
who has declared, that Christ died for the 
ungodly, Rom. v. 6 ; and by his obedience 
siimers are made righteous, Rom. v. 19 ; 
that Christ was wounded on the cross, and 
intercedes in heaven for transgressors, Isa. 
liii. 12; that he received spiritual gifts, 
and divine blessings, even for the rebellious, 
Psalm Ixviii. 18- The Lord God omnipo- 
tent, the author and finisher of faith, enable 
you thus to believe ! on the ground of his 
own most sure word, thus to believe ! Then 
you keep the Christian passover ; then you 
sprinkle the blood of Christ ; then you may 
boldly say, " Under his shadow we shall be 
safe." Which reminds us of the third par- 
ticular, namely, 

III. The success of this method, denot- 
ed by the destroyer not so much as touch- 
ing them : " Lest he that destroyed the 
first-born should touch them." What a 
beautiful antithesis ! The Egyptian first- 
born were wounded, were mortally wound- 
ed, were absolutely destroyed ; the Israelites 
Were not hurt, nor endangered, no, nor so 
much as touched. So sure and complete a 
defence was this blood of sprinkling ! No - 
thing else could have yielded any protection : 
this afforded perfect security. When this 
was sprinkled on their door-posts, they had 
no cause to be " afraid for the terror by 
night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day ; 
for the pestilence that walketh in darkness, 
nor for the destruction that wasteth at noon- 
day." Psalm xci. 5, 6. 

And is not the hiding-place, the covert, 
the stronghold, provided for us in the 
blood and righteousness of Christ, an equal 
security ? do they not yield absolute, per- 
fect, consummate safety ? Nothing else could 
administer the least hope to the chiefest 
apostle ; this opens an inviolable sanctuary 
even for the greatest of sinners. None 
ever perished who laid their help upon 
Christ. He saves, he saves to the utter- 
most ; he saves not a few only, but all — all 
" that come unto God through him," Heb. 
vii. 25. Is our danger great ? Our security 
is greater. Is our danger exceeding great ? 
Our security is incomparably greater. In 
short, our refuge and security are the great- 
est that can be wished, that can be imagined, 
that God himself could provide. Cheering, 
charming, ravishing truth ! SuiFer me to 
enlarge upon it, brethren : Let your atten- 
tion hang on the glad tidings : May your 
hearts imbibe the precious doctrine ! 

Had "more than forty men bound them- 
selves with an oath, that they would neither 
eat nor drink till they had killed" (Acts 



OF SAFETY. 

xxiii. 21,) some one in |[this con^jregation ' 
the danger would be great, and the case 
startling. Nevertheless the endangered per- 
son would think himself sufficiently safe, if 
he could steal away, and hide himself in one 
of the deepest caves of America, with a vast 
tract of unknown land, and all the waters of 
the vaster ocean, between himself and the 
ruffians. Much safer will your souls be 
under the hiding, cleansing, and atoning 
efficacy of this blood of sprinkling ; by 
which unrighteousnesses are forgiven, sins 
are covered, and iniquities done away, as 
though they had never been. 

Were you overtaken by a violent and 
impetuous storm : If you sought shelter un- 
der a covert that \vas firmer than boards of 
cedar, harder than slabs of marble, thicker 
than the roofs of all the houses in Europe ; 
you would reckon yourselves secure from 
torrents of rain, or from volleys of hail. 
Much more secure will you be from ever- 
lasting wrath ; secure, even when " the 
Lord shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, 
storm and tempest," Psalm xi. 6 ; provided 
you are found under the covert of Christ's 
magnificent and meritorious righteousness : 
by virtue of which, " all that believe are 
justified," I say not from millions, or 
from thousands of millions, but from all 
offensive, provoking, criminal things. Acts 
xiii. 39. 

Should you be pursued by a conquer- 
ing foe, determined to cut you in pieces : 
If you turned into a castle whose walls 
were stronger than brass, stronger than ada- 
mant, stronger than all the rocks in the 
world, you might laugh at the attempts of 
your enemies, you are guarded from the 
power and peril of the sword. So, and 
abundantly more, are you guarded from 
every spiritual enemy, and from every spi- 
ritual evil, when you fly to the stronghold of 
Christ's death and atonement. The souls 
that abide in Christ, " they shall d^vell on 
high," beyond the rage of the old serpent, 
and the great dragon ; " their place of de- 
fence shall be the munitions of rocks," 
Isaiah xxxiii. 16, against which all the as- 
saults of earth and hell shall never be able 
to prevail. They may say, with the tri- 
umphant apostle, " How much more shall 
we, who receive abundance of grace, and 
of the gift of righteousness," be delivered 
from ruin, and " reign in life by Christ 
Jesus !" Rom. v. 17. 

And will you nbt prize such a strong- 
hold ? shall not such a covert be dear to 
your guilty souls ? will you not set an ex- 
ceeding great value upon such an hiding- 
-place? especially when the storm is gather-- 
'ing, and threatening all around ; when dciys 
of desolation and perplexity are coming up- 
on the world, and judgments, inflicted by 
men, may transmit us to the everlasting 



THE MEANS 

judgment of God ? How did Israel bless 
and adore their most merciful Jehovah, for 
granting them such an effectual means of 
preservation as the blood of the paschal 
lamb ! And shall not we bless and adore 
the same most gracious Jehovah, for grant- 
ing us a means of preservation altogether as 
effectual, and incomparably more wonderful ? 

If you should say, " How does it appear, 
that the blood of Christ is such a security ? 
so great, so wonderful, so matchless !" Be- 
cause it is the blood of him who is " Jeho- 
vah's fellow," Zech. xiii. 7 ; of him who 
" is God over all, blessed for ever." Rom. 
ix. 5 ; of him " in whom dwells all the ful- 
ness of the Godhead bodily," Col. ii. 9. 
Permit me, brethren, to clear up and esta- 
blish this doctrine ; as it is a doctrine of 
the last importance, on which the very 
strength of our salvation is built, and from 
which the fulness of our consolation flows. 

There are in Christ, in his one undivid- 
ed person, two distinct natures. One na- 
ture is eternal, infinite, almighty; which is 
called by the apostle the form of God, Phil, 
ii. 6. The other nature had a beginning ; 
is limited as to extent, and limited as to 
power. This is termed by the apostle the 
seed of Abraham, Heb. ii. 16. As God, 
he is subject to no authority, and infinitely 
superior to all possibility of suffering. To 
become capable of obeying, suffering and 
dying, he humbled himself, and was found 
in fashion as a man ; that, by obeying, suf- 
fering, and dying, in human flesh, he might 
triumph over sin and Satan, in that very na- 
ture which Satan had overcome, and sin 
had ruined : that, by accomplishing all this 
in the room and stead of his people, he 
might bring many sons unto glory ; not 
without a full satisfaction to the rights of 
injured justice, and to the demands of a 
violated law. 

Jesus Christ then, in his divine nature, 
is the most high God. The heaven of 
heavens is the august palace and royal resi- 
dence of this blessed and only Potentate. 
Thousand thousands minister unto him, and 
ten thousand times ten thousand stand be- 
fore him. The church militant rely on him ; 
the church triumphant adore him ; while all 
the hosts of angels pay homage to him. 
Jesus Christ, in his divine nature, is the 
majestic and adorable / am; self-ex'stent 
and independent. All worlds and all beings 
are derived wholly from him, and depend 
continually upon him : he "made the worlds, 
and upholdeth all things." Heb. i. 2, 3. 
View the beauty, the magnificence, the har- 
mony, observable in heaven, on earth, 
through the universe. All is intended, like 
the miracle wrought at Cana of Galilee, to 
"manifest his glory," John ii. 11 ; to tell 
every one who has eyes to see, and a 
heart to understand, how great our Saviour 



OF SAFETY. eM 

IS, how sublime his majesty, and how mar- 
vellous his perfection. All things, says the 
Spirit of inspiration, were created by him, 
and for him, Col. i. 16. Judge then, 
whether the obedience and atonement of 
such a Redeemer are not sufficient to se- 
cure, perfectly to secure any sinner, every 
sinner, all sinners, that fly by faith under 
his wings. As perfectly sufficient they are 
for this blessed purpose, as the unmeasura- 
ble circuit of the skies is roomy enough for 
a lark to fly in, or as the immense orb of 
the sun is beamy enough for a labourer to 
work by. 

Behold now the dignity and excellency 
of this blood, which is your covert, your 
hiding-place, your stronghold. It has all 
the power and efficacy that every divine 
perfection can give it. It is the blood and 
righteousness of him who is eternal, incom- 
prehensible, and exalted above all blessing 
and praise. Surely then nothing can bear 
any proportion to it. Guilt, all guilt, 
though ever so execrable and hon-id com- 
pared with the grandeur and riches of this 
invaluable blood, is as a glow-worm before 
the sun. All manner of sins and blasphe- 
mies are blotted out by such an expiation, 
as the shades of night are abolished by the 
light of day. Every sinner washed in this 
blood must be M'hiter than the unsullied 
wool, whiter than the virgin snows. Eveiy 
sinner clothed in this righteousness, must 
be unblamable and unreprovable, even be- 
fore the eye of Omniscience itself. 

For this, therefore, bless the Lord, O 
my soul ! and all that is within me, bless 
his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my 
brethren ; and let every thing that hath a 
being praise his unutterable grace : For, 
"behold! God is our salvation." God 
himself is made flesh an(i become our sa • 
crifice, our sin-offering, our justifying right- 
eousness ; " therefore will we trust, and 
not be afraid," Isa. 2 ; trust in this in- 
finitely sufficient Saviour, and not be afraid 
of death or hell, of any enemy, or any evil. 
But this leads me to apply the whole ; 
which I shall do by way of Examination, — 
Direction, — Exhortation, — Consolation. 

1. By way of examination. " Examine 
your ownselves," says the apostle, 2 Cor. 
xiii. 5. Have you kept the passover ? have 
you sprinkled the blood ? Many, perhaps, 
will be ready to answer, " We have." But 
beware, my friends, lest ye deceive your 
own souls. Let me give you a touchstone, 
whereby you may try your spirit, and pro- 
nounce aright concerning your state. 

Have you been convinced of your great 
sinfulness ? of your sinful natm-e, and your 
sinful practice ? Have you been made sen- 
sible, that nell, the deepest hell, is your 
deserved portion? is what you deserve for 
any transgression, for every transgressioii ? 



6t>0 THE MEANS 

how much more for the many thousands ; 
how much more for the many miilions ; 
how much more for the numberless multi- 
tude of your provocations ? If you have 
never been convinced of these most alarm- 
ing, but certain truths ; if you have never 
been touched with a sense of your extreme 
guilt and undone state — 1 fear you are set- 
tled upon your lees, you are in the dead 
sleep of sin. You are not so much as 
awakened: much less have you applied 
Christ. 

-Again, Have you been made to see, that 
nothing but Christ and his precious blood, 
nothing but Christ and his divine righte- 
ousness, can be your security from ven- 
geance ? Have you been convinced, that 
thousands of rams, and ten thousands of ri- 
vers of oil, could never expiate the least of 
your iniquities ? that no tears, no confes- 
sions, no amendment, nothing but the sa- 
crifice of the body of Christ, can make your 
peace with God ? If you have not been 
taught the absolute insufficiency of every 
remedy, save only the meritorious sufferings 
of Jesus Christ ; you have not seen him, 
neither known him, much less is his blood 
sprinkled upon your conscience. 

Once more, Have you a supreme, a 
matchless esteem for Christ? Is Christ 
and his great salvation the thing that you 
long for? is he to your souls the pearl of 
great price ? do you account all things but 
loss, that you may win Christ, and be found 
in him ? If this is not the state of your 
soul, I dare not flatter you with vain 
hopes ; I must not buoy you up with un- 
grounded imaginations. You are not, as 
yet, in your hiding-place ; neither have you 
fled to your stronghold. All the curses of 
the divine law stand charged and pointed 
full against you. You have no security 
from being hurt by the first death, nor from 
being irrecoverably ruined by the second 
death. If judgments should come upon a 
sinful and backsliding people, you have no 
defence ; there is no wall of fire around 
you. You must therefore expect to fall 
among those that fall ; and, falling by the 
sword, may immediately drop into hell. 

Can you hear this, and be unconcerned ? 
can you listen to this warning, more awful 
than the voice of ten thousand thunders, 
and not start from your insensibility ? are 
you not looking around, and ready to cry 
out, " What then shall I do to be safe in 
the day of evil ?" O ! that this inquiry 
came from the very bottom of your hearts, 
i should then proceed, with great cheerful- 
ness, to 

2. A word of direction. Fly to Christ, 
alarmed sinners ! Come under the covert of 
his blood. Appropriate the blessed Jesus, 
look upon him and his merit as your own. 
Thus sprinkle his blood : sprinkle it upon 



OF SAFETY. 

your lintel and door-posfs ; upon all you 
are, upon all you have, and all you do ; 
upon your consciences, that they may 
be purged ; upon your souls, that they may 
be sanctified ; upon your works, that they 
may be accepted. Say, every one for him- 
self, ^' I am a poor, guilty, helpless crea- 
ture ; but in Jesus Christ, who is full of 
grace and truth, I have righteousness and 
strength," Isa. xlv. 24- I am a poor, pol- 
luted, loathsome creature ; but Jesus 
Christ, who is the image of the invisible 
God, and the brightness of his Father's 
glory, has " loved me, and washed me from 
my filthiness in his own blood," Rev. i. 5. 
I am by nature a perverse depraved crea- 
ture ; and by evil practice, a lost, damnable 
smner ; but Jesus Christ, who made the 
worlds — Jesus Christ, whom heaven and 
earth adore— even Jesus Christ himself 
came from the mansions of bliss, on pur- 
pose to seek me, to save me, Matth. xviii. 
11, to give himself for me. And bow can 
I perish, who have such a ransom ? how 
can I be undone, who have such a repairer 
of my breaches ? how can I come into con- 
demnation, who have the blood, not of ten 
thousand sacrifices j the merit, not of ten 
thousand angels ; but the blood and merit 
of Jehovah himself for my propitiation? 

Should you say, " Have I a warrant for 
such a trust ?" You have the best of war- 
rants, our Lord's express permission, 
" Whosoever will, let him take the water of 
life freely," Rev. xxii. 17. It is not said, 
this or that person only, but whosoever ; 
including you and me ; excluding no indi- 
vidual man or woman. It is not said, who- 
soever is worthy, but whosoever is willing. 
"Wilt thou be made whole?" was our 
Lord's question to the impotent man at the 
pool of Bethesda. Wilt thou, all terms and 
conditions apart, inherit grace and glory ? is 
his most benevolent address to sinful men 
in all ages. " Let him take the water of 
life;" let him receive me and my righteous- 
ness ; let him look upon all that I have 
done and sufi*ered, as done and suffered for 
his redemption. This will administer peace 
of conscience, and joy in the Holy Ghost ; 
this will produce love of God, and alacrity 
of obedience ; in which things the true life 
of the soul consists. All these blessings 
are to be received freely, without money 
and without price ; that is, without any good 
works, any good qualities, or any prepara- 
tory requisites whatever : to be received, as 
the infinitely rich gift of divine grace, vouch- 
safed even to the lost, the guilty, the un- 
done. 

You have our Lord's most gracious in- 
vitation, "Come unto me." And whom 
does he call? The righteous? No. The 
excellent ? Quite the reverse. He calls 
sinners ; miserable sinners j even the must 



THE MEANS 

miserable of sinners ; those who are " weary 
and heavy laden ;" overwhelmed with ini- 
quities ; bowed down to the very brink of 
hell, and ready to think " there is no hope 
for them." Yet them he encourages ; them 
he invites ; to them he declares, " I wall 
give you rest," JMatth. xi. 28 ; rest in the 
enjoyment of peace with God, and peace in 
your own consciences. Observe and ad- 
mire the riches of your Redeemer's grace. 
He says not, Ye are vile wetches, pol- 
luted by sin and enslaved to the devil ; 
therefore keep at a distance ; but, There- 
fore come. Come, and be cleansed by my 
blood ; come, and be made free by my Spi- 
rit. He says not, Furaish yourselves with 
this, or that, or the other recommending 
accomplishment, but only Come : come just 
as you are ; poor, undone, guilty creatures. 
Yea, come to me for pardon and recovery ; 
to me, who have given my life, myself, my 
{ill, for your ransom. 

Should you still question, whether these 
inestimable blessings are free for you ? Re- 
member, brethren, they are free for sinners. 
Is this your character ? Then they are as 
free for your acceptance, as for any person's 
in the world. " To us eternal life is given," 
1 John v. 1 1 ; not us who had deserved it 
by our goodness, but us who had forfeited 
it by our sins. " To you is preached the 
forgiveness of sins," Acts xiii. 38 ; not you 
whose transgressions were inconsiderable, 
but you whose iniquities were more in num- 
ber than the hairs of your head. Even to 
you, who are the lost and perishing sinners 
of Adam's family, " is the word of this sal- 
vation sent." Acts xiii. 26. And, by a 
commission from God, we publish it ; that, 
as sinners, you may receive it ; that, re- 
ceiving it, you may commence believers ; 
and " believing, may have life through his 
name." John xx. 31. 

Some, perhaps, wall be inclined to debate, 
" Is this so extraordinary a matter ? will 
this exercise of believing do such great 
things for us, or put us in possession of 
such singular blessings ?" Moses might 
have formed the same scruple with regard 
to the sprinkling of blood. Will this seem- 
ingly insignificant cu'cumstance be such an 
extraordinary safeguard to us? Will this 
preserve us from the impending blow, more 
effectually than the labom's of the engineer, 
or the shield and spear of the warrior ? 
But Moses consulted not with flesh and 
blood ; Moses rejected all such carnal rea- 
sonings. By faith he and his people kept 
the passover, and were made partakers of 
the temporal salvation. By faith may you 
and I receive Christ ! So shall we be par- 
takers of pardon and eternal salvation. 

By believing the promise of God, and by 
trusting in the person of Christ, w e are 
united to the Lord Jesus, E])h. ill. 17, &o 



; OF SAFETY. 661 

as to have a real interest in his blood and 
righteousness. Being united to Christ, 
our sins are done away by virtue of his in- 
finitely precious atonement ; and eternal 
life becomes ours, on account of his ever- 
lasting righteousness. Whoever thus be- 
Keves, believes merely as a sinner, not upon 
the supposition of any goodness in himself, 
but upon the sole warrant of God's pro- 
mise in the infallible word of the gospel. 
Such a person shall not be ashamed of his 
belief ; shall never be disappointed of his 
hope ; " according to his faith shall it be 
unto him." Matth. ix. 29. 

Come then, feUow-sinners, believe the 
record of heaven. Set to your seal, that 
God is true. Honour his word, w^hich 
cannot lie ; honour his grace, which is ab- 
solutely free ; honour his dear Son, who 
has obtained eternal redemption for such 
unworthy creatures as you and 1. What 
shall hinder you ? But this leads me to, 

3. A word of exhortation. I say then, 
what shall hinder you ? what shall with- 
hold you, a single moment, from believing, 
" since all things are ready" (Matth. xxii. 
4) in Christ Jesus ? The great propitia- 
tion is made by him ; the perfect obedience 
is performed by him ; all the conditions of 
the new covenant are fulfilled by him. 
Come then, and partake of the heavenly 
blessings ; as you partake of a marriage- 
feast, when the entertainment is all pre- 
pared, and the bridegroom bids you wel- 
come. 

Fain would I prevail in this most im- 
portant address. Lord, make bare thy arm ; 
incline their hearts ; " make them willing 
in the day of thy power," Psalm ex. 3, 
My dear friends, if you turn away from such 
invitations, you are mined to eternity ; mi- 
sery awaits you here, and damnation here- 
after. Suffer me then to be importunate. 
Refuse not him that calleth you by my 
mouth; that bids you trust, and not be 
afraid J that oflfereth himself, ^vith all his 
fulness, to you. Why are you backward ? 
why slow of heart to believe ? why do you 
stand at a distance from the all-gracious 
Jesus ? 

Is it because you are guilty wTetches ? 
Then h^ publishes the act of indemnity to 
you : " I, even I, am he that blotteth out 
yoiu: transgressions, for mine own sake." 
Isa. xliii. 25. Is it because you are pol- 
luted creatures ; loathsome in your own 
eyes, and much more loathsome in the eye 
of infinite purity ? Then bear the word of 
the Holy One : " I will sprinkle clean wa- 
ter upon you, and ye shaU be clean. From 
all your filthiness, and from all your idols 
will I cleanse you." Ezek. xxxvi. 25. Is 
it because your sins are more numerous, 
and more heinous than the sins of others ? 
Be they ever so heinous, or ever so a?gra- 



662 



THE MEANS OF SAFETY. 



vated, thus saith the God of immensely 
rich grace in Christ, " Though your sins 
be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow ; 
though they be red like crimson, they shall 
be as wool." Isa. i. 18. 

Are you still objecting, " I am weak ; I 
have no strength ; I cannot believe >" 
Look then to^a promising God, that he 
may help your unbelief ; that he may fulfil 
in you all the good pleasure of his will, and 
the work of faith with power. For he who 
is truth itself hath said, " Your God will 
come and save you. Then shall the eyes 
of the blind be opened, and the ears of the 
deaf shall be unstopped ; the lame man 
shall leap as an hart, and the tongue of the 
dumb shall sing." Isa. xxxv. 4 — 6. Has 
the Lord given you a desire to believe in 
his dear Son ? Doubt not but he will also 
give you the power. Does God the Lord 
bring to the birth, and not give strength to 
bring forth ? That be far from him I the 
suspicion be far from us ! He has, in un- 
speakable mercy, appointed his blessed Spi- 
rit for this purpose. The Holy Ghost, the 
Comforter, attendeth continually on this 
very thing, to testify of Christ, and to re- 
veal Christ in our sinful souls ; enabling us 
to discern the all-sufficiency of Christ, to 
discern our right to make use of Christ, 
and to receive Christ as our own, our own 
God and Saviour. 

Be it then your daily endeavour, your 
continual business, to believe ; firmly, con- 
fidently, assuredly to believe in Jesus Christ, 
as the great and glorious Redeemer, in 
whom you have pardon, you have righte- 
ousness, and eternal life. Thus exercise 
yourselves unto godliness, and " God will 
help you ; God will strengthen you yea, 
God will uphold you with the right hand 
of his righteousness." Thus exercise your- 
selves unto godliness, depending on the di- 
vine faithfulness, proceeding on the divine 
warrant, in obedience to the divine com- 
mand, which expressly says, " Believe in 
the Lord your God, so shall ye be establish- 
ed ; believe his prophets, so shall ye pros- 
per," 2 Chron. xx. 20 ; " believe in his 
dear Son, so shall ye be saved." Acts xvi. 
31. 

Pharaoh said to Joseph, " Now thou art 
commanded, this do." Gen. xlv. 19. Let 
me also say to my hearers. Now ye are al- 
lowed, invited, commanded to believe in the 
Son of j,God, this do. It is your grand 
concern ; the one thing needful. Without 
this nothing will profit you. Therefore I 
repeat my exhortation ; therefore I am so 
urgent ; therefore I cannot dismiss the sub- 
ject, without beseeching the Father of mer- 
cies to command a blessing upon the vi^ord, 
that you may indeed " believe unto righte- 
ousness," (Rom. x. 10.) unto life, unto sal- 
vation. Thus will you glorify the ineffable 



goodness of God,"and the inestimable me- 
rit of Christ ; thus will you find a sure, a 
full, and incomparably rich provision made 
for your safety ; and thus will you most ef- 
fectually comply with that tender and gra- 
cious invitation of the Lord your God, 
"; Come, my people ; enter thou into thy 
chambers, and shut thy doors about thee ; 
hide thyself as it were for a little moment, 
until the indignation be overpast. For, be- 
hold ! the Lord cometh out of his place, to 
punish the inhabitants of the earth for their 
iniquity." Isa. xxvi. 20, 21. 

And what will ye do, when the Lord 
cometh forth to punish, if you are not re- 
ceived into the hiding-place ? What will 
ye do, ye men of sober and decent conver- 
sation, who have nothing but an outward 
regularity, and some customary conformity 
to religious worship? These, though in 
their place valuable, yet are no security. 
They are only the outworks, not your for- 
tification nor your citadel. When the 
righteous Judge " shall be revealed from 
heaven in flaming fire, to take vengeance 
on them that obey not the gospel," 2 Thess. 
i. 7, 8 ; these, without the blood of 
sprinkling, will be but as a withered leaf 
amidst the inextinguishable burning. 

What will ye do, ye men of wealth and 
large possessions ? Will riches profit you 
in the day of wrath ? Prov. xi. 4 ; will 
riches protect you in the day of the Lord's 
controversy? Alas ! they will mark you 
out for a prey, and serve only to lure the 
vultures. If riches have been your idol — 
hoarded up in your cofiers, or lavished out 
upon yourselves — they will, when the day 
of reckoning comes, be like the garment of 
pitch and brimstone put upon the criminal 
condemned to the flames. 

What will ye do, ye mighty men of va- 
lour ? If the Lord turn his hand upon you, 
your heart shall fail, and your knees be fee- 
ble J your arm shall lose its strength, and 
your sword shall lose its edge. Your fleets 
and armies " shall be as tow," and the com- 
manders of them " as a spark ; and they 
shall both burn together, and none shall 
quench them," Isa. i. 31. If you are not 
sheltered and secured by this blood, what 
will ye do when the shout of the archangel 
is made, and the trump of God is heard ? 
Undaunted as you now seem, you will then, 
in an agony of despair, " call upon the rocks 
to fall upon you, and mountains to cover 
you." Rev. vi. 16. 

What will ye do, ye voluptuous men, and 
ye careless women ? ye that eat the lambs 
out of the flock, and the calves out of the 
midst of the stall ? ye that drink wine in 
bowls, and anoint yourselves with the chief 
ointments ? Ah ! what will ye do when 
" the whole land," for the universal degener- 
acy of its inhabitants for their contempt^ of 



THE MEANS 

Christ and neglect of grace, " shall become 
brimstone, and salt and burning ; insomuch 
that it shall not be sown, nor bear, nor any 
grass grow thereon ?" Deut. xxix. 23. 
Much more may I ask, What will ye do 
when the heavens shall pass away with a 
great noise, when the elements shall melt 
with fervent heat, when the whole earth, 
and all the works that are therein, shall be 
burnt up? 

What will ye do, people of all ranks and 
conditions, when " mischief shall come upon 
mischief, and rumour shall be upon ru- 
mour ?" Ezek. vii. 2G ; " when your houses 
shall be laid in heaps, and your streets be 
made a place of graves ? when your cities, 
that were full of inhabitants, shall be soli- 
tary ; and not a voice heard amidst them, 
but sighs of the disconsolate, and groans of 
the dying ? when your children shall be 
slaughtered in one place, your parents in 
another ; and the slain shall lie behind the 
slayer, as the sheaves behind the reaper in 
the time of harvest?" Jer. ix. 22. But 
above all, what will ye do when the great 
white throne is erected ; when the earth 
and the heavens flee away from the face of 
him that sitteth thereon ; and the dead, 
both small and great, stand before God to 
be judged? Without the blood of sprink- 
ling, where can you be safe ? how will you 
appear? what will you do? Whereas, if 
Christ and his blood are yours, all is yours. 
You have nothing to fear, in time or eter- 
nity. " O ! well is it with you, and happy 
shall you be." But this reminds me of add- 
ing a word, 

4. By way of consolation. Possibly you 
may be ready to inquire, " What consola- 
tion will this administer, amidst the presa- 
ges, or under the approach of national ca- 
lamities?" Very great. " Fear not," says 
the Lord, " for I have redeemed thee," 
Isa. xliii. I. Redemption by Christ is a 
preservative from all terror, and an antidote 
against every evil. This causes the serene 
breast, and the lightsome heart. Hence 
comes calmness of conscience, " quietness 
and assurance for ever." Therefore, says 
the prophet, " This man shall be our peace 
when the Assyrian shall come into our 
land." The blood and righteousness of our 
incarnate God shall be the sovereign sup- 
port of our souls, even when the enemy in- 
vades our territories, and preys upon the 
vitals of our country ; yea, when he " treads 
upon our palaces," Micah v. 5 ; not only 
demolishes our dwelling-houses, but lays 
our royal edifices in the dust, and makes us 
fee! all the grievousness of war. 

Further, when this blood is sprinkled, 
sin is done away, and God is appeased. 
His promises are your portion, and his arm 
is your defence. For the comfort of such 
people it is written, He shall deliver tliee 



OF SAFETY. 663 

in six troubles ; yea, in seven there shall no 
evil touch thee. In famine he shall redeem 
thee from death, and in war from the power 
of the sword. Thou shalt be hid from the 
scourge of the tongue ; neither shalt thou 
be afraid of destruction when it cometh," 
Job V. 19 — 21. In the hands of this re- 
conciled and faithful Creator, this unwear- 
ied and almighty Deliverer, how safely may 
you deposit yourselves and your families, 
your possessions and your all ! 

Be not then discouraged, ye followers of 
Christ, though troublous times should come. 
All creatures, and all events, are under the 
control of your heavenly Father. If he has 
any further occasion for your service, or 
sees it conducive to your good, he will pre- 
serve you amidst the greatest dangers. 
He can draw a curtain of concealment over 
you, as he did over David in the cave, 1 
Sam. xxiv. 3, He can plant an invisible 
guard around you, as he did around Elisha 
in Dothan, 2 Kings vi. 17. He can turn 
the hearts of your adversaries, and make 
even the enemy and the avenger to be at 
peace with you, as he did in the case of Ja- 
cob and his enraged brother Esau. Or, if 
you fall in the common calamity, " your 
latter end shall be peace ;" your inheritance 
is inalienable, and " your joy no man tak- 
eth from you." Your best things, your 
eternal interests, are secure, inviolably se- 
cure, being "hid with Christ in God," 
Cob iii. 3. 

Happy, unspeakably blessed and happy 
the people on whom this blood is sprinkled. 
If vindictive visitations come upon the 
land, this may screen and protect their per- 
sons ; like the mark, which the man cloth- 
ed with linen set on the forehead of God's 
chosen ones, Ezek. xi. 6 ; or like the 
line of scarlet thread, which Kahab the 
harlot bound to the window of her house, 
.Tosh. ii. 18, 19. However, by this blood 
of reconciliation, all afllictions shall be dis- 
armed, and every evil unstrung. Nay, 
"all things," not in prosperity only, but in 
adversity like\A'<?e, "shall work together for 
good."* Death, even death is vanquished 
for them, and become their gain ; and the 
last judgment is no longer the object of 
their dread, hut their unspeakable privilege. 
Being justified by this blood, they may even 
" glory in tribulation and rejoice in hope," 



* Rom. viii. 23. This seems to be the meaning of 
the Holy Ghost, in the passage lately quoted from 
Job; — In six, in manifold and various troubles, God 
shall deliver thee. Or, if he suffer thee to be involv- 
ed in seven, there sl all no evil, no }>enal evil, touch 
thee. His gracious })resente shall be more than de- 
liverance. Thou shalt not feel anguish, but enjoy 
comfort ; thou shalt not suffer harm, but receive be- 
nefit. Though the flames of tribulation kindle all 
around, they shall not consume thee: but (like the 
fire which surrounded the three Hebrew confessors) 
shall only loose thy bonds, and set tine free ; s?t thy 
affections free from a troublesome world, or set thy 
cou\ free from a prison of clay. 



664 THE MEANS 

in sure and steadfast " hope of the glory 
of God," Rom. v. 1—3. 

Will ye not then, brethren, ardently join 
with me, while I lift my voice to God in 
the heavens, a-iid say, " Awake, awake, O 
arm of the Lord; let this be a day of thy 
power, and a day of our redemption ? Be- 
hold, O God oiu- Saviour, and look upon 
thy various congregations. See what a 
gathering of the people there is in thy 



OF SAFETY. 

courts ; let there be as great a gathering of 
souls to thy blessed self. Fulfil the pro- 
phecy, almighty Shiloh ! Let sinners, won 
by the discovery of thy grace, fly unto thee 
as a cloud ; and take shelter in thy wounds 
as the doves in their windows ; that they 
may rest in the day of trouble ; and, when 
time shall be no more, may enter into that 
everlasting rest which remaineth for the 
people of God." Amen. 



SERMON VIL 



THE WAY OF HOLINESS. 

Ezek. xviii. 27.—" When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hatn committed, anil 
doth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive." 



Many of my hearers, I observe, are hus- not unsuitable to the occasion of our pre- 



bandmen ; and the season, if I mistake 
not, is the season of seed-time. I will 
suppose a person unskilled in your busi- 
ness, brethren, taking notice of your work. 
Perhaps he goes home, and says, " What 
strange inconsiderate creatures have I seen 
in the field ! I saw them, instead of laying 
up their corn in the garner, throwing it 
away by handfuls : Nay, they even buried 
it in the ground, and left it to putrefy un- 
der the clods. Is this the way to improve 
their stock, and increase their substance ? 
is this the way to get gain, and provide for 
their families ?" 

Should any one make such a reflection on 
your conduct, you have an answer ready. 
The same answer, only with an alteration 
of circumstances, will be equally proper for 
your preacher. It is true, his usual sub- 
jects are, the absolutely free grace of God, 
and the immensely rich merits of Christ ; 
the infinite atonement and everlasting 
righteousness of the Redeemer. But be- 
cause he generally enlarges upon these 
doctrines, is he therefore throwing away 
bis words ? does he neglect the cause, or 
disregard the interests of holiness ? Far 
from it. He is sowing the seed of vital 
holiness ; without which seed, holiness will 



sent assembly. " When the wicked man 
turneth away from his wickedness that he 
hath committed, and doth that which is law- 
ful and right, he shall save his soul alive." 

The words naturally divide themselves 
into the following particulars : — 

I. What the wicked man should turn 
from — wickedness. 

II. What he should turn to — to do that 
which is laioful and right. 

HI. What will be the effect of such 
turning — he shall save his soul alive. 

May Christ Jesus, the Head of his 
church, and the wonderful Counsellor, ena- 
ble us to open these truths ; to add a word 
of lively application ; and to receive godly 
edifying from the whole ! 

I. What the wicked man should turn 
from — wickedness. Here, perhaps, you 
expect, that I should mention several sorts 
of wickedness ; should display the detesta- 
ble nature^and destructive consequences of 
each ; and deter you, by such considerations, 
from the commission of them all ; deter 
you from lying and defrauding, from curs- 
ing and swearing, from drunkenness and un- 
cleanness, from a spiteful temper and a 
backbiting tongue. These are horrid evils. 
On account of these the land mourns. 



never flourish in your hearts, will never i These bring the vengeance of God on a 



bring forth fruit in your lives ; any more 
than your ploughed lands would produce a 
crop of corn, without receiving the appoint- 
ed grain. It is " through the knowledge 
of our adorable Saviour, as calling us to 
glory and virtue, that we have all things 
pertaining unto life and godliness," 2 Pet. 
i. 3 ; unto the enjoyment of life eternal, 
and the practice of true godliness. 

To convince you that this is my aim, I 
have chosen a text full to the purpose, and 



person, and on a people, Col. iii. 6. If I 
could speak in thunder, I could never in- 
veigh too loudly against these vices. " Ye 
that go on in such iniquities, ye are scat- 
tering brimstone upon your habitations," 
Job xviii. 15; ye are ^heaping up wrath 
against the day of wrath, Rom. ii. 5. 
"How can ye escape the damnation of hell?' 
Matth. xxiii. 33. 

But let me forbear invectives. Let me 
reason with you in the spirit of mildness. 



THE WAY OF HOLINESS. 



065 



i will suppose you possessed of a pleasant 
garden. In some favourite bed many weeds 
spring up, alluring to the eye, but full of 
deadly poison. Will you order your gar- 
dener to crop off the leaves, or to pluck 
up the roots ? To pluck up the roots, 
most certainly. Because, if he does the 
former only, it will avail but little ; it will 
be no better than labour lost ; whereas, if 
he does the latter, he will effectually rid 
your ground of the pernicious encumbrance. 
Thus would I act. Wickedness is this 
pernicious weed. It is full of deadly poi- 
son ; it pollutes your souls, and will be the 
bane of your happiness. I would not 
therefore be content with using the pruning 
knife, and cutting off the shoots, but I 
would take the spade, and level my blow at 
the root. 

I would fain have you turn, not partially 
and superficially, but thoroughly and habi- 
tually : not from some only, but from all 
wickedness ; and not barely from the prac- 
tice, but even from the love of it, and any 
fondness for it. This will never he accom- 
plished, unless you turn 

From a thoughtless ^ 
From a prayerless > state. 
From an insensible ^ 
1. From a thoughtless state. You are 
made for eternity ; you are immortal be- 
ings. You must dwell either with God in 
heaven, or with devils in hell ; and that to 
endless, endless ages. You know not how 
soon you may be summoned into the invisi- 
ble and etex-nal world ; the following night, 
for aught you can tell ; or before the pre- 
sent hour is expired. Do you seriously 
consider to which of these everlasting abodes 
you are approaching? for which of these 
unchangeable conditions you are meet ? 

" Except a man be born again," says our 
Lord, "he cannot enter into the kingdom 
of heaven," John iii. 3. This is the fixed 
determination of the righteous Judge. You 
all hope for heaven ; and I humbly beseech 
the Lord that you may not be disappoint- 
ed of your hope. But do you diligently in- 
quire, whether you have experienced this 
new birth ? Is there a spiritual change 
wrought in your souls? are your affections 
taken oflf from vanity, and fixed on the in- 
finitely amiable (jod? is your memory fill- 
ed with the truths of the gospel? and are 
your desires rising to things above? To ex- 
pect the blessedness of heaven, and have 
no concern about this renewal of your na- 
ture, is to contemn the counsels of Christ, 
and to trifle with his unalterable decree. 

" Without holiness no man shall see the 
Lord," Heb. xii. 14-. This is the standing 
rule for our present conduct, and indispen- 
sably necessary for our future happiness. 
You may be civil and decent in your be- 
haviour ; you may attend the place of divine 



worship, and pass for reputable persons : 
yet, unless you are holy in your hearts, and 
holy in your conversation, you cannot enter 
into God's blissful presence. To be holy 
is to put on Christ, Rom. xiii. 14; to re- 
semble Christ, in your spirit and carriage, 
as one man resembles another when- he 
puts on his dress, or imitates his manners. 
Do you look to Christ as your pattern, 
follow Christ as your guide, and in the gen- 
eral course of your life, walk as Christ 
walked ? Pernaps you have never so much 
as aimed at this; never so much as serious- 
ly considered eternity, regeneration, and a 
conformity to Christ : These things are sel- 
dom, if ever, in your thoughts : Then be as- 
sured you are far from holiness ; you are 
not turned from your evil way ; no, nor so 
much as beginning to turn. 

Say not, " This duty of serious consider- 
ation is a slight matter. If I had been 
guilty of injustice or perjury ; if I had com- 
mitted adultery or murder, these indeed 
were heinous crimes ; whereas, the omission 
which you have insisted on, is but a small 
offence." Small offence ! Presume not to 
think so. However such guilt may api)ear 
little in your view, or sit easy upon your 
conscience, it is heinous enough to make 
heaven and earth amazed. For " thus saith 
the Lord, Hear, O heavens, and give ear, 
O earth ! I have nourished and brought up 
children, and they have rebelled against mo. 
The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his 
master's crib ; but Israel doth not know> 
my peo])le doth not consider," Isa. i. 2, 3. 
To say the truth, an inconsiderate careless 
life is an unintermitted course of sin ; it is 
one continued act of rebellion against God. 
It opposes his compassionate wish, " O 
that they were wise ! that they understood ^ 
this ! that they would consider their latter 
end !" Deut. xxxii. 29 It disobeys his po- 
sitive command, " Thus saith the Lord of 
Hosts," the supreme ruler of the world, 
" Consider your ways," Hag. i. 5, 7. It 
defeats the design of his holy word, and 
would make the blood of his Son to be of 
none effect. 

2. Turn from a prayerless state. Alas ! 
how majiy of those whom we call Christians 
are strangers to prayer ! How many ser- 
vants rise to their work, and never bend a 
knee before their Master in heaven ! How 
many masters set their servants an ungod- 
ly example ! enter upon the affairs of the day, 
without imploring the God of all grace 
. either to prosper their business or to sancti- 
fy their souls ! How many parents know 
not what it is to make earnest supplications 
for the conversion and salvation of their 
children ! and how many children are as 
ignorant of the nature, the necessity, the 
advantages of prayer, "as the wild ass's 
colt !" Job xi. 12. 



C66 



THE WAY OF HOLINESS. 



Shall I reckon these good people ? are 
these turned to their God ? No ; they are 
despisers of the Most High ; they cast con- 
tempt upon his Majesty. The language of 
their practice is, " Depart from us -. Omni- 
potent as thou art,we have no need of thee ; 
no need of thy Spirit to make intercession 
in us ; no need of thy Son to make inter- 
cession for us." Most justly, therefore, is 
it reckoned by Eliphaz as part of a wicked 
and abandoned character, " Thou restrainest 
prayer before God," Job xv, 4. Nay, it is 
mentioned by the Psalmist as the finishing 
part, that which seals up the soul under the 
dominion of iniquity, and shuts out all 
reasonable hope of a reformation : " They 
are corrupt; they do abominable works j" 
and there is no prospect of their doing 
otherwise, since " they call not upon the 
Lord," Psalm xiv. 4. 

Religious, yet neglect prayer ! Impossi- 
ble. Can a man live without food ? can he 
breathe without air? No more can you 
withstand temptation, or exercise godliness, 
unless you " watch unto prayer," Eph. vi. 
18. The neglect of prayer is not only sin- 
ful in itself, but the sure sign of an un- 
sanctified heart, and the wide inlet to every 
unrighteous practice. " Shew me a pray- 
erless person," said one, " and I will show 
you a graceless person." Turn then, sin- 
ners, turn without delay to a habit of pray- 
er ; of secret, serious, earnest prayer ; 
otherwise you cannot expect that the wrath 
of God should be turned away from you. 
No ; when he whets his glittering sword, 
and his hand takes hold on judgment, you 
are the persons that cause the indignation ; 
you are the persons who have reason to trem- 
ble at the stroke : For thus it is written in that 
venerable book,which isatraiiscriptof the di- 
vine will, and the ruleof the divine procedure : 
" Pour out thy fury upon the heashen, that 
know thee not ; pour out thy fury upon the 
families that call not on thy name,"Jer. x. '25. 

3. Turn from your insensible state. Be 
sensible of your guilt, your misery, your 
ruin. Thoughtless and prayerless people, 
you are sinners before the God of heaven ; 
you are the children of his wrath ; you are 
the objects of his vengeance ; condemned 
and accursed by his holy word. O ! may 
the Lord of all power rend the veil from 
your understandings, and show you your 
perilous, your dreadfully perilous condition. 

If, while I am speaking, the earth shall 
reel to and fro, and be in strong convulsions 
under your feet ; if it should open its hor- 
rid jaws, and gape frightfully wide to devour 
you ; not one in the assembly but would be 
greatly alarmed. How then can you be 
careless and imconceriied, when hell from 
beneath is opening her mouth to swallow 
you up in endless perdition ! If this build- 
ing was rocking over your heads, and totter- 



ing on every side ; if the beams vrere burst- 
ing, and the walls cleaving ; you would be 
struck with astonishment and horror. And 
how is it that you are under no apprehensions, 
when the indignation of an almighty God 
is ready to fall upon you ? which, far more 
insupportable than the fall of loaded roofs, 
or ponderous millstones, must even grind 
you to powder. If the French were landed, 
and an army of desperate Papists ravaging 
the nation ; if you were pursued, or sur- 
rounded, by those barbarous enemies of 
your religion and country ; if their swords, 
reeking with British blood, were now at 
your throats ; you would tremble for your 
lives. And will you not feel some concern 
for your souls, when the sword of Omnipo- 
tence is sharpened to cut you in pieces ? 
when, for aught you know, it may be al- 
ready unsheathed ; may have received a 
commission to give the fatal blow ; and, 
before another hour passes, may actually 
strike ? If the late distemper among the 
cattle should turn to a plague among men ; 
if it should sweep away thousands and ten 
thousands to an untimely grave ; if you 
should see multitudes of your neighbours 
sickening, drooping, dying on every side ; 
certainly you would be terrified. How then 
can you remain unimpi-essed, when the curse 
(Gal. iii. 10,) of God is approaching you? 
when the curse of God is hovering over you ? 
when the curse of God is ready to be poured 
out upon you ; and turn all your delights un- 
to weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth ? 

Behold then, sinners, inconsiderate and 
insensible sinners, you are this day implead- 
ed at God's bar ; you are found guilty be- 
fore the Judge of the world ; you are upon 
the very brink of everlasting destruction. 
Not the earth, but hell, is opening her 
mouth to devour you ; not the stones and 
timber of your houses, but the vengeance of 
the Most High, is rushing down upon you. 
The sword, not of an enraged adversary, 
but of God's most tremendous displeasure 
is drawn, perhaps stretched out to destroy 
you : the pestilence, or what is infinitely 
more to be dreaded than the pestilence that 
walketh in darkness, the curse of God is 
ready to break forth upon you. And will 
not these terrors awaken you, alarm you, 
persuade you? 2 Cor. v. 11. Thou God 
of the world, and God of our souls, let not 
thy judgments and thy threatenings go forth 
in vain ! . • 

I hope some of you are inclined to ask, 
How or to what should we be persuaded ? 
If so, my second particular will suggest the 
proper answer. 

11. What the wicked man should turn to? 
To do that wh'ch is lawful and right tore- 
pent of sin, and love God ; to be pure in 
heart, and holy in all manner of conversa- 
tion This is implied in the exhortation 



THE WAY OF HOLINESS 



667 



of the text ; this is the indispensable duty 
of all men ; and to promote this is the con- 
tinual aim of our ministry. 

But you are guilty, ruined, impotent crea- 
tures. Guilty, and can you, under a load 
of trespasses, arise and do your Lord's will ? 
Ruined, and can you, amidst such discour- 
aging circumstances, have any heart to set 
about the work of reformation ? Impotent, 
and can you, under the most deplorable 
weakness, perform the most difficult of all 
services ? No ; you must first be relieved 
and enabled, before you can be sufficient for 
these things Like the woman bowled down 
with a spirit of infirmity, or like the impo- 
tent man at the pool of Bethesda, you must 
receive restoration and strength from God 
your Saviour. Turn then to Christ, who 
says by his prophet, " O Israel, thou hast 
destroyed thyself, but in me is thy help,'" 
Hos. xiii. 9. 

If you should inquire, What shall I find 
in Christ ? All that you can want ; all that 
you can wish ; incomparably more than I 
am able to express. For "it hath pleased 
the Father, that in Christ should all fulness 
dwell," Col, i. 19. 

Because you are guilty, and have a bur- 
den of iniquity on your souls, he is " the 
Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of 
the world," John i. 29 ; a lamb of God's 
own appointing; a lamb of infinite excel- 
lence and dignity ; to whom nothing is 
equal, nothing comparable. This Lamb of 
God has shed his blood for sinners ; has 
suffered death for sinners ; yea, has died in 
their stead, and endured all that vengeance 
which they have deserved. In this most 
wonderful and perfect manner has he ob- 
tained their pardon ! Pardon, not of some 
only, but of all sins ; be they ever so numer- 
ous, or ever so heinous, it maketh no differ- 
ence with him. An infinite Saviour taketh 
Hway millions, unnumbered millions, of the 
most abominable iniquities, with as much 
ease as he expiates a single offence or the 
smallest fault. " He blotteth out trans- 
gressions," aggravated transgressions, innu- 
merable transgressions, "as a cloud," Isa. xliv. 
22 ; as easily and as completely as the wind 
sweeps away a floating cloud from the face 
of the sky. Delivered from this load of 
guilt, you will be fitted to walk in the way 
of God's comiiKindments, " andnotbe weary ;" 
yea, "to run, and not faint," Isa. xl. 31. 

Because you are ruined, and have no- 
thing that may recommend you to the most 
high God, Christ has brought in a righte- 
ousness, a complete righteousness, a divine 
righteousness. Consider the unspotted pu- 
rity of his nature, and the unsinning obedi- ; 
ence of his life ; consider his fervent cha- 
rity to man, and his patient resignation to 
God ; consider ail his exalted virtues, and ( 



• all his exemplary actions ; these, all these, 
in their utmost perfection, are not only for 
the imitation, but for the justification also 
of such sinners as you and I. " His name 
is Jehovah," which speaks incomprehensi- 
ble grandeur in him ; " Jehovah our right- 
eousness," Jer. xxiii. 6. which speaks un- 
utterable comfort to us. In this righteous- 
ness we may be fully accepted and entitled 
to life eternal. Of this we may make our 
boast, and say, " In the Lord have I right- 
eousness," Isa. xlv. 24*. — I, a transgi-essor, 
have a real righteousness ; I, a defective 
creature, have a consummate righteousness ; 
I, a frail, relapsing Christian, have an in- 
variable and everlasting righteousness. O 
what a treasure is this ! w'hat an imspeaka- 
ble gift is this ! Is there a cordial that can 
revive our spirits, is there a motive that can 
animate us to duty, likejustification through 
Immanuel's righteousness ? Blessed Lord ! 
this makes tby yoke easy, and thy burden 
light. 

Because you are weak and disabled, 
Christ has " the residue" of the Spirit, 
Mai. ii. 15; the "fulness" of the Spirit, 
Col. i. 19; the "seven spirits" of God 
are before his throne, Rev. i. 4. The Ho- 
ly Ghost in all his operations, and with all 
his graces, Christ sends to whomsoever he 
pleases, John xvi. 7. He gave this ines- 
timable blessing to Saul the persecutor ana 
blasphemer ; he gave this inestimable bless- 
ing to many of his murderers and crucifi- 
ers : he still confers the heavenly gift on 
his enemies; "yea, on the rebellious also," 
Psal. Ixviii. 18. And " the promise," the 
free gracious promise, " is to you, and to 
your children, and to all that are afar- off, 
even as many as the Lord our God," by 
the preaching of his gospel, " shall call," 
Acts ii. 39. 

How salutsyy and beneficial are the ef- 
fects of thif. g^ft, our Lord himself, who 
best knew, has admirably shewn. " He 
that belieyeth on me, out of his belly shall 
flow rivers of living water," John vii. 38. 
This spake he of the Spirit, which every 
one that turns to him, and believes on him, 
shall receive. Observe some beautiful and 
copious river, how it exhilarates the coun- 
tiy, and fructifies the soil through which it 
passes ; bestows a thousand conveniences, 
and gives birth to a thousand delights, 
wherever it takes its winding course : So 
the Comforter, dwelling in the heart, gives 
such charming views of Christ and his un- 
searchable riches,* as gladden the conscience 
and make us truly happy. Hence, as from 
an inexhaustible source, true holiness flows, 
and every spiritual good. This disposes 
us to love our neighbour ; this teaches us 
to be meek in spirit ; and this w^ili raise 
our desires far above earthlv, sensual, tran- 



668 



'AhE WAY OF^HOLINESS. 



sitory things, even as David's thoughts were 
raised far above the shepherd's scrip, when 
he sat exalted on the throne of Israel. 

Under the influence of this divine Spi- 
rit, you will say, " Christ has taken away 
the execrable filth of my sins ; and shall I 
wallow in the mire of iniquity again? 
Christ has delivered me from the pit of 
everlasting destruction ; and shall 1 leap 
into those unquenchable flames, from 
which, as a brand, I have been snatched ? 
In my adorable Redeemer I have a perfect 
righteousness, and am completely justified ; 
and shall I not endeavour to walk worthy 
of such favours ; to shew my gratitude for 
such beneficence, by bringing forth the 
fruits of righteousness in all my conversa- 
tion ?" 

Yes, brethren ; when you are turned to 
Christ, to receive his atonement, to rely on 
his righteousness, to be filled with his Spi- 
rit, it will be with your soul as it is with 
the earth when it is turned to the sun. 
The earth, you see, is now barren and un- 
fruitful, because it has been very much with- 
drawn from the enlivening beams of the sun. 
Ere long it will be replaced under the full 
influence of that fountain of light and heat. 
Then what a change will take place ! how 
will the flowers appear on the ground ! how 
will the leaves adorn the ti'ees ! how will 
the singing of birds be heard in our land ! 
So shall holiness and a heavenly temper be 
produced in your souls ; so shall obedience, 
with all the truits of godliness, flourish in 
your lives ; when this Sun of righteousness 
manifests himself in your hearts, 'makes 
you partakers of his salvation, and thus 
arises upon you with "healing in his wings,'' 
Mai. iv. 2. 

Should any one douht, whether Ahis is 
the way to do that which is lawful and 
right, I ask, Is it not a pleasing way^? such 
as we should wish for ; such as we should 
prefer above all others ; and such as will 
render our Lord's service perfect freedom ? 
Is it not a rational way ? apparently adapt- 
ed to engage the heart, to strengthen the 
hand, and thereby to fit the whole man for 
every good work ? 

Besides, is it not the way appointed by 
God ? Would we " earnestly repent, and 
be heartily sorry for all our misdoings ?" 
The wisdom of God assures us, this sor- 
row must arise from believing views of 
Christ; from "looking unto him whom 
yre have pierced," Zech. xii. 10; looking 
unto him as wounded for our transgres- 
sions, and bruised for our iniquities. This, 
if any thing, will incline us to be afilicted, 
and mourn and weep for all our abomina- 
tions. Thus, and thus only, shall we ex- 
perience that " godly sorrow, which work- 
eth repentance not to be repented of." 

Would we love God? The oracles of 



heaven inform us, that we must first see 
his love ; his infinitely free, and infinitely 
tender love towards us ; his love not im- 
puting any sin to our souls, but laying all 
our iiliquities upon hi? own Son. Then 
shall " we love him," when we perceive and 
know that " he has, in this most divinely 
gracious manner, regarded, loved, blessed 
us." 

Would we be pure in heart? The Lord 
" purifieth the heart by faith," Acts xv. 9 ; 
faith in Christ, as shedding his most preci- 
ous blood, as giving his most glorious per- 
son for our ransom ; and, by his one oblation, 
" finishing our transgression ; making recon- 
ciliation for our iniquity ;" yea, " perfecting 
us for ever ;" insomuch that we may boldly 
and assuredly say, " Through this grace of 
our Lord Jesus Christ we shall be saved." 
He that hath this faith and this hope, "pu- 
rifieth even as he is pure." 

W^ould we "renounce all ungodliness?" 
would we " live soberly, righteously, and 
godly?" Tit. ii. 12. By grace we must be 
enabled ; even that grace which brings sal - 
vation, a finished and free salvation, to sin- 
ners. That grace appearing in the heart, 
and appropriated by faith, is the sure, the 
eflectual means of true sanctification ; the 
sure, the effectual motive to willing obedi- 
ence. Therefore our Lord says, " He that 
eateth me, even he shall live by me." John 
vi. 57. " He that eateth me," that receiv- 
eth my righteousness and redemption ; that 
maketh a daily use of me and my benefits 
for the refreshment and health of his soul, 
as people make a daily use of their necessa- 
ry food for the nourishment and support of 
their bodies : " even he shali live by me 
he shall live to God in real holiness here, 
and live with God in everlasting glory here- 
after. This method will strengthen and 
1 prepare us for discharging all the duties of 
a Christian life, as bread strengthens and 
prepares the labourer for despatching the 
business of his toilsome calling. Whereas, 
without using this sovereign expedient, we 
shall be as incapable of exercising ourselves 
unto godliness, as the hireling, deprived of 
his usual meals, would be incapable of per- 
forming his daily task. 

Upon the whole, brethren, we do not 
urge you to make brick without straw ; we 
do not call upon you to arise and work, 
without showing you from whence your 
ability and vigour are to proceed. Some, 
perhaps, might exhort you to all holy obe- 
dience ; but, neglecting these most necessa- 
ry directions, their exhortations would be 
comfortless and insignificant ; because you 
might fetch a sigh, and may answer, " All 
this we would gladly do, but, alas ! we are 
not able." Whereas, here is grace sufficient 
for you in Christ. Whatever hinders you, 
Christ removes ; whatever you want, Christ 



THE WAY OF HOLINESS. 



€69 



befgt'dws ; "that, being delivered from your 
enemies, and from the hand of all that hate 
you from the influence of all that em- 
barrasses, and all that discourages you ; 
*' you may serve him without" slavish or 
disquieting " fear, in holiness and righte- 
ousness before him, all the days of your 
life." Luke i. 74, 75. 

Happy deliverance ! thrice happy con- 
duct ! but happier still the issue of all ! 
Which reminds me of my last inquiry ; 
namely, ^ ,^ 

in. What will be the effect of this turn- 
ing ? " He," the wicked man thus turned, 
" shall save his soul alive." 

He shall save. Safety shall be his com- 
panion ; safety shall be his guard ; safety 
shall escort him through the dangers of life. 
All the days of his appointed time " he 
shall dwell under the defence of the Most 
High, and abide under the shadow of the 
Almighty." Psalm xci. 1. Most desirable 
situation ! especially when judgments, de- 
solating and destructive judgments, are 
abroad. While the storm of calamity is 
gathering, or when the tempest of tribula- 
tion is raging, O what a calm must it create 
in the heart, to have the eternal God for 
our refuge ! Deut. xxxiii. 27 ; to say within 
ourselves, " The hand that is stretched 
over the sea, and shakes the kingdoms of 
the earth ; the hand that rends the moun- 
tains, and scatters the everlasting hills, 
Hab. iii. 6 ; that hand is my defence and 
my shield." 

Save his soul. It is not improbable but 
his bodily welfare may be secured. God 
may set a mark upon his forehead, and com- 
jaand the sword of the destroying angel to 
pass over his house. But however this 
may be determined, his soul shall be safe. 
As to his spiritual walfare, he has " a verit 
of protection" under the great seal of hea- 
ven. The Lord Jesus is his ever-faithful 
guardian, and " none shall pluck him out of 
the divine Redeemer's hand." John x. 28. 
The roaring lion may go about, seeking to 
devour him : but he has a strong city, 
which the infernal adversary cannot storm ; 
he has an impregnable bulwark, which the 
powers of darkness cannot scale. Though 
he fall, the arm of Christ will raise him ; 
though he be defiled, the blood of Christ 
will cleanse him ; though he die, it will be 
no loss, but gain. He that has the keys of 
the grave, will give commandment concern- 
ing his mouldering bones ; he that lives for 
evermore,:; will receive his departing soul. 
This, perhaps, may be meant by that other 
emphatical word, alive. 

He shall save his soul alive. He shall 
not barely be safe, but happy. He shall 
enjoy what truly deserves the name of life. 
A man may escape from his enemy, by fly- 
ing to a fortified castle ; but hi the castle 



there may be drought and famine. He may 
perish by these disasters, though preserved 
from the pursuing foe. It shall not be thus 
with the returning, believing, renewed sin- 
ner. He shall be saved with a complete 
and everlasting salvation. He is a child of 
God, and an heir of glory ; he shall rejoice 
in Christ Jesus here, and shall enter into 
the joy of his Lord hereafter. When the 
earth is burnt up, he shall see it ; when the 
heavens pass away, he shall stand with bold- 
ness ; when all nature sinks into dissolution, 
he shall not only survive, but enjoy the ruin. 
He shall leave a dissolving world, to possess 
a kingdom in heaven ; to wear a crown of 
righteousness ; and to be for ever with, for 
ever like, his blessed and glorious Lord. 

We have now sho^vn what the wicked 
man should turn from, what he should tirm 
to, what will be the effect of this turning. 
Give me leave to ask. Has the arm of the 
Lord been revealed ? are you impressed by 
the awful, or encouraged by the comfortable 
truths? If so, perhaps you will be ready to 
say, " Will Christ receive me ? will he 
make me a partaker of these incomparable 
benefits ? shall such a one, who is so very 
unworthy, find favour in his sight ?" 

Yes, such a one may find favour. Any 
one, every one who comes, he wiU receive. 
He sends his ministers to invite you ; he 
sends ^his judgments to compel you ; he 
uses every expedient to gain you. He bids 
earthquakes tear the foundations of nature, 
and turn mighty cities into ruinous heaps, 
that you may be built on that Rock which 
shall never be shaken. He calls the sword 
of war out of its scabbard, and commands 
it to be bathed in blood, that you may fly 
for safety to the Prince of Peace. While 
ruin and desolation are pursuing their dread- 
ful work all around, he throws open the 
doors of grace and righteousness, and most 
compassionately cries, " Come, my people ; 
come, poor offenders ; enter into these 
chambers, and find rest !" Isa. xxvi. 20. 

Is any of you still incUned to reply, 
" Will Christ indeed receive me, who am 
not only a sinner, but a great sinner, a long- 
persisting sinner, and now seem to come 
but at the last hour ; more like one driven 
by fear than drawn by love ?" What think- 
est thou ? Would the widow of Nain, who 
went mourning after the corpse of her only 
son, almost inconsolable with her loss- 
would she be unwilling to receive him, when 
our Lord reanimated the cold clay, and 
" delivered him alive to his mother ?" Luke 
vii. 15. Would she need much importu- 
nity, and hardly be prevailed on, to embrace 
her beloved, her lamented child ? Impossi- 
ble to suppose. Remember what Chiist 
has done for sinners ; what he has suffered 
for sinners ; how his bowels yearn over 
sinners ; and it will appear equally impos- 



670 



THE WAY OF HOLINESS. 



sible that he should reject any returning 
profligate. 

Reject ! No. The good father, aged -and 
venerable as he was, hastened ; yea, ran to 
meet the prodigal. He fell on his neck, 
and tenderly kissed the dissolute youth. 
Luke XV. 20. So, with such readiness, and 
such compassion, will the everlasting Fa- 
ther receive you to his family, his favour, 
his love. Nay, more, he will receive you 
with joy. He is the good Shepherd ; you 
are the lost sheep : he is come, in his word, 
to seek you ; when you turn to him, he has 
found you. Then, says the Scripture, the 
good shepherd goes home with his recovered 
sheep " rejoicing." Luke xv. 3. O ! let 
your minister, and (which is unspeakably 
more engaging) let the blessed Jesus have 
joy with you, my brethren ; even that Je- 
sus by whom sinners are " dearly beloved 
and longed for," Philip, iv. 1, who has no 
greater delight than to save them from their 
iniquities, and number them among his 
children. 

If you should answer, " This is a matter 
of the utmost importance : It lies at the 
very root of all my comfort ; Let me hear 
it confirmed from our Lord's own mouth : 
I will hearken what the Lord God will say 
concerning me." Psal. Ixxxv. 8. 

Hear then his own promise ; the most 
precious promise that words can form, or 
fancy conceive : " Whosoever cometh to 
me," for pardon, for justification, for holi- 
ness, " I will in no wise cast him out," 
John vi. 37. " Whosoever;" whether he 
be high or low, learned or illiterate ; whe- 
ther he be a servant or a master, a prince 
or a beggar ; no one is excepted, no one 
shall be refused. In no wise ;" on no 
consideration of past transgressions, on no 
account of present depravity, on no fore- 
knowledge of future failings. Only let him 
come, " only let him come/' and nothing 
ehail debar him from the enjoyment of my 
benefits ; nothing shall separate him from 
the endearments of my love. 

Hear his kind invitation : " Heturn unto 
me, for I have redeemed you," Isa. xliv. 22. 
Ye that have hitherto been strangers to 
seriousness, and always alienated from me, 
" turn unto me," and I will not so much as 
upbraid you (James i. 5,) with your folly. 
Ye that are now backsliders, and have for 
a season ungratefully departed from me, 
'•turn unto me," and I will heal yourback- 
slidings ; my stripes shall make you whole. 
Ye that have been slaves to vice, have sold 
yourselves to work wickedness, and are 
grown old in abominable fpractices — it is 
not too late even for you : " I have re- 
deemed even sucn as you;" I shake the 
pillars of nature, and rock the foundations of 
the world ; " I clothe the heavens with 
blackness, and I make sackcloth their co- 



vering," Isa. 1. 3. Yet, for such as you, 
'* I gave my back to the smiters, and hid 
not my face from shame and spitting," Isa. 
1. 6. Yes, sinners, sinners of every kind, 
I bore the curse of the law, and died the 
death of the cross, on purpose that I might 
redeem such as you.^ — Most amiable Re- 
deemer ! who would not listen to a call so 
wonderfully endearing ? Sinners, how can 
you withstand a motive so sweetly con- 
straining ? 

Hear his solemn oath : " As I live, saith 
the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the 
death of the wicked, but that the wicked 
turn from his way and live. Turn ye, turn 
ye, from your evil ways ; for why will ye die, 
O house of Israel ?" Ezek. xxxiii. 11. Was 
there ever any declaration so charming, or 
any address so affectionate ? See how the 
high and lofty One condescends ! He com.- 
mands in heaven, on earth, through hell ; 
yet, more like a supplicant than a sovereign, 
he vouchsafes to solicit and beseech you. 
From the habitation of his glory he cries, 
" Turn ye," poor perishing creatures ! 
Again he cries, " Turn ye" to your God 
and Saviour ; that ye may be delivered from 
all your transgressions, and iniquity may 
not be your ruin. To take away all your 
reluctance, he pleads, he expostulates, 
" Why will ye die ?" why will ye destroy 
yourselves, and be undone for ever ? That 
you may havs no doubt of a free pardon, 
and a favourable reception, " he swears 
swears by himself, by his own life and im- 
mortal perfections, that he " has no plea- 
sure in your death ;" but shall rejoice, in- 
finitely rejoice in your recovery and salva- 
tion. 

Here then you have the promise, the in- 
vitation, the oath of the Lord. Can there 
be greater encouragement ? will not this 
threefold cord draw you ? Should you say, 
" 1 cannot turn ; I am tied and bound with 
the chain of my corruptions. O that Christ 
— " Fear not: he will, he will. He that 
sends his minister to give you this exhorta- 
tion ; he that sends h^s Spirit to work this 
desire in your soul ; he that spilt his blood 
to obtain all blessings for you ; he will put 
forth his strength, and turn you to himself. 
He stretched his beneficent hand, and sav^ 
ed Peter from sinking in the tempestuous 
sea. What he did for him, is a pattern 
and a pledge of what he is ready to do for 
you. Only continue to seek his face ; let 
your heart talk of him ; set his unbound- 
ed goodness and almighty power before 
your eyes ; meditate on his infinite propi - 
tiation and incomprehensible merits ; con- 
sider his everlasting righteousness and 
never-ceasing intercession ; look upon all 
these as your own. To look upon them 
as your own, you have a warrant, you have 
a command. And if Christ has done so 



THE WAY OF HOLINESS. 



671 



great things for yoii, you may assuredly be- 
Ueve, that in his due time, in his wise 
manner, he will " bring you spiritual health 
and cure ;" he will carry on what he has 
begun, and enable you to grow in grace ; 
he will comfort your hearts, and stablish you 
in every good work. 

Shall 1 proceed ? I have already been co- 
pious, perhaps somewhat tedious. Yet you 
will bear with me on this distinguished and 
solemn occasion : Yes, you Avill bear with 
me a little longer ; for I am loath, very 
loath to dismiss you without persuading you. 
Persuading ! alas, I cannot. " God, and 
none but God, can persuade Japheth," 
Gen. ix. 27. However, as an instrument 
in his all-powerful hand, let me address you 
once again. 

I observe several persons here, on this 
day of humiliation, who very rarely attend 
the public worship. Why my friends, why 
do you wrong your own souls ? Why do you 
withdraw yourselves from the preaching of 
the gospel ? Know ye not " that Jesus pass- 
eth by" (Matt. xx. 30,) in the way of his or- 
dinances ? Here you may, like Bartimeus 
of old, approach the Son of David ; here you 
may obtain faith and holiness. Faith com- 
eth by hearing, and holiness by the word of 
God. And are not these blessings \vorth 
your attendance ? can you live happily with- 
out them ? can you die comfortably without 
them ? or can you, without them, be pre- 
pared to meet your God, when he cometh to 
judge the world? Why should you forsake 
the assembling yourselves together ? Do you 
hear terrifying or disti-essing doctrines in 
this place ? Is not this the house of praise, 
as well as of prayer? Does not the joyful 
sound echo under these roofs ? Is not 
Christ set forth crucified before your eyes ? 
crucified for such ofi^enders as you ? cruci- 
fied that such offenders as you may be par- 
doned, may be accepted, may be glorified ? 
And will you despise such a divinely com- 
passionate Saviour ? will you refuse such 
astonishingly rich mercies ? Oh that here- 
after you may " be glad when they say unto 
you, Let us go into the courts of the Lord," 
Psalm cxxii. 1. 

Should my wishes prove vain, I have at 
least delivered my message. If you perish 
through obstinacy and unbelief, I am clear 
from your blood. I call heaven and earth 
to witness, you have been warned, you have 
been instructed, you have been exhorted. 
You cannot say you perish for lack of know- 
ledge ; for life and salvation have been set 
before you, have been brought to your very 
door, and you are importuned to lay hold of 
them. You will therefore be without ex- 
cuse, and have no cloak for your guilt. 

But why should I leave you with such 
melancholy apprehensions? Let me hope 
better things of you : let me hope that you 



will not disregard .these admonitions, how- 
ever you may have disregarded too many 
exhortations of this kind. This is a re- 
markable day : O that it may be memor- 
able on account of your turning to God 1 
Let this be its distinction through all your 
future life ; let this be its distinction through 
all the ages of eternity; that you may say, 
when death summons you into the invisible 
state, when the trump of God calls you to 
the great tribunal, when you mingle with 
saints and angels in the kingdom of heaven, 
" Blessed be God for that solemn day, and 
its sacred exercises ! That was the day of 
my better birth. Then I began to consider; 
then I began to pray; then'l began to see 
my undone condition, and my extreme need 
of a Saviour ; then too I saw Jesus giving 
himself a sacrifice for my sins, and redeem- 
ing me to God with his blood." Happy ! 
thrice happy! inexpressibly happy day! if 
thus, if thus improved ! 

You have, I presume, abstained from 
your usual food, as you have been joining 
in confession, supplication, and prayer. 
This is well done ; but this is only half ; 
rather it is, by infinite degrees, the smallest 
part of your duty. It is not said. When 
the wicked man abstaineth from his usual 
food, but " when he turneth from his wick- 
edness," as the consequence of his believ- 
ing in Christ. It is not said, When the 
wicked man joins in public confession to 
God, but when " he doth that which is 
lawful and right," as a fruit of his fellowship 
with Christ — then he shall save, he shall 
save his soul, he shall save his soul alive. 
O that all, from the king on the throne, to 
the labourer in the barn ; from the highest 
nobleman to the meanest tradesman ; that 
all might now be inclined, now be enabled 
to turn unto the Saviour of the world. In 
him millions, unnumbered millions, of 
wretched sinners have found recovery and 
liberty ; recovery from the death, and liber- 
ty from the bondage of sin ; " and," blessed 
be his unbounded grace, " yet there is 
room." 

Then the national fast would be a nation- 
al blessing ; whereas, without this all-im- 
portant turning to the adorable Saviour, 
what will the formalities of our devotion 
signify? They will be a mere lip-labour, 
a religious trifling ; nay, they will be a so- 
lemn mockery of the Almighty, and provoke 
his abhorrence. Does not Jehovah him- 
self speak to the same purpose ? Is 't 
such a fast that I have chosen — a day for a 
man to afilict his soul ? is it to bow down 
his head as a bulrush, and to spread sack- 
cloth and ashes under him ?" Isa. Iviii. 5 ; 
to discontinue your ordinary business, and 
refrain from a meal's meat ? to make a lit- 
tle doleful lamentation, and put up a few 
petitions extorted by fear ? " Will you call 



672 



THE WAY OF HOLINESS. 



this a fast ? ' saith the high and holy One, 
with an air of sovereign contempt : " this 
an acceptable day to the Lord ?" No, ver- 
ily : it is the most odious hypocrisy ; like 
crying, Hail master, with the tongue, while 
treachery and enmity fill the heart : unless 
you turn to Christ, that you may be wash- 
ed, that you may he justified, that you may 
be sanctified : that, having remission of sins 
through his blood, and peace of conscience 
through his grace, you may feel the bands 
of wickedness loosed, and may become the 
willing servants of righteousness. 

What is the grand sin of our nation? 
Ignorance and neglect of Christ What is 
the cause of all our other sins ? Ignorance 
and neglect of Christ. Why are the judg- 
ments of the Almighty hanging over our 
heads ? For ignorance and neglect of 
Christ. Never, therefore, shall we answer 
the end of our sacred assembly, nor the de- 
sign of God's alarming visitations, till we 
begin to know Christ, to receive Christ, 
to make use of Christ by faith. When 
this is done, we may reasonably hope, that 
our prayers will go up w^ith acceptance, and 
not return again till a blessing be sent : 
that, as individuals, our " light shall break 
forth like the morning, and our health shall 
spring forth speedily." that, as a communi- 
ty, " the favour of God shall go before us, 
and the glory of the Lord shall be our 
rere-ward," If a. Iviii, 8. 

Then we may look around on our most 



enraged enemies, and say with the Psal- 
mist, " Though an host of men should en- 
camp against me, yet shalf not my heart be 
afraid," Psalm xxvii. 3. Then may we 
look backward to the late desolating earth- 
quake, and say with the believers of 
" God is our refuge and strength, therefore 
will we not fear, though the earth be re- 
moved, and though the mountains be car- 
ried into the midst of the sea," Psalm xlvi. 
1, 2. Then may we look forward to an 
incomparably more dreadful scene, even to 
the righteous Judge, and the great tribunal, 
and say with the triumphant apostle, " Who 
shall lay any thing to our charge ? It is 
God that justifieth ; who shall condemn 
us? It is Christ that died," Rom. viii. 
33, 34. 

Let me entreat you, therefore, brethren, 
for the sake of your, own immortal souls, 
and for the welfare of our endangered na- 
tion — let me charge you by all that is de- 
sirable in time, and awful in eternity, not 
to neglect these counsels. Being so so- 
lemnly reproved, if "you harden your neck," 
your destruction cometh suddenly, and 
'* that without remedy," Prov. xxix. 1. 
Having these warnings from the divine 
word, and warnings from the divine Provi- 
dence, " if ye still do wickedly," it is not 
man, it is not an angel, it is God himself 
who declares, " Ye shall be consumed ; 
even ye, your country, and your king," I 
Sam. xii. 25. 



THE 

KNOWLEDGE OF SALVATION PRECIOUS IN THE HOUR OF 

DEATH; 

A SERMON, 

Preached January Ay \1 59 f 

Upon the death of the Rev. Mr. James Hervey, by W. Romainb, A. M. Lectuver of St. Dunstan's in 

the West, London. 



Righteoue'neiss deliverethfrom death.~Vxov. x. 



Luke ii. 99, 30. — ''Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word ; for mine 

eyes have seen thy salvation." 



AccoiiDiNG to the ancient prophecies, in 
the fulness of time God sent forth his Son. 
He came to his own, when there M^as a 
general expectation of his birth. Many 
just and devout persons in Jerusalem w-ere 
then looking out for the Redeemer's com- 



ing in the flesh ; and among them, good 
old Simeon, and Anna a prophetess, are 
particularly mentioned. St- Luke says, 
" there was a man in Jerusalem, whose 
name was Simeon, and the same man was 
just," a justified person, " and devout," fear- 



A SERMON ON MR. HERVEY'S DEATH. 



673 



ihg to offend God, as the Greek word sig- 
nifies, " waiting for tlie consolation of 
Israel ;" he was waiting for the incarnation 
of the divine Comforter, by whose birth all 
the promises of comfort were to be ratified 
and fnlfilled, and the Israel of God were to 
receive everlasting consolation. The Lord 
was pleased to vouchsafe a particular revel- 
ation of his will in this matter to Simeon ; 
*' For the Holy Spirit was upon him, and 
it was revealed unto him by the Holy Spi- 
rit, that he should not see death before he 
had seen the Lord's Christ incarnate. And 
he came by the direction of the Spirit into 
the temple ; and when the parents brought 
in the holy child Jesus, to do for him after 
the custom of the law, then took he him up 
in his arms, and blessed God that he had 
lived to this happy hour, when he could 
take up the prophet's words, and say, Lo, 
this is our God, we have waited for him ; 
and he will save us ; this is the Lord, we 
have waited for him ; we mil be glad and 
rejoice in his salvation." Simeon waited to 
see God incarnate ; and having seen him, 
he wanted to live no longer. He desired 
his dismission. All the ends of living were 
answered; and therefore he put up this 
sweet prayer : '* Lord, now lettest thou thy 
servant depart in peace, according to thy 
word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." 

With these same words, one of our dear 
brethren, now with the Lord, finished his 
course. They were the dying words of the 
Rev. Mr. James Hervey. He had long 
desired to depart and to be with Christ, 
which he knew was far better than to abide 
in the fiesh; but he waited patiently for the 
Lord's time ; and, when it was come, he 
thus expressed the thankfulness of his heart, 
" Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart 
in peace, according to thy" most holy and 
comfortable " word ; for mine eyes have 
seen thy" precious " salvation."* The 
Lord heard him, and gave him a gentle dis- 
mission. He died, as he had lived, in a 
perfectly even and calm composure of mind. 
Death showed that he came to him as a 
fiiendly messenger to call him to glory ; for 
he cheerfully obeyed the summons. There 
was no fear, no struggle, not a sigh or 
groan ; but he departed in peace, and in full 
assurance of faith. Oh ! that you and I, 
my brethren, may so live by the faith of 
the Son of God, that when we come to die, 
we may be able to use this same prayer, 
and may receive of the Lord a like gracious 
answer. 

These sweet dying words of our dear 
brother have made a great impression upon 
several of his acquaintance ; for they have 
been led to consider them more closely than 

* Several particulars in this Sermon respecting Mr. 
Hervey are more fully related in the account of his 
life. 



perhaps they ever did before, and several 
have meditated upon them ^vith great com- 
fort. In order that others might do the 
same, and that his happy death might be the 
means of stirring up m.any to seek to die 
the death of the righteous, and that their . 
latter end might be like his, I have deter- 
mined to speak upon the words this day. 
IMay the same Spirit by v.'hich Simeon 
spake them be in all your hearts '! may he 
teach you their true and full meaning, and, 
in God's due time, may he give you the 
comfortable experience of them ! Under his 
guidance let us consider, 

I, That when Simeon had seen the sal- 
vation of God, he was prepared to depart : 

II. He therefore desired it, and prayed 
for it : and, 

HI. He expected he should depart in 
peace according to God's word, which was 
fidfilled to him. And under each of these 
particidars, I shall speak of the experience 
of our deceased brother. 

I. Simeon had it revealed to him by the 
Holy Spirit, that he should not die until he 
had seen the Lord's Christ ; and when Je- 
sus was brought into the temple, he was 
directed to go and receive him for the pro- 
mised Messiah, and, taking him up in his 
arms, he blessed God, and said, " Lord, 
now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, 
according to thy word ; for mine eyes have 
seen thy salvation." It is evident he spoke 
these words in their primary sense, of his 
seeing Jesus with the eyes of his body ; but 
this coidd have been no great cause of joy 
to him, unless he had before seen Christ 
some other way ; for multitudes saw him 
with their bodily eyes while he was upon 
earth, who were no better for the sight ; and 
multitudes will hereafter see him in his glo- 
rified body, but it will be to their everlasting 
confusion. There is another kind of sight 
to which our church referred you this after- 
noon, when each of you took up these words, 
and said, " For mine eyes have seen thy 
salvation." If you knew what you said, and 
spoke the truth as youhad experienced it, you 
meant that you had seen the salvation of 
God with the eye of faith ; according to 
what is said of Moses, " That by faith he 
saw him who is invisible." Heb. xi. 27. 
He saw him by the eyes of his soul, who 
was invisible to tlie eyes of his body ; for 
the sold has its eyes as well as the body : 
but sin darkened them ; it put them into 
the state in which the eyes of the body are 
when they have no light : then they 
can see nothing. So the soul is said, in 
Scripture, to be in darkness and blindness^ 
until the eyes of the understanding be en- 
lightened. They cannot see any spiritual 
objects, until the Sun of Righteousness 
shine upon them ; nor, when he does shine, 
can they see any loveliness in those objects, 



6?4 



A SERMON ON 



until tliey be aWe to. act faith upon them ; 
for the eye of faith not only beholds the ob- 
ject, but also distinguishes its own interest 
in it. Faith keeps all the senses of the 
soul in act and exercise upon the proper ob- 
ject which each apprehends : here the eye 
of faith is fixed upon salvation, not only 
viewing it as a blessing belonging to others, 
but also appropriating it to itself. , " Mine 
tyes have seen thy salvation :" here Simeon, 
speaking of our Saviour, calls him salvation, 
because all salvation is in and from him. 
He is the author, and he is the finisher of 
it. The great plan of it was laid by the 
coequal and coeternal Persons of the ever- 
blessed Trinity, before the foundation of the 
world ; it was carried into execution by our 
divine Saviour in the fulness of time ; and 
he is an eternal salvation, an eternal deliver- 
ance from all evil, and an eternal possession 
of all good. Upon the entrance of sin in- 
to the world, this great salvation of our God 
was revealed ; and by faith believers under 
the Old Testament dispensation enjoyed 
tlie benefits of it. At the appointed time 
Jehovah took a body of flesh, and our di- 
vine Immanuel stood up to save his people 
from their sins. He undertook to satisfy 
ail the demands of law and justice. The 
law he satisfied, by payhig it a perfect un- 
sinning obedience ; which being a divine, as 
well as a human obedience, did therefore 
magnify the law, and make it more honour- 
able, than if all the creatures in heaven and 
earth had never offended against it. Justice 
he satisfied, by enduring the threatened pun- 
ishment ; and after his sufferings and death, 
justice had no more demands upon him ; for 
"he came out of the prison of the grave mth 
a full discharge. This satisfaction made to 
law and justice by the obedience and suffer- 
ings of the Lord Jesus, is what the Scrip- 
ture calls the righteousness of God, because 
it is a divine and infinitely perfect righte- 
ousness; a divine righteousness wrought 
out by Jehovah himself, and as infinitely 
perfect a righteousness as Jehovah could 
make it. In this all-glorious righteousness 
of the God-man, Christ Jesus, consists the 
sinner's salvation ; for he is accepted and 
justified by it; the fruits of this righteous- 
ness are his sanctification, and the robe 
of this righteousness is his glorification. 
, So that salvation in time and in eternity 
depends upon the righteousness of the in- 
carnate God. This is the fundamental doc- 
trine of the Christian religion, for which 
our dear brother was a noble champion. 
He saw, he experienced the importance of 
it, and therefore, in his conversation and in 
his preaching, it was his favourite topic. 
How sweetly, how profitably have I heard 
him dwell upon it ! and how excellently has 
he defended it in his writings ! Read his 
Therosi arid .Aspasio; and when you are 



thoroughly convinced that Christ is the end 
of the law for righteousness to every one 
who believeth, and can say with faith, 
" In the Lord have I righteousness and sal- 
vation," then your mind will be settled in 
peace and comfort, and you will be deliver- 
ed from those dangerous errors which are 
now propagated concerning the righteousness 
of the Lord Jesus. Thank God for the 
masterly defence of it in these Dialogues.* 
In them, Mr. Hervey, being dead, yet 
speaketh the praises of his adorable Re- 
deemer, and clearly proves, that we have 
our salvation through his ' righteousness. 
Immanuel the Saviour is the justifier, as he 
says himself, Isa. xlv. 21, 22. " There is no 
God else beside me, a God that gives 
righteousness and a Saviour, there is none 
beside me. Look unto me and be ye saved, 
all the ends of the earth ; for I am God, 
and there is none else." How could they 
be saved by looking unto Christ ? Certain- 
ly not by a look of their bodily eyes. 
Simeon's joy did not arise from having 
Christ in his arms, and looking upon him ; 
but from being able to look upon him by 
an act of faith. He knew him to be his 
Saviour. Thence arose his joy ; and from 
thence must yours arise. It is the look of 
faith which saves ; the eye of faith kept in 
exercise upon its proper object, even upon 
Jesus, the author and finisher of faith. It is 
this act of faith which our Lord requires : 
"Look unto me," with this promise annexed, 
" and be ye saved." There is salvation in the 
look of faith; for it sees and receives Jesus, as 
he is offered in Scripture, for a free, full, 
and complete Saviour. And whoever 
keeps the eye of faith in constant ex- 
ercise, is prepared, with good old Simeon, 
to depart in peace ; because, by having an 
interest and property in the salvation of 
our God, he is thereby delivered from 
every thing that can make death dreadful, 
and is in possession of every thing that can 
make death desirable. 



* About a week before Mr. Hervey was taken 511, 1 
mentioned to him a report that was spread about con- 
cerning Mr. Sandeman's Letters on Theron and As- 
pasio to this eifect,— That he (Mr. Hervey) had 
written a letter to Mrs. Cooke, and therein had said, 
that Mr. Sandeman was in the right, and had con- 
vinced him of his error ; or words to that purpose. 
To which he answered. That he had written a letter 
to Mrs. Cooke, and therein he had acknowledged, that 
many of Mr Sandeman's remarks were judicious, and 
that he had corrected some of his expressions and in- 
accuracies. But he said, that he was very far from 
having changed his opinion as to the substance and 
matter of the argument ; for therein he thought Mr. 
Sandeman was entirely wrong. Whereupon 1 desired 
he would insert an advertisement in some of the Lon- 
don papers, signed by himself, to set this mistake 
right, lest it might hinder the sale and reading of his 
books, and thereby prevent much good. To which 
he agreed ; and added, that he would let that para- 
graph stand in his Answer to Mr. Wesley, relating to 
Mr. Sandeinan, only softening the expression a little; 
but all this was prevented by his illness and death. 
The truth of this I ?.m ready to attest. 

Abraham MAr>0OCK, Curate of Weston-Favell. 



MR. HERVEY'S DEATH. 



675 



What is it that makes death dreadful ? 
I3 it not guilt in the conscience, accusing 
the sinner for the breach of the holy law, 
and alarming him with fear of the threaten- 
ed punishment, which the justice, and hoh- 
ness, and truth of God are concerned to see 
inflicted in time and in eternity ? Thus we 
read, " The sting of death is sin, and the 
strength of sin is the law." Death has 
power to sting, so long as the broken law 
( giv^es sin a right to accuse and condemn : all 
unpardoned sinners therefore are afraid of 
death. From this state of fear and bond- 
age our Lord came to save his people : 
" He came to deliver them, who through 
fear of death were all their lifetime subject 
to bondage;" and he does deliver them, 
when their sins are forgiven, and his right- 
eousness is imputed to them -. for then the 
broken law cannot condemn, nor justice pun- 
ish, there being no condemnation to them 
that are in Christ Jesus. Upon which 
death loses its sting ; and when the par- 
doned sinner looks upon it, he sees nothing 
terrible in its appearance, but can boldly, 
and without presumption say, " Yea, when 
I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
death, I will fear no evil ; for thou my God 
art with me." 

And he is not only prepared to die, be- 
cause he is delivered from every thing that 
could make death dreadful, but also, because 
he is in the possession of every thing that can 
make death desirable. He knows he has 
an interest in Christ, and Christ is the pos- 
sessor of heaven and earth. He has all 
things in his hands, and has promised to 
make them all work together for the good 
of his redeemed people ; so that whoever 
has Christ, has all things. " All things," 
says the apostle, " are yours, whether life 
or death, or things present or things to come, 
all are yours." And the reason follows, 
" And ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's." 
As all that Christ has is yours, and all that 
God has is Christ's, consequently all is yours. 
And death by name is yours : no longer a 
curse and a punishment, but turned into a 
real blessing ; for it is the gate and entrance, 
through which you pass into endless life and 
never-fading glory. 

Thus he is prepared to depart, who has. 
seen with the eye of faith the salvation of 
God. The doctrine is clear from Scripture ; 
but how is it, my brethren, in your experi- 
ence ? are you prepared to depart ? and on 
what do you build your preparation ? on the 
Lord Jesus, or on what ? Search and see ; 
for nothing can comfort you in the hour of 
death, but having received him into your 
hearts by faith and love. You must see his 
salvation, and be able to keep the eye of faith 
intent upon it, before you can be prepared 
to depart ; but when this is your happy case, 
then, in whatever shape death comes, you 



will be able to aay with our dear brother, 
" Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart 
in peace, according to thy word : for mine 
eyes have seen thy salvation." He might 
well say, " Mine eyes have seen thy salva- 
tion for all that came near him were con- 
vinced thathe had seen it. The effects show- 
ed it. He had put off the old man, and had 
put on the new ; and was under the influ- 
ence of divine love to his adorable Saviour. 
The love of Jesus ruled in his heart, and 
was therefore constantly uppermost in his 
mouth. He loved to be telling of his sal- 
vation all the day long. And he did not 
talk like a professor, full of mere head-know- 
ledge ; but what he spake had a warmth, 
and life, and power in it, which showed that 
it came from his heart. He was perfectly 
inflamed with the love of his divine Lord 
and Master; and if you sat any time in 
his company, you could not help catching 
some of the holy flame. So that if sticuigers 
to his person may doubt of his experience 
of a Saviour's love, we who have conversed 
with him cannot. We are sure, from what 
we saw and heard, that he had seen the 
salvation of God, and therefore was pre- 
pared to depart. He knew in whom he had 
believed, and was certain the power and the 
love of the dear Immanuel were in his in- 
terest ; so that neither death, nor he that 
had the power of death, could hurt him. 

A friend of mine was much with him on 
the 15thof December, and the discourse turn- 
ed upon what Christ had done for his soul. 
Mr. Hervey spake strongly and earnestly of 
the assurance of his faith, and of the great ' 
love of God in Christ to him. He declar- ; 
ed, that the fear of death was taken from ' 
him : and it afterwards appeared, that death ' 
had no sting to hurt, nor the grave any 
power to get victory over him ; for when 
death came, it found his mind in perfect 
peace. He had no uneasy apprehensions 
of dying, but had hopes full of gloiy and 
immortality. Doubtless then he lhad seen 
the salvation of God. The knowledge of 
salvation had been precious to him in life, 
and theretore he experienced the precious- 
ness of it in death : for then he could give 
thanks to God for giving him the victory 
through Jesus Christ his Lord, tlappy are 
they to whom God has given the knowledge 
of their salvation: they believe, on good 
grounds, that their Saviour has brought 
them into a state of salvation ; and there- 
fore they are prepared to meet death, yea, 
they can desire and pray for it, as Simeon 
did ; which is the second particular 1 was 
to consider. 

Simeon, knowing that he was prepared, 
therefore desired to depart. And this is 
the believer's case. He longs for death, 
not out of an impatient discontented temper, 
but out of a real holy aftection. When 



676 



A SERMON ON 



worldly men are oppressed with troubles on 
all sides, and see no way to escape, they are 
apt to desire death, that it may bring their 
misery to an end, and put them out of their 
pain : And there are some most miserable 
and abject cowards, who murder themselves 
to get rid of the troubles of life. These 
men court death as a less evil ; but the be- 
liever desires it as a real blessing. He 
knows that his death will be to the glory of 
his Saviour ; for it grieves him to the heart, 
that he should ever do any thing displeasing 
to such a kind Benefactor. After receiv- 
ing so many tokens of Christ's love, oh ! 
it is indeed afUicting to give him the least 
offence. I api)eal to yourselves. You that 
have the love of Jesus in your hearts, are 
not you sorry that you love him so little ? 
Have not you reason daily to mourn for your 
ingratitude to him ; and what will such 
thoughts suggest, but a desire to be where 
the very occasion of offence will be remov- 
ed ? It was on this account that Mr. Her- 
vey desired death ; for the last morning of 
his life, when his brother came in to inquire 
after his welfare, he said, " I have been 
thinking of my great ingratitude tom.y God." 
And these thoughts made him wish to be 
delivered from the bondage of corruption, 
into the glorious liberty of the children of 
God. 

And he desired it as Simeon did, and all 
believers do, upon another motive, namely, 
because the Lord will get himself honour, 
by the honour which he will give to his peo- 
ple in his kingdom. " He will be glorified," 
says the Apostle, " in his saints he will 
get himself glory, by the great glory which 
he will bestow upon them. And as the 
believer has in all things an eye to God's 
glory, so has he especially in his desires to 
be dissolved and to be with Christ. He 
knows that God is glorified in him and by 
him at present ; but then it is imperfectly, 
and that grieves him. Self, or the creature, 
will be trying to share the heart with God, 
and thereby to rob him of his glory. A 
bare thought of this, when only rising in the 
mind, hurts the believer. He would have 
every thought brought into subjection to 
Christ ; and that makes him desire to be 
where temptation and sin shall be no more, 
and where he shall glorify God, and God 
shall be glorified in him for ever and ever. 
With this view, Mr Hervey desired to de- 
part. His great love to his Saviour's glory 
made him wish for death. He longed to be 
dissolved, that he might be freed from the 
frailties and infirmities of this mortal life^ 
under which he laboured, and could not al- 
ways, nor in a perfect degree, promote the 
glory of his redeeming God : therefore he 
desired to be with them who follow the 
Lamb whithersoever he goeth, and are 
ever receiving glory from him, and ever giv- 



ing glory to him. And the Lord granted 
his desire ; he literallj answered his prayer ; 
for he departed in peace, according to the 
word of God, as I purposed to shew under 
my third head. 

What it is to be at peace with God^ and 
to depart with a sense of this peace upon 
our miiids, I cannot better express, than in 
theexcellent words of the present archbishop 
of Canterbury, in his Nine Sermons, p. 132. 
" The peace of God is that sense of being 
in friendship with him, that feeling of com- 
fort and joy flowing from him, which pass-, 
eth all understandhig, exceeds the concep- 
tions of those who have not experienced it, 
and will exceed hereafter the present con- 
ceptions of those who have." And the be- 
liever, even when he is departing this life, 
has a sense of his being in friendship with 
God, and has a feeling of comfort and joy 
flowing from him. This is promised in 
Scripture, and this is fulfilled to them who, 
being justified by faith, have peace with 
God : being reconciled to the Father 
through the Son of his love, they live, and 
they die in peace. 

I suppose some weak in the faith are 
thinking thus within themselves ; "Well, is 
it so, that true believers die in peace and 
joy ? 1 am sure I could not at present ; for 
I am dreadfully afraid of death : and what 
would not I give to be delivered from these 
fears, for they make my life miserable ?" 
My brethren, why are you in bondage to 
them ? God offers you deliverance. There 
are many general promises in his word, that 
let what will happen to believers, the peace 
of God shall rule in their hearts. Thus, 
Isa. xxvi. 3. " Thou wilt keep him in per- 
fect peace whose mind is staid upon thee." 
And as it is a perfect, so it is a continual 
peace. " The Lord of peace himself," says 
the apostle, 2 Thess. iii. 16, " give you 
peace always by all means for, after he 
has once given this peace, he makes all 
means, even the most unlikely, tend to the 
promoting of it ; therefore death can by no 
means weaken, and much less destroy, this 
peace of God. These general promises he 
fulfilled to the patriarchs : for St Paul 
says, Heb. xi. 13. " That they all died in 
faith :" they acted faith in their death, and 
consequently had a sweet sense of the peace 
of God in their hearts when they died. Da- 
vid shews us the reason of their dying in 
faith. Psalm xlviii, 14. " This God is our 
God for ever and ever : he shall be our 
guide even unto death." They knew that 
their God would be with them to guide and 
keep them, when the body returned to dust, 
and the spirit returned to God who gave 
it : and therefore David spoke for himself, 
wlasLt each of them also could say, " When 
I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
death I will fear no evil, because thou my 



MR. HERVEY'S DEATH. 



677 



God art then with me ; thy rod and thy 
staff comfort me even then," Psalm xxiii. 3. 
With this faith, they looked upon death as 
disarmed of its sting and power to hurt ; 
and therefore they laid down their heads, 
and fell asleep in the arms of death, with 
as much composure as any weary traveller 
ever longed for rest. They "fell asleep." 
The Scripture speaks of their death under 
this beautiful image, to teach us, that death 
was as sweet to them as ever sleep was to 
a hard-labouring man. The faithful fell 
asleep quietly and composedly. And how 
should it be otherwise ? they had no evil to 
fear ; for they were at peace with God. 
And what could deaih do to hurt that 
peace ? It does indeed dissolve all other 
bonds, but it strengthens this. It is the 
happy instrument of fastening the bond of 
peace with a tie which never, never can be 
dissolved. And when the faithful look 
upon death in this light, what is there in it 
but joy and peace, even a joy unspeakable, 
and a peace that surpasseth all understand- 
ing? 

Perhaps some of you think this is not al- 
ways the case ; because there are very good 
men who have had strong conflicts and 
struggles before death. Nay, my brethren, 
think not so wickedly of God. Is it accord- 
ing to his word that the faithful shall depart 
in peace, and do they not ? M^hat ! can the 
word of God be broken ? No ; it shall 
stand fast for ever and ever. And in the 
case which you state, it does not follow that 
this peace is weakened or destroyed because 
it is tempted ; by no means. The sense 
of this peace may remain when it is most 
furiously attacked ; for it is the peace of 
God. God gave it, and God keeps it ; and 
he may suffer the devil to tempt, but not to 
destroy it. The more it is tempted, the 
more honour redounds to God for preserv- 
ing it in the fiery trial. It was more to 
God's glory to preserve his children in the 
fiery furnace, than to have kept them out of 
it. Doubtless he that has the power of 
death will make his last efforts, and try to 
shake the faith of a dying believer. The 
devil will then set upon him with all his 
fury. But though he be a roaring lion, yet 
he is chained ; and the almighty Saviour so 
oven-ules his malice and rage, that he makes 
them work together for his glory and his 
people's good ; as he did remarkably in the 
last efforts which the enemy made against 
our dear brother. He saw him in great 
weakness of body, and then made a furious 
onset against his faith ; but the dear Imma- 
nuel was with him, and would not give him 
over into the enemy's hands. His faith was 
tried, and it came like gold out of the fire. 
He knew that it would be tried, and had 
therefore prepared himself for the fiery trial. 
Speaking of it to a faithful minister of 



Christ, who was often with him in his last 
sickness, he said, " How many precious 
texts are there, big with the rich truths of 
Christ, which we do not comprehend, which 
we know nothing of ; and of those which 
we do know, how few do we remember ? 
Bonus textuarius est bonus theologies ; and 
that is the armour. The word of God is 
the sword, these texts are the weapons, 
which I must use when that sTibtle spirit, 
that arch adversary of mankind, comes to 
tempt and sift me in my last conflict. Sure- 
ly I had need be well provided with these 
weapons ; I had need have my quiver full 
of them, to answer Satan with texts out of 
the word of God when he assaults me." 
Satan did assault him, but found him pre- 
pared and armed. Mr Hervey said to his 
friends the day that he died, " Oh, you 
know not how great a conflict I have. " And 
after he had sat for some time with his eyes 
constantly lifted up towards heaven, and his 
hands clasped together in a praying form, 
he said, " Now this great conflict is over." 
Jesus made him conqueror over all the 
powers of darkness : having endeavoured to 
rob him of his peace, but in vain, they left 
him in his Saviour's arms, never more to be 
tempted ; and he watched over him with the 
tenderest love, until he took him home. 
And when be went, he indeed departed in 
peace. His body seemed to be ready as 
well as his soul. When death came, he had 
not one struggle with it. There was not a 
single groan or sigh, or any thing that could 
shew the least unwillingness to depart. He 
had such a gentle dismission as he had pray- 
ed for in Simeon's words. He departed in 
peace, and fell asleep. 

I have now fiid&hed what I had to offer 
upon the three particulars mentioned in my 
text ; and it appears, that when a sinner is 
convinced of his want of a Saviour, and is 
convinced that Jesus is such a Saviour as 
he wants, able and willing to save to the ut- 
termost ; and when he is made to see his 
interest in the perfect complete righteous- 
ness of this adorable Saviour, and is assured 
of it from the word and Spirit of God, and 
from the fruits of righteousness produced in 
his life and conversation, then he is prepa- 
red to die ; then he may desire it with sub- 
mission to God's will ; and whenever death 
comes, he may expect to depart in peace, 
according to the *word of God. These 
great truths I have illustrated from Scrip- 
ture and from experience ; more especially 
from the experience of our dear brother now 
with the Lord, of whom I have spoken no» 
thing more than what the words of my text 
naturally led me to say. If I were to at- 
tempt to draw the character of this exellent 
man, I would consider him in the several 
relations in which he stood to God and man, 
and would exhort you to follow him, so far 



C78 



A SERMON ON 



as he followed Christ. But the compass 
of this discourse will not suffer me to en- 
large ; I can only just observe some parti- 
cular instances, from whence it will evident- 
ly appear, that he had seen the salvation of 
God. He had a clear view of it by the 
eye of faith, and was able to act faith upon 
it ; for his was a faith working by love. 
" We love God," says the beloved Apostle, 
because he first loved us ;" because we 
know by faith that he first loved us ; so 
that our love is the reflex act of his love to 
us. And Mr. Hervey had great experience 
of God's love to him, gnd therefore his 
heart was full of love to God ; and out of 
the abundance of his heart his mouth spake. 
There \vas such a sweetness of heart-love 
upon his tongue, that he used to speak of 
the love of the adorable Redeemer, like one 
who had seen him face to face in the fulness 
of his glory. He would, with all the pow- 
er of language and dignity of sentiment, 
speak for a long time together in praise of 
the ever-blessed Saviour. But you might 
plainly see, thougb every body else was 
pleased, yet he was not satisfied with what 
he had said. He thought he had not said 
enough, and what he had said fell far below 
his Lord's merit. But still he would try 
again, and indeed was never weary. You 
could not hear him speak, for any time, 
upon this his favourite subject, without be- 
ing convinced that he felt what he said ; 
and if you had any love of God when you 
went into his company, his conversation 
would inflame it. He had an excellency 
which I never saw to so great a degree in 
any other person : He never let an oppor- 
tunity slip of speaking of the love of Christ. 
He would take occasion from the most 
common incident, and yet it would not ap- 
pear forced ; for he had a wonderful talent 
at spiritualizing and improving whatever 
happened about him ; by which means he 
hindered the conversation from turning 
upon t:ifling matters, and at the same time 
kept it up with spirit and usefulness. Ha- 
ving set the Lord always before him, he saw 
the love of God in every thing ; and there- 
fore it is not to be wondered at, that all ob- 
jects and events should give him occasion 
to speak of it. In his last sickness, it con- 
tinued still to be his favourite theme ; for 
whenever my friend, who was much with 
him, came into the room, he would begin to 
talk, of the love of Christ, and of the great 
things which Christ had done for him, until 
his breath failed him ; and as soon as he 
had recovered himself a little, be would 
proceed upon the same sweet subject : so 
that he might have truly applied to himself 
the words of the prophet, " My mouth 
shall be telling of thy righteousness and of 
thy salvation all the d.iy loDg for 1 know 
no end thereof." 



I This heart-love to God appeared eviflent- 
lly in every part of his character. As a 
minister, his faith ^v^ought by love to the 
souls of men in all the offices of his func- 
tion. While his health permitted him, he 
watched like a faithful shepherd over his 
flock. He used to >dsit them ^rom house 
to house, and to speak freely to them of the 
state of their souls ; and when the weak- 
ness of his body obliged him to drop these 
religious visits, he would often grieve that 
he could not be more useful, and would 
speak with great concern and uneasiness of 
his not being able to preach oftener, and to 
do more for Christ. In the pulpit, he was 
fervent and earnest with his people, and 
would often exert himself beyond his 
strength : for he preached the great doc- 
trines of salvation as one who had expe- 
rienced the power of them. It was mani- 
fest to all who heard him, that he felt what 
he spake. And when we speak what we 
knov/, and testify what we have seen, then 
God blesses this experimental preaching. 
He puts a divine power and energy into it, 
and renders it effectual to awaken sinners, 
to comfort them that mourn for sin, and to 
edify and build up the faithful. Mr. Her- 
vey had many happy proofs of the useful- 
ness of his preaching for each of these 
purposes ; and therefore he did not think it 
enough to preach once a-week on the Lord's 
day, but he set up a weekly lecture at 
Weston- Favell, which was very well attend- 
ed, and was blessed to many of his neigh- 
bours, who will be his glory and crown of 
rejoicing in the presence of the Lord Jesus 
Christ, at his coming. 

He did not forget that he was a minister 
in his own house ; for he called his family 
together twice a- day to serve God. It was 
his custom in the evening, after the servants 
had read the Psalms, and the second lesson, 
to explain some part of what had been read. 
In this exercise he would sometimes dwell 
for half an hour ; and when he met \vith a 
sweet passage upon the love of Christ, I 
have heard him speak for three quarters of 
an hour, and then he concluded with prayer. 

In the morning, when the family were 
met together he used to ask the servants, 
" Well ! where was our text last night ?" 
And after they they had repeated it, he 
made them give an account of what had 
been said upon it ; and then he would re 
peat and enforce his last night's discourse, 
concluding with prayer. 

In the aftei'noon, when he was called 
down to tea, he used to bring his Hebrew 
Bible, or Greek Testament with him, and 
would either speak upon one verse, or upon 
several verses, as occasion offered. This 
was generally an improving season. The 
glory of God is very seldom promoted at 
the tea-tuble ; but it was at Mr. Hervey's. 



MR. HERVEY'S DEATH. 



G79 



Drinking tea with him was like being at an 
ordinance ; for it was sanctified by the word 
of God and prayer. 

As a member of society, his faith wrought 
abundantly by love to his neighbour : for 
he was full of good works. His charities 
to the poor were very large ; and that he 
might be liberal to them, he was very fru- 
gal in his own expenses. He ehose rather 
to clothe the poor, than to give them mo- 
ney. He used to get some judicious person 
to buy linen, coarse cloth, stockings, shoes, 
&c. for them at the best hand, alleging that 
the poor could not buy so good a commodity 
at the little shops, and with driblets of mo- 
ney. " I am God's steward," says he, " for 
his poor, and I must husband the little pit- 
tance I have to bestow upon them, and 
make it go as far as possible." But where 
money would be particularly serviceable to 
a family long afflicted with sickness, or to 
a prudent housekeeper who had met with 
great losses in trade, he would give five, 
ten, or fifteen guineas at a time, taking care 
it should not be known from whence the 
money came, c . 

He gave away a great number of good 
books, with suitable instructions for their 
use, and especially Bibles. In the blank 
leaf, he frequently wrote something striking, 
or else stuck in a printed paper, relating to 
the promises of God in and through Jesus 
Christ. 

Mr. Hervey's income was but small, and 
it may be wondered how he managed it 
so well as to have such sums to spare for 
charitable uses ; but what money was left 
after the family expenses were paid, and all 
the profits arising from the sale of his 
books, which was a very considerable sum, 
he gave away in charity. He made of it a 
bank for the poor. " And this," says he, 
" I have devoted to God. I will on no ac- 
count apply it to any worldly uses. I write 
not for profit or for fame, but to serve the 
cause of God ; and as he has blessed my 
attempt, I think myself bound to relieve the 
distresses of my fellow-creatures with the 
profit that comes from this quarter." And 
he is still relieving them. He was not will- 
ing that his charities should die with him; for 
he ordered all the profit arising from the fu- 
ture sale of his books, to be constantly ap- 
plied to charitable uses. Thus, having'^believ- 
ed in God, he was careful to maintain good 
works, knowing that these things are good 
and profitable unto men. 

In his private life, he was under the in- 
fluence of the same faith, working by love 
to the will and commandments of God. 
His holy walking was very examplary. What 
he said, in words, concerning his interest in 
the Redeemer's righteousness, he proved by 
his actions ; for he was very sensible of the 
impoitance of this scripture, " He that saith 



he abideth in him, ought himself also to walk 
even as he walked," 1 John ii. 6. Mr. ^ 
Hervey walked very close after Christ ; and ' 
found that the belief of Christ's righteous-, 
ness being imputed to him for his justifica- 
tion, was so far from being a licentious doc- 
trine, that it inspired him with the noblest 
motives to a grateful obedience. His holy 
life was an excellent recommendation of his 
principles ; for I never saw one who came 
up so near to the Scripture character of a 
Christian. God had enriched him with great 
gifts, and with great graces, and had made 
him numble : for he was humbled by the 
power of grace. He had been a very vain 
proud young man but the grace of God 
emptied him of pride and self, and clothed 
him with humility. Having put on Christ, 
he had put on with him the ornament of a 
meek and quiet spirit, which appeared in his 
great patience and resignation to the will of 
God. He had some very sharp trials of his 
faith and patience, both from God and from 
men ; and he learned obedience by the things 
which he sufi'ered. It was very remarkable, 
that, in his long illness, he was never known^, 
to fret or be uneasy ; nor did the person^ I 
about him ever hear one angry, or one hasty ' 
word come out of his mouth. 

The same principle of faith working by 
love was manifest in his studies, which he 
directed to the glory of God. He was once 
a great reader of the Greek and Roman 
authors, and his writings shew that he had 
a good taste for classical learning ; but for 
some years past he chiefly applied himself 
to the study of the sacred Scriptures. God 
had blessed him with a fine understanding, 
and a great memory, which he exercised in 
reading the Bible in the original languages. 
He was very well skilled in the Hebrew, 
and was an excellent critic in the Greek, 
and was a scribe instructed unto the king- 
dom of heaven, who, like unto a man that is 
an householder, bringeth forth out of his 
treasure things new and old. He had a 
great veneration for this treasure of the Old 
and New Testaments. He used to talk of 
them in the highest terms, next to that ador- 
able Person of whom they treat. They were 
sweeter to him than honey and the ho- 
ney-comb ; and so they will be to every one 
who reads them, as he did, with faith. Who- 
ever can act faith upon the exceeding great 
and precious promises contained in the 
sacred volume, will find so much sweetness 
in it, that he will have but little relish left 
for other books. 

As to his writings, I leave them to 
speak for themselves. They stand hi no 
need of my praises- They are in the hands 
of the public, and every reader will form 
his own judgment. Oh that the Spirit of 
the living God may direct it, that whoever 
reads his writings may learn to have i'O 



680 



A SERMON ON 



confidence in the flesh, out to make men- 
tion of Jehovah's righteousness, even of his 
only ! 

The time would fail me, if I was to en- 
large upon all the particulars of his life and 
death. That was not my design : I only 
intended briefly to relate some things, from 
whence a tolerable judgment might be form- 
ed of Mr. Hervey's character. But I can- 
not finish without taking notice of the last 
scene of his life, which was very triumph- 
ant and glorious. The last and great trial 
of his' faith was more precious than that of 
gold which perisheth. Its preciousness 
never appeared more than in the hour of 
death ; for then he evidently saw by faith, 
and apprehended the salvation of God, and 
could rejoice in a clear view of his own in- 
terest in it. When Dr. Stonehouse saw 
him for the last time, namely on Christ- 
mas-day, about two houi-s before he expir- 
ed, Mr. Hervey pressed home upon him 
his everlasting concerns, in the most aifec- 
tionate maimer ; telling him, that liere is 
no abiding place, and begging of him to at- 
tend, amidst the multiplicity of his busi- 
ness, to the one thing needful. 

The Doctor, seeing the great difficulty 
and pain with which he spoke, (for he was 
almost suffocated with phlegm and frequent 
vomitings,) and finding by his pulse that 
the pangs of death were then coming on, 
desired that he would spare himself. 
*' No," says he, " Doctor ; No. You tell 
me I have but a few moments to live ; 

let me spend them in adoring our great 
Kedeemer. Though my flesh and my 
heart fail me, yet God is the strength of 
any heart, and my portion for ever." He 
then expatiated in the most striking man- 
ner upon these words of St. Paul, 1 Cor. 
iji. 22, 23. " All things are yours, life and 
death : for ye are Christ's." " Here," says 
he, " is the treasure of a Christian. Death 
is reckoned among this inventory; and a 
noble treasure it is. How thankful am I 
for death, as it is the passage through which 

1 pass to the Lord and giver of eternal life ; 
gind as it frees me from all this misery you 
■*ow see me endure, and which I am will- 
ing to endure as long as God thinlf's fit ! 
for I know he will, by and by, in his own 
good time, dismiss me from the body. 
These light afflictions are but for a moment, 
and then comes an eternal weight of glory. 
Oh welcome, welcome death ! Thou may- 
est well be reckoned among the treasures 
of the Christian. To live is Christ, but 
to die is gain." 

After which, as the Doctor was taking 
his final leave of him, Mr. Hervey express- 
ed great gratitude for his visits, though it 
had been long out of the power of medi- 
cine to cure him. He then paused a little, 
, >!rl -.vUH p-reat serenit" ' -vptness in 



his countenance, though the pangs of death 
were then on him, repeated these triumph- 
ant words : 

" Lord, nowlettest thou thy servant depart 
in peace, according to thy most holy and 
comfortable word : for mine eyes have seen / 
thy precious salvation. Here, Doctor, is • 
my cordial. What are all cordials to the 
dying, compared to the salvation of Christ ? 
This, this supports me." He found this 
supporting him in his last moments, and de- 
clared it by saying, twice or thrice. Precious 
salvation ! and then leaning his head against 
the side of the easy-chair in which he sat, 
he shut his eyes, and fell asleep. O preci- 
ous salvation ! how precious must it be to 
the dying man, who, interested in it, can 
thank God for death, and reckon it among 
his riches ; who, supported by faith in the 
salvation of God, can account it his gain to 
die ; and can gladly say. Oh welcome, wel- 
come death ! May this faith support you, 
my brethren, when all other supports fail, 
and make salvation as precious to you as it 
was to Mr. Hervey ! and of this you may 
be assured, that what the Lord did for him, 
he is able also to do for you. He was in.^ 
deed a glorious instance of the power of 
grace; for by the grace of God he was what 
he was. And grace is free ; as free for you 
as it was for him ; able also to make you 
live and die as much to the glory of God as 
he did. He was truly a burning and shin- 
ing light ; but the Lord's hand is not shor- 
tened. It can make your light shine also 
before men, and enable you to adorn tlie 
doctrine of God your Saviour as much as 
Mr. Hervey did. And the great use to be 
made of his example is, to stir you up to 
glorify God for the gifts and graces bestow- 
ed upon him, and to desire the same 
may be bestowed upon you. With this 
view I shall apply it, 

First, To those persons who have never* 
seen the salvation of God, and, consequent- 
ly, are not prepared to depart in peace ; and 
these are all careless sinners, who live se- 
cure in the wilful commission of sin. Mr. 
Hervey knew, that whenever the Lord 
should call him out of this life, he should be 
found in Christ, not having his own righte- 
ousness, which is of the law but that which 
is through the iaith of Christ, the righteous- 
ness which is of God by faith ; and, clothed 
in this righteousness, he was certain that he 
should appear at the bar of Justice without 
spot of sin, unto eternal salvation. But 
this is not your experience. Nay, you have 
never been awakened to desire it. You have 
never been humbled unoer a sense of your 
lost condition, nor broken down under a 
conviction of your hel])lessness : so that you 
have never seen your want of a Saviour ; 
and, consequently, have never seen the sal- 
vation of our God. If you entertain; anv 



MR. HERVEY'S DEATH. 



^81 



hopes of departing in peace, while you are 
in this state, you are of all men the most 
deceived ; for when death comes, it will 
find you in your sins unpardoned, without 
any faith in the Redeemer's righteousness 
to make death desirable, but with every 
thing that can make it terrible. The holy, 
just, and good law of the most high God 
will accuse, conscience will plead guilty, jus- 
tice will condemn and punish, and the wrath 
of God will abide upon you for ever and 
ever. How is it possible you should depart 
in peace, unless you die insensible ? and that 
would be dreadful indeed. If sin should so 
far infatuate you, that you never awake out 
of its delusive slumbers until you are called 
to receive the wages of sin, oh think what 
sort of a peace you speak to yourselves ; 
since it leaves you in the greatest danger, 
and, at the same time, insensible of it. To 
depart in such a false peace, would be your 
everlasting destruction. Oh, sirs, consider 
then what a delusion you are under ! The 
wrath of an offended God abideth on you, 
the curses of his broken law hang over your 
guilty heads, and you are liable to the ven- 
geance of his almighty justice ; and yet you 
think yourselves safe. You are saying. 
Peace, peace, while all the powers in heaven 
and earth are at war with you, and in a mo- 
ment you may be cut off, and delivered over 
to the tormentors : and then you will have 
a sad and eternal experience of that awful 
threatening, " There is no peace, saith my 
God, to the wicked." 

Men and brethren, what do you say to 
these things ? Are they true, or are they 
jiot ? If they be true, why are you not in- 
fluenced by them ? And if you think them 
not true, why do you make any profession 
of the Christian religion ? why do you come 
to the house of God to attend upon his or- 
dinances ? Your appearance here ranks you 
among professors ; and, if you keep up the 
form, without the power of godliness, I have 
for you, in the second place, a word of reproof. 

There have arisen, in the latter days, 
mockers, who pretend to ridicule the see- 
ing of the salvation of God, and the being 
thereby prepared to depart in peace- 
Possibly there may be some such amongst 
us to-day, who laugh at all vital and exper- 
imental religion. If there be, I would ask 
them, whether the Scripture has not pro-' 
mised deliverance from the fear of death ? 
Is it not written (Heb. xi. 15,) "That 
Christ came to deliver them who through 
fear of death were all their lifetime subject 
to bondage ?" Observe, they were in bon- 
dage to the fear of death, but Christ came 
to deliver them. And did not he attain 
the end for which he came ? Most certain- 
ly he did. " I have finished," says he to 
his Father, *' the work which thou gavest 
roe to do." Now it was j)art of the work 



to deliver his people from the fear of death, 
and as the work was finished, consequently 
they are delivered. And they say they are. 
They attest it; and they have given the 
most convincing proofs of their havmg con- 
quered all fear of death ; they have been 
afflicted, tormented, stoned, sawn asunder, 
put on the rack ; and yet they would not 
accept deliverance, because they were sure 
of obtaining a better resurrection. And of 
these there have not been two or three on- 
ly, but a noble and numerous army, yea, a 
great multitude, whom no man could num- 
ber ; and glory be to God, it is an increas- 
ing multitude ! there are some who daily 
depart in peace, and there are hundreds, 
thousands, now alive, who are waiting for 
their departure with hopes full of immor- 
tality. And why should you think they 
will be disappointed of their hope ? Will 
Christ break his word ? Can his promise 
fail ? No : his word and his promise shall 
be established, when heaven and earth shall 
be no more ; and until the place of them 
shall not be found, the Lord 'will always 
have such witnesses of the truth of the 
doctrine in my text, as ?vlr. Hervey, who 
will depart this life in the triumph of faith. 

Against these plain facts what can you 
object ? They are founded upon the clear 
promises of Scripture, which are literally 
fulfilled at this very day ; and you can have 
no pretence to reject their authority unless 
you run into downright scepticism, and de- 
ny th(! authority of the holy Scriptures. 
If any of you have arrived at this pitch of 
ridicule, I shall not reason with you at pre- 
sent. 'Let the day decide the point. If 
death does not, judgment will. You will 
be forced to be tried by that book which 
you reject, and by that Judge whom you 
have insulted and vilified. O that you may 
be convinced of your error before it be too 
late ! May God open your eyes to see 
your guilt and your danger, that you may 
sue for mercy along with them who are 
seeking the experience of the doctrine in 
my text ; to whom I have, in the third 
place, a word of comfort. 

I suppose there are many persons here, 
who find the sting of death in their guilty 
consciences, and who therefore desire to be 
delivered from the fear and from the power 
of death. My brethren, there is a glorious 
Deliverer, who has in his own person con- 
quered death, and him that had the power 
of death ; and he is able to make you con- 
querors. His power is almighty, for he is 
the Lord God omnipotent ; and he is an 
all-loving Saviour, who is more ready to 
give, than you are to ask, his promised help. 
Since he has shown you your want of it, 
ask and youshall have, seek andyou shall find. 

You do seek, you say, but it is with 
many doubts and fears. Of what do you 



682 



A SERMON ON 



doubt ? Of Christ's power, or of Christ's 
love ? He can deliver you. All things 
are possible to him, because all power in 
heaven and earth is in his hands. And he 
is a God of love ; he has shevved mercy to 
the greatest of sinners, and has shed his 
love abroad in their hearts. He has given 
them faith to see their interest in him, and 
then they were happy living or dying ; for 
whether they lived, they lived unto the 
Lord ; or whether they died, they died un- 
to the Lord : so that living and dying, they 
were the Lord's. 

True, say you, I believe this was the 
happy case of Mr. Hervey, and of many 
others ; but I am full of doubts and fears, 
because I am such an unworthy creature 
that I do not deserve any mercy. Nor did 
they : God did not treat them upon the 
footing of desert ; what he gave them was 
mere bounty, flowing from the riches of his 
unmerited love. That is the way in which 
he bestows his great salvation. All the 
blessings of it are free, as free for one sinner 
as for another. None are excluded because 
they are great sinners ; Paul found mercy : 
and none are rejected because of their un- 
worthiness ; Mary Magdalen was pardoned ; 
and why may not you ? For all the gifts of 
God flow from his free grace, and are be- 
stowed upon unworthy sinners ; and if you 
are one of them, you are a proper object to 
receive the blessings of free grace ; and the 
sense of your unvvorthiness should make 
you more earnest in asking, but it is no bar 
to your receiving, all the blessings of salva- 
tion ; for Jesus Christ assures us in his 
word, " that he came to seek and to save 
that which was lost such lost sinners as 
you are. 

Thus you see what encouragement you 
have to believe in God. You h;.ve his 
word and his promise to rely upon ; you 
have the testimony of God's people, declar- 
ing that they were once as you are, afraid of 
death, but now Christ has taken away the 
fear of it. They have seen the salvation of 
God, and know by faith that all the bless- 
ings of it are freely given them in Christ 
Jesus ; therefore they are ready, they desire 
to depart. May the tender mercies of our 
God bring every one of you into this happy 
state ! And to those who are already in it I 
make my fourth remark. 

My Christian friends and brethren, you 
have seen the salvation of God, and are de- 
livered from the fear of death ; what return 
will you make unto the Lord for all the be- 
nefits which he hath done unto you ? Cer- 
tainly you will not forget the great things 
which he has already given you, and the 
greater things for which you are waiting ; 
and let these considerations constrain you to 
love this divine benefactor, and to serve him 
without fear, in an holy obedience, all the 



days of your lives. Give evidence"of the 
sincerity of your love, as your Lord requires, 
" If ye love me, keep my commandments :" 
Keep near to me in my ways, and walk close 
with me in mine ordinances, and you will 
not only thereby give proof of your love, 
but it will also grow exceedingly ;* and as it 
grows, your desire to depart will grow with 
it ; for when the love of Christ rules in the 
heart, you will be ready, yea, you will desire 
to depavt, and to be with him. This was 
the happy experience of our deceased bro- 
ther ; and let his example stir you up to 
great care and watchfulness in your holy 
walking heavenwards, that your faith may 
be always working by love as his did. Con- 
sider the graces of his life, and seek the 
same. Stop not short, but try to get be- 
yond him. Consider his death. Remem- 
ber with what perfect assurance he spake 
of his interest in Christ, and what strong 
proofs he gave of it ; and then pray that 
your faith may stand as unshaken as his was 
in that great time of trial. And, above all, 
forget not; what supported him in his last 
moments ; it was the clear view he had of 
his interest in the great salvation of God : 
" This, this," says he, " supports me," now 
at the approach of death ! Oh how precin 
ous did salvation then appear to him, when 
he found death coming disarmed, and w^ith- 
out a sting ! and it grew still more preci- 
ous, vA^hen, with his last breath, he declared, 
that death had no power to hurt the peace 
of God which ruled in his heart ; for even 
then he found salvation precious. You 
need not fear, my brethren, but this \\\\\ be 
your happy experience. God has given you 
the knowledge of salvation, by the remis- 
sion of your sins ; and as your faith grows 
exceedingly, salvation will grow exceeding- 
ly precious. The greater experience you 
hereby get of the love of Christ, the more 
will you be supported under the trials of 
life, and the better prepared for the tri- 
als of death. You will find, that the 
sweet sense of Christ's love in the heart 
will enable you to rejoice in suffering, and 
then you need not fear but it will enable 
you to rejoice in the sufferings of death. 
For who or what shall separate believers 
from the love of Christ ? Shall the troubles 
of life, or the pains of death ? shall tri- 
bulation, or distress, or persecution, or 
famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ? 
No ; in all these things we are more than 
conquerors through him that loved us. 
" More than conquerors !" O glorious war- 
fare ! in which believers not only conquer 
their enemies, but also reap innumerable 
and endless blessings to themselves. Even 
death is to them a real blessing ; they ex- 
pect it, they find it so, and they are more 
than conquerors over it, through him that 
loved them. 



MR. HERVEYS DEATH. 



683 



In the last place, I must put you all in 
remembrance, that neither the words of my 
text, nor what has been said upon them, 
will be of any benefit without a blessing 
from God. We cannot see his salvation 
with the eye of faith, nor experience the 
power of it, without the help of his grace. 
It is from him, who has done all for us, 
that all must be done in us ; and if some 
good impressions have been made this day 
upon any of your hearts, they will soon 
wear away, unless he preserve and strength- 
en them. If you desire at present to live 
Mr. Hervey's life, and to die his death, this 
desire will be ineffectual, unless it be carried 
into act by the mighty working of God's 
Spirit : He is all in all. P^or which rea- 
son we always begin and always end the 
hearing of the word with prayer : being as- 
sured, that if Paul should plant and Apollos 
should water, yet it would be to no purpose, 
unless God should give the increase. Oh ! 
that it may be abundant his day to his 
glory, and to the good of your souls. To 
that end let us pray : — 

O almighty and most merciful God, we 
humbly beseech thee to look down with 
mercy upon this congregation, and to bless 



the Avords which we have heard this day 
with our outwai'd ears. Make them the 
means of opening the blind eyes which have 
never seen their want of thy salvation. 
Lord, enlighten them, and help them to 
seek, until they find pardon and peace in 
thee. Be gracious to those who are now 
waiting upon thee, believing that, after they 
have seen thy salvation, they shall be able 
to depart in peace. O Lord God, manifest 
it unto them, and add this day to the num- 
ber of those who have seen and experienced 
it. We desire to glorify thee for every liv- 
ing Christian who knows in whom he has 
believed, and is ready and prepared to de- 
part in peace. We give all the praise to 
the riches of thy free grace. And we also 
bless thy holy name for all thy servants de- 
parted this life in thy faith and love ; be- 
seeching thee to give us grace so to follow 
their good examples, as they followed 
Christ ; that with them we may be partak- 
ers of thy heavenly kingdom. Grant this, 
O Father, for Jesus Christ's sake, our only 
mediator and advocate : to whom, with thee, 
and the Holy Spirit, three co-equal persons 
in one Jehovah, be honour, and glory, and 
blessing, and praise, for ever and ever. 
Amen, 



TRACTS 



ON 



SEVERAL INTERESTING SUBJECTS. 



PREFACE. 



The reader will see, from the date of the 
following lette]-, that it was written a con- 
siderable time ago. From which circunn- 
stance he will probably conclude, that it 
was not intended for publication. A con- 
jecture which is perfectly just. The pub- 
lication is owing to the Right Honourable 
personage, whose name, though it would 
grace and recommend his papers, the au- 
thor is not allowed to mention. Her Lady- 
ship's commands, which would admit of no 
excuse, drew the remarks from his pen ; 
and her desire, which with him will always 



have te force of a command, has brought 
them to the press. It will give him the 
highest pleasure, if, while he is paying the 
debt of obedience and gratitude to a noble 
friend, he may support the dignity of the 
divine word ; may raise its esteem, and pro- 
mote its study among men : because then 
he may reasonably hope to promote the 
best interests of his fellow- creatures, and 
subserve that grand designation of the A] 
mighty Majesty expressed by the Psalmist, 
" Thou hast magnified thy word above ail 
thy name." Psal. cxxxviii. 2. 



REMARKS 

ON 

LORD BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS 

ON THE 

STUDY AND USE OF HISTORY; 

so FAR AS THEY RELATE TO THE HISTORY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT, AND ESPECIALLY TO 
THE CASE OF NOAH DENOUNCING A CURSE UPON CANAAN : 

IN A 

LETTER TO A LADY OF QUALITY 

Merces prof undo, pidchrior evenit, Hor. 



Madam, — As you was pleased to^ ask 
my opinion concerning Lord Bolingbroke's 
Remarks on the Scriptural history, I have 
procured the book ; have perused what re- 
lates to the subject ; and submit to your 
judgment the thoughts which occured : as- 
suring your ladyship, that, though many 
might discuss the point much more clearly 
and satisfactorily than the person you favour- 
ed with your commands, yet no one can think 
it a greater honour to receive them, or a 
greater pleasure to execute them. 

" The Old Testament," it is alleged, " is 
no sufficient foundation for chronology from 
the beginning of time."* To enter upon 
the niceties of chronology, would, perhaps, 
be too difficult a research ; at least, it would 
require from your ladyship a more painful 
attention than 1 should choose to occasion 
by any of my letters. And I very frankly 
own, that I am by no means master of the 



* See Lord Bolingbroke's Letters on the Study and 
Use of History, vol. i. p. 93, 



argument, nor equal to the task. Others, 
I do not doubt, whose inclination has dis- 
posed, and whose genius has fitted them for 
this particular study, will undertake to de- 
cide the question, and give the honour where 
the honour is due. This, however, from a 
very scanty survey of the case, I can easily 
discern ; that the chronologer will nowhere 
find such memorable events for fixing his 
eras, nor such early and substantial aids for 
computing his time, as from the Mosaic 
monuments, and "the sacred annals; 

From the beginning of the world to the 
flood, we have an orderly gradation of time, 
marked out by the lives of ten eminent pa- 
triarchs. From the flood we may proceed 
to that glorious promise of a Redeemer, 
made to Abraham, " In thy seed shall all 
the nations of the earth be blessed." Gen. 
xxii. 18. From this promise, to the mira- 
culous deliverance of the Israelites from 
I Egyptian bondage. From thence, to the 
1 building of Soloincn's temple, which was 
1 an illustrious type of that divine Person 



C83 



KEMARKS ON 



" in wbom dwells all the fulness of the 
Godhead bodily." John ii. 21. From the 
building of this raagnilieent structure, to 
the demolition of it by the Babylonian 
monarch. From thence, to the conquest of 
Babylon by Cyrus the Persian. And from 
the reign of Cyrus, to that grand, that most 
important of all transactions, the death of 
Messiah the Prince ; when he *' finished 
the transgression, and made an end of sins, 
and made reconciliation for iniquity, and 
brought in everlasting righteousness." Dan. 
ix. 24. 

The intermediate space between each of 
these very distinguished periods, may, I be- 
lieve, be ascertained, to a considerable de- 
gree of exactness, from the sacred volumes. 
If so, this will constitute a more compre- 
hensive and perfect system of chronology, 
than can be derived from the Olympiads of 
the Grecians, or the Hegira of the Maho- 
metans ; from the Persian, the Roman, or 
any other epocha. 

But the histoiy of the Old Testament is 
much more necessary to be known, and 
much more easy to be understood. Yet 
this, my lord suggests, (p. 83,) is not a 
complete history of the first ages. We al- 
low the suggestion. It neither is, nor has 
materials for, a complete universal history. 
It pretends to nothing more than to relate 
the affairs of one particular family ; in 
which the church of God was to subsist, 
and from which the Saviour of men was to 
spring. Nevertheless, so many collateral 
incidents are touched upon, so many branch- 
es of this main stream are occasionally pur- 
sued, as present us with a collection of the 
most ancient, ths most cmious, and most 
instructive facts. 

Here we are brought acquainted with 
the creation of the world, and the formation 
of man. The origin of evil, both natural 
and moral, is discovered in the fall of our 
first parents ; and the displeasure of God 
against sin is manifested by the waters of 
a general deluge. Here we see the preser- 
vation of our species in the ark, and repeo- 
pling of the earth by Noah ; the invention 
of polite arts, Gen. iv- 21, and the rise of 
useful manufactures. Gen. iv. 20, 22 ; the 
establishment of nations, and the founders 
of their principal kingdoms.* Not to add, 
that these records are the royal archives in 
which the charter of our sovereignty over 
the creatures is preserved. Gen. i. 28, and 
the original draught of the covenant of 
grace deposited, Gen. iii. 15. Here, then. 



* Genesis, chap. x. Which, though but little ad- 
wrted to, is the noblest piece of geographical anti- 
quity extant in the world. It shews us how the 
whole earth, from the three sons of Noah, was over- 
spread, inhabited, and denominated. It discovers 
the true source of the several nations about which 
profane authors either say nothing at all, or else say 
what is chimerical, precarious, false. 



may we not challenge any or all the books 
written in every language under heaven ? 
What memoirs go so far back into antiqui- 
ty ? what memoirs are so interesting to ail 
mankind ? Had they been transmitted to 
us by any Grecian or Roman author, how 
would they have been admired and valued ! 
how lavishly, and indeed how justly prais- 
ed! 

Another excellency of these writings 
(and peculiar to these alone) is, that they 
not only reach backward, as far as the very 
birth of things, but proceed forwards, even 
into the remotest futurity. They foretold 
the ruin of Babylon, Isa. xiii. 1 9, &c. xvi. 
23, 24, the noblest, the best fortified, and 
most commodiously situated metropolis in 
the universe ; who said, and no one would 
have suspected it to be a vain boast, " I 
shall be a lady for ever," Isa. xlvii. 7. Yet 
the Scriptures pronounced her utter des- 
truction, Isa. xiii. 19, 20, &c. xvi. 23, 24. 
and specified the person who shoidd bring 
about this great catastrophe. They point- 
ed out the place of his abode, Isa. xlvi. 11, 
they described him by several distinguishing 
circumstances ;* they particularized the 
genius of his warlike enterprises if they 
mentioned his very name, Isa. xliv. 28, xlv. 
1,— all this, some hundreds of years before 
the event took place, or the conqueror was 
born. 

They foretold the rejection and calami- 
ties of the disobedient Jews, who are the 
chief subject of their history, (and this 
surely could not be with a view to aggran- 
dize their nation, or to answer any sinister 
design:) that they shoidd be subdued by 
their enemies, lose the favour of their God, 
and the possession of their native land ; yet 
not be settled, as a colony, in some particu- 
lar tract of the victor's dominions, but be 
scattered abroad under the whole heavens, 
Deut. xxviii. 64. Amos. ix. 9. This was 
threatened by their Jehovah, this is record- 
ed in their books, and this is, even now, so 
remarkably fulfilled, as to be a fact of the 
utmost notoriety. Go into the most po- 
lite or most barbarous countries, the nearest 
or most distant parts of the world ; you will 
everywhere find living evidences of this 
scriptural prediction. 

The Scriptures speak in the most explicit 
and peremptory terms, with regard to the re- 
storation of the .Tews,Ezek. xi. 17; Amosix. 
14, 15. Zech. xiv. 10, 11. This restoration 



* That he s^^oii Id besiege and take the most im-' 
pregnable of cities, Isa. xlv. f, 2. That he should en- 
rich himself with immense spoils, Isa. xlv. 3. That he 
should not be a tyrant, but a shepherd to the captive 
Jews; should release them, from their captivity; and 
both permit and promote the rebuilding of their tem- 
ple, Isa. xliv. 28. 

t He is called a ravenous bird, Isa. xlvi. il, denot- 
ing his speed, activity, and great expedition : Which 
were more like the flight of a swift-winged bird ths i 
the march of an army, with all its encumbrances. 



BOLINGBROKE-S LETTERS. 



689 



could not be effected, at least coidd not be 
observed, if theyliad been blended and incor- 
porated with the inhabitants of other climes. 
Therefore to be a presumptive proof of its 
accomplishment, and to render it, when ac- ! 
complished, the most obsei'vable of all re- | 
volutions, they have subsisted a distinct ' 
people, amidst all the regions whether they 
have been driven. A most singular and 
astonishing circumstance ! How soon were 
the Danes, the Saxons, and the Normans, 
mingled with the Britons ! and how entirely 
are they all melted dov/n and lost among the 
natives of our isle ! But the Jews, like a 
drop of oil on the water, have continued a 
separate community ; and though dispersed 
into all nations, are not, through the long 
course of seventeen hundred years, embo- 
died with any. This is such a peculiarity 
in the dispensations of Providence, as I can 
never sufficiently admire ; and is, I think, 
an undeniable voucher to the authenticity 
of the Scriptures ; held forth, as it were 
by the hand of Omnipotence, in the sight 
of all the world. 

Such events the ancient Scriptures fore- 
tell, and such facts they relate ! facts of in- 
comparable grandeur, and events of the 
greatest importance. All which are deli- 
vered in such a majestic simplicity of style, 
as nothing can equal but their precise vera- 
city. Yet these books Lord Bolingbroke 
disparages, and at the same time extols the 
writings of Tacitus. " The remains of 
Tacitus," he tells us, "are precious re- 
mains," p. 161. Those of the holy Scrip- 
ture " are dark and imperfect accounts," 
p. 108. In Tacitus, " history preserves 
her integrity and her lustre," p. 161. In 
the holy Scripture, instead of history you 
have " an heap of fables ; which can pretend 
to nothing but some inscrutable truths, and 
therefore useless to mankind," p. 121, 
Every line of Tacitus has weight, p. 161, 
and cannot be mentioned without admira- 
tion ; whereas the sacred history is put up- 
on a level with the extravagancies of Ama- 
dis of Gaul, p. 121, and "can never gain 
suilicient credit from any reasonable man," 
p. 118. 

" Who is this uncircumcised Philistine 
(?aid David), that he should defy the armies 
of the living God ?" 1 Sara. xvii. 26. And 
who is this Taoitiis, would I ask, this dar- 
ling author, that he should be raised to the 
skies, while the divine historians are trodden 
to the dust? If your ■ ladyship is unac- 
quainted with his character, let me give it 
in the words of a most elegant and masterly 
critic. " Having considered the principal 
qualities of Tacitus as a writer and an his- 
torian, I cannot help thinking, that there is 
a false sublime and aftectation in his descrip- 
tions ; a scurrility and satirical vein, with 
too epigraaimatical a conciseness, in his 



wit ; an acuteness but too speculative, and 
a policy over refined, in his observations; 
a malignant and ill-natured turn in his cha- 
racters ; a philosophy too abstracted and 
elevated in his reasonings, and a vanity in 
his learning. In short, that he is in anti- 
quity a pedant ; in the philosophy of nature 
a sceptic ; in morals loose ; in description 
gaudy and pompons ; in politics subdolous, 
refined and knavish."* 

Yet this is the writer that must be 
placed in such great sup>eriority to Moses, 
Joshua, and Samuel; this the history, (rise 
criticism, and resent the indignity !) that is 
spoken of with applause and rapture, even 
while the sacred aimals are treated with 
disrespect and obloquy. 

I might recount the glorious privileges 
exhibited in this blessed book ; the inesti- 
mable promises made to the righteous ; 
the tenderly compassionate invitations ad- 
dressed to sinners ; the refined and exalted 
displays of morality ; with many other noble 
particulars, which it is the prerogative of 
Scripture to contain, the wisdom of man- 
kind to believe, and the only felicity of our 
nature to be interested in them, and in- 
fluenced by them. 

But my lord is ready to agree on these 
topics. He expresses, in some places at least, 
no dislike of the doctrinal and prophetical 
parts. Nay, he has contrived an expedient 
to rescue them from the dishonour which 
he would bring upon the historical. , He al- 
lows the former to be written under the in- 
spiration of the holy and unerring Spirit 
the latter, he affirms, are " purely human, 
and therefore fallible," p. 96. Proceeding 
upon this supposition, he scruples not to re- 
present them as the divices of craft, or the 
blunders of ignorance.-f- 

I must beg leave to observe, that such a 
distinction is without the least ground of re- 
ality to support it ; and would, if admitted, 
be an effectual method to subvert the whole 
of revelation ; For, if it could be proved, 
that the authors of this history were so 
weak as to fall into palpable errors, where 
a common degree of sagacity would have 
secured them from mistaking ; or if they 
were so treacherous as to palm upon the 
world a multiplicity of forgeries ; so impious 
as to ascribe their falsehoods to the God of 
truth ; this would at once ruin their cha- 
racter as men, and destroy their credit as 
writers. At this rate, who could depend 
upon their testimony in any point what- 
ever? 

Besides, many of the doctrinal parts of 



* Hunter's Observations on Tacitus. 

t That this is no aggravated imputation, every at- 
tentive reader of his lordship's letters will easily per- 
ceive; and I l>eiieve it will appear too plauily'tVom 
the passages to be produced in the ixsqual oftiiis e]rii. 
tie. 

2 Y 



000 



REMARKS ON 



scripture refer to, and are derived from the 
historical. If the latter were a parcel of 
impositions and mistakes, what degree of 
veracity or dignity could the former claim ? 
If the foundation is a bubble, how can the 
superstructure stand ? Whetherhis lordship, 
by such a specious pretence of serving the 
interests of true religion, intended secretly 
to undermine it, I will not presume to say ; 
but this I may venture to declare, that his 
scheme is very shrewdly calculated to com- 
pass such an end. Grant what his lordship 
asks ; and what all the enemies of Chris- 
tianity wish will undoubtedly follow. 

Farther, madam, such a distinction is con- 
trary to the express declaration of the New 
Testament ; which positively asserts, that " all 
Scripture is given by inspiration of God," 2 
Tim. iii. 16. Our blessed Lord, who was very 
well qualified to discern truth, and equally 
zealous to maintam it, makes no such differ- 
ence. He says in general, " Search the Scrip- 
tures," John V. 39 ; the whole collection of sa- 
cred writings. " Whatsoever things," adds St. 
Paul, not some particular passages only, but 
" Whatsoever things were written aforetime, 
were written for our learning," Rom. xv. 4, 
and must therefore have been under such a 
divine superintendency as secured them from 
all possibility of error ; otherwise they might 
be written, not for our learning, but for our 
deception. So that St. Paul's direction is 
as contrary to Lord Bolingbroke's distinc- 
tion, as the east is opposite to the west. 
We may as soon bring these two points of 
the hemisphere together, as reconcile his 
lordship's refinements with the apostle's re- 
ligion. 

I believe it will be equally difficult to ren- 
der his lordship consistent with himself. 
His concession overthrows his distinction. 
Admitting the doctrinal parts of the Scrip- 
ture to be true, the veracity of the histori- 
cal is, by necessary consequence, and beyond 
all contradiction, established. They are in- 
dissolubly connected; they mutually bear on, 
and mutually sustain each other ; and must 
stand or fall together. They are like an 
arch most exactly finished, not a stone of 
which can be taken away without discon- 
certing the whole structure ; and like an 
arch firmly founded, as well as correctly 
fitiished, the more they are pressed, the 
stronger they will appear. 

My Lord says indeed — "That Christ came 
not to consecrate all the written traditions of 
the Jews," p. 94. He says it, but where or 
how does he prove it ? By written tradi- 
tions of the Jews, T suppose, we are to un- 
derstand all the Hebrew Scriptures. The 
drift of the discourse leads us to this sense. 
Now, it is apparent that our Saviour has 
actually consecrated, has set the seal of au- 
thenticity and infallibility to the law of Moses, 
to the Psalms, and to the Prophets, Luke 



xxiv. 44. By appealing to ihcm as decisive, 
and by allowing them to be predictive, he 
has acknowledged them to be divinely in- 
spired, to be unquestionably true. And a 
very little acquaintance with Jewish an- 
tiquities will inform us, that in these three 
partitions the whole body of the Hebrew 
Scriptures is comprehended. What then 
becomes of his lordship's assertion ? or to 
whose discredit does it tend ? — that of the 
Jewish Scriptures, or that of his own know- 
ledge? 

1 must desire your ladyship to take no- 
tice of the expression in this passage. It 
is somewhat singular, and deserves a parti- 
cular regard. Written traditions is the 
phrase. Every one knows that we explode, 
and very justly, those superstitious whim- 
sies of the Jews which j)ass under the de- 
nomination of traditions. Yet my lord 
thinks proper to call the histories of the 
Old Testament by this disreputable name ; 
only he admits one difference, that whereas 
the former were transmitted by strength of 
memory, the latter are committed to writ- 
ing. But is this an honest representation ? 
is this free from all malignant disguise ? 

Let us put the matter to the following 
trial. The word legend, when applied to 
any modern story, raises the same contemp- 
tible and absurd idea as the word tradition 
excites, when applied to any Jewish notion. 
Would my lord, or would his friends think, 
that due honour or common justice was 
done to his " Sketch of the History and 
State of Europe," if it should be styled in 
our public papers " Lord Bolingbroke's 
written Legends ?" The impiopriety and 
the malevolence of such a title would be 
undeniable and odious ; Who then can vin- 
dicate the propriety of his lordship's lan- 
guage, or clear it from being a most injuri- 
ous misrepresentation of the sacred records, 
which, however some of the facts might 
come down in a traditionary channel to the 
writers, by passing through their hands re- 
ceive the stamp of undoubted certainty, and 
are no longer traditions, but oracles. 

I wish this had been the only instance of 
artifice and imposition used in the letters 
under examination. Why are so many idle 
ta?les and scandalous stories raked together 
and exposed to view? (See pages 85, 86, 
88, 102, 108, 109.) Why ? but to put a 
cheat upon the inattentive reader, and de- 
preciate the dignity of the divine word ? de- 
preciate it much in the same manner as its 
most illustrious object and author was for- 
merly dishonoured, not only by the false 
accusations with which he was charged, but 
also by the infamous company with whom 
he was numbered. Did my lord imagine, 
that these tales were really believed even 
by the warmest advocates for holy writ? No : 
he must know in his conscience that they 



BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS. 



691 



never were received by the generality of di-j 
vines, neither are mentioned by authors of 
discernment, unless it be to confute and re- 
ject them. However, be they credited or 
not, it was apprehended they might serve a 
purpose : But whether it be the purpose of 
integrity, impartiality, and truth, I leave to 
the determination of others. 

Still it is urged. That these Scriptures 
are full of additions, interpolations, and 
transpositions," p. 95, 96. That they are 
full of additions, is more easily asserted than 
evinced. J can find but one instance spe- 
cified by his lordship, which is the account 
"of the death and sepulture of Moses, with 
a sort of funeral panegyric," (p. 102,) re- 
corded in the last chapter of Deuteronomy. 
Here it is taken for granted that we are re- 
duced to a terrible dilemma — either to own 
that this paragraph was written by Moses 
himself, and then we may expect to hear of 
impossibility and absurdity ; or else, that 
it is all supposititious, and then the Scrip- 
tui'es must have passed through tampering 
lingers and suffeied adulteration. But 
suppose this small appendix was made 
by Joshua, a man whose mind was il- 
luminated and his hand guided by the 
Spirit of the Most High, does such an ad- 
dition deserve to be branded with an ig- 
nomitiious, or even brought into disesteem 
by a suspicious character ? Or what if 
some other prophet whose name is unknown 
superadded this valuable anecdote ? Is the 
concealment of the penman's name sufficient 
to impeach the genuineness, or invalidate 
the authority of the passage ? especially 
since it has been approved by other inspired 
writers, and received the imprimatui e of the 
Holy Ghost? 1 know not who is the printer 
of his lordship's two volumes ; yet, though 
ignorant of this circumsttuics, for other very 
satisfactory reasons, i have no doubt Init 
they are the genuine produotions of his pen. 

My lord would have done well to consi- 
der, whether it was a probable or a practi- 
cable thing to interpolate a set of books, which 
were studied with so much accuracy, and 
kept with so much vigilance ; the number 
of whose verses, especially in the Penta- 
teuch, was computed, and the arrangement of 
the very letters known : Whether, after the 
coming of Christ, the jealous eye which the 
Jews and Christians had on each other was 
not an insurmountable bar against any inno- 
vations or material alterations. As for 
transpositions, they are used by the most 
approved historians. When used with judg- 
ment, they redound to the reputation of the 
writer, and increase the pleasure of the read- 
er. And would his lordship make that a 
disapragement of the sacred narrative, 
\\ hich is a recommendation of any ordinary 
composition ? 

But my lore, iir^agines that he has found 



} out a substantial reason' for the aforemen- 
tioned distinction — has detected such im- 
proprieties in the sacred narrative as " con- 
tradict all our notions of order and of jus- 
tice," p. 110. He produces, by way of spe- 
cimen, the case of Noah denouncing a curse 
upon Canaan. This, it seems, is the capi- 
tal absurdity, this the glaring error, which he 
concludes is sufficient to uncanonize the 
histories of the Old Testament, and degrade 
their writers from tlie class of inspiration. 
This, therefore, if your ladyship pleases, we 
will examine a little more particularly. 

The charge in general, is thus expressed : 
" One is tempted to think that the patri- 
arch was still drunk, and that no man in his 
senses could hold such language, or pass 
such a sentence." Was I at leisure to cri- 
ticise upon words, I should be tempted to 
observe, that the diction, " no man could 
hold such language," may be French, but it 
is scaicely English. However, from the 
expression, I pass to the sentiment. This, 
for candour and solidity, is much like the 
reflection of the Jews on the memorable 
day of Pentecost. When the apostles ad- 
dressed the inhabitants of various countries 
each in his native tongue, some of their 
hearers ascribed this miraculous ability — to 
what ? we are amazed when we read — to 
the intoxicating power of wine. Acts ii. 13. 
Strange ! that excessive drinking, which in- 
capacitates other people for talking common 
sense, should enable the disciples of Christ 
to speak all kinds of languages ! Is it not 
equally strange, that a drunken disorder 
should enable the patriarch to deliver pro- 
phecies, and foretell future events ! which 
(as I hope to prove) was the real import of 
the speech. 

Perhaps this curse may seem to be the 
effect, if not of disorderly indulgence, yet 
of intem{)erate passion. And how incom- 
patible is this with the character of a preach- 
er of righteousness ! Siu'ely Noah should 
not have been so forward to call for the 
thunderbolts of vengeance. Any benevo- 
lent man, much more a pious progenitor, 
would rather have deprecated the blow. 
I wonder his lordship did not start this ob- 
jection, which would have been much more 
plausible, and much less shocking. To this, 
in case it had been started, we might reply. 
That Noah acted as the bracle of God. This, 
and many other such passages, which seem 
to be imprecations, are really predictions. 
Holy men spoke as they were influenced by 
the Spirit, and uttered not the suggestions 
of their own minds, but the will of Almighty 
God ; which inclines me to think it might 
be no less proper, and much more suitable 
to the prophetic style, if we translated 
such passages as indicatives, rather than im- 
peratives ; making them declaratory of what 
is decreed in the cabinet of heaven, and wiU 



692 



REMAKKS ON 



as certainly take place as if it had already 
existed. Cursed is, rather than cursed be 
Canaan. Blessed of the Lord is, instead of 
be his land, Deut. xxxiii. 13. Thus, Isaiah 
foretelhng the incarnation of that wonderful 
and adorable Person, whom he styles the 
Mighty God, says. To us a child is born, 
Isa. ix. 6 ; so " calling the things that are 
not, as though they were." Such a man- 
ner of speaking would remove, from this 
particular passage, all that sounds harsh, 
or seems uncharitable ; and would, in the 
general, impart an unequalled majesty* to 
the language of Scripture. 

It was God then, and not man, from whom 
this avenging sentence came. And God, 
to shew his utter detestation of all iniqui- 
ty, to manifest his singular delight in all 
virtue, frequently takes occasion to denounce 
vengeance, or promise happiness, when some 
notorious evil is committed, or some laud- 
able good performed. And was there not 
a most notorious evil committed here ? 
*' Charity," eays the apostle, " covereth all 
things ;"f draws a veil over the various in 
firmities of every common neighbour. But 
this man (man shall I say, rather monster of 
ingratitude) sees the shame of a father, an 
aged father, a pious father, Levit. xix. .32 ; 
and, instead of concealing, " when he com- 
eth forth, he telleth it." Fools they are, 
abandoned profligates, that " make a mock 
at sin." What name then can be bad 
enough for a profane and unnatural wretch, 
who makes sport with a parent's folly, a 
parent's sinfulness, a parent's misery ? Sure- 
ly this was a most flagrant violation of filial 
reverence, filial love, and filial duty ;t which 
not only implied so many particular offences, 
each attended with its respective guilt, but 
indicated the offender to be destitute of all 
piety. For, to argue in the apostle's strain, 
how could this man venerate a Father in 
heaven, whom he had not seen, if he was so 
irreverent to a father on earth, whom he 
had seen ? 

But supposing the turpitude and immoral- 
ity of the action to be very enormous, and such 
as deserved some signal vengeance ; the ven- 
geance, it is objected, was misapplied: " For 
Ham alone offended; Canaan was innocent:" 



* Blessed be, is what an holy person might say, 
and comprehends no more than 'a supplicatory bene- 
diction. Blessed is, suits; only the mouth of a pro- 
phet, and implies an authoritative blessing. 

t 1 Cor. xiii. 7. This is one article in the finest 
display of social virtue that ever was exhibited to 
the world; and should, I think, be translated (not 
beareth, but) covereth or concealeth all things. The 
natural import of the word justifies, and the context 
evidently requires, this sense. Otherwise the first 
and last clauses of the verse will coincide in their 
meaning, or rather make an unmeaning tautology. 

We may see from that awful threatening, Prov. 
XXX. 17, with what extreme detestation the most ho- 
ly God resents such an unnatural behaviour : " The 
eye that mockefh at his father, and despiseth to obey 
his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out. 
and the young eagle shall eat it." 



My lord is not sure that Canaan was inno- 
cent, though he asserts it pretty confidently. 
The contrary notion has obtained among 
the Jews. They apprehended that Canaan 
was first in the transgression, and, instead 
of being reproved, was imitated by his fa- 
ther. Bishop Patrick, Mr. Poole, and 
other eminefit commentators, think this to 
be no improbable opinion. 

If his lordship was unacquainted with the 
Hebrew, he will scarcely be thought quali* 
fied to pronounce so peremptorily concern- 
ing a case related in that language. If he 
was acquainted with the original, he acts 
somewhat unfairly in saying, " This notiori 
is not only without, but against the express 
authority of the text," (p. 111.) For he 
must know that it receives some counte^* 
nance even from the text itself. I would 
by no means offend your ladyship's eyes 
with any rugged figures or uncouth quota- 
tions. But you may venture to believe me, 
when I assure you, that the most exact 
translation of ver. 24 is, Noah " knew what 
his son had done to him, the or that little 
one." Ham could not so properly be styled 
the little one, since he was the middlemost, 
and is always placed in that order, Shem, 
Ham, and Japheth. But the description 
agrees perfectly well with Canaan, the 
grandson of Noah ; and it was customary 
among the Jews to call the grandchildren 
the sons of their grandfather. Gen. xxix. 
5 ; 1 Chron. i. 17. 

Canaan, it is added, " was alone cursed." 
The words would run smoother if transposed 
in this manner, Canaan alone was cursed. 
As for the fact, that wants some better 
confirmation than my lord's bare assertion. 
To me it is evident, that Ham was not ex- 
empted from the curse. What ! if it did 
not fall upon him in person, yet to be pun- 
ished in his offspring, must be very affect- 
ing, and no less afflicting. 

But hold ; my lord has forestalled us in 
this reply. Instead of waiting for it, or ac- 
quiescing in it, he plays it upon us with an 
air of triumph. " Will it be said," this 
has been said, "that Ham was punished in 
his posterity," (p. 111.) It has, and, with 
his lordship's leave, I will venture to say it 
again. Nor should I, in case Lord Boling- 
broke was ahve, have went farther than his 
own breast for a proof of my assertion. 
Would he, with all his exalted ideas of li- 
berty, have thought it no punishment on 
himself, provided he had been the father of 
children, to have heard them doomed to a 
state of slavery, nay, to be, as he very right- 
ly explains the sacred phrase, " the vilest 
and worst of slaves ?" especially if, like 
Ham, he was appointed, in the course of 
providence, to be the father of several na- 
tions ; and if the doom had been pronounc- 
ed by a person, of whose prophetic spirit 



BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS. 



693 



tliere was so incontestible an evidence asi 
the universal inundation was of Noah's? 

Since my lord has no communication 
with us or our affairs, I appeal to any, to 
every parental heart. Let nature, fond, 
compassionate, yearning nature, speak, 
whether the infliction of such a penalty on 
the son (perhaps a favourite son, like Jo- 
seph,) the son's sons, and the latest posteri- 
ty, whether this be not properly a punish- 
ment of the father ? whether the father must 
not feel by anticipation, what his wretched 
progeny must endure in reality? Nature 
once spoke to such a query, and this was 
her language ; " O my son Absalom ! my 
son, my son Absalom ! would God I had 
died for thee ! O Absalom, my son, my 
son !" 2 Samuel xviii. 33. Did history 
ever record, or poetry ever invent, so me- 
lancholy a moan ? It breathes the very 
soul of wo, and exemplifies the sentiment 
which his lordship would explode. 

David, it is plain, was punished in the 
calamitous exit of this young prince, in the 
disasters sustained, and the disorders com- 
mitted, by hisjother children, 2 Samuel xii. 
]0. Adam thought himself punished in the 
ruin which he brought upon the human 
race, and laments it, in the most pathetic 
terms, as the severest distress attending his 
apostasy. One wiser than Adam, one 
greater than David, whose judgment is al- 
ways according to truth, is evidently of the 
same opinion ; and, for that reason, has 
formed the sanction of a most sacred com- 
mandment upon this very principle ; " He 
will visit the iniquities of the fathers upon 
the children, unto the third and fourth gen- 
eration of them that hate him." What God 
has so expressly threatened, he has actually 
done ; not on this only, but on various other 
emergencies. Thus Esau suffered in his 
descendants,* Jehu in his family, Hosea i. 
4, and Hezekiah in his children, Isaiah 
xxxix. 6, 7 ; who all, like the Canaanites, 
were children of their father's disobedience, 
inheritors of their sin as well as of their 
name. But this would anticipate the reply 
to another objection. 

Where is the equity of cursing a people 
that are yet unborn ? Does not this " con- 
tradict all our notions of order and of jus- 
tice ?" It may be contrary to our notions, 
or at least it would be unjustifiable in our 
practice ; but it is quite otherwise with re- 
gard to the all-seeing God. Is it not 
agreeable to the strictest rules of justice for 
a magistrate, when he has heard the wit- 
nesses, summed tip the evidence, and found 
the prisoner guilty ; is it not agreeable to 
the strictest rules of justice to pass sentence 



* Compare Gen. xxvii. 40, with 2 Sam. viii. 14. 
" Thou shalt serve thy brother ;" here is the sen- 
tence. "All they of Edom became David's ser- 
vants ;" here its execution. 



upon such a criminal ? The question can 
admit of no doubt. Yet it is equally cer- 
tain, that this was the very case with refer- 
ence to the supreme Judge, and those sin- 
ners the Canaanites. They practised the 
grossest and most inhuman idolatries, they 
abandoned themselves to the most horrid 
immoralities, such as violated nature, con- 
founded all order, and such as it would be 
shocking even to mention. Lev. xviii. 24. 
Now all these provoking crimes were pre- 
sent to the view of him by whose inspiration 
Noah spake. He saw them with the same 
circumstantial exactness as if they had been 
already perpetrated. Let us take these 
very important particulars into considera- 
tion, the excessive wickedness of those na - 
tions, and the all-foreseeing discernment of 
Jehovah, aijd then who will dare to insin- 
uate that the everlasting Sovereign acted 
unjustly; that he launched the lightnings 
of his indignation in an arbitrary manner, 
or upon an innocent people ? Who will be 
so precipitate as to affirm with my lord, 
that " no other writer but a Jew could im- 
pute to the economy of divine Providence 
the accomplishment of such a prediction, 
nor make the Supreme Being the executor 
of such a curse?" P. 110. 

The former of those circumstances will 
appear in a proper light, what his lordship 
calls, " cruelties committed by Joshua in 
the conquest of the Canaanites." It will 
make them appear to be acts of righteous 
vengeance ; a much needed and most de- 
sirable extirpation of a pestilent people ; 
altogether as serviceable to the public as it 
was formerly to destroy the wolves from 
our island, or as it is at present to deliver 
over some flagitious malefactors to the sen- 
tence of the law. Yet the execution of this 
vengeance was delayed year after year, cen- 
tury after century. The seed of Abraham, 
for several ages, were not permitted to enter 
upon the possession of their destined inher- 
itance, because " the iniquity of the Amor- 
ites," which was the cause of their exter- 
mination, " was not yet full," Gen. xv. 16. 
Does it then bespeak the man of integrity 
to represent those proceedings of Joshua 
under the abhorred image of cruelties, 
which were acts of a justice exemplary, 
salutary, and greatly to be revered ? Is it 
becoming an honest inquirer after truth to 
suggest, without the least shadow of proof, 
a selfish and malignant reason for the de- 
struction of the Canaanites ; when a rea- 
son, the most equitable in its nature, the 
most beneficial in its consequences, is ex- 
pressly and repeatedly assigned by the sa- 
cred historian ?* This I refer to your la- 

* Gen. XV. 16. Deut. ix. 5. " For the wickedness 
of these nations, the Lord thy God doth drive thera 
out from before thee." See also Lev. xviii. 25, 
where the sacred writer describes their execrable and 
unparalleled vileness by one of the strongest and 



694 



REMARKS ON 



dyship's decision, who, I am sure, will not 
err on the uncharitable extreme, yet I be- 
lieve will find it difficult, with all your 
good nature, to acquit the author of these 
Letters from the charge of disingenuity. 

May I not add, this way of foretelling, 
yet respiting the punishment, is gracious 
both in itself and in its consequences ? In 
itself; because a reprieve is always reckon- 
ed an alleviation of the sentence, even 
though it be not the forerunner of a par- 
don. In its consequences ; because it af- 
forded large space for recollection, and 
should have awakened the offenders to a 
sense of their guilt. It should have incited 
them to use all possible diligence to avert 
the doom, both by a personal reformation, 
and by educating their families religiously. 
Why did they not act as King Ahab acted, 
(1 Kings xxi. 27, 29;) and argue as the 
men of jNineveh argued, (Jonah iii. 9,) in 
a following age, but on a like occasion ? 
Instead of this, instead of betaking them- 
selves to consideration and prayer, to re- 
pentance and amendment, they ran to the 
same, to greater excess of ungodhness. 

So that these people, being evidently in- 
heritors of their father's sinful nature, and 
obstinately persisting in their father's sinful 
ways, were most deservedly partakers of 
his curse. And though God is that incon- 
trollable Sovereign, " who giveth not," is 
under no obligation to give, " account of 
any of his matters," Job xxxiii. 13; though 
he often has reasons for his dispensations, 
absolutely unsearchable by any mortal ; 
yet here he is clearly vindicated even before 
men, even before the sinners themselves. 
They themselves must confess the justice 
of tiieir doom ; and own, that " God hath 
done righteously, but they have done wick- 
edly ;" that God has showed all long-suf- 
fering, and given full warning before the 
blow fell, whereas they, notwithstanding 
this forbearance and this admonition, have 
continued incorrigible, and without any 
other change but that of becoming more con- 
summately vile. 

Agreeably to all this, and conformably 
to the most acknowledged rules of equity, 
it is declared by the sacred historian, that 
the Amorites, the descendants of Canaan, 
suffered not till they had filled up the mea- 
sure of their iniquities. Gen. xv. 16 ; their 
own as well as their father's. All which, 
I should imagine, is sufficient, not only to 
justify the counsels, but to glorify the judg- 
ments of the great Jehovah ; sufficient also 
to satisfy any inquirer who is (as my lord 
very handsomely expresses himself) "can- 



boldest figures imaginable. So vile they were that 
the very country loathed them, and was weary of 
bearing them : " The land itself vorniteth out ha in- 
habitants." 



did, but not implicit ; willing to be inform- 
ed, yet curious to examine." 

My lord's curiosity to examine, shall I 
say ? or his -esolution to l)e dissatisfied, 
proceeds still farther. Accordingly he adds, 
" Who does not see that the curse and 
the punishment in this case fell on Canaan 
and his posterity, exclusively of the rest of 
the posterity of Ham ?" p. 1 10, 1 1 2. The 
particle of, so frequently repeated in a sin- 
gle sentence, can hardly be admired as an 
elegance* of speech. But taking no more 
notice of such little blemishes, I shall consi- 
der the weight, not the pohsh of his lordship's 
arguments. As for this argument, I verily 
think, when laid in the balance of impartiality 
and candour, it will be found wanting.- For, 
admitting the objection in its full scope, what 
follows ? Why, that the righteous God par- 
doneth some criminals, when he might justly 
punish all. And if it should have pleased the 
supreme Judge to repeal the sentence, and 
remit the penalty, with regard to some of- 
fenders, who shall arraign his conduct ? who 
shall censure his providence ? To exercise 
mercy is his great prerogative ; an act not 
of debt, but of royal bounty, which he ex- 
ercises when and to whom it seemeth good 
in his sight : " i will have mercy on whom 
I will have mercy," Rom. ix. 16, is his high 
and holy resolve. 

I might therefore answer his lordship's 
question by asking another, which I might 
propose in the plain but solemn words of 
our Lord .Jesus Christ : "If these are 
spared, while those are punished, what is 
that to thee ? Is thine eye evil because God 
is good ?" But I shall rather reply to the 
objection by denying the fact.. The punish- 
ment was not confined to Canaan and his 
posterity. It reached the other descendants 
of Ham ; Misraim himself, the father of the 
Egyptians (as will be shown in a proper 
place) not excepted. Canaan, it is true, is 
particularly mentioned ; because he w^as (as 
from this very circumstance is extremely 
probable) an accomplicef with Ham in the 
breach of filial duty ; because this branch 
of the family was more than ordinarily cor- 
rupt, nay, beyond measure vicious ; because 
the Carmanites were, in the first place, and 
in the fullest niarmer, to feel the effects of 
the curse : And Moses, being charged with 



* This, and one or two preceding remarks of the 
same nature, are scarcely worth our notice, were it 
not to put a query upon the popular notion, that his 
lordship's style is so correct, elegant and noble, as to 
be a standard for fine writing. It cannot, in ray ap- 
prehension, justly claim this honour. 

t This is rendered still more credible, by that par- 
ticularity of style which the Scripture uses in speak- 
ing of Ham. Ham the father of Canaan, Gen. ix. 
1«, 22. Why of Canaan so especially ? Had he no 
other children, no other sons ? Several other. But 
tliis distinction seems to be a brand of infamy set 
! v.povs the offender; and intimalts, that he who was 
I fjii'ier of Canaan by biood, was his partner, was his 
1 bioi.hfr in iiiiquuy. 



BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS. 



095 



a commission to execute the vengeance on 
tins people only, had no occasion to concern 
himself with any other. Just as the sheriff 
of a county, demanding the body of a con- 
demned malefactor, produces the dead- war- 
rant for his execution, without intermed- 
dling, or thinking himself under any neces- 
sity to intermeddle with the other prisoners 
in the jail. This leads me to a new, and, 
if I judge right, by far the most important 
inquiry, namely, whether the curse was exe- 
cuted as well as pronounced ? 

As I hasten to the proof of this particu- 
lar, my lord embarrasses and retards me 
with a fresh obstacle. He himself has 
thought proper to inform us, " why the pos- 
terity of Canaan was to be deemed an ac- 
cursed race." But he lets the world know 
" it is not so easy to account why the poste- 
rity of the righteous Shem, that great ex- 
ample of filial reverence, became slaves to 
another branch of the family of Ham during 
more than fourscore years," p. 112. I am 
by no means convinced that the point pro- 
posed enters into the merits of our cause. 
Should the reasons for this dispensation re- 
main an impenetrable secret, yet, if we clear 
up the propriety, and demonsti-ate the equi- 
ty, of the curse denounced, we compass our 
main end, and confute the grand censure. 
However, as the question is presented, it 
shall be considered ; and, though his lord- 
ship should affect to sneer, I choose rather, 
in imitation of those noble writers whose 
dignity 1 would assert, to be serious. 

Why were the Israelites sojourners in 
Egypt ? A reason occurs that is worthy of 
a gracious God, and greatly for the public 
good — that they might carry thither the 
knowledge of the everlasting Jehovah, and 
of the promised Messiah, of the only accep- 
table method of worship, and the only ef- 
fectual way of salvation. As Egypt was 
the parent of literature, and the fountain- 
head of science ; as men of letters and cu- 
riosity came, from all parts of the world, to 
complete their studies at Egypt ; if these 
heavenly doctrines were received there, they 
would be more likely, some streams of them 
at least, to be transfused into all clitnes and 
improve every nation. So that the people 
of the Lord, the only depositories of divine 
philosophy, were settled in this land of ge- 
neral resort, with much the same wise and 
beneficent views as the ablest professors of 
learning are placed at our famous universi- 
ties. 

But why were they slaves in Egypt? 
This might be to try them, and to humble 
them ; to show them what M'as in their 
heart, and to purge out their dross. We 
are taught in Scripture, that the Almighty 
chastens whom he loves, and scourges tlie men 
whom he receiveth to himself. Even the 
heathen classics, my lord's favourite au 



thors, have frequently remarked, That ad- 
versity is a school, in which both private 
persons and public societies have learned 
the most heroic virtues. Besides, this 
might be intended to animate and inspirit 
the Israelites for their invasion of Canaan. 
They were in the general a supine and gro- 
velling* set of people. Had they been 
settled in a state tolerably easy, or in terri- 
tories that were but moderately commodi- 
ous, they might never have aspired after the 
land flowing with milk and honey ; never 
have made any resolute efforts to possess 
their destined inheritance. But, being 
driven by the lash, and instigated by the 
goad, of pungent, galling slavery, they were 
even constrained to burst the chains, and 
push their way to liberty and Canaan. 
Their insupportable slavery was somewhat 
like bending the bow, and straining the 
string, in order to launch the arrow, far- 
ther, God Almighty assures Abraham, that 
his seed, though enslaved for a while, should 
come out of their bondage with great sub- 
stance, Gen. XV. 14, with the silver, the 
gold, the jewels, and the choicest treasures 
of Egypt. So that, when labouring for 
their task-masters, they were in fact labour- 
ing for themselves. The wealth of the op- 
pressors was laid up for the oppressed ; 
and the season of their affliction in the 
enemy's country was like the rigorous cold 
of winter, which, far from obstructing, only 
makes preparation for the blossoms of 
spring, and the fruits of autumn. These 
considerations might have solved the diffi- 
culty to his lordship as a politician. 

Other reasons are suggested by our di- 
vines, which, if my lord had thought it 
worth his while to regard, might have given 
better satisfaction, and yielded more edifi- 
cation. They would have reminded the 
right honourable querist, that such a gloomy 
aspect of the Jewish affairs made way for 
the brightest manifestation of God's glori- 
ous attributes ; of his power in rescui)ig 
them from their tyrannical rulers ; of his 
faithfulness in fulfilling his promise made 
to their fathers ; of his goodness in sup- 
porting and conducting them — keeping 
them, amidst the most formidable dangers, 
as the apple of an eye ; and bearing them, 
even through the most insuperable difficul- 
ties, as on eagles' wings, f This also opened 
a most conspicuous theatre for that amazing 
train of miracles which have been, in all ages, 
as serviceable to the faith of Christians, as 
they were formerly coiiducive to the welfare 



* Let none imagine that the wisdom of God is im- 
peached by selecting (o himself a people of this cha- 
racter. His clemency, his forbearance, and all those 
benign perfections which are so necessary for the sal- 
vation of sinners, are hereby displayed with peculiar 
advantage, and to our unspeakable consolation. 

t See Deut. xxxii. 10, 11. These, I think, are 
most delightful and inimitably delicate representa- 
tions. 



C96 



REMARKS ON 



of the Jews. They would farther have in- 
formed his lordship, and have confirmed 
their opinion by apostolical authority, that 
the whole of this most wonderful transac- 
tion was typical of spiritual things ; was a 
series of living lessons, delivered, according 
to the eastern method of conveying know- 
ledge, in figures and emblems. The Egyp- 
tian bondage was a resemblance of our na- 
tui-al condition, which is a state of the most 
abject slavery to sin. The arbitrary and in- 
jurious impositions of the task-masters 
shadow forth, though but faintly, the tyranny 
of unruly appetites and imperious passions. 
The barbarous edict for the destruction of 
all the infant males, fitly enough represents 
the genuine tendency of carnal and corrupt 
affections, which destroy our true comfort, 
subvert our noblest interests, are as death 
to the joys and to the hopes of our souls. 
Their deliverance from that miserable state 
was an expressive sign of our redemption 
from the guilt and the dominion of sin.* 
Eoth which the Lord Jesus accomplishes, 
the one by price, the other by power : not 
by slaying the first-born, but by shedding 
his own blood ; not by softening rocks 
into a stream, but taking away the heart 
of stone ; not by turning the current of 
Jordan backward, but by turning all our 
desires into a new channel. The many 
troubles and oppositions they met with in 
the wilderness, exhibit a lively picture of 
the molestations that attend, and the 
temptations that assault the Christian. 
Trials await us : Snares are around us : 
Through many conflicts, and much tribula- 
tion, we must enter into the kingdom of 
heaven. Only let us beware, lest, like the 
ungrateful Israelites, we forget the God of 
our salvation, and fall after the same exam- 
ple of unbelief. The cloud that was spread 
over them by day, to intercept the glare, 
and screen them from the heat of the sun ; 
the fire that shone before them in the ni.[>ht, 
to cheer the nocturnal darkness, and lead 
them through the trackless desert ; were 
not these very amiable and exact emblems 
of our Saviour's merits, and of his holy 
word ? The former of which are refreshing 
to the guilty conscience, as the veil of a 
thick interposing cloud is welcome to a tra- 
veller in sultry climes. The latter is a light 
to our feet, and a lantern to our paths, to 
guide us in the way everlasting. Their 
passage through Jordan, the priests that 
bare the ark of the covenant going before 
them, (Joshua iii. 13, 14, &c,) and standing 
in the midst of the river, till all the congre- 
gation were passed over ; this very empha- 
tically prefigured our great High-priest, 
bearing our sins, fulfilling the law in our 

* The divine writer to the Hcbrcvs, makes the 
lanrt of « 'an;>p.n (vvical of " a bettor coiuUi v, '^ven of 
ail heavenly." Heb, xi. IG; xii. 22. 



stead, abolishing death, and maKing it a safe, 
as well as a short transition to life eternal. 

You will excuse me, madam, for expati- 
ating upon these topics. They are so in- 
viting, so pleasing, so comfortable, that I 
can hardly persuade myself to leave them. 
If any other parts of the epistle, through a 
kind of unhappy necessity almost insepara- 
ble from controversy, should resemble the 
asperity of the thorn, this, I hope, will bear 
some affinity to the fragrance of the rose. 
For which cause it is, that I choose only to 
touch, and but lightly touch, the one, while 
I would open the other into a wide expan- 
sion, and a rich effusion. Let me add one 
more observation on this head, and 1 have 
done. It is apprehended, by very judici- 
ous persons, that the punishment of the 
Egyptians, and their total overthrow, may 
be a presage of the misery and ruin which 
will sooner or later fall upon individuals and 
nations that reject the glorious gospel, and 
vilify its sacred repository, The JBible. 

If the reasons I have offered are neither 
tiresome nor unsatisfactory to your ladyship, 
I shall proceed the more cheerfully to show 
that the curse was executed as well as pro- 
nounced. Had it been the senseless extra- 
vagance of a man intoxicated with liquor, or 
the rash imprecation of a rnan heated with 
resentment, or the designing interpolation 
of some crafty statesman, would the holy, 
the gracious, the true God, have set the 
broad seal of heaven to it ? would he, who 
overrules all events, have suffered it to suc- 
ceed, have commanded it to succeed, nay, 
have brought it himself to pass by a mighty 
hand and stretched out arm? Impossible 
to conceive. If, therefore, it was really 
brought to pass, and with a surprising punc- 
tuality, and not by any competency of hu- 
man means, but by the most evident display 
of divine power, this will be such a proof of 
its credibility, its reasonableness, and equity, 
as no one who thinks reverently of the 
Deity can deny. 

Canaan was to be a servant to Shem. 
This was accomplished when the Israelites, 
the descendants of Shem, conquered the 
land of Canaan, slew thirty of its kings, and 
took possession of their cities, Joshua xi'i. 
24; when the Gibeonites particularly, who 
composed one of their principal states, Jo- 
shua X. 2, became " hewers of wood and 
dravA'^ers of water to the congregation," Jo- 
shua ix. 27 ; or, in other words, the most 
menial servants to the lowest of the people. 

By what instruments was this extraordi- 
nary revolution wrought? by one of the 
finest armies in the east or west? marshall- 
ed by the bravest officers, and headed by 
the most experienced general ? No ; but 
by raw, undisciplined, enslaved people, who 
were destitute of military skill, and without 
I any personal qualifications, or wai like appa- 



BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS, 



G97 



ratus for so difficult, so dangerous an enter- 
prise. 

Through what obstacles was it begun, 
carried on, and completed ? In spite of the 
attempts of one potent monarch to detain 
them in servitude ; in spite of the resolution 
of several combined kings to dispute with 
them every inch of ground to the last drop 
of their blood. A deep river and an arm 
of the sea must be crossed by six hundred 
thousand men, with their wives, their chil- 
dren, their cattle ; and without any vessel 
to transport them, or any bridge to transmit 
them. They must dwell forty years in a 
desolate, inhospitable, barren wilderness, 
which was infested by ravenous beasts, and 
fiery flying serpents ; in which there was 
neither water nor corn, nor any sort of ac- 
commodation for abode, or sustenance for 
life. 

How were all these difficulties surmount- 
ed ? Not by the arm of flesh ; this was 
utterly impracticable ; but by the most as- 
tonishing interposition of Omnipotence. 
The Egyptian tyrant is humbled, and 
brought to their terms, by the infliction of 
ten tremendous plagues. The waters of 
the river are dried up, and the waves of the 
great deep are divided, so as to yield them 
a safe unobstructed passage. A stream 
gushes even from the hard rock, and gives 
them drink, as it had been out of the great 
depths. Prodigious quantities of manna* 
descend with every morning dew, and sup- 
ply them, not from the garner, but from 
heaven, with their daily bread. Vast 
flights of quails arrive with every setting 
sun, and drop, like a bird shot through the 
wing, " in the midst of their camp, and 
round about their habitations." The walls 
of an impregnable city fall to the ground at 
the blast of rams horns, Joshua vi. The 
sun stands still in the midst of heaven at 
the voice of a man, Joshua x. 12, 13, All 
the hosts of the nations, with all their wea- 
pons of war, are "driven asunder as the foam 
upon the waters, and cut off as the tops of 
the ears of corn." 

And is it probable, can it be possible, 
that every element, and all nature, should 
not only concur, but alter their established 
course, depart from the fundamental laws 
of their creation, on purpose to ratify what 
was bolted out by the patriarch in a drunken 
revel, or foisted into the text by some He- 
brew Machiavelian ? 

Canaan was to be servant also to Japheth. 

* We are not to think .that the manna took its 
name from any resemblance to the medicinal drug, 
which, among us, is so commonly known and so free 
(juently used. It is rather derived from the abrupt 
exjjression of the Israelites, on their first beholding 
this wonderful food. They cried out with amaze- 
ment, ManHuf What is this ? Which exclama- 
tion, denoting their own surprise, and the imexpected 
PS well as unparalleled nature of the gift, became 
both a memorial of the one and a denomination of 
the other. 



Pursuant to this prediction, did not the 
Greeks and Romans, who derive their 
lineage from Japheth, make themselves mas- 
ters of the residue of Canaan? Tyre, 
j built by the Sidonians, and Thebes by Cad- 
j mus, were both destroyed by Alexander the 
I Grecian. Carthage, founded by Dido, was, 
after a long succession of losses, and a vast 
effusion of blood, demolished by Scipio the 
Roman ; which losses made Hannibal, a 
child of Canaan, cry out, with a mixture of 
astonishment and despondency, Agnosco 
fortunam Carthayiyiis /"* i. e. " I see plain- 
ly the hand of destiny working ; 1 see that 
oracular doom hasting to its accomplish- 
ment, in these dreadful calamities sustained 
by Carthage !" 

If these facts are true, which have the 
unanimous consent of historians for their 
support, what can we say of his lordship's 
assertion, " That Canaan was servant to 
Shem, though not to Japheth?" (p. 111.) 
This, I am apprehensive, will be found 
as false as the following objection is weak, 
in which he urges, that " Canaan was ser- 
vant to one of his uncles, not to his bre- 
thren," (p. 111.) Such a cavil (for cer- 
tainly it deserves no better name) discovers 
an utter ignorance of the Hebrew phraseo- 
logy, or else a strange inattention to it. I 
would not say, an egregious misrepresenta- 
tion of it. 1 thought every one bad 
known, till Lord Bolingbroke undeceived 
me, that nothing is more common in the 
oriental idiom, than to express any relatives 
of the male line by the denomination of 
brethren. I 

I hope your ladyship will not think this, 
or any of my other remarks, indecently free. 
In the presence of the most high God, all 
men are upon a level. When the honour 
of his divine word or glorious attributes is 
concerned, we are to " know no man after 
the flesh," 2 Cor. v. 16 ; pay no deferen- 
tial regard to the distinctions of birth or 
elevations of character. In these lists, 
the privileges of peerage cease ; and I 
should reckon myself the most abject of 
creatures, if, through respect of persons, I 
should palliate or secrete the truth, when the 
ever-venerable oracles of inspiration are 
treated with contempt. A violation of de- 
cency this ! by whatever hand it is offered, 
or from whatever quarter it comes, incom- 
parably more flagrant than scandalmn magna- 
turn. 

Pardon, madam, this digression, and per- 
mit me farther to observe. That the progeny 
of Ham, in another line, are, to this very 
day, the slaves of the whole trading world : 
The negroes I mean ; whose descent is 

* Vid. Liv. Lib. xxvii. ad finem. 
t See Gen. xiii. 8 ; where Abraham and Lot, though 
uncle and nephew, are called brethren. Gen. xxiv. 
; 48; where Bethuel, another of Abraham's nephews, 
' is styled his brother, Gen. xvi, 12; xxiv. 27. - 



698 



REMARKS ON 



from that unhappy man. And what is 
their country but the market of slavery ? 
Are not their persons bought and sold as 
the meanest commodities ? are they not 
debased to the most sordid, and harassed 
with the most toilsome drudgery ? made, in 
the strictly literal sense of the phrase, ser- 
vants of servants ? 

I have not forgotten what I promised to 
make appear with relation to the Egyptians, 
neither shall I overlook what his lordship has 
remonstrated from the same quarter. " The 
descendants of Misraim," he says, "ano- 
ther of the sons of Ham, were the Egyp- 
tians ; and they were so far from bemg 
servants of servants to tJieir cousins the 
Shemites, that these were servants of ser- 
vants to them," (p. 112.) For a season 
they were ; but this servitude was calculat- 
ed for the good of their community, and 
redounded to the glory of their God. It 
terminated in such a signal deliverance, as 
brought honour and opulence to themselves, 
confusion and ruin to their enemies. Does 
h then follow, from this temporary super- 
iority of the Egyptiaiis, which*, ended in so 
disastrous a manner, that they were except- 
ed in the denunciation of the curse, or fa- 
voured with an act of indemnity? 

What says the supreme Arbitrator? 
" The nation vv'hom they serve will I judge," 
Gen. XV. 14i ; I myself will punish, not by 
any human instruments, but by my own 
immediate hand. Accordingly, they were 
visited v.'ith the most dreadful and destruc- 
tive plagues. In the last of which, the first 
born, the flower of their kingdom, were cut 
off ; and at length their king and his whole 
army perished in the Hed Sea. Does my 
lord make Jio account of these most terrible 
and unexampled judgments ? 

Besides, what was the condition of this 
people in the following ages ? If we con- 
sult Ezekiel, he will declare it as clearly by 
tlie spirit of prophecy as if he had lived on 
the spot, and seen the face of affairs. 
Ezek. xxx. 20, 21, 23 ; xxix. 15, xxx. 18. 
" And it came to pass, in the eleventh year, 
in the first month, in the seventh day of the 
month, that the word of the Lord came 
unto me, saying, Son of man, I have bro- 
ken the arm of Pharaoh king of Egypt ; 
and lo, it shall not be bound up to be heal- 
ed, to put a roller to bind it, to make it 
strong to hold the sword. I will scatter 
the Egyptians among the nations, and will 
disperse them through the countries. 
Egypt shall be the basest of kingdoms, nei- 
ther shall it exalt itself any more among the 
nations. And there shall be no more a 
prince of the land of Egypt." Is not all 
this confirmed by ancient history, and by 
the present state of Africa ? From the 
one we learn that the Egyptians were sub- 
ject fii'st to the Persians, next to the Gre- 



cians, then to the Romans, afterwards to 
the Arabs. And from the other it appears 
that they now wear the Turkish yoke ; are 
governed, not by a prince of their own, but 
by the Grand Seignior and his Bashaws. 

Nay, let any person look round upon all 
the countries peopled by the progeny of 
Ham, and I am much mistaken if he does 
not find them what the Psalmist describes, 
" dark places of the earth, and full of the 
habitations of cruelty," Psalm Ixxiv. 20 ; 
the dens of rapine, and the dungeons of ig- 
norance, where slavery drags the chain, and 
tyranny lifts the scourge. Insomuch that 
we need not scruple to say, in the empha- 
tical words of Joshua, " Not one thing has 
failed of all the good or the evil things 
which the Lord spake by the mouth of 
Noah, concerning each of his sons respec- 
tively. All are come to pass, not one thing 
has failed," Joshua xxiii. 14. 

This calls upon me to clear up another 
part of the prediction, the blessing pro- 
nounced upon Shem, and the enlargemeist 
promised to Japheth ; which will afford a 
new argument to maintain the authenticity 
of the passage, and assert its divine inspira- 
tion. 

I said, the blessing pronounced upon ; 
because I would not translate the words, 
" Blessed be the Lord God of Shem, but, 
Blessed of the Lord God is Shem." This 
will put a striking contrast between the 
doom of the irreligious scoffer, and the re- 
ward of filial piety this is what we natur- 
ally expect from a God who is not unrighte- 
ous to forget his people, and their labours 
of love : this sense the original language 
will very commodiously bear,* and the 
event seems to require. For how manifest- 
ly, how eminently, was this benedictive sen- 
tence fulfilled ! since in the posterity of 
Shem the church of God was established, 
and his true worship propagated. From 
him the Redeemer of mankind, that bless~ 
ing of blessings, according to the flesh, 
sprung. 

The great enlargement of Japheth's ter- 
ritories is no less certain, and no less re- 
maikable. He had for his possession the 
isles of the sea westward, and the fine ex- 
tensive countries near them, Spain, Italy, 
Greece, Asia the Less, all Europe, and the 
vast regions towards the north, which anci- 
ently the Scythians, now the Tartars inhabit, 
from whom the Americans, the people of 
the new world, seem to be derived. By 
Japheth's dwelling in the tents of Shem, is 
meant the conversion of the European 
Gentiles to the gospel of Christ ; who. 



* Gen, ix. 2G. Words of the very same iiT)po;t in 
the very same construction, are thus rendered by our 
translators, Deut. xxxiii. 13, and will hardly admit 
of any other interpretation, " Bl&ssed of the Lord," 



BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS. 



699 



through a long progression of years, were 
" aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, 
strangers to the covenant of promise, having 
no hope of eternal life, and without any 
saving knowledge of God in the world," 
Eph. ii. 12 ; but were in due time persuad- 
ed to embrace the true faith, were made (as 
the apostle elegantly speaks, and in a strain 
perfectly corresponding with the language 
of ouf prophecy), " fellow-citizens with the 
saints, and' of the household of God." Eph. 
ii. 19. An event altogether as undeniable 
as it is important, delightful, and glorious. 

Upon the whole, 1 cannot but think that 
his lordship has planted his battery, and 
played his artillery, if not like an unskilful, 
at least like an unsuccessful engineer. He 
has planted his battery against a place too 
well fortified to admit of any impression, 
and that must infallibly triumph over every 
assault. He has so played his artillery, that 
it recoils upon himself, and crushes his own 
design. And this, I apprehend, will always 
be the issue, when men, even of the finest 
genius, and most improved capacities, pre- 
sume to attack the Scriptures of eternal 
truth. 

This very passage, instead of depreciat- 
ing, unspeakably ennobles the divine writ- 
ings. It shows that they bear the stamp of 
that all-overruling power which purposes, 
and none shall disaimul it ; of that all-com- 
prehending knowledge which discerns 
events long, long before they come into ex- 
istence. And let any unprejudiced reader 
judge what degree of esteem those books 
may fairly challenge, whose least considera- 
ble, or, in his lordship's opinion, " most 
obnoxious" parts, have such a depth, and 
such a dignity of wisdom I such as will be 
admired and revered so long as historic truth 
has any credit, or commercial intelligence 
any being. 

Shall I trespass upon your ladyship's pa- 
tience a little farther? The penmen of the 
Old Testament carry all the marks of the 
most disinterested and undesigning sinceri- 
ty. They record the failings of their fa- 
vourite and most illustrious heroes, without 
concealing the punishment inflicted on such 
miscarriages. The uniform tendency of their 
narratives and observations is to promote a 
religion the most pure, the most benevolent, 
the most elevated imaginable ; as remote 
from all selfish aims, and every low art of 
collusion, as the heavens are higher than the 
earth. They were men singularly qualified 
for their work ; being either eye-witnesses 
of the facts they relate^ or else contempo- 
raries with the persons they describe, or 
still more remarkably distinguished by their 
ability to work miracles, and their insight 
into futurity. As to the facts related, some 
of them had anniversary solemnities on which 
they were commemorated ; some of them 



had significant ceremonies by which they 
were represented. They Vv'ere publicly read 
in the synagogues, and universally known 
through the nation. It was a duty of reli- 
gion to talk of them by day, to meditate on 
them by night, and diligently to instruct the 
children in them. And were not these cir- 
cumstances a security, an inviolable secu- 
rity, against any attempt to corrupt, to inno- 
vate or alter ? So that their writings appear 
with every character, both internal and ex. 
ternal, of genuine truth, and with the most un- 
questionable credentials from the God of 
power, and God of wisdom. * Consequently 
they have a credibility of their own, suffi- 
cient both to claim and to support the faith 
of an ancient Jew ; such as must command 
the assent of every rational and honest in- 
quirer, even before the Christian dispensa- 
tion took place. 

If my lord had duly adverted to these con- 
siderations, surely he would have expunged 
that bold and rash assertion, " AV'ithout 
Christianity we have no obligation to be- 
lieve the Old Testament," p. 94. Surely he 
would never have left behindhim that unwar- 
rantable and injurious insinuation, that the 
Hebrew original deserves no better credit 
than the fabulous storyt of the Septuagint 
translation, nor have found any reason to 
protest that he knew of no rule to go by, 
(p. 100,) (in settling the degree of assent 
due to the several parts of the Old Testa- 
ment), but the fanciful distinctloii which 
has already been examined. He would ra- 
ther have found reason to adopt and subscribe 
Agur's confession of faith ; a man who was 
famous in his own, who will be fuaious in 
every generation ; and for this, among other 
mosb judicious maxims, " Every vrord of 
God is pure," Prov. xxx. 5. It js all gold, 
fine gold, without any the least alloy. 

For my own part, I freely ackuov.dedge 
to your ladyship, that I value the sacred 
history (even exclusive of its connexion with 
the transcendent glories of Christ, and the 
unspeakable benefits of redemption) un the 
very same principles which incline our eou- 
noissem-s to value those celebrated antiqui- 
ties they call medals, singular, because it is 
supposed there is but one of the sort extant. 
Considering the private interests and per- 
sonal attachments which are so apt to bias 



* Another very extraordinary peculiarity in these 
writings, and, to me at least, an undoubted proof 
that their authors were divinely inspired, is their per- 
fect agreement and entire consistency throughout. 
Though they were composed by different men, placed 
in very different stations of life, and flourish mg in 
very distant ages of the world, yet they are as conson- 
ant and harmonious as if they had all been penned by 
the same hand. Any thing equal to this I never saw, 
never heard of, and I believe the most inveterate or 
most sagacious adversaries of the Old Testament will 
not attempt to produce a parallel. 

t The story is told page 86. The insinuation is 
made in a prohx, confused, and obscure paragiaiih, 
page 87. 



700 



REMARiCS ON 



the human mind, considering the imperfect 
' information and ignorance of causes, to 
which all other writers are unavoidably sub- 
ject, I cannot but conclude, that the sacred 
history is, in point of sti'ict, precise, univer- 
sal veracity, singular. There is none other 
besides this, no not one in the whole world, 
that is free from all the false colourings of 
prejudice, clouded with no mixture of un- 
certainty, most minutely true, and to be de- 
pended on in every particular. The sacred 
history is not only seated on the throne of 
truth, but in these respects, possesses it 
without a rival. 

Lord Bolingbrcke is fond of Davila,* be- 
cause Davila discovers the hidden springs 
of action, and traces up almost every enter- 
prise to its source, p. 167. Is this so val- 
uable a qualification in the Italian ? How 
then should we admire the inspired histo- 
rians, who disclose to us, not the secret 
measures of a court, but the unsearchable 
counsels of Heaven ; not the little motives 
that actuate the politician, but the deep de- 
signs of the universal sovereign ; and all 
this, not from precarious surmise, but with 
the fullest assurance ? An excellency to 
which no other narrative on earth can lay 
any claim. 

The Scriptures throw light upon the 
most memorable transactions that have 
passed in the heathen world, and are re- 
corded by the classic authors. When the 
Assyrian monarch subdues kingdoms and 
ravages nations, we are apt to think he is 
only gratifying his insatiable ambition. But 
the Scripture assures us, that he was " the 
staff in Jehovah's hand, and the rod of his 
indignation," Isa. x. 5 ; an instrument made 
use of by the King of kings to execute his 
righteous vengeance. When Cyrus is ha- 
bituated to all the noble exercises, educated 
in all the fine accomplishments that form 
the gallant prince and constitute the com- 
plete general, Xenophon sees nothing more 
than the exertion of human policy. But 
Isaiah beholds the all-superm tending arm* 
of the Lord girding his hero, Isa. xlv. 5 ; 
and preparing him for the deliverance of his 
people. So that the Scripture history is 
itself the grandest and most useful, while 
its intercurrent observations are a key to 
open the most celebrated affairs which give 
weight and estimation to other annals. 

The grandest and most useful. This 
will appear to be more than a bare assertion, 
if we recollect that here is a display of that 
great Messiah, who is " the hope of Israel," 
Acts xxviii. 20, and " the desire of all na- 
tions," Haggai ii. 7 ; a display of him in 
his mysterious incarnation, his wonderful 



* He wrote a history of the civil wars of France, 
in fifteen books, containing all that was remarkable, 
from the death of Henry 11, in 1559, to the peace of 
Vervins, in 1598 



person, and all the gracious, the benign 
majesty of his mediatorial offices, — from the 
original promise made to our first parents, 
through all its progressive evolutions, till he 
arises in the New Testament "as the only 
begotten of the Father," John i. 14, with 
a lustre and dignity suitable to so divine a 
personage ; which is an event of such in- 
comparable condescension, magnificence, and 
grace, that all the prophets bear witness to 
it. Acts X. 43, and the " very angels desire 
to look into it," 1 Pet. i. 12. 

How then must your ladyship be sur- 
prised to see Lord Bolingbroke undertaking 
to assign the principal scope of the Mosaic 
histoiy, (p. 109,) (the former part of it at 
least), and not enlarging, not dwelling upon, 
no, nor so much as mentioning the Re- 
deemer, that all-glorious, all-important Re- 
deemer, who is the sum and substance of 
the whole Scriptures ; the Alpha and Ome- 
ga in all the revelations of God ; of whom 
Moses wrote, John v. 46, and whose day 
Abraham saw, John viii. 56 ; whose right- 
eousness was preached by Noah,* and his 
final advent foretold by Enoch, Jude 14; 
whose merits, apprehended by faith, were 
the recommendation of Abel's sacrifice, Heb. 
xi. 4, and the consolation of Adam, Gen. 
iii. 15, under the loss of immortality, and 
expulsion from paradise ; from whom many, 
if not all, the antediluvian patriarchs borrow 
their honours, and stand upon everlasting 
record, chiefly as being in the number of his 
progenitors. This capital omission is (to 
use his lordship's own language) " a mani- 
fest abuse of sacred history, and quite in- 
excusable in a writer who knew, or should 
have known," (p. 178,) that in its most 
early, as well as in its later periods, it in- 
variably testifies of Christ, John v. 89. 

Thus to undertake, and thus to execute, 
is as if some pretender to anatomy should 
engage to explain the nature of animal mo- 
tion, and say not a word concerning the 
nerves, the muscles, the heart ; or, as if 
some smatterer in geography should offer to 
exhibit a complete map of our country, and 
leave entirely out of his plan the cities, the 
towns, and the rivers. Yet this is not the 
only incident on which my lord, however 
critical in profane literature, discovers him- 
self to have been very remiss in the study, 
at least very superficial in the knowledge, 
of his Bible. 

From which hint I would take occasion 
to entreat, and with the most affectionate 
earnestness, all that are inclined to dispute 
against this divine book, first to make them- 
selves thoroughly acquainted with it. And 
would they once set about the momentous 



* 2 Peter ii. 5. It can hardly be doubted but Noah 
preached the very same righteousness of which he 
himself was an heir ; and that, we are assured, was 
the righteousness of faith, Hebrews xi. 7. 



BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS. 



01 



work with a caridid, upright, and impartial 
mind, free from the jaundice of prejudices, 
not blhided with the fumes of self-conceit, 
nor intoxicated with the cup of vicious plea- 
sure ; — if they would thus examine the in- 
spired volumes, they would soon perceive 
such a lovely constellation of truth, of wis- 
dom, and of grace, shining forth from every 
page, as must turn their disesteem into ad- 
miration, and their aversion into delight. 

But if they bring vnih them a fondness 
for fame, a haughty self-sufficiency of spirit, 
or an ignoble attachment to sensual gratifi- 
cations ; if they are determined to cherish, 
and will on no consideration divorce these 
seducers of the heart and perverters of the 
judgment, we cannot wonder that the Scrip- 
tures should appear to them with much the 
same aspect as the miraculous cloud appeared 
to the Egyptians, which threw darkness on 
their paths and shed horror on their souls, 
even while it gave light to the steps and 
alacrity to the hopes of the Israelites, Exo- 
dus xiv. 20. In this case we may assign 
a reason foi" their opposition, from the un- 
happy circumstances recorded of Ishmael, 
Genesis xvi. 12 : Their hand, their tongue, 
their pen, is against the word of God, be- 
cause the word of God is against them, 
their tempers, and their ways. 

In the sacred narrations we behold " the 
arm of the Lord revealed." Other histo- 
rians only guess at the interposition of an 
avenging or propitious God. And though 
conjectures of this kind occur but very rare- 
ly in their works, they are frequently cen- 
sm-ed as a presumptuous intrusion upon the 
arcana of heaven. But the penmen of 
Scriptiu-e, with unerring certainty, declare, 
" This is the Lord's doing" — a stroke from 
the sword of his justice, 2 Chron. x. 15 ; 
XV. 6 ; XXV. 20 ; xxviii. 5, 6 ; xxix. 8, 9 ; — or 
a reward from tbe riches of his goodness, 
2 Chron. xii. 7 ; xiii. 15, IG, 18 ; xiv. 6, 12 ; 
xxvi. 5 ; xxvii. 6.* 

Here we perceive, as in the brightest 
mirror, what practices he favours, and what 
methods he opposes ; what courses are at- 
tended Avith his blessing, and what behavi- 
our provokes his displeasure. These re- 
cords set before us the most striking exem- 
plifications, both of the divine threatenings 
and of the divine promises ; demonstrating, 
from repeated experience, that the former 
are more than vain menaces, the latter ai'e 
far from alluring fallacies. By which means 



* I refer to the Chronides rather than to the other 
parts of sacred history, in order to create a higher 
esteem for these excellent memoirs. I would com- 
pare them to some nob]e mine, v/h.ose surface is bar- 
ren and seems to include nothing valuable. But as 
you penetrate the soil, the treasure opens. The 
deeper you go, the more riches you find ; and, instead 
of regretting the little toil of application, you are 
only grieved tliat you undertook ine gainful search 
no sooner. 



they are admirably well adapted to inculcate 
those fimdairiental lessons of practical reli- 
gion, a continual advertence to God, a be- 
lieving dependence on God, and an habitual 
expectation of success in our schemes, not 
merely from any address or industry of our 
ovm, but from the all-powerful benediction 
of God, vv^hich are, of all other precepts, 
perhaps the most salutary and beneficial to 
mankind. 

My remarks would be immoderately pro- 
lix were they to enumerate all the perfec- 
tions of sacred history. I shall content my- 
self with wishing that your ladyship may 
esteem, may reverence, may love the whole 
book of God, only in proportion to its worth. 
Then, I am persuaded, it will have your 
highest esteem, your profoundest reverence, 
and most devoted love. 

Before I conclude, give me leave, ma- 
dam, to make one request, which I make 
under a sense of my various obligations to 
your ladyship, with all the engaging acts of 
your condescension and generosity full in 
my view. It ought therefore to be, and it 
really is, expressive of the most unfeigned 
thankfulness for your favours, and of the 
truest zeal for yotu- hapi)iuess. It is this. 
That you would carry on a daily intercourse, 
and cultivate a holy, an intimate familiarity 
with the inspired writers, and their inestim- 
able volumes. Read them — recollect them 
— weigh them. Contemplate them in their 
magnificent whole, in their beautifid parts, 
and their harmonious connexions. 

I should be afraid to recommend, in this 
zealous manner, and to this assiduous peru- 
sal, the most correct compositions that ever 
proceeded from a human pen. But here 
I am under no apprehension of your ex- 
hausting the mine, and complaining of emp- 
tiness; under no apprehension lest the en- 
tertainment should flatten upon your taste, 
and create disgust. The more we search 
those storehouses of wisdom, the better we 
understand those oracles of truth, the more 
they will approve themselves to our judg- 
ment, and become dearer, still dearer to our 
affections. The pages of Scripture, like the 
productions of nature, will not only endure 
the test, but improve upon the trial. The 
application of the microscope to the one, 
and a repeated meditation on the other, are 
sure to display new beauties, and present 
us with higher attractives. Nay, the very 
attempts of an adversary to blacken the 
Scriptures, serve only to increase their lus- 
tre. For my part, I never should have seen 
the prediction of Noah rising, with such 
perspicuity, propriety, and glory, to obser- 
vation, had not Lord Bolingbroke made an 
effort to overwhelm it with objections, and 
sink* it into discredit. 



An allusion to the motto in the title page, " Mcr- 



702 



REMARKS ,&c. 



Above all, we may bring to this best of 
studies an humble mind, a mind deeply 
sensible of its own ignorance and weakness, 
yet frequently and cheerfully lifted up to 
God for his enlightening and animating 
Spirit ; that, by his blessed influences, our 
*' understandings may be opened to under- 
stand the Scriptures," Luke xxiv- 45, and 
our " hearts opened to receive them," Acts 
xvi. 14 ; to understand them in all the ful- 
ness of their heavenly meaning, to receive 
them in all the force of their transforming 
power ; that, reading the threatenings, we 
may tremble* at the awful word, and ac- 
knowledge ourselves justly liable to those 
terrible judgments ; but at the same time 
believe, that " Christ has delivered us from 
the curse of the law, being made a curse for 
us," Gal. iii. 13 : that reading the promises, 
we may confess ourselves unworthy of an 
interest in such unspeakable blessings ; yet 
rest assured, that " all the promises of God 
are yea and amen in Christ Jesus," 2 Cor. 
i. 20 ; are our unquestionable portion, 
through his merits and atonement, and will 
certainly be fulfilled through his intercession 
and faithfulness. Reading the precepts, 
let us rejoice in the belief that our Saviour, 
obedient unto death, has fulfilled them per- 
fectly for our justification ; that our Savi- 
our, exalted unto heaven, has engaged to 
" put his Spirit within us" for our saiictiti- 
cation; "causing us to walk in his statutes, 
and to keep his judgments and do them," 
Ezek. xxxvi. 27. Contemplating the var- 
ious examples, may we use some of them as 
admonitory sea-maiks to avoid the rocks of 
sin ; use others as a conducting clue to 
guide our feet into the way of peace ; use 
all as so many incitenyents to awaken our 
circumspection or quicken our diligence in 
" making our CHlliiig and election sure." 

Then we shall have another proof that 
the original of these holy books is not 
from man, but from the Lord Jehovah ; a 
proof which some people may expl@de as 
imaginary or enthusiastical, but is really of 
the utmost solidity, and of the last import- 
ance ; which, though by no means indepen- 
dent on, much less exclusive of, other evi- 
dences, is nevertheless to each individual 
person incomparably more valuable than 
any, or every other attestation. We shall 



ces profundo, pulchrio)- evenit," ami expressive of its 
nieanin;^. 

* See E?;ra x. 3; 2 Chron. xxxir, 27, where it 
might not l)e amiss to compare the temper of true 
be levers, and the behaviour of an iliuslrious king, 
vvi h the spirit that runs through iiis lonijhip's per- 
foniiaiice. 



" have the witness in ourselves," 1 John v. 
10. We shall experience on our own souls 
the happy energy of the Scriptures. They 
will be the instrument of working such a lively 
faith in Christ, such an ardent love of God, 
such a cordial benevolence for our fellow- 
creatures,* as cannot fail to exalt our desires, 
refine our affections, and dignify our tem- 
pers ; such as will administer comfort under 
affliction, and impart an additional relish to 
prosperity; such as will teach us to order 
our conversation right amidst all the snares, 
all the labyrinths of time; and gradually train 
us up for the pure bliss and consummate 
enjoyments of eternity. 

May this proof, madam, be written on 
your heart, written in bright and indelible 
characters, written by the finger of the liv- 
ing God ! Then, I am assured, every at- 
tempt to stagger your belief, or withdraw 
your veneration from the Bible, will be like 
an attempt to shatter the rock in pieces 
with a bubble, or to pierce the adamant 
with a feather. This is not only the sincere 
wish, but, so long as religion and gratitude 
have any place in my breast, it will also be 
the earnest prayer of your Ladyship's much 
obliged, and most obedient humble servant, 
James Hervey. 

April 22, 1752. 

P.S. — I have taken no notice of his 
lordship's animadversions relating to the 
genuineness of the gospel history, because 
this would be entering upon a new field, 
which I leave open and untouched for some 
more able defender of that invaluable depo- 
situm : not that I apprehend there is any 
thing very formidable in the attack ; but I 
think it would be serviceable, as I aiti per- 
suaded it is easy, to show the weakness and 
unreasonableness of those arguments which 
men of superior abilities are obliged to take 
up with, when they list themselves under the 
banner of scepticism or infidelity. It would 
also be apiece of public justice to inquire into 
the sincerity, probity, and consistency of 
those writers, who, in some places, lay a 
mighty stress upon the authority of the 
New Testament (page 94,) in others, en- 
deavour to sap the very foundation of its 
credibility, (page 177.) 



* Tliis is what his lordship means, or ou^ht to 
mean, when he spealcs of the proper force of religion ; 
that force which " subdues the mind, and awes the 
conscience by conviction," p. 182. And I am well as- 
sured, v/hatever he may surmise to the contrary, that 
this voucher to the real inspiration of the Scriptures, 
and divine original of t'iiristianity," is not waiuin£." 



CONSIDERATIONS 



ON THE 



PREVAILING CUSTOM OF VISITING ON SUNDAYS. 



The sentiments here offered against the 
prevailing custom of profaning the Sabbathf 
will probably be a satisfaction to every se- 
rious reader, and be productive of much 
good ; especially as it is in every body's 
power to reform one, and as then his own 
conduct will be a tacit reproof to his ac- 
quaintance, who may probably, through his 
example, be induced to weigh these pro- 
ceedin-gs attentively, and no longer follow a 
multitude to do evil. It is certainly a 
matter of importance to inquire, whether 
Sunday visits are justifiable upon the 
principles of Scripture and of reason ? 
as the conscientious observation of the 
Sabbath has of late years been so much 
disregarded, and as -it is now become the 
principal day of visiting among persons of 
all ranks. The chief advocates for the 
continuance of such a practice should, me- 
thinks, defend it publicly, that their argu- 
ments may be properly examined, if (in 
their opinion) such a custom can admit of 
any rational defence. And those who are 
sufficiently convinced by what is here ad- 
vanced, should resolve to discontinue Sun- 
day visits themselves, and discountenance 
them in others as far as they can, consis- 
tent with decency and prudence. That 
the number of such well disposed persons 
may be daily increasing, is undoubtedly the 
hearty wish of every one who is sincerely 
"desirous of promoting the glory of God, 
and the good of mankind. 

Q. Vfhether it he rigid for truly religious 
Persons to visit on Sundays 9 

The persons here mentioned are the 
truly serious. As to many people, it mat- 
ters not whether they are at home or 
abroad : God is not in all their thoughts ; 
they have no concern for their eternal \^'el- 
fare ; they therefore are, in every place, 
altogether and alike unprofitable. 

But when we begin to discern the things 
that are excellent, when we sincerely desire 
to " obtain salvation, with eternal glory, by 
Jesus Christ," then, whether it be proper 
to fall into the prevailing custom of visiting 
on Sundays ? is the question. 



Were our companions religious, and was 
our conversation edifying, I should make 
no scruple to give my voice in the affirma- 
tive. Every parlour would then be a little 
sanctuary, would echo back the exhortations, 
and second the designs of the pulpit ; and 
we might truly say, " It is good for us to 
be here." 

But, alas ! where do we find such com- 
pany ? when do we hear such conversa- 
tion ? The general conversation is all im- 
pertinence, not so much as seasoned with a 
spice of religion. " They talk of vanity 
everyone with his neighbour," Psalm xii. 2. 
For which reason, I cannot think it safe or 
expedient, allowable or innocent, habitually 
to visit on Sundays. 

It is inconsistent with the best example. 
" I was in the spirit on the Lord's day,'* 
says St. John. I was filled with the com- 
munications of the Holy Spirit, giving me 
clear views of Christ, bright hopes of glory, 
and shedding al)road the love of God in 
my heart. But is this compatible with 
the idle, trifling, insignificant chat, which 
engrosses our ordinary visits? 

Objection I. Will it be said the apostle's 
was a peculiar case ? I ansv. er. It was a 
peculiarly happy case. And will a prudent 
Christian relinquish the prospect of such 
unspeakable happiness, for the most empty 
and delusive amusements ? But, I believe, 
it was not peculiar to the apostle, rather the 
common privilege of all believers ; written 
as a pattern for their practice, and to be ihe 
plan of their expectations. 

It is contrary to the divine prohibition. 
The negative law relating to the Sabbath 
is, " not doing thy own ways, not finding 
thy own pleasure, not speaking thy own 
words," Isa. Iviii. 13. "Not doing thy 
own ways;" abstainingfrorn secular business, 
and all worldly pursuits. " Not finding thy 
own pleasure ;" renouncing all those reci'ea- 
tions and amusements which may tend to 
gratify thy taste, not to glorify thy almigh- 
ty Lord. " Not speaking thy own words 
conversing on spiritual, sublime, and hea- 
venly subjects ; not on low, earthly, tem- 
poral matters, which, having no reference to 
the Creator's honour, are therefore culled 



704 



CONSIDERATIONS ON 



*' thy own." However some people may 
act, or whatever they may think, this is the 
express and unalterable law established by 
the God of heaven. Whether it be possi- 
ble to mingle in modish company, and obey 
this law, let those judge who are acquaint- 
ed with the world. 

It breaks the divine command. The po- 
sitive law relating to the Sabbath is, " Re- 
member the Sabbath day to keep it holy." 
Remember, take particular notice of this 
injunction. It is a duty greatly to be re- 
garded, and most conscientiously to be ob- 
served. Upon the due observance of this, 
our disposition and ability to observe the 
other precepts in good measure depends. 
" Keep it holy ;" devote it to holy pur- 
poses ; spend it in holy exercises ; and not 
only an hour or two, not barely the intervals 
of private and public devotion, but the day, 
the Sabbath-day, the whole day. Neither 
will the whole day be too long, if we make 
conscience of discharging the several duties 
of religion, reading and meditation, prayer 
and praise, teaching our children, and in- 
structing our domestics, examining our 
hearts, and taking heed to our v.'ays. All 
these offices, if properly performed, will 
leave very little, rather no time for unne- 
cessary elopements. And shall we huddle 
over all these important offices, or totally 
neglect some of them, only to indulge our- 
selves in the most unprofitable levities ? at 
once doing an injury to our spiritual inter- 
ests, and violating the divine precept. 

I fear it will be a kind of " crucifying 
afresh our blessed Master." Heb. vi. 6. 
This expression we have often read, but 
think ourselves free from the guilt implied 
in it, and indeed from the very likelihood of 
contracting it. But let us be reminded, 
that " we crucify our Lord afresh," when 
we give others occasion to conclude, that 
we have very little esteem for him, or gra- 
titude to him ; consequently, that he has 
little or no excellency for which we or 
others should desire him. Now, what else 
can the world conclude, when they see us 



giving into the vanities of a licentious mode 
on that very day which is sacred to the com- 
memoration of his resurrection ? " Surely," 
might the children of this world say, "if 
these Christians had any real reverence for 
their Lord, they would show it on his ow^n 
day. They would either be retired to con- 
template and adore him, or else come 
abroad to exalt and glorify him. But 
tliey come abroad to be as frothy in their 
talk, and as trifling in their temper, as for- 
getful of their Saviour, and as regardless of 
his honour, as the most arrant worldling 
among us all." To afford a handle for such 
reflections, is to wound the Redeemer in the 
house of his friends. 

It will "grieve the Holy Spirit." Eph. 



iv. 30. Christians believe that he is infi- 
nitely wise, all-gracious, and ever blessed ; 
that he dwells in their hearts, and is the 
source of all their holiness and all their 
happiness. Therefore we pray daily in our 
Liturgy, " that the Holy Spirit may not 
be taken from us." On Sunday we com- 
memorate the descent of this divine guest, 
and are, in a particular manner, to implore 
his presence, and cultivate his influences. 
But can this be done by neglecting his ex- 
press prohibition, and breaking his positive 
command? by disregarding the examples 
which he has set before us, and dishonour- 
j^ng that Saviour whom he delights to mag- 
nify? Besides, dare any mortal presume 
to say in his heart, amidst a circle of our 
polite visitants, " I am now acting in a 
manner becoming my relation to the eternal 
Spirit. These sentiments and this discourse 
are suitable to his dignity, wisdom, and 
glory ; a proper method of celebrating and 
honouring the day of his miraculous mis- 
sion ?" 

Should any one ask, " What is meant by 
grieving the Holy Spirit ?" It means of- 
fending his exalted Majesty, and causing 
him to act as men commonly act when they 
are grieved and displeased with any one ; 
they withdraw from his company, and visit 
him no more. When Samuel was grieved 
for Saul's misbehaviour, it is written, " He 
came no more to see Saul." If the al- 
mighty Comforter be provoked to deal thus 
with our souls, alas ! what a loss must we 
sustain ! a loss unspeakable, irreparable, 
eternal ! 

So that if this practice were not sinful, 
it must be exceedingly detrimental, and that 
not in one only, but in various respects- Have 
we received spiritual good from the public 
ordinances ? The admonition of Heaven is, 
we ought to give the more earnest heed 
to the things which we have heard, lest at 
any time we should let them slip," Heb. ii. 
1. By this practice we not only suifer them 
to slip, but open, as it were, a leak for 
their immediate discharge. Have we been 
under edifying impressions from our private 
exercises ? The unerring direction is, 
" Quench not the Spirit." Stifle not the 
serious desires which he has awakened ; al- 
low them their full scope, till they are form- 
ed into gracious habits. By the practice 
under consideration, we pour water instead 
of oil upon the feeble flame : we extinguish 
what we should cherish. Is the heavenly 
seed sown in our breasts ? These dissi- 
pating interviews are the ravenous birds 
which follow the seedsman, and devour the 
grain, so that nothing takes root. No fruit 
of faith, of joy, or love, is produced. 

Let me only add, that, on a dying bed, 
the misimprovement of all our time will be 
most bitterly regretted. How much more 



SUNDAY VISITS. 



705 



the misimprovcment of those hours which 
God himself has hallowed, has set apart 
for the noblest purposes, and is wont to 
bless in an especial manner 1 " While 
others were seeking the pearl of great price, 
and gathering those treasures of wisdom and 
grace which endure to everlasting life, I, 
alas ! was squandering away the precious 
opportunities in every vanity." To see the 
curtain of time dropping, to see a vast 
eternity opening before us, and to have such 
reflections haunting our conscience ; this 
will cause misery not to be expressed, create 
anguish not to be conceived. 

Object. II. Will it be said, in answer to 
these considerations, " That company, even 
trifling company, is a relaxation : We return 
to the instruction of our families, and to 
our evening devotion with fresh alacrity, 
being sick of these triflers ?" A strange 
argument ! It should rather be reversed. 
The objectors might tiuly say, Being sick 
of religion and its services, we want such 
triflers to afford us some relief. The sin- 
cere servant of Christ would find no recrea- 
tion, but feel grief of heart in such inter- 
views. It must be a real affliction to ob- 
serve his divine Lord absolutely disregard- 
ed ; disregarded on the day peculiarly de- 
voted to his honour; every vanity. now pre- 
ferred before him, as Barabbas the robber 
was formerly. The true refreshment fur 
our souls consists in having our faith in- 
creased, our hope elevated, and our views 
of heaven enlarged ; in contemplating the 
infinite perfection and glory of our Redeem- 
er, the infinite grandeur and fulness of his 
propitiation, and our complete, I might have 
said our infinite security from wrath and 
vengeance, by being interested in his merits. 

Object. III. " Sunday is the best part of 
our time for this purpose ; business is sus- 
pended, every body is ready dressed, all cir- 
cumstances invite." Is it the best part of 
our time? Then let it be devoted to the 
best of Beings. Who is more worthy of 
our choicest thoughts, affections, hours, 
than that divinely compassionate Saviour, 
who offered himself, in the very prime of 
his life, a bleeding victim for our sins, that 
his sacrifice might have every recommending 
circumstance which could render it accepta- 
ble to God, and available for man 

Object. IV. " It is the universal custom : 
To discontinue it would render us unfa- 
shionable." And cannot you bear to be a 
little unfashionable for his sake, who was 
despised and rejected, who humbled him- 
self to death, even the death of the cross, 
for your sake? Is it the universal custom ? 
Then custom is the idol which v/e are 
called to renounce. I must say of custom 



in this case, as Elijah said of Baal, If cu?- 
tom be God, follow its dictates ; but if 
Jehovah be God, observe his precepts. 
It is written in the Scriptures, Rom. xii. 2. 
"Be not conformed to this world." To 
what does this prohi))ition relate ? To 
such ungodly customs, no doubt. No 
battery of cainion was ever pointed more 
directly against a citadel to be demol- 
ished, then this text against such cus- 
toms. In indifferent matters let the Chris- 
tian avoid singularity ; let him dress some- 
what like his neighbours ; let him make 
an appearance suitable to his station ; 
but let him not " follow a multitude 
to profane the Sabbath, or to do any evil." 
Here religious persons should by all means 
be singular ; should distinguish themselves 
by a becoming zeal for their God ; should 
set an example, and shine as lights in the 
midst of a crooked and perverse generation ; 
otherwise they may do, not themselves only, 
but others also, incredible harm. 

Object. V. Some perhaps may start and 
reply, " If these things are so, to what a 
degree of sinful negligence is even the 
Christian world arrived ?" With regard to 
the world called Christian, this is too true ; 
and no measure of sorrow can be sufficient 
to bewail the deplorable degeneracy. Ne- 
gligence, or rather obstinacy, in this capital 
instance, is a melancholy indication of no 
less disobedience in other respects. 

Object. VI. " This will be irksome, will 
render our religion a burden." I hope no 
one that pretends to seriousness will offer 
to make this objection. The sinners in 
Zion made it ; for which reason they are 
branded, and by the divine Spirit himself, 
with infamy that will never be blotted out : 
" O what a weariness is it 1 when will the 
Sabbath and its irksome solemnities be 
gone?" Mai. i. 13, and Amos viii. 5. 
This discovers a heart alienated from God, 
that has not tasted the good word of grace, 
and savours not the tilings which be of 
Christ. Otherwise such would be the lan- 
guage, " One day thus employed is better 
than a thousand." Psalm Ixxxiv. 10. Is 
it tedious and burdensome to puss a single 
day in devout exercises ? How then shall 
we pass, how shiill we endure the ages of 
eternity ! since we are assured that those 
happy beings who stand around the throne, 
clothed with white robes, serve their God 
day and night, for ever and ever, in his 
temple. In the regions of immortality 
they find a heaven, because there they have 
a never-ceasing and eternal comminiion 
with (yod ; because there they have an 
uninterrupted and everlasting Sabbath. 

2 z 



A TREATISE 

ON THE 

RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS. 



Prov. xxii . 6.—" Train up a child in the ^ay she should go, and when she is old, sJie will not depart from it. 



It has long been a prevailing report, 
that, among persons of education and dis- 
tinction, true religion is very rare. This, 
I would hope, is an invidious rumour, rather 
than a true representation of the case. 
Mfiy it not be an artifice of the grand ene- 
my, calculated to bring the best and noblest 
of causes into disrepute, as though polite- 
ness and piety were inconsistent, as though 
grace and good breeding were irreconcil- 
able ? Is then the faith of Christ quite fatal 
to refined manners, as the rod of Moses 
was to the counterfeit miracles of the ma- 
gicians ? No ; it is rather like the influence 
of the sanctuary on the rod of Aaion ; 
which, while it remained at a distance from 
the tabernacle, was a dry, sapless, and 
barren stick ; but, when deposited before 
the ark, was quickened into vegetable life, 
was adorned with a milk-white bloom, and 
enriched with full-grown fruit ; or, as the 
sacred historian expresses this sui-prising 
fact, " It brought forth buds, and bloomed 
blossoms, and yielded almonds." Numb, 
xvii. 8. 

I find upon the list of saints the most re- 
nowned kings and victorious generals, the 
ablest politicians and the greatest philoso- 
phers ; men that have bid the sun stand 
still, and prolong the departing day ; have 
laid an embargo upon darkness, and pro- 
tracted the shades of night ; have com- 
manded the ground to cleave asunder, and 
transmit their presumptuous foes to a strange 
and inevitable destruction ; have divided 
the impetuous waves, and led their followers 
to safety and to conquest through the depths 
of the sea ; men who have walked in the 
burning fiery furnace as under the shelter of 
an embowering arbour ; and sat in the lion's 
den, amidst a herd of hungry monsters, with 
as much serenity and as much security as 
amidst a circle of bosom friends. 

I myself have known various persons ad- 
mired for their accomplished behaviour, and 
revered for their exalted station, who have 
thought it their highest honour to be servants 
of Jesus Christ. My excellent friend Ca- 
millus, at whose house I now reside, is one 



of the number. I cannot refrain from giv- 
ing a portrait of Camillus, or rather, of a few 
of his most distinguishing features ; for, to 
paint him in full proportion, as he daily ap- 
pears in all the mild, the benign majesty of 
domestic authority, parental government, 
and Christian zeal ; to do this would require 
a much abler hand than mine, 

Camillus, not long ago, entertained in his 
house a young clergyman, who was always 
treated with a respect suitable to the dignity 
of his office and the piety of his behaviour. 
Having lately presented the worthy ecclesi- 
astic to a living, and always requiring resi- 
dence on the benefice, he is now destitute 
of a chaplain. Remembering, however, 
that all Christians are spiritual priests, he 
thinks it no dishonour to have an immediate 
and personal audience with the King of hea- 
ven, nor acting at all out of character to 
represent the wants of his household with 
his own mouth at the throne of grace. 

Before supper is introduced, the evening 
incense ascends. This, rather than a later 
hour, is pitched upon, that the little congre- 
gation may join in the sacred service with a 
lively devotion. After a plentiful meai, 
when the limbs are weary, people, even 
though kneeling, and in the presence of 
God, are more inclined to nod than to pour 
out their souls ; are very, very apt to mis- 
take the cushion for a pillow. No servant 
is allowed to be absent, one only excepted, 
whose presence in the kitchen is absolutely 
necessary. Acquainted with their master's 
resolution, they are careful so to manage 
their afiairs, and despatch their business, 
that no avoidable obstacle may intervene to 
detain them from the stated worship. 

When all are assembled, without either 
tumultuous disorder in their approach, or a 
slovenly negligence in their apparel, a chap- 
ter is read. Camillus makes the choice. 
He imagines it is not so useful for his fa- 
mily, whose memories are weak, and their 
capacities scanty, to read the lesson for 
the day. He has, therefore, selected some 
of the most instructive and animating por- 
tions of Scripture ; and judges it advisable 



ON THE EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS. 



707 



to peruse these again and again, rather than 
to go regularly through the whole inspired 
wi'itings. The servants take it by turns to 
read, which improves them in the practice, 
and keeps them awake. If any of them 
discover a disposition to sleep, to him the 
office is sure to be assigned. 

"VVTien the chapter is finished, Camillus 
singles out some one verse, of very weighty 
and edifying import, which, for the space 
of five or six minutes, he explains, applies, 
and afiJ'ectionately urges upon their con- 
sciences. This done, with great seriousness 
and profound reverence, he offers up evening 
prayers. His prayers consist of short sen- 
tences, and the whole is performed in a lit- 
tle time. Eveiy part is pronounced with 
that deliberate slowness, and solemn accent, 
which command attention and create awe. 
He makes a very perceivable pause at the 
close of each petition, that every one may 
have leisure to add, in silence, a hearty 
Amen ; and to recollect the merits of that 
blessed Redeemer, which render every 
thanksgiving acceptable, and every suppli- 
cation successful. 

In the morning, before breakfast, the 
worship of the living God is renewed. At 
this juncture, Camillus omits the chapter, 
but requires one of his domestics to repeat 
the verse on which he enlarged the preced- 
ing night. None knows which shall be 
called to this task ; therefore every one is 
obliged to be properly prepared. He throws 
the substance of his exhortation into a few 
searching and interesting questions, which 
he addresses to one of his children or ser- 
vants ; for in this respect no difference is 
made. All are equally enjoined to remem- 
ber, all are equally accountable for what they 
hear. Sometimes he encourages those 
whose answers show that they have given 
diligent heed to his instructions. Some- 
times he puts on an air of severity, mixed 
with tenderness, and reproves the notori- 
ously negligent. Always he reinculcates 
the principal ])oints, charging them to retain 
the doctrines in their memory, and revolve 
them in their thoughts, while they are pur- 
suing their respective business. These 
ductnnes are the seed of faith, the root of 
godiijiess. Unless these be lodged in the 
mind, and operate on the heart, he never ex- 
pects to have his domestics commence true 
believers or real Christians ; no more than 
the husbandman can reasonably expect a 
crop in harvest without sowing his field, or 
the florist promise himself a blow of tulips 
without planting his parterre. 

1 have given a glimpse of Camillus at the 
head of his family : let me now show my 
favourite in another attitude. Camillus is 
convinced that no trust is of superior or of 
equal importance to the tuitionary cultiva- 
tion of an immortal soul As Providence 



has blessed him with two fine daughters, 
their present and future happiness is the 
reigning object of his care. He has no in- 
terest so much at heart as to give them a 
truly refined education ; — such as may ren- 
der them an ornament and a blessing to so- 
ciety, while they pass the time of their so- 
journing here below ; and may train them 
up for a state of everlasting bliss, when the 
world, and its transitory scenes, shall be no 
more. 

Camillus never could persuade himself to 
admire the maxims of prudem^e said to be 
gathered from the extravagant rant of our 
tragedies ; and less is his esteem for those 
modest dispositions which people pretend 
to imbibe from the luscious gallantries of co- 
medy. For which reason, he has no impa- 
tient desire to secure for Miss Mitissa and 
Miss Serena a place in the front-box. How- 
ever, as we are apt immoderately to covet 
what is absolutely forbidden, he has himself 
attended them once or twice to the theatri- 
cal entertainments and public diversions ; 
thinking it much the safest method, that 
their curiosity should be gratified under his 
own inspection ; and hoping to make them 
sensible how much they endanger their vir- 
tue, who too often frequent them ; how 
shamefully they debase their affections, who 
are passionately fond of them ; and what 
mere phantoms they follow, who seek for 
satisfaction in such delusory delights. 

They learn to dance, in order to acquire 
a genteel air, and a graceful demeanour ; not 
to shine at a ball, or win the worthless ad- 
miration of fops. He is content to have 
them unacquainted with the wild and ro- 
mantic fables of heathen poetry ; nor is un- 
der any painful apprehensions of damping 
the sprightliness of their temper, though 
they have no taste for the chimerical adven- 
tures of our romances, and are strangers to 
the loose intrigues of our novels, being fully 
persuaded that there is as much sound sense 
as smartness of thought in that celebrated 
saying, 

Retire and read your Bible, to be gay, 
There truths abound of sovereign aid to peace ! 

Young. 

He has introduced them to the knowledge 
of history, and its instructive facts. They 
have a tolerable idea of the four universal 
monarchies, so eminent for their great events, 
and so circumstantially foretold in Scripture. 
They have been led through the most re- 
markable transactions of our own country, 
and are pretty well acquainted with the pre- 
sent state of Europe. They have, all along, 
been taught to observe the wonderful revo- 
lutions of empires, and the adorable proce- 
dure of Providence, that they may discern 
how " the fashion of this world passeth 
away," 1 Cor. vii. 31. ; and bow " happy 
are the peoj)le," how happy the persons, 



708 



ON THE EDTrOATION 



" who have the Lord for their God." They 
have been taught to observe the honourable 
success that has usually attended the prac- 
tice of integrity, guided by Prudence ; to- 
gether with the scandal and ruin which have 
always pursued Folly in her senseless ram- 
bles, and dogged Vice to her horrid haunts ; 
that they may see the rocks on which some 
have split, and avoid the destructive track ; 
see the road which has conducted others to 
the haven of happiness, and steer the same 
auspicious course. 

They have been initiated in geography, and 
understand the several divisions of the globe, 
the extent of its principal kingdoms, and the 
manners of their various inhabitants. They 
will tell you the peculiar commodities which 
each climate produces ; whence comes the tea 
that furnishes their breakfast, and whence 
the sugar that renders it palatable ; what 
mountains supply them with wines, and 
what islands send them their spices ; in 
what groves the silk worms spin the mate- 
rials for their clothes ; and what mines* sup- 
ply them with the diamonds that sparkle in 
their ear-rings. A screen, covered with a 
set of coloured maps, and a custom of re- 
ferring from the public papers to those beau- 
tiful draughts, has rendered the acquisition 
of this knowledge a diversion rather than a 
task, has enticed them into a valuable branch 
of science, under the inviting disguise of 
amusement. This serves to enlarge their 
apprehensions of things, gives them magni- 
ficent thoughts of the great Creator, and 
may help to suppress that silly self-admira- 
tion which prompts so many pretty idols to 
fancy themselves the only considerable crea- 
tures under heaven. 

They spell to perfection, and have obtain- 
ed this art by a sort of play, rather than by 
laborious application. Whenever they ask- 
ed any little gratification, it has been their 
papa's custom to make them spell the word ; 
which if they performed aright, they seldom 
failed to succeed in their request. They 
are mistresses of the needle ; and the young- 
est, whose genius inclines that way, is ex- 
pert in using the pencil. Music is their re- 
creation, not their business. The eldest, to 
a skilful singer, adds a melodious and well- 
regulated voice. She often entertains me 
with singing an anthem on her harpsichord. 
Entertains, did I say ? she really edifies me. 
These truly excellent performances exalt 
the desires, and compose the afifections. 
They inspire such a serenity of delight, as 
leaves neither a sting in the conscience, nor 
a stain on the imagination. Methinks they 
bring us a little antepast of heaven, and 
tune our souls for its harmonious joys. 

Thoroughly versed in the most practical 
parts of arithmetic, they have each their 

* The best of the diamond mines are in the king- 
dom of Golconda, near to Madras. 



week wherein to be intrusted with the man- 
agement of a sum of money. This they 
disburse as circumstances require, for the 
smaller necessaries of the family. Of this 
they keep an exact account, and make a 
regular entry of each particular in their day- 
book. Not long ago a tenant of inferior 
rank came to Camillus with his rent. In- 
stead of receiving it himself, he referred him 
to Miss Serena. You would have been 
delighted to observe the behaviour of our 
little landlady on this occasion, the en- 
gaging condescension with which she ad- 
dressed the honest rustic, the tender good- 
nature with which she inquired after my 
dame and the family at home, the ready 
dexterity with which she wrote and sub- 
scribed a proper receipt ; and, above all, 
her amiable generosity in returning half-a- 
crovvn, to buy a copy-book for his eldest 
son, " who," he said, " was just going into 
joining-hand ; but, he feared, would never 
come to spell or write half so well as her 
ladyship." 

Though Camillus is careful to ground 
them betimes in the rules of economy, he 
is equally careful to cultivate a spirit of dis- 
c?eet beneficence. A few days ago, when 
my friend and his lady were abroad. Miss 
Mitissa was informed of a poor w^oman in 
the parish just brought to bed, after a long 
and hard labour ; who, being unhappily 
married to a sot of a fellow, was, at a time 
when the choicest comforts are scarcely 
sufficient, destitute of the meanest conve- 
niences. Upon hearing the calamitous case, 
she immediately despatched a servant with 
a crown from her weekly stock ; part to buy 
for the afilicted creature some present ac- 
commodations, and part to defray the ex- 
penses at such a juncture unavoidable ; 
but gave a strict charge that the whole 
should be employed for the relief of the 
distressed mother and her helpless infant, 
none of it fingered or enjoyed by the 
worthless drone her husband. When Ca- 
millus returned, he was so pleased with 
this seasonable and well-judged charity, 
that, besides his commendation and caresses, 
he farther rewarded our considerate matron- 
like benefactress, by making her a present 
of Clarissa.* For he always contrives to 
make what tends to their improvement the 
matter of their reward. If they have com- 
mitted a fault, they are forbid the privilege 
of using their maps. If they have behaved 
in a becoming manner, their recompense 
is, not a piece of money, or a paper of 
sweetmeats, but some new instruction on 
the globe, some new lesson on the harpsi- 
chord, which may at once delight and im- 
prove them. 



* A book admirably calculated to instruct and en- 
tertain, wrote by the celebrated Mr. Richardson, in 
eight volumes. 



-.UGHTEIIS. 



109 



■ To prevent a haughty carriage, and to 
worm out all inordinate self-love, he teaches 
them to consider their neighbours as mem- 
bers of the same universal family, and 
children of the same almighty Father. 
JHowever poor in their circumstances, or 
mean in their aspect, they are the objects 
of God's infinitely tender regards ; of that 
God, who has given his own Son to suffer 
death for their pardon, and has prepared a 
heaven of endless bliss for their final recep- 
tion. For which reason they should de- 
spise none, but honour all ; should be as 
ready to do them good, as the hand is ready 
to sooth the eye when it smarts, or ease the 
head when it aches. One afternoon, when 
he was going to treat them with an orange, 
he bid each of them bring a fine toy, lately 
received for a present- It was made in the 
shape of a knife, the handle of ivory, and in- 
laid with the gayest colours; the blade of glass, 
most dazzlingly bright, but without an edge. 
Cut the orange in two, said their papa. 
When they both tried with their pretty knives, 
and, to their no small mortification, both 
failed, he furnished them with another of 
more ordinary appearance,but tolerably sharp- 
With this they easily pierced the rind, and 
came at the delicious juice. " Who now," said 
Camillus, " would not prefer one such ser- 
viceable though plain utensil, to a hundred of 
those glittering but worthless trifles ? And 
you, my dear children, if you have no other 
recommendations than a showy person and 
the trappings of dress, you will be as con- 
temptible in your generation as that insig- 
nificant bauble. But if it is the desire of 
your hearts, and the endeavour of your lives, 
to be extensively useful, you will gain, and, 
what is better, you will deserve, respect ; 
your names will be precious, and your me- 
mories blessed." 

With equal watchfulness he discounte- 
nances all those acts of petulant barbarity 
which childi-en are so apt to exercise on 
the reptile creation. He will allow no 
court of inquisition to be erected within 
his house ; no, not upon the most despica- 
ble, or even the noxious animals. The 
very nuisances that are endued with life, 
he thinks should be despatched, not with a 
lingering butchery, but with a merciful ex- 
pedition. To rend in pieces a poor fly, 
and feast their eyes with the mangled 
limbs, shivering and convulsed in the pangs 
of death ; to impale a wretched insect on 
the needle or the bodkin ; and, what is still 
more shocking, to take pleasure in hearing 
its passionate moan, and seeing its agonizing 
struggles ; such practices he absolutely 
forbids, as insufFei'able violations of nature's 
law, such as tend to extinguish the soft 
emotions of pity, and inure the mind to a 
babit of inhumanity. He often informs his 
lovely pupils, that every living creature is 



sensible of pain, that none can be abused 
in this cruel manner without suffering very 
exquisite misery. To turn their torments 
into pastime, and make sport with their 
anguish, is a rigour more than tyrannical, 
worse than brutal ; is the very reverse of 
that benign Providence, whose " tender 
mercies are over all his works." 

He proposes to give them a taste of na- 
tural philosophy, and to accommodate them 
with the best microscopes ; that the use of 
these instruments, and a spice of that know- 
ledge, may inspire them with an early ad- 
miration of nature's works, and with the 
deepest veneration of nature's almighty 
Author. Camillus has no design to finish 
a couple of female philosophers, or to divert 
their attention from those domestic arts 
which are the truest accomplishments of 
the sex ;* yet neither would he have his 
daughters debarred from that rational and 
exalted delight, which is to be found in 
contemplating the curiosities of the great 
Creator's cabinet. Why may they not, 
without departing from their own, or en- 
croaching on the masculine character, why 
may they not be acquainted with the accu- 
rately nice structure of an animal, or with 
the process and efl^ects of vegetation ? Why 
may they not learn the admirable operations 
of the air, or the wonderful properties of 
the water ? have some general notion of the 
immense magnitudes, the prodigious dis- 
tances, and the still more amazing revolu- 
tions of the heavenly orbs ? He apprehends 
it very practicable to conduct an entertain- 
ment with diginty, and order a family with 
propriety, even while they retain some 
tolerable idea of those magnificent laws 
which regulate the system- of the universe. 

The microscope, whenever they are in- 
clined to amuse themselves, will show them 
a profusion of splendid ornaments in some of 
the most common and contemptible olyects. 
It wiU show them gold and embroidery, 
diamonds and pearl, azure, green, and Ver- 
million, where unassisted eyes behold nothing 
but provocatives of their abhorrence. This 
instrument will show them the brightest 
varnish, and the most cmious carving, even 
in the minutest scraps of existence. Far 
more surprising than the magic feats of the 
most dexterous juggler, it will treat their 
sight, not with delusive, but with real 
wonders. A huge elephant shall stalk 
where a puny mite was wonc to crawl. 
Blood shall bound from the beating heart, 
and eyes sparkle with a lively lustre — limbs 
shall play the most sprightly motions, or 
stand composed in the most graceful attitudes 
— where nothing ordinarily appeared, but a 
confused speck of animated matter. A 



* Foi- nothing lovelier can be found 

iQ wcnnan, than to study househoiJ good.— Jf/tVc.)- 



710 



ON THE- EDUCATION 



tincture of philosophy will be the cosmetic 
of nature, will render all her scenes lovely, 
and all her apartments a theatre of diversion ; 
diversions infinitely superior to those dan- 
gerous delights vi^hich are so apt to inveigle 
the affections, and debauch the minds of 
young people. When philosophy lends her 
optics, an unclouded morning, beautiful with 
the rising sun — a clear night, brilliant with 
innumerable stars, will be a more pleasing 
spectacle than the gaudiest illuminations of 
the assembly-roomi The melody of birds, 
and the murmur of fountains, the humming 
insect, and the sighing gale, will be a higher 
gratification than the finest airs of an opera. 
A field covered with corn, or a meadow 
besprinkled with daisies, a marsh planted 
with osiers, or a mountain shaded with oaks, 
will yield a far more agreeable prospect than 
the most pompous scenes that decorate the 
stage. Should clouds overcast the heavens, 
or winter disrobe the flowers, an inquiry 
into the causes of these grand vicissitudes 
will more than compensate the transitory 
loss. A discovery of the divine wisdom 
and divine goodness, in these seemingly 
disastrous changes, will impart gaiety to the 
most gloomy sky, and make the most unor- 
namented seasons smile. 

It is for want of such truly elegant and 
satisfactory amusements, that so many ladies 
of the fu st distinction and finest genius have 
no proper employ for their delicate capaci- 
ties, but lose their happiness in flights of 
caprice or fits of the vapour ; lose their 
time in the most insipid chat, or the most 
whimsical vagaries ; while thought is a 
burden, and reflection is a drudgery, solitude 
fills them with horror, and a serious dis 
course makes them melancholy. 

Above all, Camillus is most earnestly 
desirous to have his tender charge grounded 
in the principles, and actuated with the 
spirit of Christianity. No scheme, he is 
thoroughly persuaded, was ever so wisely 
calculated to sweeten their tempers, to exalt 
their affections, and form them to felicity 
either in this world or another. It is there- 
fore his daily endeavour, by the most easy 
and endearing methods of instruction, to fill 
their minds with the knowledge of those 
heavenly doctrines, and win their hearts to 
the love of that invaluable book in which 
they are delineated. He longs to have a 
sense of God Almighty's goodness impress- 
ed on their souls. From this source, un- 
der the influences of the sanctifying Spirit, 
he would derive all the graces and all the 
duties of godliness. With this view he speaks 
of the divine Majesty not only as super- 
eminently great, but as most transcendently 
possessed of every delightful, every charm- 
ing excellence. He represents all the com- 
forts they enjoy, and every blessing they 
receive, as the gifts of his bountiful hand, 



and as an earnest of unspeakably richer 
favours. He often, often reminds them, 
that whatever their heavenly Father com- 
mands, forbids, inflicts, proceeds from his 
overflowing kindness, and is intended for 
their eternal good, if, by these expedients, 
he may awaken in their minds an habitual 
gratitude to their everl^ting Benefactor. 
The actings of which nobl,e principle are 
hot only fruitful in every good work, but 
productive of the truest satisfaction ; some- 
what like the fragrant steams of consecrated 
incense, which, while they honoured the 
great object of worship, regaled with their 
pleasing perfumes the devout worshipper. 

Nothing is more displeasing to Camillus 
than the fond flatteries which their injudi- 
cious admirers bestow on their shape and 
their complexion, the gracefulness of their 
carriage, and the vivacity of their wit. He 
would fain make them sensible, that these 
embellishments are of the lowest value and 
most fading nature; that, if they render 
their possessors vain and self-conceited, 
they are far greater blemishes than a humph 
on the back, a wen on the neck, or stutter- 
ing in the speech. He would have them 
thoroughly convinced, that notwithstanding 
all their silks, diamonds, and other marks 
of their superior circumstances, they are 
ignorant, guilty, impotent creatures ; blind 
to truths of the last importance, deserving 
the vengeance of eternal fire, and unable of 
themselves to think a good thought ; that 
from such convictions they may perceive 
their absolute need of a Saviour, a Saviour 
in all his offices ; as a Prophet to teach 
them heavenly wisdom; as a Priest to atone 
for all their many, many sins ; as a King to 
subdue their iniquities, write his laws in 
their hearts, and make them, in all their 
conversation, holy. 

In short, the point he chiefly labours is, 
to work in their hearts a deep, an abiding 
sense, that God is their supreme, their only 
good ; that the blessed Jesus is the rock of 
their hopes, and the fountain of their salva- 
tion ; that all their dependence for acquir- 
ing the beauties of holiness, and tasting the 
joys of the sublimest virtue, is to be placed 
on the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. 
Amidst all these efforts of his own, he ne- 
ver forgets, never fails to plead that precious 
promise of the unchangeable Jehovah, " I 
will, pour out my Spirit upon thy seed, and 
my blessing upon thy offspring ; and they 
shall grow up," in knowledge and in graced 
" as willows by the water-courses." Isaiah 
xliv. 3, 4. 

A lady of brilliant parts, but no very 
extraordinary piety, told Camillus, that he 
would spoil the pi etty dears, would extin- 
guish that decent pride, and fondness for 
pleasure, which are shining qualifications in 
an accomplished young lady, which give her 



OF DAUGHTERS. 



an elevation of sentiment, and a delicacy of 
taste greatly superior to tlie ignoble vulgar. 
To whom he replied, " Far from extirpating 
their passions, I only attempt to turn them 
into a right channel, and direct them to the 
worthiest objects. Willing I am that they 
should have a decent ambition, an ambition 
not to catch the giddy coxcomb's eye, or be 
the hackneyed toast of rakes, but to please 
their parents, to make a husband happy, and 
to promote the glory of God. They may 
entertain a fondness for pleasure, but such 
pleasure as will ennoble their souls, afford 
them substantial satisfaction, and prepare 
them for the fruition of immortal bliss. 
Let them be covetous also, if you please, 
madam, but covetous of redeeming their 
time, and of gaining intellectual improve- 
ment ; covetous of those riches which no 



moth can corrupt, nor thief steal — which 
neither time nor death destroy." 

In all these instances of parental solici- 
tude, his beloved Amelia takes her constant, 
her willing share ; contributes her advice in 
every plan that is concerted, and her hearty 
concurrence in every expedient that is exe- 
cuted ; every expedient for polishing the 
human jewel,* and making their manners as 
faultless as their forms. May the God of 
infinite goodness, the sacred source of all 
perfection, prosper their endeavours ! that, 
as the young ladies are adorned in their 
person* with native beauty, they may be 
enriched in their understandings with refined 
knowledge, and dignified in their souls with 
the spirit of the blessed Jesus. Then, 
surely, more amiable objects the eye of man 
cannot behold ; more desirable partners the 
heart of man cannot wish. 



PREFACE 

TO 

BURNHAM'S PIOUS MEMORIALS. 



Religion, or an affectionate and firm 
connexion of the soul with God, is the high- 
est improvement of the human mind, and 
the brightest omamentof the rational nature. 
It is the most indissoluble bond of civil 
society, and the only foundation of happiness 
to every individual person. 

The gospel, by which we have access to 
the King immortal, invisible, through the 
merits of Jesus Christ ; by which we are 
confoi'med to his amiable and holy image, 
through the operations of the blessed Spirit 
— the gospel is, of all other religions, most 
exquisitely adapted to compass those desir- 
able ends. 

This point hath often been demonstrated 
with all the strength of argument, and 
illustrated by every decoration of eloquence. 
In the following sheets we are presented 
with a new proof of the same important 
truth, deduced from a topic level to every 
capacity, and from a scene in which all 
must, sooner or later, be personally concern- 
ed. 

Nothing strikes the mind of a wise and 
attentive observer so forcibly as fact ; no- 
thing hath so strong a tendency to convince 
the judgment, and influence the conduct. 
In the collection before us we have a series 
of indubitable and interesting facts. Here 
are some of the most renowned, many of 
the most worthy persons, after a life of 
exemplary devotion and exalted virtue. 



bearing their dying testimony to the excel- 
lency of the gospel and the pleasures of 
religion — persons from difljerent countries, 
of different denominations, and flourishing 
in distant periods of time — persons in the 
most awful moments of their existence, 
when hypocrisy drops the mask, when 
worldly motives lose their weight, and there 
remains no more temptation to deceive — all 
these, uniting in the same sentiments, all 
reposing their confidence on the same great 
Mediator, all proclaiming the dignity, effi- 
cacy, and glory of the evangelical system, 
in a manner superior to language ; pro- 
claiming it by a peace of conscience which 
the whole world cannot give, and a joy of 
heait which transcends all description. 

Such a collection of memoirs is, I think, 
a valuable addition to the evidences for 
Christianity, a considerable aid to the inte- 
rests of piety, and worthy botli of frequent 
perusal and universal acceptance. 

A work of this nature hath often appear- 
ed to me among the desiderata of the closet. 
I have sometimes wondered that no ingeni- 
ous pen hath attempted it ; and always 
thought that, when duly executed, it would 
bid fair for extensive usefulness. But I am 
glad to find myself anticipated in this opi- 



* Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought. 

To teach the young idea how to shoot. 

And pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind. 

Thomson 



712 



PREFACE TO 



nion by a writer,* whose words I shall beg 
leave to transcribe, and whose judgment can- 
not be questioned : " There is nothing in 
history which is so improving to the reader, 
as those accounts which we meet with of 
the deaths of eminent persons, and of their 
behaviour in that dreadful season," Spect. 
No. 289. Here is a large field, in which 
the reader may not barely glean a few ears, 
but gather his sheaves, or reap a harvest of 
that sacred improvement which our admired 
critic mentions. Here is a multitude of 
those most distinguished and animating parts 
of history, traced through various ages of 
the church ; from the heroic martyrdom of 
venerable Ignatius, to the peaceful exit of 
the pious and ingenious Dr. Watts. 

These histories are not only unquestion- 
ably true, but of the most unexceptionable 
kind. They are delivered in the very words 
of the author from v/hose writings they are 
extracted ; so that we may depend upon a 
strict exactness in point of authenticity, and 
shall be entertained with an agreeable diver- 
sity in reference to style. None of these 
accounts personate the romantic insensibi- 
lity of the stoic, or the brutal hardiness of 
the sceptic : None of them exhibit the in- 
decent levity of a Petronius, or the pitiable 
fluctuation of a Socrates : But all display 
true fortitude, rational tranquillity, and well- 
grounded hope ; built upon the divine pro- 
mises, supported by the divine Spirit, ren- 
dered steadfast and immoveable by a divine 
propitiation and righteousness. 

Here the minister of the gospel may 
furnish himself with noble materials to en- 
rich and enliven his compositions for the 
pulpit. And I dare venture to foretell, 
that no part of his public addresses will be 
heard with a closer attention, or collected 
with a sweeter relish, than his pertinent ap- 
plication of the last sayings of truly religi- 
ous men. 

Here the strong Christian may view, not 
without a glow of gratitude, perhaps with a 
rapture of delight, the inviolable faithfulness 
of his divine Master, who never leaves nor 
forsakes his servants ; no, not at that try- 
ing season which may most emphatically be 
styled the time of need. He may view the 
never-failing tenderness and grace of that 
good Spirit, who opens the rich promises 
of Scripture, applies the precious atonement 
of a Saviour, and makes the soldier of Jesus 
always to triumph. 

Here the feeble trembling believer may 
see imperfect creatures, men of like passions 
and of like infirmities with himself, looking 
death in the face with intrepidity. He may 
hear them addressing that ghastly monarch 
in the triumphant language of the apostle, 



* Mr, Addison, 



" O death, where is thy sting !" To hear 
and see this, will be a more effectual ex- 
pedient to establish his heart, more sove- 
reign to deliver him from the bondage of 
fear, than the most spirited exhortations, or 
the most sage directions. 

Should the unbeliever be so impartial as to 
mark these disciples of Jesus, and consider 
the end of their conversation, he must surely 
acknowledge both the divine origin and une- 
qualled energy of the glorious gospel ; since it 
administers such strong consolation amidst 
the pains of a mortal distemper, and the 
ruins of dissolving nature. Vain, inex- 
pressibly vain and insignificant, must every 
other scheme of salvation appear, which is 
destitute of an all-sufficient Redeemer, and 
void of an almighty Comforter. 

Should the libertine, in a serious inter- 
val, approach these death-beds of the just, 
he may behold the genuine fruits of 
faith unfeigned, and the blessed consequen- 
ces of vital holiness. And where can he 
behold 

A scene, so strong to strike, so sweet to charm. 
So great to raise, so heavenly to inspire. 
So solid to support fair Virtue's throne ? — Young: 

Or how can he behold all this without feel- 
ing some pangs of salutary regret ; without 
entering into himself, and forming some 
useful reflections ? " Will my vicious grati- 
fications create such sweet composure, such 
humble joy, such heavenly hope, at the last 
awful hour ? Alas ! will they not rather 
shai^jen the fatal arrow, add poison to the 
point, and anguish, inconceivable anguish to 
the wound ?" 

There may be, and there doubtless is, a 
variety of treatises, written upon a variety 
of subjects, in which many people are no 
way interested. But the subject of this 
book appertains to all. It is appointed, 
and by an irrevocable decree, that all must 
die. There is no discharge in this warfare, 
no, not for the votaries of gaiety and indo- 
lence. This consideration, methinks, should 
incline even the gay and indolent to observe 
what is transacted in the antichamber to 
those apartments where they themselves 
must shortly lodge. And would they from 
the ensuing narratives make their observa- 
tions, they might be led to entertain more 
favourable apprehensions of our holy reli- 
gion. They will find, that far from imbit- 
tering life, it sweetens death. Instead of 
damping the enjoyments of health, it sof- 
tens the bed of sickness, and soothes even 
the agonies of dissolution. Why then 
should they be afraid of pure and undefiled 
religion ; why stand aloof, why Mathdraw 
themselves from its benign invitations ? 
Can that throw a gloom upon the delecta- 
ble hills, which is able to gild and gladden 
the valley of darkness ? 

Soine, peiluips, may be prom})ted by 



BURNHAMS PIOUS MEMORIALS. 



713 



curiosity to cast an eye upon this solemn 
and august spectacle — a multitude of ra- 
tional beings, arrived on the very borders 
of the invisible state, bidding a final adieu 
to time, and just launching out into the 
abysses of eternity. And blessed be the 
Divine goodness, the spectacle is as de- 
lightful as it is august. Their God, their 
God sustains them in the greatest extremi- 
ty. They overcome the last enemy through 
the blood of the Lamb. Their discourses 
savour of heaven ; their hopes axe full of 
immortality. And is not this a privilege 
devoutly to be wished ?* Who that has 
the least seriousness, or feels any concern 
for his true happiness, can forbear crjdng 
out, on such an occasion, " Let me die the 
death of the righteous ?" Numb, xxiii. 10. 

Life, take thy chance : But oh ! for such an end ! 

Yo ling. 

Upon the whole, I would persuade my- 
self, that " The Pious Memorials" may be 
a word in season, a welcome and well 
adapted address, to readers of every charac- 
ter ; may be a means, in the hand of Pro- 
vidence, to awaken the thoughtless, and fix 
their attention upon important and ever- 
lasting things ; may tend to reclaim the 



dissolute from ruinous practices, and engage 
them in the pursuit of those substantial 
acquisitions, which " will bring them peace 
at the last ;" may animate the Christian to 
fresh zeal and renewed activity in the ser- 
vice of om" adorable Immanuel : That each, 
while he is running his race, may be inspi- 
rited to say, with the holy apostle, " To me 
to live is Christ ;" and each, when he hath 
finished his course, may be emboldened to 
add, " To me to die is gain." 

With this aim the narratives were collect- 
ed ; with this aim they are published. May 
the Lord of all power and might make them 
effectual to accomplish what is so laudably 
designed ! Then it will not be deemed a 
piece of officious impertinence or presum- 
ing boldness for me to recommend them : 
it will rather be looked upon as an act of 
friendship to the deceased author and his 
distressed widow ; as an effort of true, of 
Christian benevolence to my fellow-crea- 
tures ; and a proper expression of my gra- 
titude to the public for that remarkable 
candour and indulgence shewn to their 
obliged, and very humble servant, 

James Hervey. 

' Weston-Favell, July 18, 1753. 



A LETTER TO MR. JOHN TRAILL, 

Late Bookseller in Edinburgh, now Minister of a Cwigregation of Protestant Dissentert, 
at Chelsea, near London. 



Str — I RECEIVED your very valuable, and 
no less acceptable present]- some weeks ago. 
I should have acknowledged the favour 
sooner, but I chose to stay till I had tasted 
the dish you set before me ; and indeed I 
find it to be savoury meat, the true manna, 
food for the soul. 

Your worthy relative|: was a workman 
that need not be ashamed. He knew how 
clearly to state, and solidly to establish the 
faith of God's elect, and the doctrine ac- 
cording to godliness. Oh that my heart, 
and the heart of every reader, may be open- 
ed by the eternal Spirit to receive the pre- 
cious truths ! 

The letter at the end of the first volume§ 



* Even a Pagan writer could not but discern the 
excellency of such a blessing, and made it one of the 
principal ingredients which constitute happiness. 
Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, 
Atque metus omnes et inexorabile fatum 
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari, 
Virg. Gcorg. llib. ii. 
t ;Mr. Traill had sent Mr. Hervey a copy of his 
new edition of the first two volumes of the works of 
the Rev. Mr. Robert Traill, late minister in London : 
the third volume was not republished till after Mr. 
llervev's death. 
± Mr. Robert Traill was luicle to :\Ir. John Traill. 
§ This IfJii-r is entitled. "A Viaai.-aciim of the 
Protestant Duciriue conccruijij Justiiicauun, and 



is a judicious performance. It rightly di- 
vides the word of truth, and lays the line 
with a masterly hand, between the presump- 
tuous legalist and the licentious Antino- 
mian. I am particularly pleased with the 
honourable testimony borne to those two 
excellent books, Dr. Ovven's Treatise on 
Justification, and ]\Ir. IMarshall's Gospel 
Mysteiy of Sanctification ;* books fit to be 
recommended by so good a judge. 



of its Preachers and Professors, from the unjust 
charge of Antinomianism." 

* "I think," says Mr Traill, "that Dr. Owen's 
excellent book of Justification, and :SIr. :Marshall's 
book of the Mystery of Sanctification by faith in Jesus 
Christ, are such vindications and confirmations of 
the Protestant doctrine, against which I fear no ef- 
fectual opposition. Mr. Marshall was a holy and re- 
tired person, ard is only known to the most' of us by 
his book lately published. The book is a deep, prac- 
tical, well joined discourse, and requires a more than 
ordinary attention in reading of it with profit. And 
if it be singly used, I look upon it as one of the most 
useful books the world hath seen for many years. 
Its excellence is, that it leads the serious reader di- 
rectly to Jesus Christ, and cuts the sinews, and over- 
turns the foundation of the new divinity, by the same 
argument of gospel holiness by which inany attempt 
to overturn the old. And as it hath already had the 
seal of high approbation by m?.ny judicious ministers 
and Christians that have read it,' so I fear not but it 
will stand firm as a rock against all opposicion, and 
will prove good seed, and food, and light to many 
hereafter." 



714 



TRAILL RECOMMENDED. 



If the Lord pleases to give Theroti and 
Aspasio any acceptance in Scotland, I 
shall be sincerely glad ; but if he vouchsafes 
to make thera not only welcome, but useful 
visitants, I shall exceedingly rejoice. In 
case you should think them calculated to 
promote the honour, and further the gospel 



of Jesus Christ, I hope you will favour 
them with your recommendation, and ac- 
company them with your prayers ; which 
will be a fresh instance of kindness to, Sir, 
your obliged friend, and obedient servant. 

James Hervey. 

Weston-Favell, July 8, 1755. 



PROMISES 



TO BE PASTED AT THE BEGINNING OF A BIBLE. 

" God hath given us exceeding great and 
precious promises, that by these we 
might be partakers of the divine nature." 
2 Pet. i. 4. 

DIVINE TEACHING. 

Isa. xxix. 18. The eyes of the blind shall 

see out of obscurity. 
Jer. xxxi. 34. They shall all know me, 

from the least of them unto the greatest 

of them. 

John xiv. 2G. The Holy Ghost shall teach 

you all things. 
Isa. Iviii. 1 1 . The Lord shall guide thee 

continually. 

PARDON. 

Isa. xliii. 25. I am he that blotteth out thy 

transgressions. 
Isa. i. 18. Sins as scarlet, shall be as white 

as snow. 

1 Pet. ii. 24. Who his own self bare our 
sins in his own body on the tree. 

1 John i. 7. The blood of Jesus Christ 
cleanseth from all sin. 

JUSTIFICATION. 

Rom. viii. 33, 34. It is God that justifieth. 
Rom. iii. 21 — 24. Justified freely by his 
grace. 

Isa. xlv. 24, 25. In the Lord have I righ- 
teousness. 

2 Cor. V. 21. We are made the righteous- 
ness of God in him. 

SANCTIFICATION. 

Ezek. xi. 19, 20. I will put a new spirit 

within you. 
Tit. ii. 14. Christ gave himself for us, that 

he might redeem us from all iniquity. 
Heb. viii. 10 — 12. I will put my laws into 

their mind, and write them in their 

hearts. 

1 Thess. v. 23. The God of peace sanctify 
your whole spirit, and soul, and body. 



TO BE PASTED AT THE END OF A BIBLE. 
TEMPORAL BLESSINGS. 

1 Tim. iv. 8. Godliness hath the promise 

of the life that now is. 
Psalm xxxvii. 3. Verily thou shalt be fed. 
Matth. vi. 33. Seek first the kingdom of 

God, and all things shall be added. 
1 Tim. vi. 17. Who giveth us all things 

richly to enjoy. 

TEMPTATION. 

1 Cor. X, 13. God will not suffer you to 
be tempted above that ye are able. 

2 Cor. xii. 9. My grace is sufficient for 
thee. 

Rom. vi. 14. Sin shaH not have dominion 
over you. 

Luke xxii. 32. I have prayed for thee, that 
thy faith fail not. 

AFFLICTION. 

Job V. 17. Happy is the man whom God 
correcteth. 

Lam. iii. 32. Though he cause grief, yet 

will he have compassion. 
Psalm 1. 1 5. Call upon me in trouble ; I 

will deliver thee. 
Rev. iii. 19. As many as I love, I rebuke 

and chasten. 

DEATH. 

1 Cor. XV. 55 — 57. God giveth us the vic- 
tory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

2 Cor. V. 1. If our earthly house is dis- 
solved, we have a building of God. 

John iii. 16. Whosoever believeth shall 

have everlasting life. 
Psalm xxiii. 4. Though I pass through 

death, I will fear no evil. 

CONCLUSION. 

" God, willing more abundantly to show 
unto the heirs of promise the immutability 
of his counsel, confirmed it by an oath." 
Heb. vi. 17. 



A LETTER TO RICHARD NASH, Esq. 



Late Master of the Ceremonies at Bath. * 
Isa. Iv. 6.—" Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near.' 



Sir, — This comes from your sincere 
friend, and one that has your best interest 
deeply at heart ; it comes on a design alto- 
gether important, and of no less consequence 
than your everlasting happiness, so that it 
may justly challenge your careful regard. It 
is not to upbraid or reproach, much less to 
triumph and insult over your misconduct ; 
no, it is pure benevolence, it is disinterest- 
ed good-will prompts me to write ; so that 
I hope I will not raise your resentment. 
However, be the issue what it will, I can- 
not bear tO'^ee you walk in the paths that 
lead to death, without warning you of your 
danger, without sounding in your ears the 
awful admonition, "Return and live; for 
why will you die ?" I beg of you to consider 
whether you do not, in some measure, re- 
semble those accursed children of Eli ; 
whom, though they were famous in their 
generation, and men of renown, yet ven- 
geance suffered not to live. For my part, I 
may safely use the expostulation of the old 
priest ; " why do you such things ? For I 
hear of your evil dealings by all this people : 
nay, my brother, for it is no good report I 
hear, — you make the lord's people to trans- 
gress." I have long observed and pitied 
you ; and a most melancholy spectacle I 
lately beheld, made me resolve to caution 
you, lest you also come into the same con- 
demnation. 

I was, not long since, called to visit a 
poor gentleman, erewhile of the most robust 
body and gayest temper I ever knew ; but 
when I visited him, oh ! how was the glory 
departed from him ! I found him no more 
that sprightly and vivacious son of joy which 
he used to be, bub languishing, pining away, 
and withering under the chastising hand of 
God ! his limbs feeble and trembling, his 
countenance forlorn and ghastly, and the 
little breath he had left sobbed out in sor- 
rowful sighs ! his body hastening apace to 
the dust, to lodge in the silent grave, the 



* Mr. Hervey is supposed to have written this let- 
ter when he was at Bath in the year 1743. It was 
found among Mr. Nash's papers after his death, and 
an extract of it was inserted in an account of his 
death, published several years ago. For ought 
that appears, this man of pleasure despised the 
awful warning given by the benevolent Mr. Hervey 
and died as he had lived. 



land of darkness and desolation ; his soul 
just going to God who gave it, preparing 
itself to wing away to its long home, to 
enter upon an unchangeable and eternal 
state. When I was come up into his cham- 
ber, and had seated myself on his bed, he 
first cast a most wishful look upon me, and 
then began, as well as he was able, to speak. 
" O that I had been wise, that I had known 
this ; that I had considered my latter end ! 
Ah ! Mr. Hervey, death is knocking at my 
doors ; in a few hours more I shall draw my 
lastgasp, and then judgment, the tremendous 
judgment ! How shall I appear, unprepared 
as I am, before the all-knowing and Omni- 
potent God ! how shall I endure the day of 
his coming!" When I mentioned, among 
many other things, that strict holiness 
which he had formerly so lightly esteemed, 
he replied with a hasty eagerness, " Oh ! 
that holiness is the only thing I now long 
for : I have not words to tell you how high- 
ly I value it. I would gladly part with all 
my estate, large as it is, or a world, to ob- 
tain it. Now my benighted eyes are en- 
lightened, I clearly discern the things that 
are excellent. What is there in the place 
whither I am going but God ? or what is 
there to be desired on earth but religion ?" 
But if this God should restore you to 
health, said I, think you that you would 
alter your former course ? "I call heaven 
and earth to witness," said he, " I would 
labom' for holiness as I shall soon labour for 
life. As for riches and pleasures, and the 
applauses of men, I count them as drosg 
and dung ; no more to my happiness than 
the feathers that lie on the floor. Oh ! if 
the righteous Judge would try me once 
more ; if he would but reprieve and spare 
me a little longer, in what a spirit would I 
spend the remainder of my days ! I would 
know no other business, aim at no other 
end, than perfecting myself in holiness : 
whatever contributed to that, every means 
of grace, every opportimity of spiritual im- 
provement, should be dearer to me than 
thousands of gold and silver. But, alas ! 
why do I amuse myself with fond imagina- 
tions ? The best resolutions are now in- 
significant, because they are too lute : the 
day in which I should have worked is over 
and gone; and I see a sad horrible night 



716 



A LETTER TO RICHARD NASH, Esq. 



approaching, bringing with it the blackness ^ 
of darkness for ever. Heretofore, (woe is 
me !) when God called, I refused ; when he 
invited, I was one of them that made ex- 
cuse : Now, therefore, I receive the reward 
of my deeds ; fearfulness and trembling are 
come upon me ; I smart, I am in sore an- 
guish already, and yet this is but the begin- 
ning of sorrows ! It doth not yet appear 
what I shall be ; but sure I shall be ruined, 
undone, and destroyed with an everlasting 
destruction !" 

This sad scene I saw with my eyes ; 
these words, and many more equally affect- 
ing, I heard with my ears ; and soon after 
attended the unhappy gentleman to his 
tomb. The poor breathless skeleton spoke 
in such an accent, and with so much ear- 
nestness, that I could not easily forget him 
or his words ; and as I was musing upon 
this sorrowful subject, I remembered Mr. 
Nash ; — I remembered you, sir, for I dis- 
cerned too near an agreement and corres- 
pondence between yourself and the deceas- 
ed. They are alike, said I, in their ways, 
and what shall hinder them from being alike 
in their end ? The course of their actions 
was equally full of sin and folly, and why 
should not the period of them be equally 
full of horror and distress ? I am grievously 
afraid for the survivor, lest as he lives the 
life, so he should die the death of this wretch- 
ed man, and his latter end should be like his. 

For this cause, therefore, I take my pen, 
to advise, to admonish, nay, to request of 
you to repent while you have opportunity, 
if happily you may find grace and forgive- 
ness. Yet a moment, and you may die ; 
yet a little while, and you must die : And 
will you go down with infamy and despair 
to the grave, rather than depart in peace, 
and with hopes full of immortality ? 

But I must tell you plainly, sir, with the 
utmost freedom, that your present beha- 
viour is not the way to reconcile yourself 
to God ; you are so far from making atone- 
ment to offended justice, that you are ag- 
gravating the former account, and heaping 
up an increase of wrath against the day of 
wrath. For what say the Scriptures — 
those books which, at the consummation of 
all things, the Ancient of Days shall open, 
and judge you by every jot and tittle there- 



in — what say these sacred volumes ? Why, 
they testify and declare to every soul oif 
man, " That whosoever liveth in pleasure 
is dead while he liveth ;" so that, so long as 
you roll on in a continued circle of sensual 
delights and vain entertainments, you are 
dead to all the purposes of piety and vir- 
tue ; you are as odious to God as a corrupt 
carcass that lies putrefying in the church- 
yard ; you are as far from doing your duty,' 
or working out your salvation, or restoring 
yourself to the divine favour, as a heap of 
dry bones nailed up in a coffin is from vi- 
gour and activity. Think, sir, I conjure 
you, think upon this, if you have any inclin- 
ation to escape the fire that never will be 
quenched. Would you be rescued from 
the fury and fierce anger of Almighty God ? 
would you be delivered from weeping, and 
wailing, and incessant gnashing of teeth ? 
Sure you would ! Then I exhort you as a 
friend, I beseech you as a brother, I charge 
you as a messenger from the great God, in 
his own most solemn words, " Cast away 
from you your transgressions ;fmake you a 
new heart, and a new spirit, so iniquity 
shall not be your ruin." 

Perhaps you may be disposed to contemn 
this and its serious purport, or to recom- 
mend it to your companions as a fit subject 
for raillery ; but let me tell you beforehand, 
that for this, as well as for other things, God 
will bring you into judgment. He sees menow 
write, he will observe you while you read ; 
he notes down my words in his book, he 
will note down your consequent procedure ; 
so that not upon me, but upon your own 
self, will the neglecting or despising of . my 
sayings turn. *' If thou be wise, thou shalt 
be wise for thyself ; if thou scornest, thoii 
alone shalt bear it." 

Be not concerned, sir, to know my name; 
it is enough that you will know this here- 
after. Tarry but a little, till the Lord, even 
the most mighty God, shall call the heaven 
from above, and the earth, that he may judge 
his people ; and then you will see me face 
to face : there shall I be ready, at the dread- 
ful tribunal, to joy and rejoice with you, if 
you regard my admonitions, and live ; or 

to be what God prevent, by inclining 

your heart to receive this friendly admoni- 
tion. 



RULES AND ORDERS 



OF THE 



ASSEMBLY FOR CHRISTIAN IMPROVEMENT.* 



PsAr.M Ixxxix. 7 <' God is greatly to be feared in the assemblies of his saints, and to be had in reveren*-* 

by all that aie round about him." 



I. That this assembly consist of no 
more than ten or twelve at the utmost, lest 
an increased number should produce con- 
fusion or dissensions ; and that each mem- 
ber, in order to prevent any sinister reflec- 
tions from the inconsiderate or vicious, be 
cautious of mentioning to any others that 
he belongs to suchf an assembly. And 
that each member, before he sets out, and 
on his return, do use the forms of prayer 
vk'hich are specified in the minutes, auc) par- 
ticularly adapted to this occasion. 

II. That no one shall be admitted a 
member who has not been proposed by the 
chairman at the preceding assembly, or who 
shall be disapproved of by any two members 
on a ballot, which shall always be taken on 
such occasions, how unanimous soever the 
members may seem to be beforehand. 

III. That the members shall be register- 
ed alphabetically in the minutes of the as- 
sembly's proceedings, and that the chairman 
of the day be appointed regularly according 
to that list ; so that no misunderstanding 
may arise about precedence ; and that a 
treasurer be elected annually, the fir,st Tues- 
day in January. 

IV. That the assembly meet on the 
first Tuesday in every month, during the 
summer season, punctually at twelve 
o'clock, and on the moonlight Tuesday, 
during the winter season, exactly at ten, at 
such inn as shall from time to time be 
agreed on by the majority ; and that din- 
ner be ready precisely at two in the sum- 
mer, and one in the winter. 



* Referred to in Mr. Hervey's Life. 

t As this assembly met at different inns, public 
prayer would have alarmed the attendants, and 
caused gross misrepresentation. Besides, the real 
design of this meeting was known only to a few, and 
the injunction of secrecy was given to each member, 
in order to avoid the appearance of religious osten- 
tation, and in compliance with the apostle's precau- 
tion, viz. " Let not your good be evil spoken of." 
Rom. V. 16. 



V. That as soon as the assembly is met, 
the names of the present members shall be 
entered in the minutes, and the forfeits (if 
there be any due) deposited in the charity 
purse. After which, the chairman shall in- 
quire if the prayers, as agreed upon by the 
assembly and entered in their minutes, have 
been properly used by each member at his 
own home. Then the chairman shall, in a 
short charge or exhortation, remind his as- 
sociates of the importance of such a meet- 
ing, and enumerate the good effects which 
the selected chapters, if rightly improved, 
may produce. 

VI. The chairman shall then read the chap- 
ter in the Old Testament in English, and 
shall pause at the end of every verse, that 
any one who pleases may make such in- 
quiries and reflections as may occasionally 
arise ; but that no two persons speak at a 
time ; and if two accidentally begin, the 
chaifman shall direct which is to go on. 
And that every member shall, against the 
next meeting, send to the chairman what- 
ever observation of his on the chapter of the 
day the members then present had desired 
to have entered in their minutes ; by which 
method many useful observations may be 
preserved : and in case any verse shall not 
be cleared of its difficulties to the satisfac- 
tion of the present members, the said verse 
shall be reconsidered at the next meeting. 

VII. At three o'clock precisely during 
the summer season (no more than an hour 
being allowed for dinner,) the chairman 
shall proceed in reading a chapter in Greek 
out of the New Testament, to be comment- 
ed on in like manner as that out of the 
Old. But in the winter season, when the 
assembly meet at ten, the chapter, both iu 
the Old as well as the New Testament, 
shall be read before dinner ; and after din- 
ner, no other business than that specified in 
\the ninth article shall be entered on. 



718 RULES AND 

VIII. That the two chapters to be con- 
sidered by the assembly at their next meet- 
ing, be previously appointed before the ad- 
journment of every assembly, either by the 
succeeding chairman, if present, or in case 
of his absence, by the majority ; of vi^hich 
chapters the absent members shall have 
timely notice sent them in writing. 

IX. That at every meeting (as time 
permits) each member, in an alphabetical 
order, shall be desired to give an account 
of some religious author (which he has read 
in the preceding month) in as concise and 
succinct a manner as possible. 

X. That at every meeting half a crown 
shall be given by each member for charita- 
ble uses ; and that at the end of the year, 
the money shall be expended in clothing or 
educating such poor persons, or relieving 
such incurables, as the members in their 
alphabetical order shall recommend to the 
assembly. 

XI. That every member who is absent, 
though occasioned by the most urgent 
business, or even indisposition, (unless such 
indisposition shall continue longer than a 
month,) shall pay half a crown towards the 
charity piu-se, and one shilling and sixpence 
towards the dinner, in the same manner as 
if he had been present. 

XII. That the assembly break* up by 
seven in the summer, and by four in the 
winter ; and that each member, on his re- 
turn home, use the form of prayer which is 
specified in our minutes, and peculiarly 
adapted to this occasion. 

We, whose names are underwritten, have 
this day (being the seventh of July 1747) 
subscribed our assent to these rules and or- 
ders, as witness our hands. 



TJie Torm. of Prayer, composed hy Mr. Her- 
vey^ to be 7ised by each Member before 
setting out for the Assembly' 

Matt, xviii. 20. — "Lord, thou hast said, Where two 
or three are gathered together in my name, there 
am I in the midst of them." 

Almighty and immortal God, Father of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, and through him 
the God of all mercies, vouchsafe, we be- 
seech thee, to look down upon us thy sin- 
ful servants, who are preparing to meet to- 
gether in thy name, and with an humble 
desire to build up one another in our most 
holy religion. Pardon all our iniquities 
through the blood of the everlasting coven- 
ant, and make us and our services accepted 
through the Beloved. O heavenly Father, 
unite us to one another by mutual love, 



* Some of the members lived five or six m .lcs from 
the place of meeting, whi.h was always at i ubiic- 
liouses, and as near the centre of each membtr'o re- 
sidence as could be conveniently contrived. 



ORDERS, &:c. 

and to thy blessed self by ftuth unfeigned. 
Enlighten our minds vi'ith the knowledge of 
thy truth, and sanctify our hearts by the 
power of thy grace. Direct our counsels, 
and prosper all our endeavours, to the glory 
of thy divine Majesty, and the salvation of 
our own, and the souls of others. Grant 
this, most gracious God, through the pre- 
cious death and never-ceasing intercession 
of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 



The Form of Prayer, composed by Mr. 
Hervey, to be used by each Memiber when 
returned from the Assembly. 
Maxt. xviii. 19.—" Lord, thou hast said. If two of 
you shall agree on earth, as touching any thing that 
ye shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father 
which is in heaven." 

O Lord God of our salvation, thou giver 
of every good and perfect gift, we adore thy 
glorious name and beneficence, for the re- 
demption of our souls by Jesus Christ, and 
for all thy other unnumbered and undeserv- 
ed mercies. In a particular manner, we 
praise thy unspeakable goodness for the 
valuable opportunity we have this day en- 
joyed, of provoking one another to love, 
and to good works. Pity our infirmities, 
most merciful Father, and pardon whatever 
thou hast seen amiss in the tenor of our 
conversation, or in the spirit of our minds. 
Sanctify, we humbly beseech thee, thy holy 
word which we have heard. Command it 
to sink deep into our souls, and to be a 
lively and lasting principle of godliness in 
our hearts. O let us, by every such con- 
ference, grow in grace, and in the know- 
ledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ ! that through thy infinitely precious 
favour we may become steadfast in faith, 
joyfid through hope, and rooted in charity ; 
and so much the more, as we see the day 
approaching. And forasmuch as we are 
now separated into a world where wicked- 
ness abounds, preserve us, O God our de- 
fence, from the least infection, and from 
evei'y appearance of evil. Inspire us with 
wisdom so to order our conversation, that 
we may give no just occasion of offence in 
any thing. Endue us with holiness, that 
we may adorn the gospel of God our Sa- 
viour in all things ; and animate us with 
such a steady and well-tempered zeal, that 
neither the slothfulness of our nature, nor 
the fear of the world, may withhold us from 
pursuing such courses as may be conducive 
to the glory of thy blessed name, the ad- 
vancement of true religion, and the salva- 
tion of our immortal souls. This, and 
whatsoever else is needful for us, and for 
carrying on the work which thou hast given 
us to do, we humbly beg, for the sake of 
Jesus Christ, our only Mediator, and all- 
sufficient Redeemer, Amen. 



RULES AND ORDERS OF A RELIGIOUS SOCIETY, 



Consisting of Two Classes, viz — Of Men, into which no Woman can he admitted ; and of 
Married Men, their Wives, and other Women, into which no Unmarried 
Man can be admitted. 



Each Class meets every other week alternately. 



Rule I. — As the sole design of this So- 
ciety is to promote real holiness in heart 
and life, every member of it is to have this 
continually in view, trusting in the divine 
power and gracious conduct of the Holy 
Spirit, through our Lord Jesus Christ, to 
excite, advance, and perfect all good in us. 

Rule II. — That, in order to the being 
of one heart and one mind, and to prevent 
all things which gender strifes, as well as to 
remove all occasion of offence from being 
taken against this society, no person is to 
be admitted a member, or allowed to con- 
tinue such, who is a member of any other 
meeting, or follows any other preaching than 
that of the established ministry of the' 
Church of England. That none be mem- 
bers but such as attend the sacrament every 
month ; and that no person be at any time 
introduced, except by request of the direc- 
tor. 

Rule III. — That no person be admitted 
a member but upon the recommendation of 
the director, with the consent of the ma- 
jority of members then present : And that 
the director be the Reverend Mr. Walker.* 

JRuLE lY. — That the members of ibis 
society meet together one evening in a week, 
at a convenient place, and that they go 
home at nine o'clock. And that all matters 
of business be done before the sentences 
begin. 

Rule V — That every member give con- 
stant attendance, and be present at the 
hour of meeting precisely. And that 
whoever absents himself four meetings to- 
gether, without giving a satisfactory account 
to the director, which shall by him be com- 
municated to the society, shall be looked 
upon as disaffected to the society. 

Rule VI. — That, to prevent confusion, 
no person be removed from this society but 
by the director, who shall be present on 
such occasions. That any member do be- 
forehand apply to the director, in case he 
judges such removal necessary. That a 
disorderly carriage, or a proud, contentious. 



* This society is very happy in having so accom- 
plished a person at their head. But where such a 
one cannot be had, perhaps it weuld be prudent to 
elect a director annually, whose office might be con- 
tinued a more or less number of years, as seemed best 
for the general good. 



disputing temper (the greatest adversary to 
Christian love and peace,) be sufficient 
ground for such complaint and removal. 

Rule VII — That all the members, con- 
sidering the sad consequences of vanity and 
amusements over the nation, do, in charity 
to the souls of others, as well as to avoid 
the danger of such things themselves, look 
upon themselves as obliged to use peculiar 
caution with respect to many of the usual 
amusements, however innocent they may 
be, or be thought in themselves ; such as 
cards, dancings, clubs for entertainment, 
play-houses, sports at festivals and parish- 
feasts, and, as much as may be, parish-feasts 
themselves, lest, by joining herein, they 
should be a hinderance to themselves or 
their neighbours. 

Rule VIII. — That, wiih the consent of 
the director, the major part of the society 
have power to make a new order when 
need requires ; but that the projiosal for 
this purpose be made by the director; And 
that any member may consult the director 
hereupon before the day of meeting. 

Rule IX — That persons disposed to 
become members of this society, must first 
be proposed by the director, in order that the 
members of the society may observe their 
conduct for the s])ace of three mouths be- 
fore admittance. 

Rule X. — That every member do con- 
sider himself as peculiarly ob/ligcd to live 
in an inoffensive and orderly manner, to the 
glory of God, and the edifying his neigh- 
bours. That he study to advance in him- 
self and others, humility, faith in our Lord 
Jesus Christ, love to God, gospel repent- 
ance, and new obedience, wherein Christian 
edification consists. And that, in all his 
conversation hereupon, he stick close to the 
plain'and obvious sense of the holy Scrip- 
tures, carefully avoiding all niceties and re- 
finements upon them. 

Rule XI. — That these orders shall be 
read over at least four times in the year by 
the director, and that with such delibera- 
tion, that each member may have time to 
examine himself by them. 

Rule XII. — That the members of this 
society do meekly and humbly join together 
in the following offices of devotion. 



RULES OF A RELIGIOUS SOCIETY. 



THE OFFICE OF DEVOTION USED WEEKLY AT 
THE MEETING OF THE SOCIETY. 

77te director shall read these sentences, himself 
aiid every one standing. 

" God is greatly to be feared in the as- 
semblies of his saints, and to be had in re- 
verence by all that are round about him." 
Psalm Ixxxix. 7. 

" God is a righteous Judge, strong and 
patient, and God is provoked every day." 
Psalm vii. 12. 

" God will bring every work into judg- 
ment, with every secret thing, whether it be 
good, or whether it be evil." Eccles. xii. 
14. 

" He that hideth his sins shall not pros- 
per ; but he that confesseth and forsaketh 
them, shall have mercy." Prov. xxviii. 13. 

" If any man sinneth, we have an advo- 
cate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righ- 
teous ; and he is the propitiation for our 
sins." 1 John ii. 1, 2. 

" O come, let us worship, and fall down, 
and kneel before the Lord our Maker." 
Psalm xcv. 5, 6. 

' 77ien shall be said these three Collects, all 
kneeling. 

" Prevent us, O Lord," &c. 

" Dlessed Lord, who hast caused all holy 
Script ures," &c. 

" O God, for as much as without thee," 
&c. 

All seating themselves, a portion of Scnpture 
shall be read. T/ien kneeling dovni, they 
shall join in this confesdm of sin. 

" Almighty God, Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, Maker of all things, Judge of 
all men," &c. 

" Our Father, which art," &c. 

After ichich, the director alone shall say, 

" Almighty and everlasting God, who 
hatest nothing that thou hast made, &c. 

O most holy and blessed God ! the Cre- 
ator, Governor, and Judge of all ! who hatest 
falsehood and hypocrisy, and wilt not accept 
the prayer of feigned lips, but hast promised 
to show mercy to such as turn unto thee by 
true faith and repentance; vouchsafe, we 
pray thee, to create in us clean and upright 
hearts through an unfeigned faith in thy 
Sot), our Saviour. To us indeed belongeth 
shame and confusion of face; we are not 
worthy to lift up our eyes or our voice to- 
wards heaven ; our natures are depraved, 
and our ways have been perverse before 
thee. O let not thy wrath rise against us, 
lest we be consumed in a moment; but let 
thy merciful bowels yearn over us, and 
vouchsafe to purify and pardon us, through 
thine all-suScient grace and mercy in our 
Lord Jesus Christ. Since it hath pleased 
thee to oft'er him up as a s-.icrifice fur sin- 



ners, vouchsafe, we beseech thee, to cleanse 
us from all iniquity through his blood. We 
believe that he is able to save to the utter- 
most those that come unto thee by him ; 
and we do earnestly desire to embrace him 
as our Prince and Saviour. O give us repen- 
tance and remission of sin through his name. 
All we like sheep have gone astray, every 
one after his own way : Good Lord, reduce 
us into thy fold through this great Shepherd 
of souls, and be pleased to lay on him the 
iniquity of us all. And as we have much to 
be forgiven, be pleased to incline our hearts 
to love thee much, who forgivest iniquity, 
transgression, and sin. Give us that faith 
that worketh by love, and such love as will 
constrain us to have regard to all thy com- 
mandments. And make us to look carefully 
to all our ways, that we may never again do 
any thing whereby thy holy name may be 
blasphemed, or thine authority despised. 

Give us the deepest humility, without 
which we can never be accepted of thee, 
our infinitely condescending God: make us 
continually to tread in the steps of our bless- 
ed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ ; being 
of a meek and quiet spirit, always influenced 
by the highest love of thee our God, and by 
the most charitable disposition towards all 
men. 

Vouchsafe to endue us with the saving 
knowledge of spiritual things, that we may 
receive all thy truths in the love of them, in 
all patience, purity, justice, temperance, god- 
liness, and brotherly kindness ; that we may 
adorn our holy profession, and resemble the 
divine goodness of thee our heavenly Father. 
And since we are not only weak and frail, 
but corrupt and sinful, vouchsafe, O Lord, 
to keep us by the power of thy Holy Spirit, 
that we fall not from our avowed steadfast- 
ness in all Christian duty. Preserve us 
from all the sin and vanity to which our age, 
condition, and nature are prone, and to 
which the devil and this world may at any 
time tempt us. 

Glorify, good God, thy strength in our 
weakness, thy grace in our pollution, and 
thy mercy in our saU^ation, May our holy 
religion be grounded and settled in our 
hearts, that out of the good treasure of a 
gracious heart our speech may be savoury, 
and our conversation exemplary ; that we 
may be fruitful in all good works, even to 
our old age, and to our last day. 

Fit us, v/e pray thee, for every state of 
life into which thy providence shall cast us ; 
prosper our lawful undertakings ; preserve 
us night and day, and prepare us for an 
hopeful death and a blessed eternity. 

Be pleased, we beseech thee, to bless all 
those societies who in truth apply their 
hearts to thy service and glory : We pray 
thee be pleased to strengthen, establish, and 
{settle both them and us in thy holy foith, 



RULES OF A RELIGIOUS SOCIETY. 



fear, and love. Let nothing in this world 
discourage us from the pursuit of those holy 
purposes which thy Spirit hath at any time 
put into om- hearts and mind ; but make us 
all faithful to thee, our avowed God and de- 
sired portion, even unto death, that we at 
last (with thy whole church) may be par- 
takers of that eternal life and perfect bliss 
which thou hast promised through Jesus 
Christ thy only begotten Son, our Media- 
tor and Redeemer. Amen. 

" Almighty and ever-living God, who, by 
thy holy apostle, has taught us to make 
prayers," &c. 

Then aU standing up, a Psalm shall be sung, 
and a sermon* read, or a charge given by 
the director. After which, some suitable 
prayers shall be used, as he shall judge Jit. 

Then all standing up, this exhortation to hu- 
mility shall be read. 

My brethren, since the great God has of- 
ten assured us in his holy word, " that he 
will resist the proud, and give grace unto 
the humble," James iv. 6, 1 Pet. v. 6, let 
us consider that all our undertakings, though 
ever so good, will fail and come to nought, 
unless we be truly and deeply humble. 
Luke xiv. 1 1 . Indeed it cannot be other- 
wise ; because the proud person quits his 
reliance on God to rest in himself, which is 
to exchange a rock for a reed. 

Alas ! what are we, poor empty nothings ! 
Gen. xxxii. 10. Yea, what is worse, we 
are condemned perishing sinners ! We have, 
perhaps, understanding now, but God can 
soon turn it into madness. Dan. iv. 42. 
We may have some attainments in grace, but 
spiritual pride will wither all, and soon re- 
duce us to a very profligate and wretched 
estate, Isa. Ixvi. 2; such as we have seen 
others fall into, who have begun in the spirit, 
and ended in the flesh ! What have we 
that we have not received ? 1 Cor. iv. 7 ; 
and even that, he who gave it may as soon 
take away. 

Ye that are young in years, and younger 
in grace, 1 Tim. 3, 6, are in danger of self- 
conceit, and Qf being puffed up, which is a 
quicksand in which thousands have been 
swallowed up and perished. It is not in 
vain that the apostle requires, " that young 
men be exhorted to be sober-minded," Tit. 
ii. 6 ; Prov. xvi. 18 ; which he elsewhere 
explains when he says, *' Let no man think 
of himself more highly than he ought to 
think, but to think soberly," Rom. xii. 3- 
Isa. xiv. 12, 13. 

Ry pride the angels fell from heaven, 1 
Tim. ni. 6 ; and if ever we climb up to 
those blessed seats from which they are fal- 
len, it must be by the gracious steps of hu- 



* The director, when abroad or indisposed, is to 
appoint what stimon sJiall be read, and by whom. 



721 

mility and lowliness of mind, Luke xviii. 14 
" Wherefore, let him thatthinketh he stand- 
eth, take heed lest he fall," 1 Cor. x. 12. 
" Let us walk humbly with our God," and 
ever have lowly thoughts of our vile selves, 
Rom. xi. 20, and of our poor attainments, 
and of our defective performances : and 
with St. Paul (who was nothing behind the 
very chiefest apostles) let us always say, I 
am nothing, 2 Cor. xii. 11. 

Let us therefore now sing to the praise 
and glory of God, to whom alone praise is 
due. 

A Psalm being sung, the director shall say, 
" It is very meet and right," &c. 

AU shall join 
" Therefore with angels and archangels," 
&c. 

The director alone. 
" May the grace ofour Lord Jesus Christ," 
&c. Amen. 



Considerations laid before the Members of this 
Society; being the substance of the first 
charge or exhortation spoke at its opening by 
the director. 

Brethren", — You expect that I lay before 
you the design of this society, and give you 
some cautions concerning it. The design 
is threefold : 1. To glorify God ; 2. To be 
quickened and confirmed. ourselves; 3. To 
render us more useful among oiu' neighbours. 

1. — As a society, we shall be better able 
to glorify God ; for hereby we bear a more 
evident testimony to the cause of Christ, 
and make a more avowed confession of him 
and his words, in these evil days, than we 
could do when separate. 

Every one of you desires that the king- 
dom of Jesus Christ were more established 
and more honourable in the world than it is, 
and you join your hand, with others, to pro- 
mote so desirable an end. 

Take these cautions for this purpose : 

1. Look upon yourself as one associated 
with others in vindication of your Master's' 
honour. 

2. Never be ashamed of him, or his doc- 
trine, or of this society. 

3. Demean yourself to every one as his 
disciple, by walking in humility, meekness, 
heavenly mindedness, charity, after Christ's 
example. 

4. Keep yourself heedfuUy from all things 
which may disgrace your Master and this so- 
ciety ; such as. Pride in a conceit of your 
knowledge or attainments, or that you are 
a member of this society : Valuing your- 
self upon any distinction in station or wealth 
Sinking into a worldly frame, or declining 
into sloth and idleness : Practising the least 

3 A 



722 RULES OF A RE J 

dishonesty, or conniving at the dishonesty 
of others : Making compliances to avoid 
shame, or promote worldly interest : Fall- 
ing into lukewarmness, and forgetting your 
first love : Slighting public ordinances. 

5. Often (especially before and after great 
trials,) reflect that you belong to a religious 
society for promoting the glory of Christ. 

11 — The second design of this society is, 
to be quickened and confirmed ourselves. 
For hereby we shall be better able to main- 
tain the war against our enemies (especially 
the world) and to grow in grace ; seeing, by 
this association, we have the Spirit to bless 
our exercises;* shall have the benefit of 
mutual advice and reproof ; shall be more 
hardy to oppose the temptations besetting 
us in this wicked world ; shall walk under 
a peculiar restraint, as being members of a 
religious society ; and shall be assisted by 
the prayers, as of one another, so of all 
good men in the whole Christian church. 
To this end, 

1. Watch over one another in love. 

2. Be willing to hear of your faults, and 
of the fears and suspicions of these your 
friends concerning you. 

3. Be watchful against any. disgust to 
one another ; and if any arise in you, with- 
out delay tell the party, and if that avail not, 
tell the director. 

4?. Desire the prayers one of another, and 
pray for one another. 

5. Be sure you rest not on your being a 
member of this. society ; seeking continu- 
ally to cast off all self-dependence. 

6. Watch the least decay of love to 
Christ, or zeal for his honour and the good 
of souls. 

7. Confirm continually upon your heart 
the obligations you lie under as a member 
of a religious society. 

p III.-— The third design of this society is, 
to render us more useful among our neigh- 
bours. Hereby we are more observable. 
People will not be so easily quiet in their 
sins. Good examples carry a brighter and 
more convincing light, confounding the 
works of darkness. To this end, 

1. Be careful to set a Christian example 
before the world. 

2. Think not to gain any by making com- 
pliances. 

3. Discountenance all such things as you 
see prejudicial to others, such as taverns, 
ale-houses, gaming, and many sports which 
are destructive to souls. 

4. Show all love to men's souls and bo- 
dies. 

5. Avoid all disputings which proceed 
from pride, and nurse contention and vari. 



* There is a most useful little piece for these pur- 
poses, entitled "Regulations and Helps for promot- 
ing Religious Conversation among Christians." 



IGIOUS SOCIETY. 

6. Do not be angry with those who 
blame this society, but meekly and silently 
bear with them. 

7. Do not in your heart despise others 
because they are not members of this so- 
ciety. 

8. Nor show any valuing of yourselves 
because you are. Never speak of yourself 
as a member, unless with a view of doing 
good to others. 



1. Real disciples do more than nominal 
professors. 

2. The Spirit will strengthen and com- 
fort you. 

3. You will have the blessing of a quiet 
conscience. 

4. You are engaged in the most honour- 
able service. 

5. You will promote the interest of your 
Master. 

6. He will acknowledge your labours in 
the day of his appearing. Amen. So be it. 

N.B. — -Whereas too many people are 
apt to misrepresent every religious society 
as a methodisfcical meeting, it was judged 
necessary to insert the following extract 
from the celebrated Mr. Dodd's late ser- 
mon. " The cry of Methodism is frequent- 
ly raised by such as are totally ignorant of 
the nature of the accusation ; and many are 
stigmatized with the name, who are perfect- 
ly innocent of the thing. The observations 
I have made may possibly serve to settle 
the point in some degree, or at least to stop 
the tongues of those who very unjustly cast 
the aspersion, where there is not the least 
cause ; and it deserves, perhaps, to be con 
sidered by all serious and sincere Protes- 
tants, whether the affixing the charge of 
Methodism, &c. &c. indiscriminately, upon 
men of unblamable lives and irreproachable 
conversation, may not tend greatly to pre- 
judice our holy faith in general, and to 
bring a reproach upon Christianity itself, 
through the pretended ofience of Metho- 
dism : this may be a triumph to the Deist 
and Papist equally pleasing. And, if so, 
can we be too accurate in our distinctions, 
or too cautious in our imputations ? Re- 
membering, that while we confound Chris- 
tianity and Methodism, we are doing dis- 
credit to Christianity in the some propor- 
tion as we are giving weight and dignity to 
Methodism." See Mr. Dodd's excellent 
Sermon, entitled, Unitt/ Becomm ended, 
preached before the religious societies in and 
about London, at their annual meeting in 
the parish church of St. Mary-le-Bow, on 
Easter Monday 1759; to which is added 
an Appendix, giving an account of the ori- 
ginal design, general rules, and present 



HINTS FOR PROMOTING RELIGION. 



Btate of the religious societies, A farther 
account of which may be seen in a little 
piece wrote in Queen Anne's time, by the 
Rev. Dr. Josiah Woodward, entitled " An 
Account of the Rise and Progress of the 



723 

Religious Societies in and about London, 
and of their endeavours for the Reformation 
of Manners." The sixth edition. In this 
little tract the most considerable objections 
against religious societies are fully answered. 



HINTS 

CONCERNING THE MEANS OF PROMOTING RELIGION IN 
OURSELVES AND OTHERS.* 



I. — Be always cheerful, as well as seri- 
ous, that you may win men to Christianity. 
And in every conversation introduce some 
religious hints, if it can be done with pro- 
priety. 

II. — Avoid all controversies; no good 
can come from disputing ; but contend ear- 
nestly for the essentials of Christianity. 

III. — Heal all divisions among sects and 
parties to the utmost of your power. And 
prevail ^vith those who are most fiery, to 
read Henry's excellent treatise on Meek- 
ness. 

IV. — Talk familiarly to children about 
religion, as a delightful employment. Put 
easy questions to them, encouraging them 
occasionally by some little presents, and 
thus teaching them an aimable, cheerful, 
generous piety. 

V. — Make it a constant rule to pray for 
all who affront or injure you. Christ en- 
joins us to pray for all who despitefully use 
us ; see Matth. v. 44. Disregard all oppro- 
brious names. Christ himself (as will every 
one who strives against the corrupt preju- 
dices and vices of mankind) was abused as 
a wine-bibber, and even a blasphemer. 

VI. — Be accustomed to a regular, daily, 
but moderate course of devout retirement ; 
and recommend intercession for others, both 
in the family and in private, as likewise fre- 

'quent attendance on the sacrament. 

VII. — Frequent public worship every day 
in the week, if your business permit, and if 
you live in a place where it is performed. 

VIII — Secret ejaculations, too, may be 
used as you are walking or riding, or in 
whatever company you may happen to be ; 
and, on some particular hour, remember (as, 
for instance, at morning, noon, afternoon, or 
evening, when your town-clock strikes, which 
will be a loud and never-failing memoran- 
dum) to set yourself as in the presence of 
Godt for a few minutes. 



* Referred to in Mr. Henry's Life. 

t This method is strongly recommended by the 



IX. — Use frequent meditation, than 
which nothing can be more profitable : Nor 
can any thing so much awaken and dispose 
us for that, and for all that is good, as a 
strong faith in Providence, and a constant 
cheerfulness* of spirit. 

X. — Entertain the highest regard for the 
word of God, and furnish yourself with a 
few of the best writers, but particularly with 
Henry on Meekness, and Worthington on 
Resignation. Study them thoroughly, and 
endeavour to make their sentiments your 
own. Meekness and resignation are the two 
principal duties of a Chi"istian. Disperse 
good books occasionally, if your circum- 
stances will permit ; and be very careful in 
the choice of them, and in adapting them to 
the circumstances of the person to whom 
they are given. 

XI. — Encourage by your influence, and 
purse too, (if able), societies for promot- 
ing the gospel, both at home and in foreign 
parts ; and, in order to be well acquainted 
with these, read the celebrated Dr. Wood- 
ward's Rise and Progress of the Religious 
Societies in London and Westminster. 

XII — Whenever you reprove, let it be 
tenderly, privately, and with all due humi- 
lity. 

XIII. — For the reformation of swear- 
ing, f lying, slandering. Sabbath-breaking, 



late Dr. Butler, Bishop of Durham, in his Charge to 
the Clergy, 1751. 

* In order to obtain a jiroper confidence in Provi- 
dence, and a settled cheerfulness of mind, the reader, 
especially the gloomy and dispirited, would be much 
assisted by Bishop Patrick's Advice to a Friend, which 
is a most inestimable little piece. 

t Hints for the refonnation of, or conversation with a 
swearer. — 1. None are so ignorant as not to know it 
is a breach of the third commandment. 2. He who 
lives in the fear of God is so far from being capable of 
it, that it shocks him to hear others offending this 
way. 3. We are t<iught by Christ daily to pray, 
" Hallowed be thy name;" Angels praise it, and de- 
vils tremble at it. 4. Christ enjorns us to swear not 
at all : see Matth. v. 34, and also James v. 12. 5. Give 
to a swearer Dr. Woodward's Kind Caution to Pro- 
fane Swearers, or the late Bishop of London's (Dr 
Gibson) Admonition against Profane and Common 
Swearing. 



724 



PREFACE TO JENKS' MEDITATIONS. 



passionate * or imchastef persons, you may 
write out (or keep by you some printed) 
hints on slips of paper, against either of 
these vices, and place them in the way of 
such persons, either by putting them into 
their books, windows, or other places, pro- 
vided you do not care to give them to the 
person yourself ; or they may be sent by the 
post^ from or to the metropolis. 

XIV. — Make it a rule to have at least 
one religious sentence ' in the letters you 
write to your relations or friends, when it 
can be conveniently introduced ; as such a 
sentence, properly interwoven, often strikes 
a person, and is productive of more real 
good, perhaps, than a laboured discourse 
in the pulpit, or formal advice at home. 

XV. — Guard people, as much as in you 
lies, against enthusiasm, and excessive ri- 
gours, either as to abstinence, retirement, or 
conversation ; and advise them to take all 



the comfort that the situation in which God 
has placed them will conveniently admit of; 
reminding them at the same time, to acknow- 
ledge him in all their ways, and to be dis- 
creetly zealous for the honom- of Christ ; 
reposing an entire confidence in the wisdom, 
power, and goodness of God, and assuring 
themselves of the extent of his providence 
(of which we know not either the value or 
power) to all his creatures, and to all their 
actions. 

XVI. — But, above all, write down the 
reasons which at any time make you afraid 
to die, and then endeavour, by faith, by 
prayer, and by conversation with expe- 
rienced Christian^, to remove the causes, 
and thus be properly preparing for death. 
And, if your time and capacity will admit, 
keep a diary ; particularly note your sins of 
omission, and, by this method, you will see 
your progress or declension in religion. 



PREFACE 

TO 

JENKS' MEDITATIONS.§ 



When I consider the practice of recom- 
mending books, as impljdng some respect- 
able regard to a man's own judgment, I un- 
dertake it with reluctance : But when I 
consider it as exercising an act of friend- 
ship to my fellow-students in the school of 
* Christ, I execute it with pleasure. 

There are those, I am informed, who 
blame me for commending the works of 
others, or, which is much the same thing, 
for commending them with any degree of 
zeal and affection, since cold commendation 
or faint applause is justly reputed an artful 
slight. To these persons I shall only re- 



» Hints for the reformation of a passionate man. — 
1. Causeless and immoderate anger proceeds from a 
proud and haughty temper, and is contrary to gospel- 
meekness, that meekness and quietness of spirit which 
St. Peter assures us, 1 Peter iii. 4, is of great price in 
the sight of God. 2. Christ bids us learn of him who 
was lowly and meek. Matt. xi. 9. 3. Every passionate 
tongue is set on fire by hell ; see James iii. 6. 4. He who 
says the Lord's Prayer with an unforgiving temper, 
curses himself. 5. No one has offended us so often as 
we have offended God, therefore our anger should be 
against our own sins. 6. Let all bitterness (says the 
apostle), and wrath, and anger, be put away. In pa- 
tience possess ye your souls, Luke xxi. 19. No pas- 
sion in heaven, therefore no passion in a heavenly 
mind. Give to a passionate man Henry on Meekness. 

t Hints for the reformation of an unchaste person. 
—1. Contrary to the seventh commandment of the 
great God. 2 A sin which defiles the soul, and brings 
it under the dominion of the fleshly appetites. No 
spiritual life in such a one ; see Rom. xiii. 6. 3. A 
partaker of other people's sins, making them partak- 
ers of yours, thus doubly guilty. 4. All adulterers, 
fornicators, and unclean persons, are declared to have 
HO iniieritance in the kingdom of God ; see 1 Cor. vi. 
9. 5. You are a servant of sin, and in bondage to 



ply, that if their own actions or their own' 
compositions were concerned, I verily be- 
lieve they, even they, would " forgive me 
this wrong," 2 Cor. xii. 13. 

Far from obtruding myself into the chair 
of Moses, Matt^ xxiii. 2, far from presum- 
ing to dictate, to prescribe, or so much as to 
direct, I would only imitate the four leprous 
men at the entering in of the gate of Sama- 
ria, 2 Kings vii. 3, 8, 9. Having found 
silver, and gold, and raiment, they could not 
forbear proclaiming the news, and commu- 
nicating the spoil to their fellow-citizens. 
Wlien I find a treasure incomparably more 



the deepest corruption. 6. If you sin in any of these 
ways, you sin against your own body, and pollute the 
temple of the Holy Ghost. Being joined to an harlot, 
the Holy Spirit dwells not there. 7- We must glorify 
God botn in body and Spirit, presenting ourselves a 
living sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto God ; see 
Rom. xii. 1. 8. Purity and chastity required in the 

fospel ; even impure and lustful desires are there con- 
emned ; see Matt. v. 28. Give to air unchaste per- 
son Jenks' Glorious Victory of Chastity, or Dr. Wood- 
ward's Exhortation to Chastity. 

The following letter was sent by the post to a 
Deist, and had a very good effect. 

Sir, — Though you disbelieve Christianity, I cannot 
suppose that you disbelieve a future state of rewards 
and punishments ; please, therefore, to take into se- 
rious consideration, whether you think your actiotis 
are such as will, upon your own principles, stand the 
test at the great day of account. 

As it highly becomes us to do what good we can 
while we live in this world, and as I am truly concern- 
ed for you, I take the liberty of giving yo.u thisfrien-* 
ly hint, and hope you will receive it as a proof tlvA. 
the writer, though unknown, is your very sincere 
well-wisher. A. Z. 

§ Referred to in Mr. Hervey's Life. 



PREFACE TO JENKS' MEDITATIONS. 



725 



precious, when I find a teacher of wisdom, 
and a guide to glory, why should I hold my 
peace ? why should I enjoy these benefits 
myself alone ? why should I not, like those 
honest, though calamitous exiles, tell the 
glad tidings in the city, and invite my neigh- 
bours to partake of the blessings ? 

These blessings, through the divine good- 
ness, I have found in Jenks' Meditations, 
which are, I think, the most distinguished 
among all his valuable writings. Level to 
an ordinary capacity, yet capable of enter- 
taining a refined taste. Not void of beauty 
and delicacy, yet more especially adapted to 
enlighten the understanding, to impress the 
conscience, and build up the soul in faith, 
in holiness, and joy. 

The method in which our author proceeds 
is to me peculiarly pleasing. First, he col- 
lects the most weighty and sublime truths ; 
he then forms them into a close and ani- 
mated address to the soul ; and concludes 
aU with a short but fervent supplication to 
God, which- very much heightens the ten- 
derness and solemnity of the whole. It is 
somewhat like pointing the arrow, not with 
polished steel, but with celestial fire. Per- 
haps the reader will recollect, on this occa- 
sion, the story of the angel appearing to 
Manoah. When the sacrifice was laid on 
the rock, and kindled into a burnt-off'ering, 
the seraph mingled himself with the sacred 
oblation, and ascended to heaven in the 
flame. Judges xiii. 20. 

In the language, we have a noble plain- 
ness, and a happy perspicuity ; in the sen- 
timents, we have the force of persuasion, 
quickened by the glow of devotion. If, in 
some few sentences, we meet with an obso- 
lete expression or inelegant phrase, methinks 
it is only like a hair adhering to a fine suit 
of velvet, or like a mote dropped upon a 
globe of crystal. I vnW not offer such an 
affront to the discernment and generosity of 
the reader, as to suppose him requiring an 
apology for so small a blemish, which, when 
magnified by the severest censure, is no more 
than a speck ; when viewed with all the al- 
lowances of candour and benevolence, is a 
mere nothing. 

The several Meditations may be regarded 
as so many striking sermons on the most in- 
teresting subjects of our holy religion ; or 
rather as a judicious abridgment of various 
excellent sermons on almost every branch 
of Christianity ; in each of which we have 
the spirit and energy of a copious discourse, 
contracted within the small compass of two 
or three pages. For which reason I can- 
not but apprehend they may be particularly 
serviceable in the family, as well as in the 



closet, — that one of these short family es- 
says, disthictly or repeatedly read amongst 
our domestics, may be mere advantageous 
than the hasty perusal of a much larger 
composition. 

There is scarce any circumstance of the 
Christian life which solicits the assistance 
of a spiritual physician, but may be accom- 
modated with seasonable and suitable relief 
from this ample dispensatory of "edification, 
exhortation, and comfort," 1 Cor. xiv. 3. 
Here are, if I may pursue the medicinal al- 
lusion, cordials to cheer the drooping, res- 
toratives to heal the backsliding, stimula- 
tives to quicken the supine, with lenitives 
to ease the anguish of conscience, " and 
make the bones which sin has broken to 
rejoice," Psalm li. 8. Neither are we clog- 
ged with a tedious multiplicity of remedies 
in any case of distress, nor wearied with a 
dry detail of all that can be said upon any 
point of inquiry. On the contrary, the most 
spirited doctrines, and the most sovereign 
consolations, are both skilfully selected and 
pertinently applied, with this well judged 
design of improving and exhilarating the 
mind, without overcharging or burdening 
the memory. 

I would submit it, with the utmost de- 
ference, to the consideration of my youngc" 
brethren in the ministry, whether it might 
not be a very profitable exercise to pursue 
the hints, and enlarge the plan of these 
compendious treatises ; whether, by digest- 
ing them into proper divisions, and intro- 
ducing under each division a more full and 
circumstantial display of the subject, we 
might not form popular and useful discour- 
ses for the pulpit. Such a practice, I per- 
suade myself, might considerably facilitate 
our preparations for the public service, 
would stock our own minds with a set of 
the most important and affecting truths, and 
render our ministrations more acceptable to 
others, yet in no respect dishonourable to 
ourselves ; as such a transformation is very 
different from a theft ; and the most likely 
way to commence originals, is to work up- 
on such excellent models. 

Let me only add, that I know one per- 
son to whom these books have been highly 
delightful, and eminently beneficial ; have 
very much contributed to exalt his appre- 
hensions of divine grace, and to establish his 
faith in the divine Jesus. That they may 
be equally, or rather more abundantly, bene- 
ficial and delightful to the public, is the 
wish, the hope, the prayer, of their obliged 
servant, 

James Hervey. 

October 30, 1756. 



A 

COLLECTION OF LETTEES, 

WRITTEN 

BY MR. HERVEY, 

FROM 1733 TO 1758. 



PREFACE. 



It has been already observed, in the ac- 1 
count of Mr. Hervey's Life prefixed to this 1 
work, that he frequently wrote religious 
letters to his acquaintance, according to their 
different circumstances, in the most amiable 
and convincing manner ; and that he seem- 
ed to make it almost an invariable rule not 
to write a letter, on any occasion, without 
at least one pious sentence in it ; and that 
not introduced in a forced and awkward 
manner, but interwoven so as to appear na- 
turally to arise from the subject. 

The reasons for publishing this collection 
of Mr. Hervey's letters were the strong 
solicitations of those who knew and valued 
the author and his writings ; a desire of 
contributing to the interests of religion, 
which was the great scope of all his labours ; 
and a persuasion, that such a collection 
would give a peculiar satisfaction to every 
intelligent and pious person ; especially as, 
to be thus introduced to partake of the en- 
tertaining and instructive intercourses of his 
friendship, may possibly be the means of 
encouraging others to " go and do likewise." 
Nor will it be, it is presumed, necessary to 
bespeak the candour of the reader, or de- 
precate the petulance of criticism, whatever 
defects or inaccuracies may be found in a 
work of this kind, not intended for, though 
well worthy of the public eye. 

As the following letter to the editor is so 
truly characteristical of Mr. Hervey, it is to 
be hoped that it will not be altogether un- 
acceptable to the reader. When writers 
like him, of distinguished superiority, have 
gained our admiration and applause, we are 
fond of penetrating into their more retired 
apartments, and associating vdth them in 
the sequestered walks of private life ; for 
here these great geniuses appear in an un- 
dress, the intrinsic excellence of their cha- 
racters shines out with genuine lustre ; and 
although, as authors, their talents are be- 
yond our imitation, yet the several milder 
graces and virtues of their more common 
and ordinary behaviour are in some measure 
attainable by every one. 

Sir, — It was with no small satisfaction 
I saw an advertisement in the public papers, 
desiring the correspondents of the late Mr. 
Hervey to furnish the editor with some of 
his letters for publication ; and glad I am it 
is in my power to send you so large a num- 



ber, since in many of them will be found 
such traces of an upright heart, as no stran- 
ger can otherwise be made acquainted with. 
There will be seen the deepest humility. 
Ever imconscious of his own shining abili- 
ties, he was always desirous of improving 
by the meanest in the church : in lowliness j 
of mind, he would prefer others to himself ; 
he would frequently be the humble querist, 
and make his friend the respondent. There 
will be seen the greatest love to mankind ; 
a love which he has strongly expressed on 
every occasion, not only in words, but in 
the most important acts of benevolence, 
both temporal and spiritual. There will be 
seen the most zealous attachments to truth. 
He was extremely desirous that every senti- 
ment of his should be strictly examined ; 
and wherever he found any thing capable of 
the least improvement, he immediately ac- 
quiesced with the greatest thankfulness. In 
a word, there will be seen the utmost se- 
renity of mind under the pressure of very 
grievous afllictions; As his joy was not of 
this world, no worldly calamities could take 
it from him : nothing could ruffle, nothing 
could discompose him. He was indeed, 
what his Master says of the Baptist, a burn- 
ing and a shining light ; and as such he was 
a guide for our feet. As a burning light, 
he warned many by his example : he had 
received the grace of God in abundance, 
which he had long and most earnestly im- 
plored ; and the fruits of which, in his life 
and conversation, the world have seen, and 
his friends will tell with pleasure. As a 
shining light, he instructed many by his doc- 
trine. He was a most strenuous assertor \ 
of the free grace of God. He taught men | 
to be rich in good works, without placing / 
the least dependence on them. Christ was v 
all to him ; and it was his whole business 
to publish his Redeemer's unsearchable 
riches. It was St. Paul's faithful saying, 
viz. That " Christ Jesus came into the 
world to save sinners and it was Mr. 
Hervey's constant employment to bring sin- 
ners to him empty-handed, " to buy wine 
and milk, without money and without price." 

He was also a most strenuous assertor of 
evangelical holiness. While he published 
the free grace of God, he was solicitous 
that none should abuse it to licentiousness. 
Herein also he imitated St. Paul in an 



730 



PREFACE. 



other faithful saying, viz. That " they who 
believe in God, should be careful to main- 
tain good works," 

Such was the friend I have lost. God 
grant we may all " be followers of him who, 
through faith and patience, now inherits the 
promises." He rests from his labours, and 
my correspondence with him is for ever at 
an end ; but by the letters I here send, he 
will, though dead, yet speak, and spread wide 
that valuable instruction, and those ingen- 
ious remarks, which were originally design- 
ed only for the private inspection of, sir, 
your humble servant, &c. &c. 

P. S. — Mr. Hervey's zeal for his great 
Master, and his eminent abilities to advance 
the interests of religion, will, it is hoped, 
secure the good opinion of the community 
in behalf of the publication of his private 
letters and life ; especially when it is con- 
sidered, that it was in some measure neces- 
sary to be done ; not only as they exhibit 
in their purport, composition, and various 
tendencies, a striking, amiable, and true 
picture of the ingenuity, learning, candour, 
and piety of this excellent man, but as his 
character has been injured by some through 
misrepresentation, and as his writings have 
been censured by others through misappre- 
hension : all such will now see how far Mr. 
Hervey is deserving of blame or of applause, 
since there is nothing that expresses a man's 
particular character more fully than his let- 
ters to intimate friends. 

In this edition, care has been taken to 
arrange the letters in the same order in 
which they were wrote, as far as was prac- 
ticable. But there is no possibility of doing 
it exactly, for this plain reason, that in many 
letters written to those with whom he kept 
a frequent correspondence, Mr. Hervey was 
accustomed to express neither month nor 
year, but only to write Monday morning, 
Tuesday night, &c., and that several letters 
were transmitted to the editor, with the 
dates as well as names erased. 

There are a few things inserted in this 
collection, such as the cottager's letter,* 

Mr. Boyse's,f the letter to Dr. T ,t 

which were introduced, not only for the 
great propriety of such an introduction, but 
at the particular desire of some of Mr. Her- 
vey's friends, in order to fulfil his inten- 
tions, and render him, though dead, as ex- 
tensively useful as possible. 

" I would by all means," says one of his 
most judicious and favourite co-respond- 
ents, " have that letter of mine, addressed 

to Dr. T , printed in the collection ; 

as I think this may in some measure be 
fulfilling the will of my deceased friend, 



who appears, by his own* letter to me, to 
have judged something of that nature highly 
necessary ; and he would certainly have at- 
tempted it himself, as he declared, had not 
a certain church preferment brought him 
very unexpectedly into a connexion, which 
made such a publication at that juncture in- 
eligible. Mr. Hervey is now dead, and 
that reason is no longer in force ; and, there- 
fore, now seems to me the fittest time for 
such purpose. I wrote that letter to Dr. 

T at Mr. Hervey's express desire ; and 

I gave him full power to make what ime of 
it he pleased, hoping that, after correcting 
it to his mind, he would have sent it to Dr. 

T himself, or else that he would have 

wrote in another form (perhaps in an intro- 
duction to his Fast Sermons) something far 
more valuable, extracting from my letter 
what best answered his ends. But that not 
being done, the publication of my letter in 
this collection, immediately after what Mr. 

Hervey says in his to me about Dr. T 's 

sermon, may, with the same divine blessing, 
be of use ; and, though of little worth, yet, 
like the widow's mite, when it was her all, 
it may be acceptable. There are thousands 
of preachers who think in the same way 

with Dr. T , and very likely many of 

these may be the readers of Mr. Hervey's 
letters ; and if some of them reflect and re- 
form, the unjust anger of the rest is very 
little to be regarded. Therefore, upon the 
most serious consideration, it is my earnest 

request, that the letter to Dr. T should 

be printed just as I sent it to Mr. Her- 
vey. "f 

It must be acknowledged, that some of 
his first letters, written from college when 
he was not more than twenty years of age, 
either speak a language different from free 
grace, for which we find he was afterwards 
so powerful an advocate, or at least they 
treat very confusedly of it ; and perhaps 
some may say, Why then were they print- 
ed? For these two plain reasons — That 
the reader may see and know what early 
and strong impressions ha had of piety — 
what love to God, and to his fellow-crea- 
tures. Though we say not, that, like John 
Baptist, he was sanctified from his mother's 
womb, yet his early labours for his Saviour, 
when too many others of his age and stand- 
ing were captivated by their passions, and 
swallowed up by their lusts, prove to a de- 
monstration the doctrine he afterwards 
taught, viz. the power of redeeming love : 
they show how early the seeds of grace 
were sown in his heart ; and when they 
look forward, they may observe from what 
small sparks of light and grace the Holy 



* Letter 83. 
i Letter 158. 



t Annexed to letter 1G6. 



* Letter 157. 

t It is so printed as here desired. See Letter 158. 



PREFACE. 



40 



Spirit had gradually taught him, Isaiah liv. 
13. John vi. 45. and led him, as it were by 
the hand, into the full and holy liberty of 
the children of God. When but twenty- 
one years of age, we find him afraid of 
and flying from praise, when others would 
be courting it : for, having wi'ote some ver- 
ses to a relation, which were greatly com- 
mended, he heartily wishes* he never had 
wrote a line of poetry in his life ; and he 
^\Tote upon another occasion,! expressly 
blaming a friend for praising him ; and 
againf he says, " You have paid me an 
obliging compliment ; beg of the blessed 
God, dear sir, that I may not be puffed up 
with vain conceit of myself or my writ- 
ings." 

From the reading of these familiar let- 
ters, which is in a manner listening to and 
hearing the thoughts of the writer, we may 
learn, that by nature " his heart was as hard 
as the flint, and his hands tenacious even to 
avarice;" these are his words. § Yefr (see 
the power of that free grace, which living 
and dying he adored) he became a bright 
example of universal charity, (j 

His great humility and diffidence of his 
own judgment and learning appear in many 
of his letters : in one, which is far from 
being contemptible either for style or argu- 
ment, he enjoins his friend to return his let- 
ter immediately to him, that it might never 
appear ; yet his friend got the better of that 
modesty, and obtained leave to keep it ; to 
which is owing the publication of that now, 
which Mr. Hervey, at the time of writing 
it, desired might never see the light. ^ 

Another instance, and a striking one, we 
may meet with. Letter 53, where, answer- 
ing the objections of a lady to the miracle 
which Christ wrought at the marriage of 
Cana in Galilee, he says, " I have neither 
strength of mind, nor solidity of judgment, 
sufficient to conduct the procedure of an ar- 
gument," &c. 

As the love of God was shed abroad in 
his heart, it produced an ardent desire to 
promote the cause of Christ Jesus and of his 
religion. And- when he found himself 
bowed down with the spirit of weakness and 
infirmity, he was apt to fear lest he should 
disgrace the gospel in his languishing mo- 
ments ;** he earnestly prayed to God, 
and desired others to luiite in the same pe- 
tition, that he might not thus dishonour the 
cause of Christ. And his and their pray- 
ers were heard ; for, notwithstanding his 
lingering weakness and depressed spirits, 
which at length gave him up into the hands 
of death, yet he triumphed over his fears, 
he triumphed over the grand tempter and 
adversary of souls. 

* Letter 3. t Letter 52. ± Letter 60. 
S Letter 53. ' || See his Life, and Letter f»l, (>0, fic 
*[[ Letter 24. ** Letter GO. 



His willingness to have his writings cor- 
rected by every judicious friend, and his 
thankfulness in receiving their criticisms, 
appear throughout all his letters written to 
his learned correspondents ; — a specimen of 
it you may see in Lett. 61, 101, 181. His 
earnest desire to prefer his friend's opinion 
to his own, or, in other words, his humble 
opinion of his own judgment and powers in 
argumentation, makes him ever requesting, 
" Fray use freely the pruning hook," &c. 
It may seem a wonder, therefore, that he 
should ever, under these discouraging 
thoughts of himself, write at all, especially 
so much as he has done ; considering he was 
no more than five-and-forty when he died, 
and that the first of his works was publish- 
ed when he was thirty-three. Perhaps the 
reader might be almost tempted to suspect 
that his humility was affected, and that pride 
lurked under that fair garment ; but hypo- 
crisy dwelt not in him : he wrote under all 
that weakness, and under all those fears, 
because he dared not be silent : The cause 
of God and truth was publicly attacked ; 
the cause of his Master was opposed ; and 
he, as a faithful watchman, was compelled, 
however weak in body, however unequal he 
thought himself to the task, he was compel- 
led to cry aloud, and spare not ; and there- 
fore he wrote, not from pride or from ava- 
rice, but from conscience and a sense of 
duty ; and this the intelligent and candid 
reader will easily perceive from many of his 
letters. 

At a time when infidelity and depravity 
prevailed, and when it has become almost 
fashionable to slander and speak evil of per- 
sons, depreciating another's reputation, in 
order to raise and establish our own, we 
find Mr. Flervey making it a rule to single 
out the best things he had heard of his 
neighbour, and carefully avoiding even to 
hint any thing which might be the cause of 
propagating a rumour* to his detriment, or 
to disclose a secret which might be injurious 
to him : thus careful was he to carry into 
his own practice the doctrine he taught, the 
religion he professed ; and thus far was he 
from espousing either the principles or prac- 
tices of Antinomians. Some of his pre- 
tended friends of that stamp, as well as his 
adversaries, have taken much pains to make 
the world believe that he in all things agreed 
with them, that, if possible, they might be 
thought not to differ from him ; but they 
will find it as impracticable to raise their 
reputation upon his, as it will be to reduce 
his character to a level with their own, so 
long as his works shall live to proclaim his 
principles, and a friend shall remain to de- 
clare his truly Christian practices, his holy 
life and conversation. 



* Letter 58, 



732 



PREFACE. 



It cannot but be obsemd, that Mr. Her- 
vey, in two of his letters,* has repeated the 
same argument, in pretty near the same 
words ; and perhaps this repetition may dis- 
gust the delicate and curious reader, especi- 
ally as it returns so soon as within the com- 
pass of thirty pages ; but it is to be consid- 
ered that they were written at different 
times, the one to a clergyman at Bath, in 
1743, and the other, for the satisfaction of 
a lady, five years afterwards ; and as the 
objections were the same from both, Mr. 
Hervey had a right to return each of them 
the same answer. 

I must once more trespass on my read- 
er's patience, as I cannot conclude without 
expressing my hopes that every pei'son of 



« Letter 17, and 53. 



candour and judgment will make the neces- 
sary allowances for those different states 
both of body and mind, which one of Mr. 
Hervey's weak constitution must have un- 
dergone in the space of five- and-twenty 
years, diuring which these letters were wrote. 
A manifest inequality of judgment, of accu- 
racy, and of style, in familiar letters wrote 
at such distances, with more or less attention 
and care, according to the variety of circum- 
stances which occur, and without the least 
thought of their publication, will appear ; 
nor can it be otherwise expected indeed from 
any one. Some of the greatest geniuses of 
the age, such as Pope and Swift, have made 
their apology in the same case ; and no one, I 
am sure, is more justly entitled to the indul- 
gence of the public, than he whose letters 
aj-e here collected. 



LETTERS 



OF THE 

REV. MR. JAMES HERVEY. 



LETTER I. 

Lincoln College, Oxen. Sept. 16, 1733. 
Dear Sister, — Was there any occasion to 
apologize for the serious purport of this, it 
would be sufficient to direct you to the date, 
and the time of its inditing ; but I promise 
myself that to you any thing of this nature 
will be unnecessary. For though we are in 
the very prime and spring of our years, 
strongly disposed to admire, and perfectly 
capacitated to relish the gaieties of youth, 
yet we have been inured to moderate the 
warmth of our appetites, accustomed to an- 
ticipate in our minds the days of darkness, 
and incessantly disciplined into a remem- 
brance of our Creator. For my part, I 
find no season so proper to address one of 
the principal sharers of my heart, one of my 
nearest and dearest relations, as that I have 
at present chose and made use of, when 
either an universal silence composes the 
soul, and calms every turbulent emotion, or 
the voice of joy and gladness, speaking 
through celestial music, invites to adore the 
wonders of our Redeemer's love, touches 
upon the strings of the softest passions, and 
inspires the most sweet, most tender senti- 
ments. 

As I was the other day traversing the 
fields in quest of health, I observed the 
meads to have lost that profusion of fra- 
grant odours which once perfumed the air 
— to be disrobed of that rich variety of cu- 
rious dyes which surpassed even Solomon 
in all his glory. Not a single flower ap- 
pears to gladden the sight, to bespangle the 
ground, or enamel the barren landscape. 
The clouds that ere long distilled in dews of 
honey, or poured themselves forth in showers 
of fatness, now combine in torrents to over- 
flow the lifeless earth, to bury or sweep 
away all the faint footsteps of ancient beauty. 
The hills that were crowned with corn, the 
valleys that laughed and sung under loads 
of golden grain ; in a word, the whole face 
of nature, that so lately rejoiced for the 
abundance of her plenty, is become bare, 
naked, and disconsolate. As I was con- 
tinuing my walk, and musing on this joyless 
scene, methought the sudden change exhib- 
ited a lively picture of our frail and transi ■ 



tory state ; methought every object that 
occurred seemed silently to forewarn me o 
my own future condition. 

I dwelt on these considerations till they 
fermented in my fancy, and worked them- 
selves out in such like expressions : " What ! 
must we undergo so grievous an alteration ? 
we, whose sprightly blood circulates in 
briskest tides ? we, who are the favourites 
of time, on whom youth, and health, and 
strength, shed their selectest influence ? we, 
who are so apt to look upon ourselves as 
exempt from cares, or pains, or troubles, 
and privileged to drink in the sweets of life 
without restraint, without alloy? Must we 
forego the sunshine of our enjoyments for 
anything resembling this melancholy gloom ? 
Must the sparkling eye set in haggard dim- 
ness ? the lovely features and glowing 
cheeks be obscured by pale deformity ? 
Must soft and gay desires be banished from 
our breasts, or mirth and jollity from our 
conversation ? Must the vigour of our age 
fall away like water that runneth apace, and 
the blissful minutes of the prime of our 
years vanish like a dream ? If this be our 
case, in vain, sure, do we boast of our su- 
perior felicity, in vain do we glory in being 
the darlings of Heaven. The inanimate 
creation droop indeed, sicken and languish 
for a time, but quickly revive, rejoice, and 
again shine forth in their brightest lustre : 
It is true they relinquish, at the approach 
of winter, their verdant honours, but rest 
fully assured of receiving them with interest 
from the succeeding spring. But man, when 
he has passed the autumn of his maturity, 
when he has once resigned himself into the 
cold embraces of age, bids a long, an eter- 
nal adieu to all that is entertaining, amiable, 
or endearing -. no pleasing expectations re- 
fresh his mind ; not the least dawnings of 
hope glimmer in to qualify the darksome 
looking-for of death." 

I had not long indulged these bitter re- 
flections before I espied a remedy for those 
sore evils which occasioned them. Though 
I perceived all our passionate delights to be 
A'anity, and the issue of them vexation of 
spirit, yet I saw likewise that virtue was 
substantial, and her fruits joy and peace ; 
that though all things came to an end, the 



734 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



ways of wisdom were exceeding broad. 
The seeds of piety, if implanted in 
our tender breasts, duly cherished, and 
constantly cultivated, will bud and blos- 
som even in the winter of our days ; and 
when white and red shall be no more, when 
all the outward embellishments of our little 
fabric shall disappear, this will still flourish 
in immortal bloom. To walk humbly with 
our God, dutifully with our parents, and 
charitably with all, will be an inexhaustible 
source of never-ceasing comforts. What 
though we shall sometimes be unable to 
hear the voice of singing men and singing 
women ; though all the senses prove false to 
their trust, and refuse to be any longer inlets 
of pleasure, it is now, dear sister, it is now 
in our power to make such happy provisions 
as even then, in those forlorn circumstances, 
may charm our memories with ravishing re- 
collections, and regale all our faculties with 
the continual feast of an applauding con- 
science. What sweet complacency, what 
unspeakable satisfaction shall we reap from 
the contemplations of an uninterrupted se- 
ries of spotless actions : No present un- 
easiness will prompt us impatiently to wish 
for dissolution, nor anxious fears for futu- 
rity make us immoderately dread the im- 
pending stroke ; all will be calm, easy, and 
serene ; all will be soothed by this precious, 
this invaluable thought, that, by reason of 
the meekness, the innocence, the purity, and 
other Christian graces which adorned the 
several stages of our progress through the 
world, our names and our ashes will be em- 
balmed, the chambers of our tomb conse- 
ci-ated into a paradise of rest, and our souls, 
white as our locks, by an easy transition, 
become angels of light. I am, with love to 
my brother, dear sister, your most affec- 
tionate brother. 



LETTER IL 

Lincoln College, Oxon. March 28, 1734. 
Dear Sister, — It is now a considerable 
time since I enjoyed the true and real plea- 
sure of your company. I say true and real, 
because my fancy has often took its flight 
to Hardingston, and delighted itself with 
the imaginary conversation of you and my 
other dear relations. I have frequently 
recollected, and, as it were, acted over again 
in my mind, the many pleasing hours we 
have sj)ent together in reading holy and 
edifying books, or discoursing on pious and 
useful subjects. And methinks I should 
have been exceeding glad to have had the 
satisfaction yet more improved, by re- 
ceiving a letter from you; which, I am 
sure, would have been full of the most ten- 
der endearments of love and affection, and, 
I hope, would flot have wanted expressions 



of true religion and virtue ; and could I but 
once see that — could I but' observe our- 
selves not only dwelling together in unity, 
but travelling hand in hand towards the 
heavenly Jerusalem, mutually encouraging 
and assisting one another to fight the good 
fight, to lay hold on eternal life — then 
should I greatly rejoice, then should I begin 
to live. 

I hope I may now congratulate your per- 
fect recovery ; however, I am certain there 
is great reason for congratulation, on ac- 
count of your being so choice a favourite of 
Heaven, as your frequent sicknesses, and 
often infirmities, speak you to be. Our 
gracious Father, though an indulgent lover 
of all mankind, seems to watch over you 
with more than ordinary care and concern, 
to be extremely desirous, nay, even solicit- 
ous, for your salvation. How does his 
goodness endeavour, by the repeated, though 
lightest strokes of his rod, to cure whatever 
is disordered, to rectify whatever is amiss 
in you ! How studiously does he seek, by 
laying you on a sick-bed, to make you see 
yourself, and all things else, in a true and 
proper light ; to point out to you your 
frailties and follies, your darling lusts, and 
the sins that do most easily beset you ; to 
convince you that you are only a sojoui ner 
here upon earth, your body a poor frail and 
corruptible'liouse of clay, your soul a bright, 
glorious, and immortal being, that is 
hastening to the fruition of God, and to 
mansions of eternal rest ; to discover to you 
the vanity, meanness, and contemptible 
littleness of this world ; and the worth, the 
importance, and amazing greatness of the 
next J Do not then hold «ut against these 
kind calls to repentance and amendment ; 
do not resist such earnest importunities, 
such sweet solicitations ; but suffer your- 
self, by this loving correction, to be made 
great — great in humility, holiness, and hap- 
piness. Humble yourself under the mighty 
hand of God, and, by a hearty sorrow for 
your past faults, and a firm resolution of 
obedience for the future, let this fatherly 
chastisement bring forth in you the peace- 
able fruits of righteousness. Oh ! let us 
dread, let us tremble, to reject any longer 
the tenders of grace, lest we awake at length 
his justice, and draw down vengeance upon 
ourselves ; lest our visitation be not in love 
and with kindness, but in heavy displea- 
sure, and "with fury poured out ; lest his 
next dispensation be not a merciful severity, 
but indignation and wrath, tribulation and 
anguish. 

Sure I cannot but admire that adorable 
wisdom, which has contrived all things so 
evidently and so directly to your advantage ! 
Your late illness has, I doubt not, begot 
in you serious thoughts and holy disposi- 
tions ; and these, I flatter myself, will be 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



735 



nourished by the reception of the blessed 
sacrament the following Easter. Let us, 
dear sister, break off our sins by repent- 
ance ; let us amend oiu- lives, and begin, 
from this very instant, to deny all ungodli- 
ness and worldly lusts, and live soberly, 
righteously, and godly in the present world. 
So shall we answer the good ends of our 
sickness ; so shall we be meet partakers of 
those holy mysteries here, and enjoy an in- 
heritance amongst the saints in light here- 
after. And now I cannot but acquaint you 
how earnestly I wished that you and others 
of my neighbours (with whom I have dis- 
coursed upon this subject) were giving de- 
vout attendance to the prayers and praises 
that were offered up last Monday in your 
church ; as likewise how I should rejoice, 
with exceeding great joy, to hear that both 
you and they continue steadfast, or rather 
abound more and more, in the practice of 
this and such other religious duties. And 
if you think the desire of my heart, and the 
longings of my soul, are of any weight with 
any of them, pray let them know how I 
hope, desire, and pray, that we may be wor- 
thy communicants, by an immediate for- 
saking of all wicked ways, and a thorough 
amendment, as well as an unshaken resolu- 
tion, to persevere and advance in that a- 
mendment. 

My kind respects to all that you shall 
show or read this letter to ; desire them not 

to forget me in their prayers ; let 

and know that I often think of 

them, and hope they sometimes remember 
me, and the words that I have often spoke 
to them. I am, &c. 



LETTER IIL 

Lincoln College, Oxon. May% 11 M. 
Dear Sister, — Finding myself in a 
writing humour, and remembering that I 
had formerly promised you an entertaining 
present, and being sensible of the decency 
of introducing it with an epistle ; upon these 
accounts I again set pen to paper, and ad- 
dress you, notwithstanding you have so very 
lately received a letter from me. By an 
usefully entertaining present, I mean such 
a one as will improve and edify, at the 
same time that it diverts and delights ; as 
will not only make you easy to yourself, 
and agreeable to others, but also good, and 
holy, and wise unto salvation. Now, I 
scarce know any human composition more 
likely to promote these excellent purposes 
than this poem on the last day. * For, be- 
ing in verse, and set off with all the gi'aces 
of speech and thought, it cannot fail of 



* By Dr. Young. 



charming as Avell the nice ear as the sound 
judgment. And as for the subject, sure no- 
thing can be more prodigiously pleasing 
than to read of that happy time which shall 
be the beginning of a blissful eternity ; when 
our Redeemer, by his mighty power, shall 
change our vile bodies, that they may be 
like unto his glorious body, and translate 
us from a state of corruption in the grave, 
to shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of 
our Father. And every one must own, 
that the most engaging persuasions to piety 
and holiness of conversation are drawr 
from the recompense of a future invaluable 
reward ; and that the most sovereign pre- 
servative against all ungodliness and world- 
ly lusts, is the terrors, the insupportable 
terrors of the Lord. If, therefore, you 
would please yourself, refine your taste, or 
have the practice of religion pleasing, in- 
stead of plays, ballads, and other corrupt 
writings, read this almost divine piece of 
poetry ; read it (as I have done) over and 
over ; think upon it, endeavour to digest it 
thoroughly, and even to get by heart the 
most moving passages ; and then, I trust, 
you will find it answer the ends I purpose 
in sending it. 

You will excuse me from exercising my 
poetical talent, since there are already two 
copies of recommendatory verses, and be- 
cause I perceive such an attempt will be 
either very absurd, or very dangerous. For 
should I tack together a few doggerel 
rhymes, this would be an affront to you ; 
whereas, should 1 succeed so well as to 
gain the applause of my readers, this, I am 
sure, would portend very great harm, if not 
to you, yet most certainly to me. For 
what can portend greater harm, than the 
words of praise, which, though smoother 
than oil, yet be they very swords? What 
can be more destructive of that humble 
mind which was in Christ Jesus, that meek 
and lowly spirit which is in the sight of 
God of great price ? I am so far from car- 
rying on my versifying designs, that I heart- 
ily wish I had never conceived any ; that 
those lines I sent to my cousin, had either 
never been made, or that I had never heard 
them commended. Pride and vanity are 
foolish and unreasonable in dust and ashes, 
and, which is worse, odious and detestable 
before infinite perfection and infinite power. 
Oh ! let you and me then dread whatever 
may administer fuel to these worst of tem- 
pers, more than the poison of asps, or the 
pestilence that walketh in darkness. Let 
us pray against seeking, desiring, or taking 
pleasure in the honour that cometh of men. 
And if at any time the flattering tongue, 
that snare of death, shall overtake us, let 
us instantly fly unto our Saviour, and com- 
plain unto our God ; then let us remember, 
and remembering, let us acknowledge, that 



?B6 



A COLLliCTION OF LETTERS. 



we are nothing, and have nothing, and de- 
serve nothing, but shame and contempt, but 
misery and punishment. 

I hope you was so happy as to receive 
the holy sacrament this Easter ; and I beg 
of you to be so wise as well to understand 
and often to consider what you then did. 
We gave up ourselves, our souls and bodies, 
to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice 
to God ; so that we must look upon our- 
selves as having now no longer any right or 
title to ourselves, but as our heavenly mas- 
ter's sole property ; we may not follow our 
own, but must do his will in all things. 
We undertook to lead a new life, to follow 
the commandments of God, and to walk 
henceforth in all his holy ways ; and this, 
and whatever else we promised at that sa- 
cred altar, we must endeavour to per- 
form, if we hope to enter into heaven. Let, 
therefore, no day pass without reflect- 
ing on the solemn engagement we have 
made, and without examining whether we 
have acted up to it. Let us not imagine 
that we did the whole of our duty, when 
we took the consecrated elements into our 
mouths ; but be convinced, that we only, as 
it were, listed ourselves afresh under our 
Captain's banner, and that the service, the 
fight against his and our enemies, is to be 
hourly renewed, and constantly maintained, 
even unto death. I am, &c. 



LETTER IV. 

Oxon. March 11, 17.35. 
Dear Sister, — Yesterday the Judge 
c^me hither, and to-day the assizes begin. 
I shall go to hear the assize sermon pre- 
sently. This cannot but put us in mind of 
that great account we must all give before 
the judgment-seat of Christ. How melan- 
choly a sight is it to see a poor criminal go 
up to the bar ! All he has is no longer his 
own ; his very life is in the power of the 
magistrate, aiid he is in great danger of a 
speedy death. And if this be so dreadful, 
how infinitely more dreadful will it be to 
appear before a more strict and awful tri- 
bunal ! The good Lord grant, that you and 
I may not be cast in that tremendous trial ! 
A trial that will be undergone before an- 
gels and God; upon the issue of which 
our eternal life will depend. Was I to wish 
a wish for the dearest friend in the world, 
it should not be for gold, or jewels, or ap- 
parel ; these things are fading, and the fa- 
shion of them passeth away ; but it should 
be for a favourable sentence in that last 
and great day. Will not the archangel 
shortly sound the trump ? Will not all the 
dead come forth of their graves, and t!ie 



Ancient of Days sit ? How valuable then 
will an humble and holy life be ! If you and 
I be found with the wedding-garment on, 
we shall doubtless enter into the joy of our 
Lord, never to die, never to grieve, never 
to be parted more. But if we should either 
of us be negligent in this matter ; if we 
should be surprised without oil in our 
lamps, Oh the fearfulness and trembling 
that will come upon us ! the horrible dread 
that will overwhelm us ! to think that we 
must be for ever shut out of heaven, ba- 
nished eternally from the presence of God, 
the society of saints, and the fulness of joy ! 
If you or I were to be torn from our kind- 
red, and our father's house, and hurried 
away captive into a foreign country, there 
to be chained to the galleys, or condemned 
to the mines : how would this grieve both 
us and our dear relations ; how would it 
pierce our souls as a sword ! If this be sad, 
(as certainly it is), alas ! what will it be to 
be everlastingly separated by the impassable 
gulf ? for one to be caught up to heaven, 
and there to be ever with the Lord ; and for 
the other to be thrust down into torments, 
and dwell with wailing and gnashing of 
teeth? Dear sister, let us consider this, and 
give all diligence to make our calling and 
election sure ; that when the changes and 
chances of this mortal life are over, we 
may meet and live together in glory ever- 
lasting. Which is, and shall be, the hearty 
prayer of your, &c. 



LETTER V. 

Dummer, May 7, 1737. 
Good Madam, — Pray be pleased to 
cast your eye to the bottom, and observe 
who it is that desires to bespeak you. It 
is one who knows himself to have been 
guilty of the most slighting behaviour, and 
to have deserved, in return, your greatest 
disdain. If, after you perceive his name 
to be Hervey — that Hervey who was so 
lately and so long in London, without ever 
waiting upon Mrs. ; without pay- 
ing his respects to her who merits so much 
the esteem of every Christian; without 
any thankful acknowledgment for her kind 
wishes so often conceived, and her prevail- 
ing prayers so often put up in his behalf; 
if, madam, after you are informed of all 
this, you can bear to give the remainder of 
the paper a favourable reading, I shall not 
only account myself highly obliged to your 
good nature, but when I have an occasion 
to i>ut up with an affront, and to exercise 
forgiveness, I will think upon it as a pat- 
tern. 

On Sunday I was called out by Provi- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTEBS. 



737 



dence from my own flock, to preach at two 
strange churches. They lay at a consider- 
able distance from each other, and from 
Diunmer ; so that in passing to them, and 
repairing again to my own parish, I travel- 
led a good many miles. All the way I went 
along, I was entertained in the finest man- 
ner imaginable ; far more finely than mine, 
or, I may venture to say, than any words 
can describe. I wish I had the glowing 
colours, the accurate pencil., and the master- 
ly genius of some first-rate painter, that I 
might draw out, with as little injustice as 
possible, the lovely landscape, and make a 
present in some degree worthy of your ac- 
ceptance. 

The air was in its best temperament, nei- 
ther so hot as to enfeeble or dispirit, nor so 
cold as to cause any uneasy chillness. It 
was fit to recommend and set off the most 
agreeable objects, and to be the vehicle of 
perfumes, not much inferior to myrrh, aloes, 
and cassia. I was in company with a gen- 
tleman of a clear understanding, and a toler- 
able share of reading ; he had seen much of 
the world, and had a very deep piercing in- 
sight into things ; he could talk judiciously 
upon most topics, and would sometimes be- 
stow hints upon religious ones. So that, 
when I was disposed for conversation, I 
could have immediate recourse to one that 
would refine my taste, and improve my 
judgment, if not minister grace to my heart. 
The face of the skies also conspired to ren- 
der every prospect completely pleasant ; it 
was decked and diversified with silver-like 
clouds .; not such as were charged with heavy 
rains, but such as prevented the annoyance 
of one continual glare, and changed the sun- 
shine frequently for a welcome shade ; such 
as served for a foil to the unsullied ethe- 
real blue. Thus did God order all circum- 
stances, so as to render our ride exceeding- 
ly delightful. 

At our first setting out, we went over 
strong ground, where no seed was sown, and 
so no fruit could grow. Its uselessuess was 
not owing to any defect in point of fertility, 
but to a want of being manured. Is not 
this the case of many immortal souls, who 
are born with blessed dispositions, and bid 
fair for becoming eminent saints, but are 
lost and spoiled for want of care and in- 
struction ? O for faithful shepherds to seek 
them, for industrious husbandmen to culti- 
vate them ! Send, Lord, a plenty of such to 
work in thy vineyard, and to watch over 
thy sheep ! This coarse beginning, though 
it had no form nor comeliness in itself, yet 
tended to give an additional verdure to the 
succeeding scenes. So the bottomless pit, 
and the luiquenchable fire, though infinite- 
ly formidable, w ill create in the elect a more 
tasteful relish and enjoyment of their hea- 
venly felicity. We made more haste than 



ordinary to get away from this barren spot. 
For why shoidd any one tarry in such a 
place, or frequent such acquaintance, where 
all that occurs is vain and unprofitable ? 
where nothing truly beneficial can either be 
imparted or acquired? The sooner we are 
delivered from such a situation, the better ; 
no departure can be abrupt, no flight preci- 
pitate. 

When we were advanced a little farther, 
we entered upon a large enclosure. Here 
were all the footsteps of a commendable 
and successful industry. The wheat was- 
in the blade, and sprang up with a plen- 
teous increase, and in goodly array. It was 
not choked with weeds, nor embarrassed 
with thistles, but, like a clean and even 
mantle, covered the plain ; a present credit, 
and likely to be a future comfort to its own- 
er. This suggested to me the value of a 
diligent hand — that portion which it is in 
every one's power to bequeath to himself. 
All the affairs of the slothful are like the 
mountains of Gilboa, on which there was 
no dew, neither rain, nor fields of offerings. 
But where there is pnidence and discretion 
to contrive, and a steady fervour to execute, 
there whatsoever is undertaken will, in all 
probability, prosper. By a spirit of ma- 
nagement, even the wilderness may be 
brought to bud and blossom as a rose ; 
and was there such a spirit in the profes- 
sors of religion, it would prompt them to 
be, like Dorcas, full of good works ; or like 
the great apostle, continually aspiring after 
fresh and higher measures of perfection. 
We should be frugal of our time, careful of 
all our talents, and most laudably covetous 
of every grain of improvement in piety. 

We held on our course, admiring still 
as we went the teeming earth, the infant 
corn, and the pregnant promises of a prodi- 
gious harvest. This led me to muse upon 
one of the most distinguishing doctrines of 
Christianity, I mean the general resurrec- 
tion. It convinced me how perfectly pos- 
sible it is with God to raise the dead ; it 
gave me also a glimpse of that perfection of 
beauty to which the bodies of the just shall 
rise. For a little while ago I beheld, and 
lo ! the whole vegetable world was naked 
and bare, without any ornaments, or so 
much as one amiable feature, like some 
withered, wrinkled, deformed hag. But 
now, how charmingly it appears, and smiles, 
and shines ! No virgin is more gay and 
blooming, no bride is better airayed, or 
more sparkling. And if God so enlivens 
and clothes the grass of the earth, and the 
tenants of the field, how much more shall 
he quicken and ennoble our mortal bodies, 
which, we hope, are the temples of the 
Holy Ghost? Several of our dear friends 
we have accompanied to the grave ; we saw, 
with weeping eves, their poor bones ds- 
' 3 B 



738 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



posited ill the dust. But henceforth let us 
dry up our sorrows ; they are not to perish, 
but to be purified in those gloomy cham- 
bers. The hour is coming, when the Lord 
himself shall descend from heaven, with the 
voice of the archangel, and the trump of 
God. Then shall they hear the almighty 
summons, and spring from their confine- 
ment, " like to a roe, or to a young hart 
upon the mountains of spices," Song viii. 
14. Then will they look forth from their 
dark abodes as the morning, '• fair as the 
moon, clear as the sun," Song vi. 10; ne- 
ver more to return to corruption, but to 
flourish in immortal vigour and youth. 
This is a pleasing meditation, and deserves 
to be indulged ; but at this time it must 
give place to others. 

Our next remove was to a lane, set on 
either side with lofty trees and humble 
shrubs. Here the prospect was contracted, 
and we had nothing left to contemplate but 
our branching and leafy mound. The lit- 
tle boughs clad with a cheering green were 
refreshing to the eyes ; and it was curious 
to observe bow every different plant was 
decked with a different livery. Here the 
twigs were gemmed with buds just ready 
to open and unfold ; there they were alrea- 
dy opened into blossoms, and garnished the 
pointed thorns ; so that they were very de- 
licate to look upon, though dangermis to 
touch. O the adorable efficacy of the di- 
vine voice ! how powerfully and how last- 
ingly it operates ! God said once, " Let 
the earth bring forth ;" he spake not twice, 
and yet how punctually does nature obey 
this single command ! Several thousand 
years are gone about, nor is its force eva- 
cuated, impaired, or at all diminished. It 
endureth in full authority to this day, and 
is still a most binding law to all the mater- 
ial world. O that men would lay this to 
heart, and learn a lesson of obedience from 
the inanimate creation ! All other things 
continue according to their Maker's ordi- 
nance ; and shall man be the only rebel in 
the kingdom of nature? shall man alone 
make the word of Omnipotence to be of 
none effect ? 

While our sight was regaled in this man- 
ner, a set of chiming bells saluted our ears 
with a solemn and serene harmony. It had 
no great diversity of stops, nor artful mix- 
ture of notes ; but sure it was most glad- 
dening music, and spoke a heavenly mean- 
ing. It was calculated to inspire such a 
joy as the royal Psalmist felt, when he 
heard the acceptable invitation of going up 
to the house of the Lord. On a sudden, 
when we were least apprehensive of it, the 
wind wheeled about, and bore away the 
silver sounds. But it was only to bring 
them back again as unexpectedly, with the 
'resh pleasure of a grateful surprise. Here 



I thought of the sweet influences of grace, 
and wished for that happy time when the 
visits of the blessed Spirit will be uninter- 
rupted. 

Quickly the lawns and plains disappear- 
ed again ; we dived into a wood. Num- 
bers of sprightly birds, hopping and singing 
among the branches, solaced us as we pass- 
ed. We thanked the pretty songsters, mtd 
bid them go on to supply our lack of 
praise. But what most of all affected us, 
being altogether new, was the warbling of 
the nightingale. What a tuneful throat has 
that charming creature ! and what an un- 
wearied use does she make of it ! I myself 
heard her melody in the day-time, and I 
am told in the night-season she also takes 
no rest. How sovereign and undeserved 
is the goodness of the Lord to the children 
of men ! The pipe of this wakeful choris- 
ter, though now so incessant in thanksgiving, 
must soon be sealed up in endless silence ; 
while the mouth of dull and ungrateful mor- 
tals will be filled with everlasting anthems. 
The air was impregnated with sweets ; and, 
without money or without price, we 
breathed in such a delicious fragrance, as 
far excelled " the powders of the mer- 
chant," Song iii. 6. This put me in mind 
of some beautiful lines of the great Mil- 
ton ; 

Now gentle gales. 

Fawning their odoriferous wings, dispense 
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole 
Those balmy spoils. 

The other recalled to my memory 
part of a divine description, vastly super- 
ior to Milton's ; " Lo, the winter is past, 
the rain is over and gone. The flowers 
appear on the earth, the time of the sing- 
ing of birds is come, and the voice of the 
turtle is heard in our land," Song ii. 1 1 , 
12. 

Two of our senses being so exquisitely 
gratified, we were in no haste to leave the 
place, though it was narrow, and afforded 
no other prospect but the shining canopy 
over our heads. But as soon as we were 
emerged from this sylvan path, what won- 
ders presented themselves to our view ! I 
think I was scarce ever more agreeably 
startled in my life- We stood upon the 
brow of a hill, and underneath were tracts 
of level ground of an immense circumfer- 
ence. The labouring eye could hardly dis- 
cern its utmost bounds. The whole scene 
being parcelled out among a variety of til- 
lers, and producing variety of fruits, was like 
a noble piece of chequer work. The nearer 
parts, and those distinctly discernible, were 
replenished with rural riches. The folds 
were full of sheep, and of lambs, frisking by 
the side of their fleecy dams. The valleys 
stood so thick with corn, that they even 
laguhed ai)d sung. One spot was not 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



739 



sprinkled, but seemed to be overlaid with a 
profusion of flovvers, as the roof of the tem- 
ple was with gold ; another was as it were 
enamelled, like an embroidered carpet, with 
a well proportioned distribution ; some of 
them yellow as oranges, some white as 
snow, some tinged with a border as red as 
blood. The towns and villages, interspers- 
ed here and there, looked like the tiny tents 
of the fabled fairies. Numberless other 
beauties glanced upon my sight : but as I 
had not then leisure to examine them, so 
neither have I now room to relate them. 
O that these, and all the charms of the de- 
lightful season, may lead up every specta- 
tor's thoughts to the inimitable glories of 
heaven ! And while the eye feasts upon 
them, let every tongue acknowledge, to the 
honour of the all-creating God, 

These are thy glorious works, Parent of good ! 

Almighty ! thine this universal frame. 

Thus wondrous fair : Thyself how wondrous then ! 



LETTER VL 

Dummer, June 27, 1737: 
Dear Brother, — I find you are at Lon- 
don looking out for a trade and a master to 
set yourself to. I hope you pray earnestly 
to God to guide you in your choice by his 
infinite wisdom. He oidy knows what 
kind of employ will be best for you ; in 
what family or neighbourhood you will have 
the most helps and encouragements to holi- 
ness ; where you will be most exposed to 
temptations, to evil company, and to an 
early corruption. Therefore, remember 
what you have learned in the third chapter 
of Proverbs, and now, above all other times, 
put in practice : " In all thy ways acknow- 
ledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." 
Beseech the all-wise God to go before you 
in this weighty undertaking, and to lead 
you to such a master, and to settle you 
in such a place, where you may, the most 
advantageously, work out your salvation. 
Desire also your honoured mother, and 
mine, to have a gi-eat regard to your soul, 
and the things that make for its welfare, in 
putting you out. Let it be inquired, not 
only whether such a tradesman be a man of 
substance and credit, but whether he be 
also a man of religion and godliness ? whe- 
ther he be a lover of good people, a careful 
frequenter of the church ? whether his chil- 
dren be well nurtured and educated in the 
fear of the Lord ? whether family prayer be 
daily offered up in his house ? whether he 
believes that the souls of his servants are 
committed to his trust, and that he will be 
answerable for the neglect of them at the 
judgment-seat ? It will be sadly hazardous 
to venture yourself under the roof of any 
person who is not furnished with these prin- 



ciples, or is a stranger to these practices. 
But if he be quite contrary to all these, a 
despiser of God and goodness, wholly de- 
voted to carnal pleasure and worldly gain ; 
if he not only omit the religious care and 
oversight of his household, but also set them 
a wicked and corrupt example ; let nothing 
induce you to enter into his service. A 
lewd, drinking, swearing, cheating master, 
will be sure to disregard the sobriety and 
purity of your behaviour, and very likely to 
corrupt it. To have his disorderly carriage 
daily before your eyes, will be as dangerous 
as to lodge in a plague-house. Therefore, 
let no consideration of profit or advantage, 
or of any other sort, prevail with you to 
become an apprentice to such a one. If 
you do, depend on it, you breathe tainted 
air, and it is much but you catch the deadly 
infection. After you are bound to a mas- 
ter, you must be as diligent in doing your 
duty to him, as you should be of examining 
into his character before you are bound. 
As I have given you my advice concerning 
the latter of these particulars, I fancy you 
will not take it amiss if I give you some 
directions concerning the former. As soon 
as you are bound, you are at your master's, 
and not at your own disposal ; he has then 
a right to your hands, your strength, and all 
that you can do. He becomes a sort of 
parent to you ; and though not a natural, 
yet a civil father. You are also obliged, 
not only by the laws of your coimtry, and 
the tenor of your indentures, but by the 
fifth commandment of God, to pay him all 
due submission and honour. To do this, 
is a most material part of your duty as a 
Christian, as well as your undeniable debt 
as an apprentice. It is required of you by 
God in holy Scripture, and you must not 
once imagine that you do what is pleasing 
to him, unless you conscientiously perform 
it. Now, that you may know what it is 
that your master will expect from you, and 
what it is that the Lord has enjoined you 
with regard to him, remember it consists, 
first, In reverence of his person ; secondly. 
In obedience to his commands ; and thirdly, 
In faithfulness in his business. 

First, In reverence of his person. You 
must esteem him very highly for his super- 
iority's sake, and the resemblance he bears 
to God. For God who made you, and has 
an uncontrollable power over you, has com- 
municated some of that power to your mas- 
ter ; so that you are to look upon him as 
the representative, in some sort, of the di- 
vine Majesty, and invested with some of 
his authority. Accordingly St. Paul says, 
1 Tim. vi. 1, You must count him worthy 
of all honour ; all, i. e. internal and external, 
that of the actions and words, as well as 
that of the heart. It is not enough to 
maintain a worthy estimation inwardly, but 



740 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



you must let it appear on all occasions 
outwardly, by behaving yourself very 
obligingly to him before his face, and by 
speaking very respectfully of him behind 
his back. Suppose you should discern 
failings and infirmities in him, you must by 
no means divulge them, or make yourself 
merry with them, much less must you dare 
to set light by any of his orders. Whatever 
you have reason to think will grieve or dis- 
please him, will be prejudicial or offensive 
to him, that you must cautiously forbear. 

Secondly, Obedience to his commands. 
See how fully the apostle speaks to this 
purpose, Col. iii. 22. " Servants, obey in 
all things your masters according to the 
flesh." Observe likewise, from this pas- 
sage, not only the necessity, but also the 
compass and latitude of your obedience, 
how large and extensive it is. It reaches 
not barely to a few, but to all and every 
instance. If you should receive orders that 
are ever so much against the grain of your 
own inclination, you must force yourself to 
comply with them ; receive them as you 
used to do nauseous physic ; though they 
may be unpleasant at first, they will do you 
good, and be comfortable to you afterwards ; 
your own pleasure must always stoop, and 
give way to your master's. If he sets you 
such a task as is mean and ignoble, and 
such as (according to the expression of the 
world) is beneath a gentleman's son, do not 
scruple it, dear brother, but despatch it 
cheerfully. Remember who hath said. Ser- 
vants, obey your masters in all things. 
And oh ! remember, that be as well born 
and bred as we will, yet he that was higher 
than the highest of us all, even the most 
excellent and illustrious person that ever 
lived, condescended to the lowest and (such 
as our fine folks would account the) shame- 
fullest offices : The Lord Jesus Christ, 
though the brightness of his Father's glory, 
disdained not to wash his disciples' feet. 
Neither be dejected because you are treat- 
ed in an unworthy manner, or set to do 
some mean and low office for him or his 
family ; but rejoice rather in that you are 
made like unto your Redeemer, and in the 
happy prospect you will have of becoming 
great in heaven, by being so little on earth. 
I am aware this piece of advice is not so 
unexceptionable as the rest ; it may possi- 
bly be adjudged the mark of too yielding 
and sneaking a spirit ; but never forget, that 
the things which are most highly esteemed 
by God, are held in least repute by men. 
I know, and am sure, that if any apprentice 
would make such a compliance for the sake 
of preserving peace, and out of conscience 
to the command of God, and with an eye 
to the example of Christ, there is a day 
coming when he will not repent of it ; when 
it will not be deemed a blot to his charac- 



ter, but be an ornament of grace to his 
head, and more comely than chains about 
his neck, Prov. i.*9. Well, you see your 
obedience must be universal; you must 
come when he calls you, and go where he ' 
bids you ; do all that he commands you,- 
and let alone all that he forbids you. This 
must moreover be done not grudgingly, or 
of necessity, but readily and gladly ; For 
hear what the Scripture saith. Whatsoever 
ye do, do it heartily. Col. iii. 23 ; and 
again, With good-will doing service, Eph. 
vi. 7 ; so that we must not creep, but he 
quick and expeditious in our business, how- 
soever disagreeable. You must not go" 
about it with grumbling words, and mutter- 
ing in your mouth, but with so satisfied an 
air as may show that you are pleased with 
whatever pleases your master. 

Thirdly, In faithfulness in his business." 
This is the last branch of your duty to you^ 
master ; and since Moses has obtained an 
honourable testimony on this account, be 
you also faithful in all his house, Heb. iii. 
5- You may find this, as indeed all the 
qualifications of a good servant, described 
by St. Paul, Tit, ii. 10. Not purloining, 
says he, but shewing all fidelity. You are 
charged not to purloin, i. e- not to keep 
back from your master, not to put into your 
own pocket, nor convert to your own use, 
any of that money which, in the way of 
trade, passes through your hands. You 
were taught from your childhood to keep 
your hands from picking and stealing, and 1 
hope you abhor such abominable practices 
from the bottom of your heart. You must 
not sell at a cheaper, and buy at a dearer 
rate, in order to have some valuable consi- 
deration made you privily in your own per- 
son. These diff'er from robbing on the 
highway (they are flagrant acts of dishon- 
esty, and will cry to heaven for vengeance) 
only in being less open and notorious. 
Such tricks and villanous devices do the 
same thing by craft and treachery, as house- 
breakers do by force and violence. There- 
fore, dear brother, renounce, detest, and fly 
from them as much as from lire, arrows,, 
and death. Besides, you are not only to 
abstain from such clandestine knavery, but 
also to shew all good fidelity. What is 
meant by this you may understand by read-; 
ing how Joseph conducted himself in Poti-. 
phar's service. Your master, it is likely, 
will commit the management of some of his 
affairs to you ; and you must endeavour, by 
a discreet behaviour, and a pious life, to 
bring the blessing of the Lord upon all that 
you take in hand. You must lay out your 
time and your labour, and give all diligence 
to answer the trust reposed in you. You 
must not delay the business which is urgent, 
nor do your work by halves, nor transfer 
that to others which is expected you should^ 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



711 



do yourself. The slothful man, says Solo- 
mon, is brother to him that is a great was- 
ter; therefore you must avoid idleness, and 
carelessness. In a word, you must do no- 
thing knowingly and wilfully that is likely 
to impoverish your master, but seek by ail 
jasvful and laudable means to increase his 
substance. All this you must observe, not 
only when he stands by you, and inspects 
Vou, but when his back is turned, and you 
are removed from his view ; otherwise your 
service is nothing but eye-service, such as 
will prove odious to man, and is akeady 
condemned by God. For if you appear to 
be industrious, and in earnest, before your 
master, but to loiter and trifle when out of 
his sight, you will be chargeable with hy- 
pocrisy ; a sin extremely hateful to Christ, 
and grievously pernicious to the soul. But 
I am afraid I lire you ; this one sentence, 
therefore, and I have done. You must 
carry yourself, throughout the whole course 
of your apprenticeship, so respectfully, so 
obediently, so faithfully, that at the end of 
it you may truly say with Jacob, with all 
my power I have served j'^our father. I 
had more to write, but will send you (if 
you care to accept it,) the remainder some 
other time. May God bless you all, and 
your alFeetionate brother, &c. 



LETTER Vn. 

Dimmer, June 29, 1737. 
My dear Friknos, the inhabitants of 
CoUingtree, rear Northampton, — 
I RECEivEu the letter wrote in your name, 
and signed with your hands, and was very 
well pleased with its contents. I am glad 
that you are all in good healih, and am 
obliged to you for retaining so honourable 
a remembrance of an unworthy youth. 
Your desire to have a careful clergyman 
settled among you, is perfectly right and 
laudable. But I fear you make an over- 
favourable and mistaken judgsnent, when 
you imagine me to be such a one, and pitch 
upon me for that purpose. However, let- 
ting this pass, it is, I say, well and wisely 
done of you, to be solicitous in this matter. 
For a minister is a person of the greatest 
importance imaginable; his office is of the 
most universal concernment ; and his de- 
meanour therein of the most beneficial or 
prejudicial tendency. Beneficial, if he be 
able, faithful, and watches for his people's 
souls, as one that must give account. 
Prejudicial, if he be unskilful, inactive, and 
unconcerned about the spiritual welfare of 
his people. The things that pertain to sal- 
vation, and the means of obtaining everlast- 
ing life, are lodged in his hands. He is 
the steward of the mysteries of Christ, and 



so the guardian (under divine grace) of 
your best and most abiding interests. If 
through ignorance he mismanage, or through 
idleness neglect this weighty trust, it may 
be the ruin of immortal souls ; whereas, if 
he be both discreet and diligent in his holy 
vocation, he may be the instrument of the 
richest benefits to those committed to his 
charge. His praying to God, and his 
preaching to them, may be attended with 
such a blessing from on high, as will fill 
them with heavenly wisdom, form them to 
true holiness, and fit them for the future 
glory. Benefits these, not inconsiderable 
or momentary, but such as are great beyond 
all expression, and lasting to eternity. For 
these reasons, it will be your wisdom and 
your happiness to procure a pastor whose 
life is exemplary ; whose doctrine is sound, 
whose heart is warm with zeal for God ; 
and whose bowels yearn v.'ith compassion 
for men. If your bones were broken, or if 
you were brought to death's door by the 
force of some violent disease, you would 
not be content with the prescription of a 
quack, but seek out for the best advice. 
If your wives were in hard labour ; if the 
children were come to the birth, and there 
was not strength to bring forth, you would 
not spare to ride for the most experienced 
midwife. Oh ! be as prudent and careful 
for the salvation of your souls, which en- 
dure for ever, as you are for the life of your 
bodies, which is but as a vapour. Re- 
member that you are sick of sin, v sad- 
ly disordered by sundry corruptions, and 
must necessarily be cured before you go 
hence and are no more seen. Remem- 
ber that you must be regenerated and born 
again, or you cannot enter into the king- 
dom of heaven. And be not willing to 
trust such matters, which are of infinite and 
everlasting moment, to the management of 
any that comes next. 

Now, that you may be the better able to 
make a right choice in this important par- 
ticular, I will lay before you two or thi-ee of 
the distinguishing characters of a true min- 
ister. First, He has a tolerable stock of 
knowledge : Though not enough to explain 
all mysteries, or to answer every perplexing 
question, yet enough to make himself and 
his hearers wise unto salvation. He may 
be ignorant of many things, without much 
disparagement to himself, or prejudice to 
his people ; but he must be acquainted 
with, and able to teach others, all that is 
necessary for them to know. Secondly, 
He has not only some understanding, but 
some experience also, in the way of godli- 
ness. He has learned to subdue, in some 
measure, the pride of his nature, and to be 
humble in his own eyes, and not fond of 
applause from others. He has l)roke the 
impetuosity of his passion, and generally 



742 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



possesses his soul in patience ; or if, upon 
some very ungrateful and provoking usage, 
he cannot calm his temper, yet h^ can 
curb his tongue ; and though his spirit be 
ruffled, yet his words will be gentle. He 
is most commonly meek, after the manner 
of his blessed Master, and will always re- 
turn blessing for cursing, according to his 
holy command. He has often looked into 
the shortness of time, and the length of 
eternity ; he has weighed the greatness and 
richness of heaven, with the insignificant 
and despicable meanness of earth ; and dis- 
covers such a mighty difference, as helps 
him to live above the world, even while he 
is in it. So that he is no lover of filthy 
lucre, no hunter of carnal pleasures, but his 
hopes, his desires, and all his views of hap- 
piness, are hid with Christ in God. He is 
courteous and condescending, and will 
stoop with the utmost cheerfulness to the 
lowest person in his parish. He will be 
affable and kind, and seek to please, not 
himself, but his neighbours, for their good 
to edification. But you must not expect 
to find him trifling or ludicrous ; he will not 
preach to you on the Sunday, and play with 
you on the week-days, but carry the spirit 
of his sermons into his ordinary conversa- 
tion. He will maintain an uniform gravity 
of behaviour, without suffering it to be fro- 
zen into moroseness, or thawed into levity. 
He will love his parishioners, not for their 
agreeable persons or amiable qualities, but 
because they are redeemed by the blood of 
Christ. It will be his business and con- 
stant endeavour, I had almost said his meat 
and drink, to set forward their salvation ; 
that, by their being made meet for the in- 
heritance of saints in hght, his crucified 
Lord may see of the travail of his soul, and 
be satisfied. He will never forget the im- 
portunate request of his Saviour, but those 
winning and commanding words, " Feed 
my sheep, feed my lambs," will be engraven 
upon the tables of his heart. To fulfil this 
earnest request, and execute this last chaige 
of his dearest Redeemer, will be the fixed 
and invariable scope of all his designs. If 
at any time he hits this desirable mark, by 
bringing home to the fold any that have gone 
astray, he will be as glad as one that findeth 
great spoils. To see the people of his care 
persisting in profaneness, sensuality, and an 
unconverted state, will be the greatest grief 
that he feels : but to see his children walk- 
ing in the truth, mortifying their evil affec- 
tions, and growing up in goodness as the 
calves of the stall, this will be his joy and 
crown of rejoicing ; better to him than 
thousands of silver and gold. It is his work 
to win souls ; and by the former of these 
qualifications he is fitted for it, by the lat- 
ter he is wholly devoted to it. And, in 
order to prosecute it with the greater suc- 



cess, he will first take heed to himself, that 
his life be a fair and beautiful transcript of 
his doctrine, such as may remind men of, 
and be daily reinforcing his instructions. 
He will not bind the yoke upon your 
shoulders, till he has wore it himself ; and 
should the paths of religion prove never so 
thorny, he will go first, and beat the way. 
As far as human infirmities permit, he will 
strive to be unblamable and irreproveable, 
that he may renew the apostle's challenge, 
" Be ye followers of me, even as I am of 
Christ." Secondly, his preaching will be 
plain ; full of such useful sense as may be 
edifying to the better learned, and yet deli- 
vered in so easy a manner as may be intelli- 
gible to the ignorant. It will not only be 
plain, but powerful also ; if preceding 
prayers and tears ; if words coming warm 
from the heart, and accompanied with an 
ardent desire of being attended to ; if to 
feel himself what he speaks, and to long 
that it may be felt by others, can make it 
such, he will declare the whole will of God, 
without withholding or mincing any. Be 
the truth never so disagreeable, contrary to 
your profits, or contrary to your pleasures, 
you will be sure to hear it. He will indeed 
show it in as lovely a light, and make it as 
palatable as he can, but nothing will prevail 
upon him to conceal or disguise it. Third- 
ly, he will not confine his teaching to God's 
day or house, but will exei'cise his care of 
you every day, and will bring it home to 
your own houses, whether you invite him 
or no. He will frequently visit you, and 
for the same end as lie meets you at church. 
Now, shall you like this part of his duty, 
or bid him welcome when he comes on 
such an errand ? Nay, he will think him- 
self bound to proceed farther, and to in- 
quire into the state of your souls, and your 
proceedings in your families ; whether you 
are competently furnished with saving 
knowledge, and are careful to increase it 
daily, by allowing a daily portion of your 
time for reading the Scriptures ? what vir- 
tues you are deficient in, what vices you are 
subject to ? what evil tempers, what vile 
affections, what unruly passions are predo- 
minant in you, and want to be suppressed ? 
whether your children are catechized, and 
your servants instructed ? whether you are 
constant in family-worship, and at your clo- 
set devotions ? how you spend the Sabbath 
— whether you squander it away in imper- 
tinent visits, idle chat, or foolish jesting ; 
or whether you consecrate it to the better 
exercises of prayer, praise, holy discourse, 
reading and meditation ? These, and other 
points of the like nature, he will examine 
into; and exhort you to amend what is 
amiss, no less than encourage you to perse- 
vere in that which is good. Nor will he 
exhort you once or twice only, but again 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



743 



and again, and hardly leave off till he has ! 
won your consent. In things that relate 
to himself, he will be easily said nay ; but 
when the great God insists upon obedi- 
ence, and a blessed immortality will be lost 
by disobedience, he will be instant in sea- 
son, and out of season ; he will solicit with 
unwearied applications the important cause, 
and press you to perform your duty, as the 
poor widow importuned the unjust judge to 
avenge her of her adversary ; he will add 
to his exhortations reproofs. His eye will 
be open, and his ears attentive to what 
passes in his parish ; and when any one 
walks disorderly, he will meet him as Eli- 
jah did Ahab, I Kings xxi. 20, with a 
rebuke in his mouth. This I can promise, 
that he will not rail at, nor accost you with 
reproachful words, but he will certainly set 
before you the things that you have done. 
He will not defame you behind your backs, 
but whether you be rich or poor, whether 
you be pleased with it or not, he will bear 
in mind the commandment of the Lord, and 
show his people their transgressions, and 
the house of Jacob their sins, Isa. Iviii. i. 
He will tell you with tenderness, but yet 
with plainness, that such courses are a sad 
and too sure a proof, that grace has not had 
its proper work on your souls ; that ye are 
carnal, and have not the Spirit of Christ. 
So that a true minister of the gospel will 
be a constant inspector of your actions, a 
faithful monitor of your duty, and an im- 
partial reprover of your offences. He will 
guide you by his counsel, and animate you 
by his example, and bless you by his 
prayers. If you be willing and obedient, 
he will conduct you safely through a trou- 
blesome and naughty world, and bring you 
to the land of everlasting felicity ; but if 
you be perverse and obstinate, he will be a 
standing terror to your consciences here, 
and a swift witness against you hereafter ; 
he will be the unhappy means of increasing 
your guilt, and aggravating your fiUuie ac- 
count, and of making it more tolerable for 
Tyre and Sidon, in the day of judgment, 
than for you. 

And now, my kind and dear friends, are 
you, upon second thoughts, desirous of 
having such a pastor placed amongst you ? 
shall you be glad to have the aforemention- 
ed vigilance and diligence exerted in the 
holy function ? Can you willingly submit 
to an oversight so narrow, to admonitions 
so incessant, to corrections so close and 
particular? If, after due consideration, 
you are willing, give me leave to inform 
yoii how you may procure such a man of 
God to come unto you, and take up his 
abode with you- He is an exceeding great 
and precious blessing to any people ; too 
precious to be purchased with money, and 
is the free gift of God ; so that the way 



to obtain him is to address yourselves to 
Heaven, and make supplication to the Al- 
mighty. What cannot prayer, fervent and 
believing prayer, do ? I scarcely know any 
thing that is above its power, or beyond its 
reach. Prayer has locked up the clouds, 
and opened them again, made the earth as 
iron, and the heavens as brass ; prayer has 
arrested the sun in his race, and made the 
moon stand still in her march, and reversed 
the perpetual decree ; prayer has fetched 
down angels from above, and raised up the 
dead from beueath, and done many won- 
derful works. In like manner, prayer will 
get for you an useful and worthy teacher ; 
if he be ever so far off, this will bring him 
near ; if he be never so averse, this will 
overrule his inclination. Do you doubt of 
this ? I own you would have good reason if 
you had nothing but my word to support 
it ; but what if God, who cannot lie, has 
testified, and given you assurance of the 
same? Why, then, I hope ye will be no 
longer faithless but believing. Hear, 
therefore, what he himself hath said by his 
own beloved Son, " Ask, and ye shall re- 
ceive ; seek, and ye shall find," Matt. vii. 
7. Again he saith, " If ye shall ask any 
thing in my name, I will do it," John xiv. 
14. Here you see the Almighty has pass- 
ed his word, and he, to whom all things 
are possible, has pawned his veracity, that 
he will not deny you the request of your 
lips. And dare you not trust in the All- 
powerful ? Can you have a better security 
than his, whose title is faithful and true ? 
The divine promises are all immutable, 
stronger than the strong mountains ; and 
heaven and earth shall pass away, sooner 
than one jot or tittle of them shall pass 
unfulfilled. When you desire a pious and 
able minister, ye desire a good thing, such 
as will be for the honour and glory of God 
to grant. Therefore, encouraged by this, 
and confiding in his most sure promise, beg 
of the Most High to give you a true pas- 
tor and shepherd for your souls ; one that 
may love you like St. Paul, rule you like 
David, teach you like Samuel, and lead you 
like Joshua to the heavenly Canaan, that 
blessed and blissful country, where we all 
would be ! 

O God, great and glorious, infinite in thy 
wisdom, and incontroUable in thy power ! 
thy providence is over all thy works ; thine 
eyes run to and fro through the earth, to 
behold the condition, and supply the wants 
of thy servants : Thou sentest Moses to 
deliver thy children out of Egypt, Philip to 
instruct the ignorant eunuch, and Peter to 
preach to the devout centurion. O blessed 
Lord, who art the same yesterday, and to- 
day, and for ever, vouchsafe the same mercy 
to us of this parish, that we also may have a 
teacher come from God : Grant us, O thou 



744 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



Giver of every good gift, a faithful shepherd 
for our souls, who may feed us in a green 
pasture, and lead us forth beside the waters of 
comfort; one that may be wholly devoted to 
thy service, and intent upon nothing but the 
due discharge of his important office; who 
may be a light to our paths by his godly 
directions, and as salt to our corrupting 
souls by his unblamable conversation. Let 
such a minister, we beseech thee, be placed 
over us as will watch for our spiritual wel- 
fare, that will love us with an affectionate 
and parental tenderness, that will cherish us 
as a hen cherisheth her chickens under her 
wings ; one that may be able as well as will- 
ing, to instruct us in our duty ; to whom 
thou hast revealed the wondrous things of 
thy law, and the glorious mysteries of thy 
gospel ; whose lips may preserve knowledge, 
whose tongue may be continually dealing it 
out, and whose mouth may be unto us a 
well of fire ; whose discourses may be milk 
to the babes, meat to the strong, and medi- 
cine to the sick ; who may have a skilful as 
well as a compassionate zeal, and know how 
to divide rightly the word of truth ; who 
may be an example as well as an exhorter, 
a pattern as well as a preacher, of every 
charitable action, and every devout temper ; 
under whose guidance we may walk in the 
ways of peace and piety, of meekness and 
humility, of righteousness and salvation, till 
we all come to the city of the living God, 
to an innumerable company of angels, and 
to the spirits of just men made perfect. O 
grant us such a priest, and clothe him with 
such qualifications, and make thy chosen 
people joyful. Hear us, most merciful Fa- 
ther, for his sake whose sheep we are, who 
bought us with his blood, who died for us 
on earth, and maketh intercession for us in 
heaven, even Jesus Christ ; to whom, with 
thee and the Holy Ghost, be all honour and 
glory, world without end. Amen. 



LETTER VIII. 

Dummer, July 5, 1737. 
Dear Sister, — I hope London does not 
disagree with the health of your body, and 
I dare say it may be made serviceable to the 
health of your soul. There are precious 
opportunities of going to church, and wor- 
slaipping the divine Majesty every morning 
and evening, which I hope you do not 
slight, but embrace with all thankfulness, 
and prefer before every other engagement. 
If you were grievously sick, and even hard 
at death's door, you would be glad to have 
recourse to any physician ; but if you heard 
of one that could not possibly mistake your 
case, and would infallibly cure you, how 
eiigcrly would you fly to him ? Sister, be- 



lieve me, our souls are sick of sin, sick of 
worldly-mindedness, sick of pride, sick of 
passion, and sundry other disorders, which, 
if not speedily healed, will bring us down, 
not only to the grave, but to the torments 
of hell. We have almost as little taste or 
relish of holy and devout exercises, as a sick 
and languishing man has for the strong meats 
he loved when he was well, which is a plain, 
and too undeniable a proof, that our better, our 
immortal part, is sadly out of order. Now, 
at church you may tind a sure and never- 
failing remedy for your spiritual disorders. 
God's grace is a sovereign medicine, and in 
his house it is to be obtained. There he, 
like a most bountiful and beneficent prince, 
stands ready to dispense the help and as- 
sistance, the enlightening and purifying in- 
fluences of his Spirit. Sure, then, we who 
have such urgent and immediate need of 
them shall not be backward to go, and with 
an humble earnestness seek them. . I say 
immediate ; for since our life is so uncer- 
tain, and we know not what a day may bring 
forth, we ought to get our work despatched 
and our accounts ready without delay. It 
is evening now I write this, and I cannot 
tell whether this may not be the night in 
which I am to hear that amazmg cry, Be« 
hold the Bridegroom cometh. I intend to 

direct my letter to my dear sister , and 

hope she will receive it safe ; but have no 
certainty whether she be yet alive or no. 
For ought I know, her soul may be standing 
before the judgment-seat of Christ, and go- 
ing to be fixed, if not already fixed, in an 
unchangeable eternal state ; her body may 
be pale and cold, and stretched out in the 
coffin ; my dear mamma and my brothers 
taking their last farewell, and giving her the 
parting kiss ; the joiner just about to nail 
on the lid, and hide her face for ever from 
mortal view ; nay, she may already have 
been carried upon men's shoulders, and com- 
mitted to the dust, so that what I am in- 
diting may find her in the grave. She may 
be sleeping in some church-yard that I know 
nothing of, among thousands of dead bodies, 
never to awake, never to arise, till the arch- 
angel's trampet sounds, and the heavens are 
no more. The very imagination of this 
sudden change strikes a damp upon my 
heart ; I hope it is not a presage of what 
has really happened; if it be, and if 
my dear sister is a departed spirit, I will 
henceforth labour to dress my soul with ho- 
liness, that it may be ready to go forth at a 
minute's warning, and give her the meeting 
in another world. There, if my sister and 
I shall be found to have minded, above all 
things, the one thing needful, and to be full 
of heavenly, spiritual, and divine tempers, 
she will be to me better than a sister, and 
I shall be to her better than a loving and 
affectionate brother, &c. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



745 



LETTER IX. 

My Dear Friend, — I received your 
kind letter, and thank you for your affec- 
tionate wishes. I endeavour not to be be- 
hind-hand with my people in this exercise 
of love. You are always on my heart, and 
often, often mentioned in my prayers. Espe- 
cially, that you may be partaker of the Holy 
Ghost, and feel all those saving convictions 
which are described by our Lord, John xvi. 
8 — 1 1 ; that you may be interested in the 
new covenant, and enjoy all those precious 
privileges which were purchased for us by 
our dying Saviour, and are recorded by his 
apostle, Heb. viii. 10—12. 

Yesterday, in the evening, two gentlemen 
of the city came to visit me. Our conver- 
sation was such as I would have yours be ; 
such as was suited (if God vouchsafe his 
blessing) to edify one another, and minister 
grace to the hearers. We talked of that 
infinitely condescending and gracious Friend 
of sinners, who came from heaven on pur- 
pose to he crucified for us, and is returned 
unto heaven on purpose to intercede for us. 
The intercession of our blessed Lord 
was the chief subject of our discourse, and 
is a most comfortable article of our faith. 
Because 

His intercession never ceases ; he sitteth 
at the right hand of his Father in an abiding 
posture. Other high priests are removed 
by death, but he ever livetb to make inter- 
cession for us. We resign part of our time 
to sleep, and then lose all attention to our 
own interests ; but he is the Keeper of 
Israel, who never slumbereth nor sleepeth. 
We too frequently forget our God, and ne- 
glect to carry on communion with him ; 
but Christ has written our names, (worth- 
less as they are,) upon the palms of his 
hands ; and a mother may forget her suck- 
ing child much sooner than he v/ill discon- 
tinue his kind concern for the weakest be- 
liever. 

His intercession always prevails. If 
Moses was heard, when he made supplica- 
tion in behalf of Israel ; if Job was not de- 
nied, when he petitioned for the pardon of 
his three friends ; if Elijah's prayer enter- 
ed into the ear of the Lord God of hosts, 
when he requested for rain upon the parched 
earth — surely God's dearly beloved Son will 
not be rejected, when he raaketh intercession 
for the saints. The Father loves him, in- 
finitely loves Mm, and therefore hears him. 
He has purchased whatever he asks, pur- 
chased it by his obedience and death, and 
therefore caimot but obtain his suit. 

Perhaps you will inquire, What it is that 
Christ prays for ? We are informed of this 
in John xvii. He prays that we may be 
kept from the evil that is in the world, 



verse 15: That we may be sanctified 
through the truth ; sanctified through the 
word of Scripture, verse 17 : That we may 
be united to Christ, and have fellowship 
with the Father by faith, fellowship with 
one another by brotherly love, vei se 21 : 
That we may be made perfect in his right- 
eousness, presented without spot through 
his blood, and, at last, be with him where 
he is, to behold his glory, and partake of 
his joy, verses 23, 24. 

. Should you be desirous of knowing w^he- 
ther you are in the number of those for 
whom Christ intercedes, you may determine 
this important point by the following ques- 
tions : — Do you value above all things the 
blessings for which Christ intercedes ? Do 
you join your own repeated and earnest sup- 
plications to his intercession ? And do you 
rely wholly upon Christ's unspeakable me- 
rits for the acceptance of all your prayers ? 
If so, be not discouraged ; Christ is your 
Advocate yviih the Father. He died for 
you on the cross, and pleads his meritorious 
oblations for you on his throne. 

Is not this an inestimable blessing ? If 
Hezekiah desired the prayers of Isaiah, if 
Darius desired the prayers of the godly 
Jews for himself and his sons, how should 
we rejoice in having the prayers of the ex- 
alted Jesus ! If we are tempted, let this 
be our security, Luke xxii. 31, 32. If we 
fall into sin through the infirmity of the 
flesh, let this be our refuge, 1 John ii. 1, 2. 
If under apprehensions of death, or eternal 
judgment, let this be our consolation, Rom. 
viii. 33, 34. 

I do not write out the Scriptures, because 
I would have you look them out, or even 
write them out with your own hand. And 
may the blessed Spirit of God write them 
upon all our hearts ! This will come to 
you, I hope, on Christmas eve. You will 
talk of this letter, and its contents, to your 
harvest-men. I should be glad to be with 
you, and converse, as we used to do, on 
Christ and the kingdom of heaven. None 
of my flock, 1 hope, will be filled with li- 
quor, wherein is excess, but be filled with 
the Spirit. My kind love to your family, 
and all your neighbours, particularly to your 
brother William, whose letter I shall an- 
swer by the first opportunity. — Yours, &c. 



LETTER X. 

Stoke- Abbey, June 19, 1738. 
Dear Sister, — WiLt you accept of an- 
other letter from your loving brother, who 
loves your better part, and would fain be 
helpful to your immortal interests ? 1 think 
I wrote to you when at London ; I knovv 
not what acceptance that letter found, but 



746 A COLLECTION 

I can assure you it meant nothing but good, 
spiritual benefit, and everlasting advantage 
to you. 

I hope my and are more easy 

with regard to me and my welfare. My 
disorder is a languor and faintness, a feeble- 
ness and inability for action, which is in- 
creased or lessened according to the various 
temperature of the weather. I bless God 
Almighty I am not deprived of my appetite 
to food, neither are my bones chastened 
with pain ; so that many impute all my com- 
plaints to a hippish and over timorous turn 
of mind, to a distempered imagination, ra- 
ther than a disordered body. 

I write this in a pleasure -house of Mr. 

, situated upon a high cliff, on the very 

edge of the sea. On one side a vast track 
of land extends itself, finely diversified by 
stately trees, floating corn, and pasturage 
for cattle. On the other side rolls the 
great and wide sea, where go the ships, and 
where is that leviathan whom the Almighty 
Creator has made to take his pastime thei'e- 
in. Which way soever I look, I meet with 
footsteps of the divine immensity ; I view 
thy great and marvellous works, O Lord 
God omnipotent ; I am encountered with 
ten thousand arguments to fear thy tremen- 
dous power, and love thy diffusive goodness. 
O how safe are they v»'ho have so infinite 
and mighty a Being for their guard ! How 
happy are they who have so inexhaustibly 
rich a God for their portion ! But how 
wretched, dear sister, how miserably and 
emphatically wretched, who have such a one 
for their enemy and avenger ! Oh ! how 
can our feeble frame, that shrinks at a little 
light affliction, that is but for a moment, 
how can it bear the never-ending vengeance 
of that prodigious arm which stretched out 
the heavens, laid the foundations of the 
earth, and poured out the waters of the 
mighty deep ! 

I have been about twenty or twenty-six 
miles into Cornwall, and seen wondrous 
workmanship of the all-creating God ; rag- 
ged rocks, roaring seas, frightful precipices, 
and dreadfully steep hills. At Biddeford, 
a market town about fourteen miles oflf, I 
am pretty well known, and am a little es- 
teemed. It is strange to tell, but let it be 
to the glory of God's free and undeserved 
goodness, though I am worthy of shame and 
universal contempt, yet I find favour and 
good understanding almost wherever I go. 

Mr. 's house is situated in a fine 

vale. It is an ancient structure, built for 
the use of religious recluses, and has an an- 
tique, grave, and solemn aspect : before it 
is a neat spot of ground, set apart for the 
use of a garden, enriched with fruits, and 
beautified with flowers. This leads into a 
curious sort of artificial wilderness, made of 
elms and limes, planted in rows, cut into 



OF LETTERS. 

form, and uniting their branches. In the 
midst is a fountain large enough to swim in, 
and a little engine playing the waters. On 
each side are arbours ' for shade, in various 
parts seats for rest : on the right hand runs 
parallel to it a clear purling brook, ref)le- 
nished with trout ; on the left, a thick 
grove hanging from the side of a hill : the 
one serves for a watery mound, the other is 
a leafy shelter from the north wind ; and 
both, I think, greatly ornamental. This, 
you will say, is pleasant ; but how unworthy 
to be compared with those blissful mansions 
fitting up for the righteous in the heaven of 
heavens ! This, and if there be any other 
spot a thousand times more delicate, is no 
better than a howling wilderness, if com- 
pared with the regions of paradise. I wish 
my dear sister would earnestly seek for 
God's grace to draw oflf her affections from 
earthly delights, and fix them there, where 
real, substantial, and eternal joys are to be 
found, viz. on the blissful vision of God, 
and the fulness of joy that is in his presence 
for evermore. — Your, &c. 



LETTER XL 

Biddeford, Dec. 10, 1740. 

Dear Sister, — Though I am so back- 
ward in my compliments, I am most hearty 
in my wishes, that your spouse and yourself 
may enjoy abundance of happiness in the 
married state. I congratulate late, but I 
shall ever pray that you may find blessings 
twisted with the matrimonial bands, and not 
only live lovingly together as one flesh, but 
live holily together, as fellow-heirs of the 
grace of life. 

I hope you will both remember the eter- 
nal world, which must very shortly receive 
you : That, ere long, the nuptial-bed must 
be resigned for a lodging in the grave ; and 
the ornaments of a sparkling bride be ex- 
changed for the dressings of death. And 
if, under the frequent view of these serious 
truths, you study to further each other in 
faith and holiness, then will you be true 
help-meets one to the other ; then will you 
come together, not for the worse, but for 
the better ; then may you trust, that, when 
death shall dissolve the union below, Christ 
Jesus will bid it commence again above, 
and continue to endless ages in the midst of 
unspeakable delight. 

Please to present my humble service to 

the several Mr. and Mrs. , that 

still remain in your town ; to Mrs. and 

her daughter ; Mr. and his spouse, and 

Mr. Remember me also in the kind- 
est manner to your poor neighbours, parti- 
cularly those who have Mr. 's books. 

May God Almighty give them grace to 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



747 



make a proper and practical use of them ! 
May he sanctify the attentive and diligent 
reading of them, to their increase in godli- 
ness, and in the knowledge of our Lord and 
Saviour Jesus Christ ! 

When you see my Collingtree relations 
and acquaintance, salute them affectionate- 
ly in my name. I suppose you will soon 

see my and ; present my duty 

to them. I shoidd rejoice to see them 
again in the flesh, before any of us go hence, 
and are no more seen. May the Father 
of our spirits, and the Father of the Lord 
Jesus Christ our righteousness, prepare us 
for a happy meeting in the regions of glory, 
and for the blissful vision of his own adora- 
ble self. 

There is at Biddefortt, and has been for 
a considerable time, a townsman of mine, 

a middle-aged man, born at ; his name 

is . I little thought to find such a 

person in these remote parts. It puts me 
in mind of heaven, where people of every 
kindred and tongue, of all nations and lan- 
guages, will form one general and glorious 
assembly. May you and I, dear sister, one 
day be numbered with those children of 
God, and have our lot, our delightful and 
everlasting lot, among the saints. I am, 
&c. 



LETTER XIL 

June 2, 1747. 
Reverend and dear Sir, — Can you 
accept the will for the deed ? It was in 
my heart, long before this, to have made 
you my best acknowledgments ; and not in 
my heart only, but actually attempted. In 
Buckinghamshire I remembered my kind 
and obliging friend, and was with delight 
set down to give vent to my grateful 
thoughts. But company on a sudden com- 
ing in arrested my pen, and engaging me 
tiU I returned from that place, prevented 
the execution of my design. Now, sir, 
my heartiest thanks for your welcome as- 
sistance desire your acceptance ; and if the 
utmost sincerity can atone for the delay, 
ray conscious heart assures me they will 
not be rejected. My father is wonderfully 
recovered. Had he lived in the times of 
superstition, for ought I know, his uncom- 
mon disorder might have been ascribed to 
vwtchcraft, and his speedy recovery passed 
current for a miracle. The grave seemed 
to have opened her mouth for him. We 
thought him to be on the very brink of 
death. 

Quam paene furvae regna Proserpinas, 
Et judicantem viderit iEacum, 
Sedesque descriptas piorum !— — 

But now God has turned and refreshed 



him ; yea, and brought him from the depth 
of the earth again. He lives, and regains 
his strength daily. Last Sunday he read 
prayers in his church, and intends next 
Sunday to fill the pulpit. 

Mrs. , I hope, is very well; to 

whom I beg my hinnble sernce may be 
acceptable. Your dear little ones too, the 
olive plants about your table, I trust are in 
a flourishing state. May the good Lord 
fulfil his precious promise to them, and the 
children of your honoured neighbour. May 
he pom- his Spirit upon your seed, and his 
blessing upon your offspring, that they may 
grow up (in knowledge and grace) as wiU 
lows by the water-courses. I am just now 
going to our visitation, held at Northamp- 
ton. I shall appear as a stranger in our 
Jerusalem ! knowing few, and known by 
fewer. Methinks there is something august 
and venerable in a meeting of the clergy ^ 
especially if one looks upon them as so 
many agents for the invisible God, and 
envoys from the coiu*t of heaven. I hope 
to be put in mind of that awful day, when 
the Lord Jesus Christ, that great Shep- 
herd of the sheep, and Bishop of souls, 
will make his entrance in the clouds of 
heaven. Then, at that great, final, and 
decisive entrance, may my dear friend re- 
ceive the approbation of his Judge. May 
he then be rewarded, for his kind ofiices to 
myself and others, in everlasting honour 
and joy. I am, &c. 



LETTER XIIL 

Bidd^ord, July 7, 1741. 

Dear Sister, — After a very sultry jour- 
ney, I arrived safe at Biddelord. Here I 
have been one whole week. At Bath and 
Bridgewater I made a considerable stay. 
I tarried at each place a couple of nights ; 
was entertained with abundance of civility. 

There is a general prospect of a plente- 
ous harvest. The valleys stand so thick 
with corn, as makes the traveller rejoice, 
and the husbandman sing. There is great 
want and scarcity of many things, but there 
is plenty of fish. Now the dry land is so 
barren, the waters yield the larger increase. 
It is observed, to the glory of God's good 
providence, that, now flesh is so dear, fish 
is uncommonly cheap. Thus graciously 
does the Almighty, when he locks up one, 
open another fountain of his beneficence. 
During my absence from Biddeford, a lusty 
man, in the prime and vigour of life, was 
carried off by my father's disorder. It is 
therefore a distinguished mercy that our fa- 
ther has enjoyed ; such as has been with- 
held from others, while it has been vouch- 
safed to him. 



748 



A COLLECTION OF LETTEUS. 



I am now far from my dear relations. 
Friends I have indeed, but not one of my 
kindred near me. O that God may be my 
guide, my protector, and my portion here 
and for ever. If the Lord, the Lord Jesus 
Christ be my shepherd, I shall lack no- 
thing. Unworthy, altogether unworthy of 
such an inestimable favour, I desire to lie at 
the feet of his free unmerited grace ; seeking 
what he is ready to give, though I, alas ! am 
most undeserving. And surely we have 
good reason to hope, and the very best en- 
couragement to seek. For if he gave his 
life, and spilt his blood for us, will he not 
much rather give us pardon of our sins, 
and justification through his righteousness? 

I hope my brother is in perfect 

health. I wish him a seasonable and kind- 
ly harvest ; and wish you both abundance 
of happiness ; and am, dear sister, his and 
yours, &c. 



LETTER XIV. 

My Dear Friend, — I find you have had 

Mr. among you lately. Many, I hope 

nave found abundant benefit from his 
preaching, and you in particular. He is a 
shining light, a choice and illustrious am- 
bassador of Jesus Christ. What a savour 
of his divine Master does he shed abroad 
whenever he preaches ; such a savour as 
many corruptions cannot overcome, nor all 
the world suppress. Biddeford, 1 hope, 
has experienced this savour. Methinks I 
now see him in the pulpit, and hear him 
lifting up his compassionate voice like a 
trumpet, and proclaiming the acceptable 
year of the Lord. Methinks I see him dis- 
playing the gospel standard, and his tongue 
touched from the heavenly altar, inviting 
sinners to flock under his shadow : crying. 
Come, ye simple ones, whom Satan has 
beguiled, and Christ shall give you light ; 
come, ye wicked ones, whom Satan has en- 
slaved, and the gracious Redeemer shall set 
you free ; come, ye that have been righte- 
ous in your own eyes, forsake this refuge of 
lies, and enter into the ark before the rains 
descend, and the floods come, which will 
sweep away every false hope. O lean not 
upon a broken reed ! build not upon the 
sinking sand, but upon the Rock of Ages, 
the foundation laid in Zion by the hand of 
Heaven itself. Come unto Jesus ye ruin- 
ed and undone sinners, for he has a tender 
heart that is ever open to receive you, and 
an arm that is omnipotent to save you. 
Indeed, my friends, those that know 
Christ's name will seek no otlier Saviour, 
nor desire any other good ; all their bones 
will cry out, Lord, unto whom shall we go, 
but unto thee ? thou only hast the words 



of eternal life. They that know Christ's 
free goodness, will put their whole trust in 
him, and seek no other way to the Father 
of mercy but through his merit. This is 
the only claim they have to make for their 
acceptance — Christ died ; but for whom 
did he die, my dear friends ? He gave 
himself a ransom for all ; he was lifted up 
upon the accursed tree, and out of his side 
came a fountain of blood and water, where 
every sinner may bathe, and be made clean. 
The awakened sons of Adam, that feel 
their miseries, see a fulness of merit in one 
drop of that blood, sufficient to atone for 
the guilt of ten thousand worlds. This 
fills ihem with great comfort, although they 
are vile sinners. What though they are 
loathsome beggars, taken from the dunghill 
of uncleanness, that are but now returning 
from the highways and hedges of every 
abominable practice ? What though they 
are as beasts before God, very dogs, tike 
that poor Syrophenician woman ? yet 
Christ's saving kindness is so great and un- 
bounded, that he casteth out none who 
come to him. Here is consolation for the 
trembling sinner; though he has not a grain 
of worthiness in himself, yet his Lord- has 
infinite treasures of unmerited grace. They 
who believe that Christ shed his precious 
blood for guilty sinners, will cheerfully put 
their trust in his atonement for pardon. 
They will say, O ! they will often say, with 
gratitude glowing in their breasts, and tears 
in their eyes, Be it that my sins are of 
the deepest crimson dye, and more in num- 
ber than the hairs of my head, yet the blood 
of Christ cleanseth from all sin, and wash- 
eth a filthy polluted conscience whiter than 
snow. With him there is no scanty, but 
plenteous redemption. Be my debts ever 
so great, ten thousand times ten thousand 
talents, yet the agonies of the once slaugh- 
tered Lamb has paid it to the very utter- 
most farthing. They who know his right- 
eousness will put their trust in it alone for 
justification. If I had the righteousness of 
a saint, says one, O how happy I should 
be : If I had the righteousness of an angel, 
says another, I should fear no evil. But I 
am bold to say, that the poorest sinner that 
believes in Christ has a righteousness in- 
finitely more excellent than either saints or 
angels. For if the law asks for sinless per- 
fection, it is to be found in my divine Surety. 
If the law requires an obedience that may 
stand before the burning eye of God, be- 
hold it is in Jesus my Mediator. Should 
the strictest justice arraign me, and the 
purest holiness make its demands upon me, 
I remit them both to my dying and obedient 
Immanuel : with him the Father is always 
well pleased; in him the believer is com- 
plete. They who know Christ's power, 
will put their trust in him for sanctification 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



749 



ot heart, and newness of life. Though sin is 
rooted in my soul, aiuj riveted in my consti- 
tution, yet Christ can purge it out. Though 
it were twisted with every nerve of my flesh, 
yet he can make the rough temper.-? smooth, 
and the crooked dispositions straight : the 
vile affections, hke legions of devils, he can 
root out, and fill every heart with the pure 
love of God. To which happy state of 
soul may both you and 1 be brought while 
here below 5 that we may be made meet to 
ascend to that habitation of God, where 
nothing unclean can enter. I am yours 
sincerely, &c. 



LETTER XV.— Toms Father. 

Biddeford, Oct. 1, 1742. 

Reverend and Honoured Sir, — Your 
last, containing the melancholy account of j 
the death of botli my aunts, I received. I ; 
hope they died in the Lord, and sleep in 
the bosom of Jesus ; and then, truly, they 
are the happy persons, and we the objects 
of pity. They rest, and have cast anclior 
in the harbour ; whereas we are still beat- 
ing on the ocean, and tossed in the storm. 
If we consider things impartially, this world 
is our grave ; nor do we really live, till we 
burst the fleshly prison, and get beyond the 
visible skies. 

In the grave is darkness. It is called 
the shadow of death- And what else is 
this wretched world ? what but a state of 
gloominess, a valley of the thickest dark- 
ness ; where poor mortals grope in spiritual 
ignorance, and wander up and down, not 
seeing the things that belong to their peace ? 

In the guave, and among the tombs, we 
look for phantoms and apparitions. And 
what else do we meet with here below? 
A thousand sorts of happiness present 
themselves to our wishes, but are unsub- 
stantial and fantastical all. They are a 
gay delusion, and mock our expectations, 
as one of those vanishing forms would 
baulk our embraces. 

The grave is the land where all things 
are forgotten. The ideas of friendship are 
obliterated, and the dearest relatives are re- 
membered no more. And is not this too 
true a description of our present state ? Do 
we not unaccountably forget Jesus Christ, 
our almighty friend, and everlasting glory, 
our invaluable heritage ? Where is the 
man that remembers his bleeding Saviour 
on his bed, and thinks upon him when he 
is waking ? No ; the Redeemer's incon- 
ceivable love, and the precious benefits of 
his passion, are buried in a deep oblivion. 
This world then of darkness, apparitions, and 
forgetfulness, is the grand dormitory ; flesh 
and blood the tomb of our immortal minds, 



Nascentes moriraur. 
I fear I tire you, honoured Sir ; but be- 
cause I have no news that you can appre- 
hend or relish, I allow my pen in these 
excursions. This week I was sent for to , 
visit a lady of this parish, in the same dis- 
order that proved so fatal to my two aunts. 
She lay, poor gentlewoman, most terribly 
afflicted, and is now released. It put me 
hi mind of the Psalmist's penitential ac- 
knowledgment, which I think is never 
more applicable than in the case of the 
small-pox : " When thou. Lord, with re- 
bukes dost chasten man for sin, thou makest 
his beauty to consume away, like as it were 
a moth fretting a garment." I shall rejoice 
to heai- that you and my mother continue 
well under all your trouble and fatigue, and 
remain, Reverend and Honoured Sir, your 
most dutiful Son. 



LETTER XVL 

Biddeford, Oct. 12, 1742, 
Dear Sister, — I received your kind 
letter. It was a pleasure to hear from Har- 
dingstone, the place which gave me birth, 
and the place which preserves my sister. 
I am obliged to the Reverend Mr. Rose 
for remembering me, and desire him to 
accept my best compliments • I hope he 
will be an instrument of doing much good 
in your parish. To save souls is the noblest 
acquisition in the world; infinitely more 
desirable than to find great spoils. May 
this be his honour aiid happiness, and may 



It be my continual ami ! 

My poor aunts are no more, they are 
gone the way of all flesh ; eternity has re- 
ceived them; their state is now become un- 
changeable. Oh ! that we may be alarmed by 
their departure, and labour while we have 
time, to make our calling and election sure ! 

My mother tells me you have been much 
indisposed ; I shall rejoice to hear that you 
are bettei'. Sickness and aftiictions are 
God's call ; they are divine admonitions, 
and warn us not to be fond of the world, 
but set our affections on things above. May 
the blessed Jesus make them effectual to 
our souls i 

I wish I had any news to write that you 
can understand and relish. The small-pox 
is marking many, and carrying off some 
among us it is a privilege of no small 
value to be past that infectious disorder : 
I have often thought that it is too lively 
an emblem of the condition of our souls, 
by corrupt nature and evil practice. So 
polluted, so loathsome is our better part in 
the eye of u-ncreated purity, till we are 
washed, till we are cleansed in redeemiisg 
blood. May we earnestly loMg to be wash- 



750 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



ed in that fountain, opened in our Saviour's 
side, for sin and for uneleanness. 

See how our judgments and inclinations 
alter in process of time ! I once thought 
I should make less use of the Spectators 
than you ; but now I believe the reverse of 
this is true, for we read one or more of 
those elegant and instructive papers every 
morning at breakfast : they are served up 
with our tea, according to their original 
design. We reckon our repast imperfect 
without a little of Mr, Addison's or Mr. 
Steele's company. I wish Miss Becky 

K an increase of happiness in the 

change of her state ; marriage should aug- 
ment our joys, and diminish our sorrows. 

My humble sei'vice attends Mrs. K , 

Mr. C ^'s family, and Mr. V My 

love to my brother, and to yourself, con- 
cludes all at present to be communicated 
by, dear sister, your affectionate brother. 



LETTER XVIL 

Bath, August 27, 1743. 

Reverend Sir, — Sunday last I hap- 
pened not to be at the Abbey-church in 
the afternoon. But conversing vnth. a 
gentleman who was one of your auditors, I 
desired to have a summary account of your 
sermon. And truly he gave me such an 
account as both astonished and grieved me. 
You dignified worldly prosperity at so ex- 
traordinaiy a rate, and almost canonized the 
prosperous man. On the other hand, you 
vilified the glorious Jesus in so scandalous 
a manner, and set the incarnate Godhead 
to one of the most ignoble and abominable 
offices. This made me encourage my 
friend to draw his pen, and send you a word 
of admonition. And when he declined the 
task, I could not forbear imder taking it 
myself. For it would be unkind to you, 
sir, to perceive you under such grievous 
mistakes, and not to warn you of the error 
of your ways. Nor would it be less un- 
faithful to your Master, and my Master, to 
be informed of such preaching, and suffer it 
to pass current without any animadversion. 

If I misrepresent you in any particular, 
I am ready to retract. And if I have truth 
on my side, and you, reverend sir, have 
spoken unworthy of your sacred office, have 
dishonoured the divine Redeemer, and per- 
verted his everlasting gospel, I trust you 
will also be so ingenuous as to condemn 
that offensive sermon to the flames, and 
such doctrines to silence and darkness. For 
I assure you, it is from no ill-natured spirit 
of criticism, no moroseness of temper, or 
fondness for contradiction, but from a sin- 
cere concern for the interests of true reli- 



gion, and the honours of our common Lord, 
that I take leave to suggest the following 
hints. 

I think you first exhorted people to re- 
joice, when their circumstances were af- 
fluent, and their worldly affairs prosperous ; 
you enforced this palatable advice by the 
precepts of Scripture ; and, lest it should 
not be received with a proper welcome, you 
further urged it upon your hearers by the 
example of our blessed Saviour. In oppo- 
sition to this strain of teaching, permit me 
to observe, 

1 . That worldly prosperity is no sufficient 
cause for a Christian to rejoice. 

2. That it is often one of the sorest evils 
that can befall a person. 

3. To sketch out the true nature of 
scriptural prosperity ; or discover what is 
that solid ground for rejoicing, which the 
oracles of God recommend. 

1. Worldly prosperity is no sufficient 
cause for rejoicing, because worldly things 
are empty and unsatisfactory. That which 
is lighter than vanity itself, cannot possibly 
give substantial joy. If we build for con- 
tentment on sublunary things, we rear our 
edifice upon the sinking sand. You can no 
more bring satisfaction out of any thing 
created, than you can carve an image out of 
the rising smoke, or fill your belly with the 
east wind. Those that rejoice only (and 
you, dear sir, assigned no other cause for 
rejoicing), because they have abundance of 
eai'thly things richly to enjoy, are like some 
bewildered and benighted traveller, pierced, 
with cold, dripping with wet, that leaps 
for joy because he finds a glow-worm under 
the hedge. Alas I this is nowise able to 
direct his wandering feet, to light him 
through the dismal gloom, or to warm his 
benumbed limbs ; no more than it is able 
to supply the place of the sun, and dart its 
faint glimmer through the universe. The 
pleasures which a superior fortune furnish 
out, O how soon do they become stale, and 
pall upon the appetite ! How easily may 
a thousand accidents snatch them from our 
embrace, or dash them to pieces in our 
arms ! How certainly must we forsake 
them in a very little time ; and when we 
have taken a few more pleasant morsels, a 
few delicious draughts, eat and drink again 
no more for ever ! And what a wretched 
disproportionate delight is this for an im- 
mortal mind, that is to survive the dissolu- 
tion of the globe ; that is to live unnum- 
bered ages, when all that our eyes have seen 
is passed away and gone ? 

Again -. Worldly prosperity is no suffi- 
cient cause for rejoicing, because a person 
may possess this, and have neither faith nor 
grace. There is no manner of connexion 
between faith and wealth. The poor fre- 
quently receive the gospel, while numbers 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



751 



of the rich reject their own happiness. And 
wdthout faith it is impossible to please God ; 
it is unreasonable and unwarrantable to re- 
joice. The believer, indeed, has a permis- 
sion, has a privilege, yea, has a patent for 
rejoicing. The Christian has all joy and 
peace in believing. All : you see here is 
a monopoly ; faith has engrossed this pre- 
cious commodity. None is to be procured 
but from her. And as for grace, talents of 
gold may be in the coffers, and not one grain 
of grace in the heart. Those that call whole 
lordships their own, cannot, perhaps, say 
that they have received the Holy Ghost. 
And while they are destitute of this divine 
principle, I can call them nothing but 
wretches. Yon may add illustrious, right 
honourable, and worshipful, if you please ; 
but still they are miserable wretches, unless 
Christ, the hope of glory, be formed in their 
souls. The Holy Ghost, you know, sir, is 
called the Comforter, because it is his 
amiable office to administer consolation to 
his people. He giveth joy, and who can 
make sadness ? But, alas ! if he withdraw 
his benign influences, who or what can 
create satisfaction? Silver shoes may as 
well charm away the racking pains of a 
goutified foot, or golden dust quench the 
thirst of a parched throat, as any worldly 
abundance, as all worldly plenty, beget real 
joy, without the communications of the 
comforting Spirit. You forget, sir, the 
prayers which you daily offer up in the con- 
gregation. In them you acknowledge that 
the world cannot give peace ; and if not 
peace, surely not joy ; if not the fruit, sure- 
ly not the blossom. There is no peace, 
saith my God, to the wicked. And all are 
wicked who are void of faith, and unre- 
newed by grace. All run counter to the 
divine declaration, who bid such persons 
rejoice, though they should have every kind 
of prosperity that a carnal heart can wish. 

Once more : Woi'ldly prosperity is no 
sufficient cause for rejoicing, because a man 
may possess this, and be a child of wrath 
notwithstanding. Providence often scatters 
temporary things among the tents of his 
enemies. They have children at their de- 
sire, and leave the rest of their substance 
for their babes. These are husks which 
the swine are permitted to eat. God's 
dearest servants, those who are heirs of 
glory, are frequently seen to be without any 
share of them, while the most abandoned 
sinners have them to the full. Lazarus has 
not a house to lay his head in, while the 
voluptuary dwells in apartments ceiled with 
cedar, and painted with vermillion. Laza- 
rus has not enough to purchase one morsel 
of meat, must be beholden to charity for 
the least crumb of provision ; while his 
hard-hearted neighbour drinks wine in 
bowels, and eats the choicest of the flock ; 



is clothed in purple and fuie linen, and 
fareth sumptuously every day. Who then 
can rationally rejoice in that which is no 
pledge of the divine acceptance, which car- 
ries with it no proof of our reconciliation 
to that eternal Majesty, whose smile is in- 
conceivable bliss, whose frowTi is insup- 
portable wo ? A wealthy and successful 
person, if he be considerate as well as for- 
tunate, must go home from such a sermon, 
arguing in this manner : " The preacher 
solicits me to rejoice in my worldly goods ; 
but how can I find complacency in such 
perishing possessions, when, perhaps, I may 
be an outcast from heaven, and have no place 
in that kingdom which endureth for ever ? 
how can I take pleasure in those dainties 
which replenish my table, when perhaps 
the heavy wrath of God may fall upon me, 
while the meat is yet in my mouth ? This 
sumptuous furniture, this glittering equi- 
page, these delicious treats, how can I take 
real satisfaction in them, when, for ought I 
know, a hand- writing upon the wall may be 
denouncing my doom ? If God would lift 
up the light of his countenance upon me ; 
if I was sweetly ascertained of his good 
will, then I could rejoice unfeignedly. But 
as for these large revenues, and tides of 
success, that are so much extolled by the 
preacher, they may prove like the rich pas- 
tures that fatten the ox for the knife." 

Will you have patience with me, sir, if 
I proceed to prove, 

2. That worldly prosperity is so far from 
being an adequate cause for our rejoicing, 
that it is frequently one of the sorest and 
most mischievous evils ? This, I am sure, 
was the opinion of Archbishop Usher. 
That most renowned and excellent prelate, 
in his younger days, had a continued series 
of prosperity ; health impaired by no attacks 
of sickness, credit sullied by no breath of 
scandal, and success interrupted by no dis- 
appointment or disastrous turn. And what 
emotion did this occasion in that devout and 
judicious person's mind? Did his heart 
dance within him for joy ? did he bless him- 
self on this behalf? No ; but he was under 
sad apprehensions lest God had forsaken 
him, and given him over to a reprobate 
coiu-se. He feared that his heavenly Fa^ 
ther, because he spared the rod, hated the 
child ; that not being brought under the dis- 
cipline of providential correction, he was a 
bastard, and not a son of the Lord Almighty. 
How diametrically opposite was this way of 
thinking to your way of preaching ! And, 
whether it was not a very sober and just 
method of thinking, let the following con- 
siderations determine. 

Worldly prosperity is apt to attach men 
to earthly things. When success swelk 
their sails, and all proceeds accordiiig to 
their wish, O how prone are we to disi eg<ird 



752 



A COLLECTION OF LETTER J. 



Jesus, and everlasting ages ! Many are 
imttioderately fond of the world, because 
they have swam sweetly down the stream of 
prosperity, who prohahly would have been 
weaned from its delights, and indifferent to 
its goods, in case they had toiled upon the 
craggy cliffs of some intervening adversity. 
When they walk always upon roses, and 
meet with no thorns in their paths, the 
consequence is an acquiescence in their pre- 
sent station, and remissness in seeking the 
joys of an invisible world. A contentment 
in the things that are seen, without any as- 
piration after the things that are not seen, 
is the most unhappy condition imaginable, 
and is generally the o-fFspring of worldly 
prosperity ; and when this worldly prospe- 
rity is so highly rated in the calculations of 
the pulpit, what other effect can possibly 
attend such lectures, but to glew our affec- 
tions more closely, and rivet them more in- 
separably to these trifles of a day ? 

Again : Worldly prosperity is frequently 
a mischievous evil, because it is apt to make 
men proud. They come in no misfortune 
like other folks, says the Psalmist ; and this 
is the cause that they are so holden with 
pride. Prosperity is often a luscious poison. 
It bloats and puffs men up with an over- 
weening opinion of themselves. It intoxi- 
cates the mind, and makes it drunk with 
self-conceit. It prompts people to idolize 
themselves, and contemn others. The in- 
tolerable arrogance of the Babylonish mo- 
narch, what was it owing to but his vast 
and uninterrupted successes ? He measured 
his merit by the length of his purse, and 
challenged a veneration proportionable to 
the extent of his dominions. This vile rank 
weed thrives in the hot-beds of honour, 
wealth, and carnal pleasure ; whereas it 
might never have reared its head in the 
colder climate of tribulation or scantiness of 
circumstances. 

Once more : Worldly prosperity is fre- 
quently a pernicious evil, because it renders 
men carnally secure. It case-hardens the 
mind against all the threatenings, and makes 
it deaf to the invitations of heavenly \Ws- 
dom. It is a stupifying potion, and lulls 
the soul into a fatal forgetfulness of ever- 
lasting things. Those that were lusty and 
strong in our Saviour's days, joined with the 
impious multitude in despising the veiled 
Divinity. But those who were diseased in 
their bodies, or disordered in their minds, 
with eagerness fell prostrate at his sacred 
feet, and implored his healing hand. Peri- 
issent nisi periissent. You cannot but have 
observed various proofs of this remai-k in 
the course of your ministry ; you must have 
seen many persons that rejected all your 
counsel, and would none of your reproof, 
while they washed their steps in butter, and 
the rock pourttd them out rivers of oil. But 



how teachable were these once refractory 
worldlings, how willing to hear the conso- 
lations of the gospel, when their sensible 
delights were perished and gone i How 
desirous to be informed of a happiness in 
the heavens, which fadeth not, when their 
carnal pleasures had made themselves wings, 
and were flown away ! In the gaiety of their 
health, and abundance of their plenty, they 
were settled upon the lees of supineness. 
But when the scene was shifted, they cried 
out with vehemence. What must we do to 
be saved ? This I myself have frequently 
remarked in the short compass of my expe^ 
rience. Men who were like an iron sinew 
in their flourishing condition, have been 
impressible as melting wax in a reverse of 
fortune. 

We see, then, that the prosperity of this 
world is always dangerous, often pernicious, 
and too frequently destructive. It yields 
pleasures that infatuate, sweets that are im- 
poisoned, delights that stupify, insomuch, 
that a heathen could say, Nihil infdicius illo, 
cui nihil hifelix contigit. 

Here, it may be asked, Are we to take 
no comfort in our portion on earth? must 
we become gloomy and melancholy, and go 
mourning all our days ? Far, far from it. 
Religion allows us, religion enables us, re- 
ligion requires us to be joyful. Yea, it gives 
its faithful adherents to rejoice with joy 
unspeakable and full of giory. But then, it 
is founded on a principle vastly superior to 
that which you, sir, thought fit to single 
out and display. It springs from a source, 
and rests on a basis, that has no manner of 
dependence on worldly circumstances. Which 
reminds me of another point I am engaged 
to clear up, viz. 

The true nature of scriptural prosperity. 
The scripture is a spiritual scheme. Spi- 
ritual goods are what it chiefly recommends, 
and fiom spiritual evils it chiefly deters. 
Christ's words are spiritual ; tending to 
make men not carnally minded, but spirit- 
ually minded ; to render them spiritual in 
their understandings, their affections, their 
conduct. Insomuch, that one need not 
scruple to aflirm constantly. That the holy 
Scripture never calls that state a state of 
prosperity which is not grounded on the fa- 
vour of God ; nor ever encoui-ages people 
to rejoice in any thing till they are I'econ- 
ciled to God, interested in Christ, and re- 
newed by the Holy Ghost ; which, I think, 
constitute the scriptural prosperity; I am 
sure are the groundwork of all happiness. 
First, for reconciliation to God. His fa- 
vour is better than life. Life itself is 
worthless, and consequently all its enjoy- 
ments, without this prime fundamental bless- 
ing. For this cause the Prince of Peace 
bled to death, that the handwriting of guilt 
might be blotted out ; that the wrath of 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



753 



God might be appeased ; and that we who 
were enemies might be brought near through 
his blood. This is the door to all good. 
Enter in by this gate, O ye sons of men, 
or else you will inevitably miscarry in your 
search after felicity. If you seek for bliss, 
and bottom not your expectations on this 
rock, you are sure to be disappointed of your 
hope. I can no more have true comfort in 
any possession, till I have redemption 
through my Redeemer's passion, than that 
unfortunate captive could rejoice in the 
royal banquet that was before him, when a 
ponderous sword, edged and unsheathed, 
was hanging by a slender thread, and shak- 
ing every moment over his head. An in- 
terest in Christ : This is another pillar to 
support our felicity. Therefore our blessed 
Lord, directing us in the way of our true 
good, says, " Seek ye the kingdom of God, 
and his righteousness." The everlasting 
kingdom of heaven as the end, and the im- 
puted righteousness of Jesus Christ as the 
way. Till the one is our actual possession, 
and the other our certain reversion, we may 
look for real satisfaction, but shall find 
none. Apply to all the creatures, rifle all 
their charms, taste all their sweets, you will 
perceive them to be altogether lighter than 
vanity itself, without/an union with Christ, 
and an establishment in his merits. Reno- 
vation of mind is another ingredient of the 
prosperity delineated in Scripture. Till 
the soul be sanctified, it is in a state of 
grievous disorder ; like a body, all whose 
bones are out of joint. And oh ! what joy 
can be tasted in such a condition ? Till 
divine grace have the ascendant within us, 
tiU the kingdom of God be set up in our 
hearts, we are in bondage tq corruption. 
Vile afiections domineer over us. The de- 
vil and our own lusts play the tyrant in our 
breasts. We ai'e like slaves under a galling 
yoke, and like lepers under a noisome dis- 
temper. Therefore the Psalmist says, 
When I awake up after thy likeness, I shall 
be satisfied with it. Till thy image be re- 
stamped upon my heart, I never expect to 
see good. While we are in the bond of 
iniquity, we must infallibly be in the gall of 
bitterness. 

This is the prosperity celebrated in the 
Scriptures. Of this every believer is a par- 
taker ; and you vnll please to remember, 
that every exhortation to rejoicing, which 
we meet with in those inspired books, is 
addressed to such persons only. They give 
not the least invitation to a)iy or.e, no, nor 
the least license to rest satittied, much less 
to rejoice, till they ar<' Drought into such 
circumstances of recoiiciliation with Heaven, 
and renovation of mind. Nor have you, sir, 
any warrant to day to yom'self, or your peo- 
ple, Soul, take thine ease, eat, drink, and 
be merry, because thou hast much goods laid 



up for many years. This is the epicure's 
creed. The lively oracles bear their testi- 
mony against such conclusions. They style 
all the unregenerate, fools ; and to such, 
worldly abundance is not matter for mirth, 
but matter of ruin : for the prosperity of 
fools shall destroy them. Be they grand as 
Nebuchadnezzar, in as much affluence as 
Ahasuerus, honoured as Herod was by the 
applauding multitude, yet every page of 
Scripture says to them, as Jehu to Joram's 
messenger, What hast thou to do with 
peace ? And however some smooth-tongued 
preachers may flatter and cajole them in 
their pomp, however they may prophecy 
smooth things, and solicit them to rejoice on 
such a footing as the Lord has not made a 
ground for rejoicing, yet an apostle bespeaks 
them in very different language : Go to now, 
ye rich men, weep and howl. The Teach- 
er sent from God has other tidings to tell 
them : Wo unto you that are rich, that are 
full, for ye have your consolation, ye shall 
hunger hereafter. And, in another world, 
they may hear this awful admonition sound- 
ing in their years. Son, remember that thou 
in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things : 
thy good things, those which thou account- 
edst good, not that really were good, but 
only appeared so to thy distempered judg- 
ment and vitiated taste. 

Surely, sir, it must have been perfectly 
prudent, or rather absolutely necessary, to 
caution your audience against so fatal a 
mistake ; especially since they consist of the 
gay, the gi-and, the pleasurable. A vigilant 
minister would certainly give them to un- 
derstand, that wealth and plenty is by no 
means the prosperity which the Spirit of 
God commends ; that joy, without the lov- 
ing-kindness of the Lord, is a mere chime- 
ra ; that none are entitled to this medicine 
of life but those who can lay thek hand up- 
on their hearts, and say, with a faith un- 
feigned, My sins are all forgiven through 
the atonement of the slaughtered Lamb ; 
my peace is made with the eternal God, 
and the Spirit of .Tesus Christ dwells in me. 
This is that which justifies, which produces 
joy. Then, indeed, and not till then, the 
wise mean's advice may be thy practice. Go 
thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink 
thy wine with a merry heart, lor God now 
accepteth both thee and thy works. Then 
thou mayest take comfort in thy earthly ac- 
commodations, as so many little appendages 
of thy bliss ; not as the essence which con- 
stitutes it, but as the cement which serves 
to fill up some little interstices, and renders 
the whole somewhat more compact. And 
even in this case, our blessed Master (who 
bid his disciples not to rejoice because the 
de^^ls were subject unto them, but because 
their names were written in heaven) would 
probably caution us not to rejoice because 
3 e 



754 



A COLLECTION OP LETrERS. 



we have all worldly things copiously to en- 
joy, but because we are pardoned, we are 
justified, we are sanctified. 

Upon the whole, suppose worldly pros- 
perity was not oftentimes a most mischiev- 
ous evil, which it undoubtedly is ; suppose 
it was a substantial ground for Christian 
rejoicing, which it really is not ; suppose 
this was the scriptural prosperity, which no- 
tion is, I trust, sufficiently disproved ; in a 
word, suppose the whole tenor of your doc- 
trine to be true, whereas it seems to be pal- 
pably false ; yet what good, in the name of 
wonder, can you possibly propose by such 
preachments ? You cannot but be sensi- 
ble that we are all strongly addicted to infe- 
rior things. We are already too fond of 
worldly goods, too impetuous in our pursuit 
of sensual gratifications. We want, we ex- 
tremely want a curb, to check our career, 
and you clap a spur on our sides. You em- 
ploy your eloquence as a provocative in a 
case that cries aloud for restrictives. Alas ! 
sir, you have no occasion to push the head- 
long torrent ! But I have done with this 
point ; have nothing more to add upon this 
head, unless it be to recommend to your se- 
rious consideration that alarming verdict 
pronounced by infinite wisdom, He that 
liveth in pleasure is dead while he liveth ; 
dead to God, dead to grace ; a dead Chris- 
tian, though a living animal. Compare, re- 
verend sir, this declaration vsdth the tenden- 
cy of your doctrine. Then, I assure my- 
self, you will not redden with indignation at 
these plain remonstrances ; but rather (as I 
should in your case) turn pale with grief at 
your past teachings, and tremble with fear 
for the consequences of them. 

Thus much for your divinity : Now, sir, 
if you please, for your logic. We have can- 
vassed your doctrine ; let us next consider 
the argument with which you establish it. 
This is, if possible, ten thousand times more 
exceptionable than the tenet itself. For, 
after having told your audience, that the car- 
rial delight which you so earnestly press to 
take, is agreeable to the reason of things, 
is consonant to the designs of Providence, 
you think proper to add, that it is also 
countenanced by our Saviour's example ; 
since, at a certain marriage-feast, when the 
wine fell short, he wrought a miracle, and 
furnished them with a fresh supply, on pur- 
pose — that the mirth might not die. This 
was your expression. And, surely, a more 
shocking one never came from a preacher's 
lips. Was ever so abject and scurvy a rea- 
son assigned for one of the most illustrious 
actions ? Could any debauched libertine, at 
a drunken club, have derogated more con- 
tumeliously from the dignity of our Lord's 
behaviour ? Jesus, the mirror of purity, the 
fountain of wisdom, of whom it is testified 
that he did all things well ; this wise and 



glorious Being is represented, not by an 
abandoned sot, but by a minister of the gos- 
pel, as exerting his omnipotence to prolong 
a merry bout. O that it might not be told 
in Gath, or published in the streets of Aske- 
lon ! J^\it,fugit irrevocabile verhmn ; you can- 
not revoke the words. The only repara- 
tion you can make to the injured Jesus, or 
the offended Christian, is to give us a ser- 
mon of recantation, and antidote the poison 
that has been propagated. 

But I would hope it is too gross to spread. 
That the mirth might not die, is an asser- 
tion that must startle every hearer. Why, 
this a common vintner might have prevent- 
ed, as well as an Almighty Being : a few 
flasks from the tavern would have answered 
this end. Most ignoble purpose ! unwor- 
thy, altogether unworthy so august, divine, 
and admirable a person. Oh what a handle 
does this yield to infidels for profane banter ! 
That Jesus should descend from the heaven 
of heavens, and come into the lower world, 
vested with incontrollable power, on so poor, 
grovelling, and sordid an errand ! That part 
of his business in the state of humanity 
should be to guard against the extinction of 
such idle mirth as owes its birth to a bottle ! 
The soldiers that stripped our Lord of his 
apparel, and mocked his sacred person ; that 
spit upon his blessed face, buffeted his di- 
vine head, and loaded him with all manner 
of scurrilities and indignities, did not com- 
mit, (in my opinion) so flagrant an abuse, as 
a modern preacher in one of his studied so- 
lemn harangues. They took him to be a 
mere man ; they pronounced him a vile 
man ; and therefore offered him such op- 
probrious affronts. But you, sir, acknow- 
ledge him to be God ; you know him to be 
infinitely wise ; and yet make him a lacquey 
to the most errant trifles, a drudge to men's 
carnal indulgences. Suppose both our 
houses of parliament, after the maturest 
deliberation, should employ the whole array 
of the nation to clear away all obstructions 
for a butterfly in her flowery range, or to see 
that a silly kitten goes on unmolested in her 
sportive gambols ; would you extol the wis- 
dom of our senators ; would you not cry 
shame upon their conduct ? Now, your as- 
sertion is full as depreciatory to the consum- 
mate prudence and exemplary pm'ity of our 
divine Master ; since you set them both on 
work, joined with irresistible might, only to 
furnish out a little more gaiety, a little more 
laughter, to a set of carousers, whom you de- 
scribe as pretty well in for it already. 

That the mirth might not die ! That 
is, that those who were already made merry 
with liquor might go on in their jovial 
delights, till they added drunkenness to their 
thirst. For when people are thus exhil- 
arated, to take fresh draughts, and pour 
down more wine, must indeed make them, . 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



755 



as a professed sconier profanely expresses | 
himself on this' very occasion, more than 
half seas over. So that, when you give an | 
evasive flourish or two, and would have i 
your hearers to believe that you are no ad- j 
vocate for intemperance, it is plain you are j 
only complimenting the cause of sobriety, j 
This interpretation put upon our Lord's j 
conduct, knocks all such sham pretences j 
on the head. For if he wrought the miracle j 
with such a view, and for such sort of 
people, all the world cannot clear him from 
being a promoter of excess ; and, if he did 
not, all the world cannot acquit you, sir, 
from the most abusive misrepresentations 
of your Redeemer. 

That the mirth might not die ! What 
could a lewd rake have done, at his riotous 
table, worse than that which you ascribe to 
the pattern of all perfection? My blood 
grows chill ; my thoughts recoil at so horrid 
a position. Any gentleman of tolerable 
seriousness, when he perceives his friends 
are got merry with his drink, would rather 
withdraw the glass than add fuel to the 
flame. For my part, I should think my- 
self an abettor of excess, and little better 
than a pimp for debauchery, if, when men 
are merry in their cups, I should supply 
them with means of driving on the wanton 
humour. And yet, be amazed, O ye hea- 
vens, and be horribly afraid, O earth ! a 
minister, in the midst of a tlironged congre- 
gation, charges this very practice upon the 
most immaculate Lamb of God ! O sir, 
how could he who came to be our sanctifi- 
cation, administer to our inordinate gratifi- 
cations ? how could he, who has enjoined 
us not to make provision for the flesh to 
fulfil the lusts thereof, be instrumental to 
continue a luxurious revel ? O blessed 
' Jesus, surely that is fulfilled which was 
spoken by thy prophet, " Thou art wounded 
in the house of tliy friends." Thy charac- 
ter is debased, tby doctrines adulterated, by 
those who profess themselves adorers of 
the one, and expounders of the other. Oh ! 
that ever the Christian pulpit should be- 
come a porch to the temple of Bacchus ! 
and a Christian preacher act the pai't of a 
purveyor for the tippling-house ! 

Do you intend to please, sir, or to pro- 
fit your audience by these admonitions? 
You can please none but men of corrupt 
minds, whose god is their belly, who mind 
earthly things. You can profit none but 
those whose heaven is to be found in the 
juice of the grape. They can serve no 
other end but to give a sort of sanction to 
their extravagancies. Your lectures, per- 
haps, may be recollected with applause on 
an ale-bench, and pleaded among a circle of 
jolly topers. But I assure you, sir, they 
are heard by the serious and devout with 
the utmost sorrow, luui with equal detesta- 



tion. Their ears are wounded, and their 
hearts bleed under the sound of such bac- 
chanalian doctrines. 

May I now be permitted to declare my 
sentiments with regard to that passage of 
Scripture which you have so unhappily 
perverted ? 

As to the mirth you seem so fond of, 
there is no mention of it in the sacred nar- 
rative. For Christ went not about to spread 
the laugh among his company, but to make 
them serious, sober, and wise unto salvation. 
If he vouchsafed his presence at entertain- 
ments, and sat at the tables of sinners, it 
was with a gracious design of instructing 
and converting them in their own houses. 
He came to feasts in the same spirit, and 
for the same purposes, as he came into the 
world ; to turn poor mankind from darkness 
utito light, and from the power of Satan 
unto God ; so that none can imagine, when 
he was in the room, that there could be any 
thing like that licentious diversion which 
too generally prevails in om* merry-meetings. 
If they did rejoice, they rejoiced doubtless 
after a godly sort : They rejoiced in the 
precious and instructive words that dropped 
from Christ's lips, as sweets from an honey- 
comb : They rejoiced to have so divine a 
prophet raised up unto God's people, and 
to have the honour of so illustrious a per- 
sonage amongst them : They rejoiced, 
without all peradveiiture, to see, and hear, 
and handle the word of Hfe. 

As for that expression, which we trans 
late well drunk, (ji,%SuiSM7ii, profane wits, I 
know, raise mighty triumphs upon it ; but 
in truth, they are Babel buildings, and 
proofs of nothing but their own folly. They 
thereby give us to understand, that their 
want of sense is as unquestionable as their 
malignity to Christianity. For surely they 
must be full as errant idiots, as they are 
shameless sots, who can offer to fetch the 
least shadow of a plea for riotous indul- 
gencies from this passage ; since, let 
the meaning of the word be ever so loose 
and exceptionable, yet nothing can be con- 
cluded from thence against the economy 
and decorum of that entertainment, because 
the governor speaks only of the usual cus- 
tom at other treats. He says not a word, 
good or bad, of the guests that were pre- 
sent at that bridal festival. It must, there- 
fore, be not only precai'ious, but ridiculous 
and absurd, to infer the disorderly proceed- 
ings of those people, from what the ruler 
observes concerning others. I once was 
acquainted with a worthy gentleman, who 
frequently invited to his table the young 
persons of his neighbourhood, and would 
take a pleasm'e in instilling or cultivating 
in their minds the principles of sobriety, 
industry, and piety. Now, in case I'.o l...d 
said, alter supj)er was removed, " I kuuW 



756 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



very well, my honest neighbours, it is cus- 
tomary with some persons of fortune both 
to please and pride themselves in making 
their visitants drunk. They push the glass 
briskly round, and press one bumper upon 
another, till they send their guests stagger- 
ing to bed." But now, would any one be 
so stupid as to infer from this acknowledg- 
ment of the practice of others, that this was 
also the practice of my friend ? Yet this 
they may do with as much justness and 
solidity of reasoning, as deduce any maxim 
in favour of excess from the speech of the 
Architriclinus, or master of the feast. 

Evident, I think, it is, that this expres- 
sion, whatever be its exact import, is in no 
wise referable to the condition of those 
guests ; so that we allow our adversaries too 
much advantage, by admitting any of their 
remarks upon its signification. We should 
wrest this weapon out of their hands, which 
they brandish so formidably, rather than 
guard against its strokes. But in case it 
was applicable to them, yet it is most mon- 
strous to suppose it significant of the least 
deviation from temperance. For had we 
not known the company to be of the most 
exemplary behaviour and heavenly-minded 
spirit ; had they been a parcel of irreligious 
and lewd fellows, instead of the virgin-mo- 
ther and the Redeemer's disciples, yet it 
would be impossible to conceive, that any 
thing which had the least approach towards 
surfeiting and drunkenness should be toler- 
ated, when Jesus himself v^^as in the midst 
of them. Before so venerable and divine 
a person, they would not dare to allow 
themselves in any misbecoming indulgences, 
or indecencies of carriage. Besides, had 
their inclinations been ever so abandoned 
or impetuous, his eternal power and God- 
head would have restrained them. He that 
intimidated the sacrilegious rabble when 
they profaned the temple, and drove them 
before his single scourge ; he that struck 
prostrate to the ground a whole band of 
armed men only with his word ; he that 
had all hearts in his hand, and could manage 
them as he pleased, — would doubtless have 
forbid, at this juncture, whatever bordered 
upon dissoluteness. 

Should any one inquire, for what cause, 
then, did Christ work this miracle, if not 
to revive the dying mirth ? I answer, se- 
veral noble reasons are assignable and ob- 
vious. 

One, To furnish a supply for fresh 
guests, which on those occasions were con- 
tinually pouring in ; that the feast might 
be prolonged to its usual period, and all 
that came might be moderately refreshed. 
For I can by no means imagine that this 
fresh supply was intended for those who 
had cheered themselves already with a suf- 
ficient quantity. This indeed is what your 



sermon takes for granted, or else yonr ap- 
plication of this fact is frivolous and imper- 
tinent. But I'^promise myself, when you 
give it a second consideration, you will 
wonder how so unworthj a thought should 
come into your mind, and be sorry that it 
should ever proceed from your lips, since 
it is so entirely repugnant to the whole 
character, conduct^ and preaching of our 
Lord Jesus. 

Another reason might be. To reward the 
married pair for their hospitality to himself 
and his followers ; To give early notice, to 
the world that none should be losers by 
showing kindness to him or his : That 
every piece of respect paid to Jesus, and 
every kindness exercised towards his fami- 
ly, should meet with a full recompense of 
reward. Thus did he prepare an extensive 
fund for those who had forsaken houses, 
lands, relations, and their earthly all for his 
sake ; prepare a fund for their subsistence, 
by disposing people to entertain and accom- 
modate them, when they should be sent 
forth without staff, or scrip, or money in 
their purses. 

Another cause, and that which is re- 
marked by the holy historian, was, to 
manifest forth his glory; to give a most 
conspicuous display of his Messiahship. 
He opened, as it were, his commission, 
and showed his divine credentials ; which 
was done with perfect propriety, in a public 
manner, before more spectators than his 
own attendants : and whatever effect it 
might have upon others, it confirmed the 
faith of his disciples. Seeing this incon- 
testable proof of his mission, it is said, they 
believed on him ; and were thenceforth in- 
violably attached to his person and minis- 
try. 

Other reasons may be suggested, and 
those exceeding sound and useful, such as 
point out a noble and deep significancy in 
this miracle ; make it rich with divine and 
spiritual meaning ; and upon this footing, a 
more delicious feast for our souls, than 
wines of the finest flavour, and most gener- 
ous quality, are to our animal nature. 

For instance, it might signify the super- 
ior richness of those comforts which his 
gospel was introducing into the world ; 
that they exceeded those broached by 
Moses and the law, as much as the pure 
blood of the grape excels the water of our 
common wells : That his flesh and blood 
would be a sovereign source of alacrity and 
consolation to his people ; gladden and re- 
vive their hearts, like some exquisite cor- 
dial ; strengthen and invigorate their minds 
like the best-bodied wines. 

This particular season of a marraige ce- 
remony was probably chosen, in order to in- 
timate the necessity of being espoused and 
united to Christ, before we can be partakers 



A COLLECTION 

©f these evangelical delights. Divorced we 
must be from our old husband, the law ; 
divorced from the covenant of works ; and 
no longer wedded, by self-opinionativeness, 
to our own righteousness ; but married, by 
the bond of a lively faith, to that everlasting 
Bridegroom, in order to taste those com- 
forts, and have our share in those joys. 

A reason fixed upon by our church is. 
That Christ would hereby put an honour 
upon the matrimonial state, by gracing the 
solemnity with his sacred company, and 
performing his first public miracle on this 
occasion. A fine admonition this, to ren- 
der us more than ordinarily solicitous to 
have the favourable concurrence of Jesus, 
both when we devise, and when we take so 
important a step ; because the tranquillity 
and happiness of our subsequent life de- 
pends very much on this alteration of our 
condition. That we should, by all means, 
marry in the Lord, and implore his spiritual 
gracious presence at the wedding, which 
will improve the advantages, and sanctify 
the enjoyments of that comfortable state ; 
will, as it is delicately figured out in the 
metaphor, turn our water into wine. 

It might also be intended to remind us, 
that the comforts, even of animal life, were 
recovered by the second Adam, as they were 
forfeited by the first Adam. When our 
first parents were guilty of rebellion against 
their Maker, they lost all right to the val- 
uable productions of nature. This indeed 
was their dowry originally settled upon 
them , but by their disloyalty it became 
confiscated. Justice seized upon their in- 
heritance, and vengeance said, Cursed be 
the ground for your sakes. Christ, in this 
exigency, immediately interposed ; took off 
the attainder, and restored to poor Adam 
and his posterity the precious fruits of the 
earth. These blessings, derived from 
Christ's mediation, were very properly re- 
cognised at a wedding J because, straight- 
way after the marriage of the first couple, 
they were alienated and sequestered. 

This, sir, is a way of expounding our Re- 
deemer's miracles, Well worthy your consi- 
deration, if not your imitation. In this 
light they appear, not barely so many wit- 
nesses of his being the Messiah, but so 
many living mirrors of his mediatorial mer- 
cies, in which we discern a most expressive 
figure of those spiritual good things which 
we extremely want, and may fully enjoy 
through Jesus Christ. The marvellous 
things brought to pass by the agency of pro- 
phets, apostles, and holy men of old, were 
indisputable vouchers for their being sent of 
God. But our Redeemer's works had a 
farther excellency, and answered a diviner 
end ; They held forth and presented, even 
to the senses, a most striking pattern of 
those spiritual blessings which sinners may 



OF LETTERS. ' 757 

enjoy through their Saviour. Thus, when 
he cured the man born blind, what did this 
signify but his healing the blindness of our 
understandings, and pouring the day of his 
glorious gospel upon our internal sight ? 
When he miide the poor paralytic strong 
and vigorous, that was not able to turn 
himself on his bed, or to use his limbs, what 
a lively emblem was here, both of our 
disease, and of his sovereign help ? Of our 
disease, whereby we are utterly impotent to 
do a good work, or think a good thought ; 
of his sovereign help, whereby we are ena- 
bled to do all things through Christ strength- 
ening us ; enabled to believe through his 
grace, and to mortify our corruptions 
through his Spirit. Was not the filthy le- 
per a true picture of our loathsomeness, 
through original defilement, and actual 
transgressions ? And when our Redeemer 
disdained not to touch this noisome crea- 
ture, and make him perfectly clean, how 
appositely did this image point out the con- 
descension of his goodness in undertaking 
our redemption, and the efficacy of his blood 
in accomplishing our purification? I might 
go through the whole series of our Lord's 
miracles, and discover in them a most sig- 
nificant and complete portraiture of all man- 
ner of spiritual blessings ; but the foregoing 
instances shall suffice. From these hints, 
we may discern an adorable depth of de- 
sign ; unsearchable treasures of contri- 
vance, as well as beneficence, in those 
operations of his mighty power. Which 
noble peculiarity gives them a vast pre-emi- 
nence above all the miracles in Egypt, and 
the wonders in the field of Zoan : renders 
them so many fine representations of the 
deliverances and'privileges enjoyable through 
our ever-blessed Immanuel ; in a word, 
renders them a kind of gospel that address- 
es itself even to our eyes ; and so most 
wisely calculated, both to direct our hopes, 
and strengthen our faith in the incarnate 
God. I am, &c. 



LETTER XVIII. 

Bath, 1743. 
Dear Madam,— At Bath I have tarried 
thus long, but purpose to set forward for 
my father's house, if I live till next week ; 
and if I have as good a journey thither, as I 
had to this place, I shall have cause to be 
very thankful to that gracious Providence, 
which blesses our going out and our com- 
ing in ; which protects us from wrong and 
robbery, from evil accidents and dangers, as 
with a shield. I hope you, madam, and 

Mr. , are well, and should rejoice to 

hear of you both being partakers of that 
which I wish you to enjoy ; and none can 



758 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



be said truly to enjoy health, but those who 
improve it to the purpose : all others waste 
health, embezzle it, squander it away ; all 
but those who use it as a precious oppor- 
tunity of making their calling and election 
sure. We have had most delicate weather 
for the harvest ; a blessin? which I do not 
doubt has been vouchsafed to you as well 
as to us : an universal blessing ! and such 
as will prove very extensive. We shall feel 
the good effects of it all the year round, 
when winter freezes the air, and turns the 
earth into iron, or buries it under heaps of 
snow. We shall be refreshed even then 
with the productions of the fruitful season. 
O that our hearts may be filled with grati- 
tude, as our barns are with plenty ! The 
harvest puts me in mind of the end of the 
world : then our bodies shall arise out of 
the dust of the earth ; having lain a while 
under the clods, and seen corruption, they 
will then spring up incorruptible and im- 
mortal, an amazing multitude, like the 
blades of grass, or the ears of corn, innu- 
merable. 

The husbandman, in harvest, receives a 
reward for all his toil. The labours of the 
preceding year are amply recompensed by 
the rich fruits of increase. And the con- 
summation of all things will be the great 
retribution-day : then the Christian re- 
ceives the end of his faith, even the salva- 
tion of his soul ; then the riches he has 
coveted will be bestowed in the favour of 
seeing him who is immortal, invisible ; 
whose loving kindness is better than life. 
He will see the desire of his soul, and the 
fruits of his Saviour's sufferings, and sit 
down everlastingly satisfied. The husband- 
man rejoices in harvest ; this is his time of 
festivity and delight. They joy before thee, 
saith the Scriptures, according to the joy 
of the righteous : they will look up, and re- 
joice to behold their Redeemer coming in 
the clouds of heaven, and all the holy an- 
gels with him : then will they look down, 
and rejoice to see the wicked world burn- 
ing, in which they were tempted ; rejoice 
to see all their enemies put under their feet j 
and when the doors of heaven are left open, 
then shall they enter triumphantly into the 
city of the living God, and everlasting joy 
will be upon their heads, and reign with 
Christ for evermore. Into this exceeding 
great and eternal bliss, I wish you, madam, 
and your husband, an abundant entrance ; 
and remain his and your, &c. 



LETTER XIX. 

Weston-Favell, 1744. 

Dear , ■ — I promised to 

send the remainder of her letter in a few 



lines to you. Either she may transcribe 
from you, or you from her, in order to com- 
plete the little essay. I left off, I think, 
somevi'here hereabouts, " But spiritual in-* 
terests are infinitely more valuable." For 
those, therefore, Christ will provide more 
abundantly : If they want knowledge, he 
will not only give them his divine word, 
but his enlightening Spirit, to lead them 
into all truth. If they are poor, he will 
give them the fine gold of his obedience ; 
he will say to them as the father said in 
the parable. Son, all that I have is thine. 
Are they wounded ? he will give them the 
healing balm of his precious blood ; this 
will cure the wound VAdiich sin has made in 
the soul, and make the bones which have 
been broken to rejoice. Are they naked ? 
he will clothe them with the robe of his 
own righteousness ; they shall appear be- 
fore the God of gods in the garments of 
this their elder brother. Are they weak ? 
his strength shall be made perfect in their 
weakness ; he will work in them both to 
will and to do of his good pleasure. When 
they die, he has provided a fiight of angels 
to attend their departing souls, and conduct 
them to his own compassionate arms : he 
has provided mansions of glory, a house 
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, 
for their future reception : he has provided 
a fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore, 
for their final portion and inheritance. 

O what ample provision is here ! this is 
indeed good measure, pressed down, and 
shaken together, and running over. What 
can needy creatures want which Jesus does 
not supply ? Justly was it once said by an 
eminent believer, Jehovah-Jireh, the Lord 
will provide. Let this be the language of 
our hearts in all our needs. 

The hen comforts her tender brood ; she 
screens them from the inclemencies of the 
weather. She spreads out her wings, and 
forms a canopy over them ; this affords 
them a house to lodge in, and a bed to sleep 
on. No velvet is softer, no blankets are 
warmer. Here they are cherished and re- 
freshed ; here they find heat when they 
shiver with cold, are dried when they come 
dripping with wet. 

Jesus also comforts his poor people : he 
is called the consolation of Israel. Come 
unto me, says the merciful Redeemer, all 
ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest ; all ye that are weary, 
and I will refresh you. He is afflicted in 
all their afflictions, and is as ready to suc- 
cour them as a man is to allay the anguish 
of his own smarting flesh. He is the good, 
the inconceivably good Shepherd, whose 
bowels yearn with the tenderest compassion 
when his lambs are fatigued or distressed; 
he even lays them in his bosom. Every 
thing but Jesus speaks terror, and creates- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



739- 



dismay to his little flock. But this com- 
passionate Shepherd leads them forth be- 
side the waters of comfort.. The world 
lays many a snare for their feet ; the world 
persecutes and hates them. In the world 
they must have tribulation ; but Christ says, 
Be of good cheer, I have overcome the 
world, and will make you partakers of my 
victory ; because I have conquered, ye shall 
conquer also. The law lays dreadful things 
to their charge ; the law is the ministration 
of condemnation ; the law thunders out 
threatenings. They are rebels, says that 
righteous law; they have transgressed my 
precepts; they deserve to suffer all the 
curses denounced against the disobedient 
and ungodly. But Christ gently whispers. 
Be of good courage, my people ; take sanc- 
tuary in your Mediator ; I have answered 
all the demands of the law : If it requires 
punishment, I sustained torments unuttera- 
ble ; if it insists on blood, I satisfied it with 
divine blood ; with every drop of my heart's 
blood ; so that there is no condemnation 
to them that are interested in me. If it 
called for righteousness, I submitted to its 
authority ; 1 performed every jot and tittle 
of its commands, and thereby brought in a 
perfect and everlasting righteousness. Lay 
hold on my obedience, receive this from my 
free grace, and the law has nothing more 
to charge against you ; for the righteous- 
ness of the law is fulfilled in them that be- 
lieve, though the devil tempts and distresses 
the children of Jesus. He not only tempts, 
but accuses them, aggravating and calling 
aloud for vengeance ; cries, Down with 
them, down with them, even to the dust. 
But Jesus graciously steps in, bafiies the 
accusation, arrests the judgment, and says, 
I have died to save them from going into 
the pit, for I have found a ransom : if they 
have sinned, 1 have taken them upon my- 
self ; if they have multiplied transgressions 
as the stars of heaven, my Father hath laid 
on me the iniquities of them all. They are 
my redeemed ones ; they are bought \vith 
my blood ; I cannot lose my purchase : if 
they are not saved, I am not glorified. 

Such sweet truths, sent home upon the 
poor soul, must be very comfortable and 
restorative to the drooping sinner; more 
refreshing and gladdening to the conscience, 
than the feathers of the hen are to her 
feeble starving brood. 

Upon the whole, let us imitate the 
chickens, by trusting in Jesus for all we 
want or wish ; let us lean upon our Beloved 
in all our progress through this wilderness ; 
expect to be furnished entirely out of his 
fulness; look for protection from his al- 
mighty arm ; depend upon provision from 
his inexhaustible treasures ; and for com- 
fort, from a growing sense of our interest 
in him. 



Let this be the habitual language of our 
hearts. Blessed Lord, 1 am weak and 
wretched, surrounded by a multitude of 
dangers, and defiled by a thousand corrup- 
tions ; O defend me by thy eternal power. 
Let thy almighty arm be over me ; let thy 
Holy Spirit be ever with me ; never leave 
me to my enemies ; never give me up to 
my own blindness and impotency, for I flee 
unto thee to hide me ; on thee I depend 
to break every snare of temptation that 
endangers me from without, to mortify 
every seed of corruption that pollutes me 
from within. I am poor and needy, blessed 
Jesus, do thou provide for me. Since I 
must one day give an account of myself to 
God, let thy blood wash away my guilt, and 
drown all my transgressions. Since I must, 
ere long, stand before him whose eyes are 
as a burning fire, O clothe me with the 
robes of thy righteousness, the garments of 
salvation, that I may be holy and blameless 
in his sight ! Since I must quickly die out 
of this miserable world, provide me an en- 
trance into thine own everlasting kingdom ; 
and while I continue in this world, provide 
me with grace sufficient for me, that I may 
live like thine elect, and adorn the gospel 
of God my Saviour. 

I am often distressed ; misgiving thoughts, 
and anguish of mind, make me hang down 
my head like a bulrush. Through fear of 
death, and dread of eternal judgment, my 
joints are sometimes ready to smite one 
against another; but, O holy and most 
merciful Saviour ! be thou my support. 
Pour the oil of gladness into my inner man ; 
give me the joy of thy salvation : the law 
condemns me, l3ut do thou justify me ; my 
own conscience writes bitter things against 
me, but do thou whisper to my soul. Be of 
good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee. The 
roaring lion often terrifies me ; but, O thou 
good and faithful Shepherd ! let thyself 
comfort me. Let me know and feel that 
I am thine, and then nothing shall pluck 
me out of thy hands. 

This was wrote before my late illness. 
You see from hence, that you my friends 
at Biddeford have been on my thoughts, 
though they have not of late been address- 
ed by way of letter ; and I shall always 
pray, that whether we are sick or in health, 
the Lord Jesus Christ may be the strength 
of our hearts, and our portion for ever. — I 
am, &c. 



LETTER X \ 

Dear , It is our duty continually 

to sing hosannah to the King of Israel, who 
I treadeth all enemies under his feet. He 



760 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



can tread them down like clay in the streets, 
or cast them out as lightning from heaven. 
Nothing is impossible to him : they who 
know Christ's faithfulness and truth, will 
put their trust in him ; they will hang upon 
Mm every moment, as the feeble child in 
the arms of the indulgent mother, for grace 
to strengthen and enable them to withstand 
the devices of that enemy of souls, who is 
seeking every moment to destroy the weak 
believer, the babe in Christ. Satan says, 
with that wicked one in Exodus, I will 
pursue them with inconceivable malice and 
rage ; I will overtake and tear them in 
pieces like a lion ; I will lay ten thousand 
snares in their way, and, if it be possible, 
bring them under the dominion of sin, and 
after that into the damnation of hell. The 
believer replies. Thou wouldst effect this, 
O thou enemy of all godliness, I know thou 
wouldst effect this with as much ease as a 
feather is borne down by a sweeping whirl- 
wind, was I left a moment to myself ; but 
my strength do I ascribe unto my incarnate 
God. The blessed Jesus has undertaken 
for my security ; he watches over me every 
moment, and nothing can pluck me out of 
his hands. He hath said (who shall dis- 
annul it ?) that sin shall not have dominion 
over me : he will preserve me by his al- 
mighty power unto salvation- Let all my 
adversaries know assuredly, that my safety 
is not in myself. But as the hills stand 
round about Jerusalem, even so standeth 
the Lord round about his people, from this 
time forth for evermore. 

Whoever attempts the ruin of a soul that 
is staid on Jesus, must wrench the sove- 
reignty from the hand of Omnipotence, and 
cause unshaken faithfulness to fail. So 
long as all things in heaven and earth, and 
under the earth, do bow, and obey the Lamb 
that was slain ; so long as Christ is a God 
unchangeable and faithful, that cannot lie, 
so long shall a poor feeble worm, that trusts 
in him, be secure from apostasy and perdi- 
tion. O the blessings, the comforts, that 
spring from a right knowledge of Jesus ! 
Richer blessings I cannot wish ! greater 
treasures I cannot enjoy nor possess ! This, 
this alone, is that knowledge which St. 
Paul valued above all other accomplish- 
ments or acquirements ; in comparison of 
which he counted all things else no better 
than dross or dung. O let my dear Bidde- 
ford friends beg of the Father of lights to 
send out the Spirit of wisdom and revela- 
tion, that 1 may be filled with the know- 
ledge of him, and of Jesus Christ whom he 
hath sent ; and, in return, both they and 
you, my friends, may be assured of the 
most hearty and repeated prayers of your 
sincere fiieud, &e. 



LETTER XXI. 

Weston-FaveU, Nov, 16. 1745. 
Siu, — It is not easy to express the satis- 
faction I received from your agreeable and 
useful conversation this afternoon. I re- 
joice to find that there are gentlemen of 
genius, learning, and politeness, who dare 
profess a supreme value for the Scriptures, 
and are not ashamed of the cross of Christ. 
I congratulate you, dear sir, on this occa- 
sion ; and cannot but look on a mind so 
principled, and a heart so disposed, as a very 
choice and distinguishing part of your hap- 
piness. Was I to frame a wish for the 
dearest and most valued friend on earth, I 
would earnestly desire that he might grow 
daily in this grace, and increase in the know- 
ledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. 
And when my pen begs leave to assure you, 
that this is my unfeigned wish for — — , 
it only transcribes what is deeply written on 
my heart. 

This brings the dedication and the pre- 
face, which are to introduce a little essay, 
entitled Meditations among the Tombs, 
and Reflections on a Flower- Garden, in 
two letters to a lady. I hope, sir, in con- 
sequence of your kind promise, you will 
please to peruse them with the file in your 
hand. The severity of the critic, and the 
kindness of the friend, in this case will be 
inseparable. The evangelical strain, I be- 
lieve, must be preserved ; because, other- 
wise, the introductory thoughts will not har- 
monize with the subsequent ; the porch will 
be unsuitable to the building. But if you 
perceive any meanness of expression, any 
quaintness of sentiment, or any other im- 
propriety and inelegance, I shall acknow- 
ledge it as a very singular favour, if you 
will be so good as to discover and correct 
such blemishes. 

I hope, sir, my end in venturing to pub- 
lish is an hearty desire to serve, in some 
little degree, the interests of Christianity, 
by endeavouring to set some of its most im- 
portant truths in a light that may both en- 
tertain and edify. As I profess this view, 
I am certain your affectionate regard for the 
most excellent religion imaginable will in- 
cline you to be concerned for the issue of 
such an attempt, and therefore to contribute 
to its success, both by bestowing your ani- 
madversions upon these small parts, and by 
speaking of the whole (when it shall come 
abroad) with all that candour which is na- 
tural to the Christian, and will be so great- 
ly needed by this new adventurer in letters, 
who is, &c. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



761 



LETTER XXIL 

Weston- Favell, Nov. 19, 1745. 

Dear Sir, — I cannot forbear making 
my grateful acknowledgments for your most 
obliging letter. You could not possibly 
have imagined any thing more agreeable to 
my inclination, than the proposal you are 
pleased to make of admitting me to your 
acquaintance and conversation. I accept 
your kind offer, sir, with thankfulness, with 
joy ; and shall most gladly cultivate a friend- 
ship, which is not only perfectly innocent, 
but remarkably elegant and improving; es- 
pecially, since you are pleased to permit the 
discourse to turn upon those points, which 
it is my duty to study, and my delight to 
contemplate. Nor shall I forget how 
much I am indebted to your condescension 
for this favour ; but shall always bear a re- 
spectful sense of the distinguished rank and 
superior abilities of my worthy friend. 

Indeed, I am particularly delighted with 
such interviews as serve to enlarge our 
knowledge, and refine our affections; such 
as have an apparent tendency to render us 
more useful in our present stations, and to 
ripen us for future happiness ; such was 
that which I lately enjoyed in your com- 
pany. This is a feast of reason, a feast of 
truth ; and I must own, has charms for me, 
infinitely superior to all the impertinent 
amusements of modish chat, or the mean 
gratifications of the bottle. 

When I have been asked to spend an af- 
ternoon with gentlemen of a learned educa- 
tion, and unquestionable ingenuity, I have 
fancied myself invited to take a turn in some 
beautiful garden, where I expected to have 
been treated with a sight of the most deli- 
cate flowers, and most amiable forms of na- 
ture; when, to my great surprise, I have 
been shown nothing but the most worthless 
thistle, and contemptible weeds. To one 
who has so often been disappointed, it must 
be peculiarly pleasing to find the satisfaction 
which he has long sought in vain. This I 
make no doubt of obtaining, if I may be 
permitted to be a third person in the inter- 
view, when you and Mr. sit together 

in social conference. 

I beg leave to return my thanks for your 
ingenious remark upon a sentence in the es- 
say towards a preface ; and also to express 
my entire satisfaction in your motion for 
considering more attentively the spiritual 
interests of the poor patients in the hospital. 
At present, it is undeniably plain, that much 
more assiduous and efljectual care is taken 
of their temporal than of their eternal wel- 
fare. With pleasure I shall join in concert- 
ing some proper method to rectify this mis- 
coiiduct, and with a real alacrity shall exe- 
cute (as fai' us I shall be enabled) any expe- 



dient which you shall judge conducive to 
the recovery and health of their souls. 

I almost repent that my pen has intrud- 
ed, perhaps in the midst of important busi- 
ness, and stole so much of yoiu' valuable 
time. But now I have done ; and shall 
only repeat what agreeable vie^vs I form 
from the prospect of your future acquaint- 
ance, and what an addition it will be to my 
happiness to be owned and regarded as, &c. 



LETTER XXIII. 

Weston-FaveU, Dec 17, 1745. 
Sir, — I ADMIRE your remarkable regard 
for the truth, and that noble greatness of 
soul which scorns to sacrifice conscience to 
interest, and cannot stoop to receive temporal 
honours on such ignoble terms. Your conduct 
reminds me of a most amiable peculiarity in 
the upright and religious man's character, as* 
it is drawn by the inspired writers ; with 
which you cannot but be particularly pleas- 
ed, as it so exactly corresponds with your 
own : Such a one, says tbe royal preacher, 
feareth an oath ; such a one, adds the sweet 
singer of Israel, speaketh the truth from his 
heart. 

The Thirty-nine Articles I have more 
than once subscribed; and as I continue 
steadfast in the belief of them, as you are 
pleased to ask my opinion relating to some 
seemingly exceptionable tenets contiiined in 
them, 1 most readily submit it to your con- 
sideration ; not, sir, in the capacity of a 
casuist, who w^ould attempt a satisfactory 
answer to your questions, but only under 
the notion of a sincere friend, who would 
freely disclose his whole soul, and entertain 
no one sentiment but what should be com- 
municated to a valuable acquaintance. 

" You are a good deal puzzled about the 
equality of the Son with the Father, in 
Athanasius's sense." I own it is no won- 
der that we should be somewhat staggered 
at tills mysterious truth, especially if we in- 
dulge a wanton curiosity, and inquire after 
the quomodeity of the doctrine : if nothing 
will content our busy minds but a clear com- 
prehension of this particular, they will never 
be brought to acquiesce in this article. But 
if they dare venture to believe the express 
declarations of Infinite Wisdom, and wait 
tiU a future state for a full evolution of the 
mystery, their assent will soon be deter- 
mined. 

I once thought a very striking proof of 
this scriptural doctrine might be derived 
from the known pi'opeities of a mortal 
child, considered in comparison with the 
parent. Is not the son as perfect a parttiker 
of all the constituent parts of the human 
nature as the father ? Are not the children 



762 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



of this age possessed of the same endow- 
ments of body and mind as their fathers in 
the preceding age ? Whatever essential ex- 
cellencies belong to the one, may, with equal 
truth, be predicated of the other. And if 
the son, in this our inferior world, be in all 
points equal to his progenitor, why should 
we not suppose that the glorious Son of 
God is equal, in all respects, to his Al- 
mighty Father? 

But I choose to forbear all such fond en- 
deavours to explain what, to our very limit- 
ed comprehensions, is altogether inexpli- 
cable. I rather receive Scripture for my 
teachei', and give up my sentiments to be 
formed and conducted by that infallible 
guide. In Scripture there are abundance 
of texts which, in the most explicit terms 
imaginable, assert the Son to be God. Now, 
if he be God, he cannot have any superior ; 
inferiority evidently destroys divinity ; in- 
feriority, in any instance, is inconsistent with 
the notion of a Supreme Being. So that 
every text in Scripture, which ascribes a 
divine nature to the blessed Jesus, seems to 
speak all that Athanasius maintains con- 
cerning the absolute universal equality of 
the Son with the Father. 

In what respects can the Son be suppos- 
ed inferior? Are not the same honours 
given to the Son as are paid to the Father? 
The Psalmist mentions two of the incom- 
municable honours which are due to the 
Supreme Majesty; both which he declares 
are, and shall be, addressed to the Son : 
Prayer shall be made ever unto him, and 
daily shall he be praised. This adorable 
Person is the object of our worship through- 
out the whole Litany. In the Doxologies 
of our Liturgy, the same glory is ascribed to 
all the three infinitely exalted Persons of 
the Trinity. I take notice of this, not as a 
conclusive argument, but only to hint at the 
uniform judgment of our reformers on this 
important head ; and to point out their par- 
ticular care to inculcate, with incessant as- 
siduity, this belief upon the members of 
their communion. Are not the same works 
ascribed to the Son as ai-e ascribed to the 
Father? God, the sovereign and supreme 
God, (according to the periphrasis of a hea- 
then poet, Cut nihil simile aut secundum,) 
often declares his matchless perfections, by 
referring mankind to his astonishing works 
of creation. And is not the Son the Crea- 
tor of the universe ? All things were made 
by him, is the testimony of one apostle ; 
and. He upholdeth all things by the word 
of his power, the deposition of another. Is 
not the same incommunicable name applied 
to the Son ? Jehovah is allowed to be a 
name never attributed, throughout the whole 
Scripture, to any being but only to the one 
living and true God, who only hath immor- 



tality, who hath no superior, none like him 
in heaven or earth. But this title is the 
character of the incarnate Son. If we com- 
pare Moses and St. Paul, we shall find that 
Christ is Jehovah, Numb. xxi. 6, with 
1 Cor. X. 9. This argument, I think, is not 
common, and, I must own, has had a great 
infiuence in settling my judgment ever since 
I was apprized of it. Another proof was 
suggested in the morning lesson for the day, 
Isa. xlv. 23, compared with Phil. ii. 10. 
It is the Lord, in the prophet, that infinitely 
wise God, who manifesteth, even from an- 
cient time, the dark and remote events of 
futurity, who peremptorily declares, that 
there is no God besides him, consequently 
none superior in any degree to him ; yet 
this most sacred Person, who, in the pro- 
phet's text, has the attributes of incompar- 
able perfection and unshared supremacy, is, 
in the apostle's comment, the Redeemer. 

I fancy all those texts of Scripture which 
seem to you, sir, so diametrically opposite 
to this doctrine, will, upon a renewed exa- 
mination, appear referable only to the hu- 
manity of our Saviour. If so, they cannot 
afl^ect the point under debate, nor invalidate 
the arguments urged in its support. 

After all, I believe, here lies the grand 
difficulty : — Sonship, we take for granted, 
implies inferiority : Sonship implies the 
receiving of a being from another ; and to 
receive a being is an instance of inferiority. 
But, dear sir, let us repress every bold in- 
quiry into this awful secret, lest that of 
the apostle — " doubting the things which 
he did not see," be the lightest censure we 
incur. What is right reasoning when ap- 
plied to the case of created existence, is 
little less than blasphemy when applied to 
that divine Person who is, from everlasting 
to everlasting, the great I AM. The ge- 
neration of the Son of God is an unfathom- 
able mystery. A prophet cries out with 
amaze. Who can declare his generation ? 
and if we cannot conceive it, how can we 
form any conclusions^ or determine what 
consequences follow from it ? Here it 
becomes us not to examine, but to adore. 
If we know not how the bones do grow in 
the womb of her that is with child, how 
shall we be able to state the nature, or ex- 
plain the effects of a generation inexpressi- 
bly more remote from our finite apprehen- 
sions ? 

Upon the whole, since the Scripture has 
given us repeated and unquestionable as- 
surances that Christ is God ; since common 
sense cries aloud against the absurdity of 
supposing a God who has a superior ; shall 
we reject such positive evidences of revela- 
tion, and be deaf to the strongest remon- 
strances of our reason, merely because we 
cannot conceive how the Sonship of the 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



763 



Kedeemer can be compatible with an abso- 
lute equality, in all possible perfection, to 
the Father ? 

It need not be hinted to , that this 

doctrine of the divinity, consequently of the 
equality, of the sacred Tri-une, is not 
merely a speculative point, but has a most 
close connexion with practice, and is ad- 
mirably fitted to influence our lives hi the 
most powerful and endearing manner : That 
it is no less inseparably connected with l-.e 
grand blessings of acquittance from the guilt, 
and delivery from the bondage of sin — 
blessings of unutterable and infinite value, 
without which the children of men are of 
all creatures most miserable ; which yet we 
cannot reasonably hope to enjoy, if any of 
those illustrious persons, concerned in ac- 
complishing the great redemption, be sup- 
posed less than divine. 

The iSth article, you add, is another ob- 
jection to me, which begins thus, They also 
are to be held accursed, &c. This, as you 
observe, seems harsh. Yet the harshness 
is not ours, but the apostle's. I imagine 
this is no more than a transcript of St. 
Paul's awful and solemn declaration, trans- 
mitted to the Galatian converts, and de- 
nounced against their corrupting teachers. 
Be pleased, sir, to peruse attentively that 
whole inspired letter, and especially to con- 
sider chap. i. verses 6 — 9. Then permit 
me to appeal to yourself, whether our article 
professes any doctrine which is not clearly 
established in that most excellent epistle ? or 
whether our church uses more severe terms 
than the apostle thinks proper to thunder 
out in that memorable passage ? But might 
not this doctrine have been palliated a little, 
or the tremendous sanction somewhat soft- 
ened ? No : we must not add to, or di- 
minish from, our inviolable rule. A faith- 
ful steward of the divine mysteries must 
declare the whole will of God in its full 
extent and latitude, together with the fear- 
ful consequences of presumptuously oppos- 
ing it, as well as the blessed effects of cor- 
dially receiving it. 

I am not surprised that this procedure 
startles some, oflfends others. St, Paul 
seems to have foreseen this event, and 
therefore apologizes for himself, shall I say ? 
rather declares his unalterable resolution of 
persisting iji this practice ; q- d. I am sen- 
sible that such teachings will be far from 
palatable to too many of my hearers ; I am 
aware, also, that to threaten the divine ana- 
thema on every opposer of this doctrine, 
will be still more offensive. But shall I 
desist on these considerations ? shall I ac- 
commodate the standard doctrines of heaven 
to the depraved taste of the age ; or be so- 
licitous to make them square with the fa- 
vourite schemes of human device, only to 
avoid creating disgust in some minds ? No, 



verily ; I preach what unerring wisdom has 
revealed, not what capricious man has 
dreamed; and therefore dare not vary one 
jot or tittle from my high orders. My 
business is principally to please God by a 
faithful discharge of my commission, not to 
ingratiate myself with men, by modelling 
my doctrine in conformity to their humours ; 
and therefore I must, 1 must deliver it, just 
as I received it. 

But why do I oflfer to illustrate these 
texts ? Your own meditations, I persuade 
myself, will discern, much more clearly than 
I can represent, that the compilers of our 
Articles are no other than the echo of St. 
Paul ; or rather, that they only set their 
seal to the doctrines of Christ which he 
taught ; and approve that verdict of hea- 
ven which he has brought in. This consi- 
deration will acquit them from the charge of 
harshness of expression, or uncharitableness 
of sentiment. 

Your objections thus proceed : — I believe 
that every one will be saved who acts up to 
the best of his knowledge. I almost durst 
venture to join issue with my friend upon 
this footing ; and undertake to prove, from 
this very position, the universal necessity 
of believing in Christ for salvation. Be- 
cause, I think, it is indisputably certain, that 
there is no man living who has in all points 
acted up to his knowledge ; and if he has 
swerved, in any instance, from his known 
acknowledged duty, how shall he escape 
punishment without an atonement? Video 
meliora prohoque, deteriora sequor, is what 
the most vigilant and upright of mortals 
have, at some unhappy moments, felt to 
be true. If so, how shall they stand 
before that righteous God, who will not 
acquit the guilty without an interest in the 
great expiation ! But, I presume, your pro- 
position is to be taken in a more qualified 
sense. It means, that those who sincerely, 
though not perfectly, in the main comrse of 
their life, and as far as the infirmities of a 
frail nature admit, act up to their knowledge ; 
that these shall be saved, even without their 
application to the merits of a Saviour. If 
this opinion be true I own it must be very 
unsafe to subscribe our Articles. 

When this point is in dispute, I appre- 
hend we are to confine it to those who live 
in a gospel land, where opportuinties of 
knowing the good-will of God present 
themselves every day, every hour. As for 
the heathens, who lie under unavoidable 
and irremediable ignorance of the blessed 
Jesus, they are out of the question. They, 
I think, should be remitted to God's un- 
searchable wisdom and goodness. There 
may be uncovenanted mercies for them, 
which we know nothing of. It seems to 
be a daring and unjustifiable rashness for us 
to determine one way or the other with re- 



764 A COLLECTION 

gard to their final state. This, however, is ' 
plain, from the oracles of revelation, that [ 
it will be more tolerable for those poor 
Gentiles in the day of eternal judgment, 
than for those inexcusable infidels who have 
heard and disobeyed the glorious gospel. 
The controversy then concerns those only 
who have the Bible in their hands, or the 
voice of the preacher sounding in their re- 
ligious assemblies every Sabbath-day. These, 
dear sir, I cannot think will inherit salva- 
tion, though they act with ever so much 
sincerity, according to their knowledge, un- 
less they add to their knowledge faith. 

Perhaps what we call their knowledge is 
no better than downright and wilful igno- 
rance ; the light that is in them is darkness. 
Perhaps they never took any pains to get 
themselves informed in the glorious pecu- 
liarities of the gospel. If so, their conduct 
is one continued disobedience to the di- 
vine commands, which require us to seek 
for wisdom as for bid treasures ; which 
charge us to search the Scriptures as nar- 
rowly, as industriously, as the sportsman 
searches every spot of ground, beats every 
tuft of grass, in order to start the latent 
game. In this case, what we call their 
knowledge is really blindness itself ; and 
their want of true knovv^ledge cannot be their 
plea, because it is evidently their neglect 
and their sin. 

But suppose these persons have searched 
the Scriptures, and yet are persuaded that 
there is no such need of a Saviour's me- 
rits; shall we condemn them in these cir- 
cumstances? We do not presume to sit 
as their judges, or to scatter at our pleasure 
the thunders of eternal vengeance ; we only 
declare what sentence is passed upon them 
by the supreme Dispenser of life and death. 
He has made it an adjudged case, he has 
passed it into an irrepealable law, That 
whoso believeth not in the Son of God, 
whosoever perversely persists in seeking 
some other method of salvation, and will 
not fly to that Redeemer whom infinite 
Wisdom has set forth for a propitiation, 
this man is condemned already. 

Will it be said, That a man cannot help 
assenting to what he is thoroughly persuad- 
ed to be right ? And if a deist, from his 
very soul, believes that morality alone is 
the way to life, and that the notion of a 
Redeemer, to make satisfaction and procure 
justification, is a religious chimera, shall we 
blame such a one for following the genuine 
dictates of his mind ? I answer, still I an- 
swer, that we must abide by the determina- 
tions of that sovereign God, whose judg- 
ment, we are sure, is according to truth. 
He has said, nor can all the cavils and so- , 
phistry in the world supersede the decree. 
He that believeth not shall be damned. Be j 
not shocked, sir, at the seeming severity of ■ 



OF LETTERS. 

the doom, rather let us be shocked, be 
greatly astonished, at the prodigious hardi- 
ness of those more than steely hearts, which 
can attend to such terrors of the Lord, and 
not be persuaded to come to Christ ; nay, 
what is enough to make heaven and earth 
horribly amazed, can hear of these terrors, 
and yet regard them no more than a puff of 
empty air. 

Nor will it extenuate the crime of unbe- 
lief to allege, in behalf of the infidel, that 
he is actually convinced in his own con- 
science that his sentiments are right. He 
may be so, and yet be inexcusably guilty 
notwithstanding ; for is it not owing to his 
own fault that he has imbibed such senti- 
ments ? Is it not through bis own criminal 
misconduct that he has contracted such a 
perverse habit of thinking? Has he not 
indulged some darling vice, which has 
clouded his understanding ? Or, instead of 
obeying the great mandate of heaven. This 
is my beloved Son, hear ye him, has he not 
attended solely to the arguings, deductions, 
and discernment of his own reason, as his 
only guide to heavenly truth ? A drunkard 
verily thinks, (if he thinks at ail,) that he 
does nobly in committing insults on quiet 
harmless people. But will his bare thinking 
that he acts gallantly acquit him at the bar 
of equity ? Perhaps, in his present condi- 
tion, he cannot help fancying that his ac- 
tions are becoming, and that he does well 
to be turbulent and outrageous ; but, though 
he cannot help the effect, might he not have 
avoided the cause of his frenzy ? Methinks 
this comparison will hold good if applied to 
the case of many scorners of the gospel, who 
think contemptuously of Jesus Christ, and 
who really apprehend they do nothing amiss 
in depreciating his obedience and death. 
But I fear they have brought upon them- 
selves this deplorable delirium, or intoxica- 
tion of their understandings, either by vo- 
luptuousness and debauchery, or else by 
self-conceit, and the most odious arrogance 
of mind ; which, in the estimate of the Holy 
One of Israel, is no better than spiritual 
idolatry. 

For my part, I am assured that God has 
vouchsafed us the means of obtaining the 
knowledge of himself, and of Jesus Christ, 
whom he hath sent ; it is equally certain 
that he has commanded us to acquaint our- 
selves with him, and be at peace ; it is no 
less undeniable, that whosoever seeks this 
inestimable knowledge, by a diligent appli- 
cation to the Scriptures, by a child- like 
dependence on the teachings of the divine 
Spirit, by humble prayers to be led into all 
truth, and by doing the will of God, so far 
as he is acquainted with^ it ; whosoever 
seeks, by using these means, shall find, shall 
come to the knowledge of the truth, and be 
saved. If, therefore, persons are so negli- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTEHS. 



765 



gent as not to use these methods, so auda- 
cious as to contemn them, so haughty as to 
imagine they have no need of them, they may 
justly be given over to their own delusions, 
and yet be most righteously punished as sui- 
cides of their souls. 

But still it is pleaded, in vindication of 
the good-natured civilized infidel. That 
there is no turpitude in his life, that his 
behaviour is every way irreproachable. As 
to the turpitude of his life, when compared 
with the conversation of other men, I have 
nothing to say ; but surely there is the 
highest iniquity in his principles and conduct 
when compared with the revealed will of 
God, which is the only criterion of truth, 
the only standard of excellence. God has 
commanded all men to honour the Son, even 
as they honour the Father. But these 
people protest against the divine edict, and 
say, with those insolent subjects in the 
gospel. We will not have this Jesus to 
reign over us. God has solemnly declared. 
That all mankind are become guilty before 
him ; that, by the works of the moral law, 
no flesh living shall be justified ; that there 
is no Mediator between God and men, but 
the man Christ Jesus. But these people 
maintain, in defiance of this declaration, 
that they themselves are able to make up 
matters with their oflTended Creator, and 
can, by their own honest behavour, secure 
a title to everlasting felicity. God, of 
his superabundant and inconceivably rich 
goodness, has given his Son, his only Son, 
to suffer agonies, to shed blood, to lay down 
an infinitely precious life for them ; yet 
these people, like those impious wretches 
that crucified the Lord of glory, deride his 
agonies, trample upon his blood, and, though 
he has redeemed them, they speak lies 
against him, Hosea viii. 13. Let us see, 
then, a little part of the evidence summed 
up against the spirit of unbelief. It implies 
stubbornness, which is as the sin of witch- 
craft ; rebellion, which is as iniquity and 
idolatry; it implies the most assuming 
pride, which is an abomination to the Lord ; 
it implies the vilest ingratitude, even amidst 
the most unbounded beneficence ; and the 
voice of nature has proclaimed, Ingratum si 
dixeris, omnia dixeris. Let the impartial \ 
considerer decide, whether the heart of these i 
persons be right before God : or whether : 
their conduct, when brought to the test of ; 
that word which is to judge them at the last ] 
day, be so unblamable as is frequently pre- i 
tended. " i 

Enough has been said of the two first 
points ; I fear, more than enough to fatigue 1 
your attention. However, I now draw in : 
the reins, and promise not to put your pa- i 
tience upon doing such tedious penance any i 
more. ; 

There is another expression in (he para- \ 



■ graph relating to the 18th article, which, 
I since you expect my undisguised opinion, 
' I cannot dismiss without a remark. When 
, the Scriptures say that men shall be saved 
through the name of Christ, you suppose, 
sir, they mean that Christ made a general 
atonement for origial sin ; whereas, I appre- 
; hend, that such texts import abundantly, I 
had almost said infinitely, more. Thus 
much, I think, at least, they must amount 
to in their signification, That if we are 
saved from the guilt of our offences, it shall 
be only through the all-atoning blood of the 
Lamb of God. If we are made acceptabl- 
to that awful i\Iajesty who dwelleth in light 
inaccessible, this our justification shall be in 
consideration of the obedience and right- 
eousness of the beloved Son : if we obtain 
the Spirit of sanctiScation, are enabled to 
deny all ungodliness, and to live soberly, 
righteously, and godly, in this present evil 
world, it shall be through the intercession 
of Jesus, our great high-priest, by whom 
alone the Holy Ghost is vouchsafed to un- 
worthy polluted sinners. All this I take to 
be included in that word, of most rich and 
comprehensive meaning — salvation ; and 
since it is affirmed that we are saved by 
Christ, I should think it must signify, that 
we obtain all these glorious and invaluable 
benefits through that all-sufficient Media- 
tor. 

As to Christ's making an atonement for 
original sin, that surely was but one single 
branch of his important undertaking : Wo, 
wo be to the inhabitants of the earth, if he 
did no more. Our actual sins, the sins of 
our heart, the sins of our life, our sins of 
omission and sins of commission, and all 
those sins which are more in number than 
the hairs of our head, heavier M'ith horrid 
aggravations than the sand of the sea, he 
bore in his own body on the tree. He VA'as 
wounded for our offences, he was bruised 
for our trangressions, and the Lord laid on 
him (not only the innate depravity,) but 
the actual iniquities of us all. 

Your next objection lies against the 13th 
article, namely, Works done before the grace 
of Christ are not acceptable to God. Is the 
meaning of this tenet, you ask, that men 
are made with a natural incapacity of doing 
any thing but sinful actions ? I answer, this 
is not so properly the meaning of the article, 
as a most cogent reason to establish it. On- 
ly let it be stated a little more clearly, and 
it is no inconsiderable argument m proof of 
the doctJ-ine. Men were not made by their 
Creator with this incapacity, but they have 
brought it upon themselves by their ovvai 
iault. By their original sin they have con- 
tracted a most miserable depravity, and have 
made themselves " to every good work re- 
probate," Since, therefore, we can do no 
good work before we are rene^-ed by tlie 



766 A COLLECTION 

grace of Christ, it seems to follow, that we 
can do no work acceptable to God till this 
renovation take place. This, you observe, 
does not seem so agreeable to charity as 
one could wish. Worthy sir, our notions 
of charity are not to be the rule of the di- 
vine acceptance, either of persons or things. 
If the doctrine be agreeable to the declara- 
tions of unerring Wisdom, we are to admit 
it with all readiness, and rather conclude 
that we mistake the nature of charity, than 
that the Scripture mistakes the terms of the 
Almighty's acceptance and favour. You 
know, sir, it is the express voice of Scrip- 
ture, that without faith it is impossible to 
please God, and, till the spirit of Christ be 
shed abroad in the soul, it possesses no such 
sacred principle as true faith. It is a fa- 
vourite apophthegm of our divine Master's, 
That a corrupt tree cannot bring forth good 
fruit. And are not all that spring from the 
stock of fallen Adam corrupt trees, until 
they are ingrafted into the true olive-tree, 
and j)artake of his meliorating and generous 
juices? I shall only mention one more 
scri])tural oracle, an oracle delivered, not 
from Delphos, no, nor from Mount Sinai, 
but immediately from Heaven itself ; This 
is my beloved Son, in whom I am well 
pleased. I have always thought these words 
are to be taken in an exclusive sense, as 
though the everlasting Father had said, I 
am well pleased with the apostate race of 
Adam, only as they are reconciled through 
my beloved Son : uninterested in him, no 
persons are the objects of my complacency; 
unrecommended by him, no actions are the 
subject of my approbation. If this be the 
genuine sense of the passage, it will serve at 
once to confiira the article, and to obviate 
the objection derived from the deficiency 
and remains of pollution, that cleave even 
to the performances of a believer. 

I am glad you have satisfied yourself with 
relation to the article which touches upon 
predestination and election. These are 
sublime points, far above the solution of our 
low capacities. But, for my part, I am no 
more surprised that some revealed truths 
should amaze my understanding, than that 
the blazing sun should dazzle my eyes. That 
such things are mentioned in the inspired 
writings as real facts, is undeniable. I 
should renounce my very reason, if I did not 
believe what Omniscience attests, even 
though it should imply what is altogether 
inexplicable by my scanty conceptions. And 
why should the incaverned mole — whose 
dwelling is darkness, whose sight is but a 
small remove fj'ora blindness — why should 
such a poor animal wonder that it cannot 
dart its eye through unnumbered worlds, or 
take in at a glance the vast system of the 
universe ? 



OF LETTERS. 

Your sense of the 20th article is exactly 
mine. The authority you mention is, in 
my opinion, all the authority which the 
church, the rulers and governors of the 
church, can reasonably claim, or regularly 
exercise, in matters relating to faith. These 
rulers have power, as you justly observe, to 
settle, in conformity with what they conclude 
to be the meaning of Scripture, the nature 
and extent of their own creed ; and none, I 
think, can fairly deny them a right to deter- 
mine what points of belief shall be the in- 
dispensable terms of enjoying communion 
with their society. But as for I know not 
what privilege of interpretating Soipture in 
such a manner as that it shall be contumacy 
to examine before we credit, or heterodoxy 
and heresy to controvert their exposition, 
this is an authority which I cannot allow to 
any man, or body of men, now in the world. 
At this rate our faith would be built upon 
the decisions of the church, not on the de- 
terminations of the inspired word ; and, con- 
sequently, be not of God, but of men. 

Could I have imagined, Avhen I set pen 
to paper, that it would have run such extra- 
vagant lengths ? Bear with my prolixity, 
dear sir, and excuse my freedom ; or, rather, 
if I have said any thing in too free a style, 
you must chai'ge it upon your own conde- 
scension and candour, which have imbolden- 
ed me to deliver my sentiments without the 
least cloak or reserve. 

But I must not, I dare not close without 
acting as becomes a minister of the gospel, 
without reminding my valuable friend, that 
the inspiration of the Almighty giveth wis- 
dom ; that a man can receive nothing, much 
less an acquaintance with the mysteries of 
the Redeemer's kingdom, unless it be given 
him from above. To this Fountain of wis- 
dom, and Father of lights, let us make hum- 
ble, earnest, daily application. Then shall 
we see the things that belong to our peace, 
and, as it is most emphatically expressed by 
the sacred penman, know the truth as it is 
in Jesus I am, &c. 



LETTER XXIV. 

Weston-Favell, Jan. 10, 1745-6. 
Dear Sir, — How arduous, and how mo- 
mentous, is the task you have assigned me ! 
A sense of its difficulty and importance al- 
most deterred me from venturing so much 
as to attempt it. A cordial friendship in- 
stigated, and a consciousness of my own in- 
capacity checked, for some time, my fluctu- 
ating mind. At length the bias inclined to 
the side of the former ; my reluctance, urg- 
ed by the request of a friend, gives way ; 
and now I am fully determined. Determin- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



7G7 



ed to what ? To exiter the lists against the 
adversaries of the Trinity ? more particu^ 
larly to appear as the champion for the per- 
sonality and divinity of the Holy Ghost, 
with a view of resting the grand debate on 
the dexterity of this pen ? No, sir ; I form 
no such romantic schemes ; I renounce any 
such undertaking ; I am only determined to 
lay before you the thoughts which have oc- 
curred since I have received your last letter; 
and this, on the condition of having them 
returned to the secrecy of my closet after 
you have passed your judgment, and bestow- 
ed your corrections upon them. 

In managing this controversy, shall I say ? 
or rather in pursuing this inquiry, it behoves 
us humbly to apply to the great Father of 
lights for direction. They shall all be 
taught of God, says the prophet; This 
promise we should humbly plead at the 
throne of grace, and, in cheerful depend- 
ence on its accomplishment, proceed to exa- 
mine, with a modest and reverential awe, 
the mysterious points before us. Whoever 
rejects this key, and yet hopes to be admit- 
ted into the treasures of heavenly know- 
ledge, acts altogether as imprudent a part, 
as if he should expect to attain a masterly 
skill in mathematics, and at the same time 
neglect to inform himself of the first princi- 
ples of that admired science. When a di- 
vine person is the object of our considera- 
tion, then surely it becomes us, in a more 
especial manner, not to lean to our own 
luiderstanding, but, like little children, to 
rely on the teachings of that all-wise Spirit, 
whose nature, dignity, and attributes, we 
would devoutly contemplate. You will 
perhaps take notice, that I anticipate what 
is to be proved, and take it for granted, that 
the Holy Ghost is indeed God. I would 
only observe from this remark, how natur- 
ally we wish, how almost unavoidably we 
conclude, that person to be really God, who 
is appointed to lead us into all truth. 

Let us now, sir, if you please, address 
ourselves to the inquiry, whether the Holy 
Spirit is a real person ? whether that per- 
son is very God ? And these particulars 
being discussed, it may be proper to exam- 
ine briefly the most material of Mr. Tom- 
kins's objections. But to whom, to what 
shall we apply, in order to find the satis- 
faction we seek? To reason, and her 
naked unassisted dictates ? Hardly can 
reason guess aright with relation to the 
things that are before our eyes ; much less 
can she determine, with any certainty, con- 
cerning the unsearchable depths of the 
divine nature, those (ixdr, m Qm. We 
have, in the word of revelation, an infallible 
oracle. To this let us direct our search. 
To the decision of this unerring standard 
let us inviolably adhere, however it may 



surpass our comprehension, or run counter 
to our fond prepossessions. 

Here we may possibly ask. Is not the 
Spirit of God, by a common metonymy, 
put for God himself? I own I have some- 
times been inclined to hesitate on this 
question. When it is said, JMy Spirit shall 
not always strive with man, and, Grieve 
not the Holy Spirit of God — I have never 
thought these passages a sufficient proof of 
the personality of the blessed Spirit, though 
(if I mistake not) commonly urged in sup- 
port of the doctrine. These, I apprehend, 
might fairly be interpreted of grieving God 
himself, and resisting the tender, gracious 
overtures of his mercy : Conformably to 
that parallel form of speech, where it is said 
by the inspired writer, Paul's spirit was 
grieved ; I e. without all dispute, Paul 
himself was inwardly afflicted. 

Again : Perhaps the Spirit of the Lord 
may be nothing more than a particular 
modification or exercise of a divine power 
resident in the Deity. For instance, when 
it is said, in the prophetic language, Not by 
might, nor by force, but by my Spirit, saitli 
the Lord : or by the evangelical historian, 
The Holy Ghost was upon him. Are not 
these texts nearly equivalent, in point of 
signification, to those scriptural expressions. 
The right hand of the Lord bringeth mighty 
things to pass : The inspiration of the 
Almighty giveth understanding ? Is not 
this the meaning of the former passage, 
Not mortal strength, but God's omnipotent 
aid giveth victory in the battle, aiid suc- 
cess in every undertaking; and this the 
import of the latter. The communications of 
infinite wisdom enlightened his mind in an 
extraordinary manner ? 

Were there no other Scriptures which 
concerned themsehes in this debate, I 
should be ready to give up the point. But 
there are several, which most strongly im- 
ply the personality of the Holy Ghost, 
though they may not assert it in positive 
terms. It is true we meet with no such 
term as personality in sacred writ; but if 
we find the thing signified, it is in effect the 
same. No one can shew me the word re- 
surrection in the whole Pentateuch ; but 
will any one presume to maintain, that this 
doctrine is not to be proved from the books 
of Moses ? Our Lord's famous reply to the 
ensnaring interrogatory of the Sadducees 
must for ever silence such a suggestion. 
And thus we may further learn from his 
method of arguing, that it is not only pro- 
per, but our duty, to deduce truths by fair 
conscqucTices, which the text may not ex- 
plicitly speak. 

Be pleased, sir, to consider the apostoli- 
cal benediction, The grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the 



768 A COLLECTION 

fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with you' 
all. If we allow the apostle to understand 
the true import of language, must it not 
follow from this passage, that the Holy 
Spirit is a real person, and distinct from the 
Father and the Son? Otherwise would 
not the sacred writer, ought not the sa- 
cred writer, to have expressed himself in a 
different manner ; to have said rather, The 
fellowship of his, or the fellowship of their 
Spirit ? The form of administering bap- 
tism is another text of this nature : In 
the name of the Father, and of the Son, 
and of the Holy Ghost. It is evident, I 
believe it is allowed by all, that the two 
first are real distinct persons ; and is there 
not equal reason to conclude, that the last 
mentioned is a person also? Suppose you 
should endeavour to distinguish three per- 
sons in your discourse, what other language 
would you use than this ? I dare say, sir, 
you are sensible, that one Scripture proof, 
if plain in its signification, and incontestable 
in its evidence, is as valid, as decisive, as 
one thousand ; because one such proof 
bears the stamp of infallible wisdom and 
infinite veracity. Therefore, was there no 
other hint in all the inspired vokimes, but 
these pregnant words which compose the 
form of baptism, this single proof would 
be sufficiently satisfactory to my judgment. 

I shall take leave to refer you to a few 
more evidences, and transcribe only the 
following : There are three that bear wit- 
ness in heaven, the Father, the Logos, and 
the Holy Ghost, and these three are one. 
But this, we are told, is a surreptitious 
text, foisted by the bigotted espousers of a 
certain favourite set of doctrines. The 
only resource this of our opposers, when 
their case becomes desperate, when con- 
viction flashes in their faces ; when every 
other subterfuge fails, then the pretence 
of spurious and interpolated reading is 
trumped up. It is not to be found, they 
cry, in some very ancient copy ; perhaps 
the Alexandrine MS. acknowledges no such 
passage. But this I must be allowed to 
question ; I dare not take our adversaries' 
bare word, especially since some of the de- 
clared enemies of orthodoxy are not the 
most exemplary for truth and integrity. 
However, granting that there may be no 
such text in the Alexaudrine MS., for my 
part I should not scruple to abide by the 
universal testimony of all editions, in all 
countries, much rather than to give up my- 
self implicitly to the authority of a single 
MS. I should think it much more reason- 
able to conclude, that the transcriber of that 
particular copy had, through oversight, dropt 
some sentence, rather than to charge all 
the other copies with forgery, and the 
editions of all ages with a gross mistake. 
Consider, sir, not only the apparent diffi- 



OF LETTERS. 

culty, but the moral impossibility of corriipt- 
ing the sacred books in that palpable manner 
which this objection would insinuate, at a 
time when every private Christian valued 
them more than life, and spent no day with- 
out a diligent contemplation of them ; at a 
time when each particular sect read them 
constantly in their public assemblies, and 
w^atched over the genuineness of each text 
with a most jealous eye. Would it be an 
easy matter to introduce a supposititious 
clause into an ordinary will, after it had been 
solemnly proved at Doctors Commons, and 
one authentic copy preserved in the ar- 
chives ? If this is scarce possible^ how 
much more unlikely is it, that any one 
should be able to practise so iniquitously 
upon the inspired writings, when not one 
only, but unnumbered copies were deposited 
in the most vigilant hands, and dispersed 
throughout the world ? 

I shall only desire you to consult those 
other scriptures, E.om. xv. 16, 30; John 
xvi. 13 — 15; which, without heaping to- 
gether a multitude of other proofs, seem to 
put the matter beyond all rational doubt. 
In the last of those places, you will take 
particular notice that the writer speaks of 
the Holy Ghost in the masculine gender. 
How could this consist, with propriety of 
style, upon any other scheme than ours ? 
The expression should have been it, not he, 
if the Holy Ghost were a divine energy 
alone, and not a real person. Nay, it is re- 
markable, that though Hviufjta. be a neuter, 
yet the historian varies the gender, and 
gives us a masculine relative, Oraj- iXdyi 
iKtivos, 'Ekhvos ifjii }o^otirii. Aud on what 
principles can this construction be account- 
ed for, or justified, but by allowing the 
Holy Spirit to be a person ? This I 
think is an observation of some conse- 
quence; and therefore accurate writers 
should beware of using the word it, and 
rather choose the pronoun him, when speak- 
ing of this divine Being. 

The mention of divine Being reminds me 
of our second subject of inquiry, viz. Whe- 
ther the Holy Ghost is very God ? Here 
I should be glad to know what kind or de- 
gree of evidence will satisfy the inquirers. 
If we are so far humble and impartial as to 
prefer the declarations of an unerring word 
to the preconceptions of our mind, I think 
there is most sufficient proof afforded by the 
Scriptures ; whereas, if we bring not these 
dispositions to the search, it will be no won- 
der if we are bewildered, if we are given up 
to our own delusions ; nay, it will be no 
incredible, no unprecedented thing, for God 
to hide these mysteries from such (in their 
own opinion) wise and prudent ones, while 
he reveals them to (men endued with the 
simplicity and teachableness of) babes. 

Is that Being truly God, who is pes- 



A COLLECTION 01 LETTERS. 



769 



sessed of divine attributes ? This question, 
I imagine, every body will answer m the 
affirmative. So that, if it appears that the 
Holy Ghost is invested with the incom- 
municable attributes of the Deity, our as- 
sent will be won, and our dispute at an 
end. Is it not the prerogative of the all- 
seeing God to search the heart, and try the 
reins ? .Ter. xvii. 10 ; and is not this the 
undoubted prerogative of the blessed Spirit? 
1 Cor. ii. 10. Is eternity an attribute of 
God, and of God only? Deut. xxxiii, 27. 
1 Tim. vi. 16. This is clearly the property 
of the Holy Ghost, who is styled, by the 
author of the epistle to the Hebrews, the 
Eternal Spirit, Heb. ix. 14. Is wisdom, 
underived, essential wisdom, a character of 
God, called by the apostle, /uovt); a-o'pof S=o;, 
Jude, verse 25? This is the illustrious 
character of the Holy Ghost ; he is the 
spirit of wisdom and revelation, Eph. i. 17. 
In consequence of which sacred excellency, 
he is able to lead his people into all truth. 
Is omnipresence a necessary proof of divini- 
ty?. If so, the Holy Ghost challenges it 
upon this claim ; for thus saith the inspired 
poet, " Whether shall I go, then, from thy 
Spirit?" Psalm cxxxix. 7. Is Omnipo- 
tence a sufficient attestation of the Godhead 
of the Holy Ghost? He that enableth 
mortals to control the powers, to alter the 
course, to supersede the fundamental laws 
of nature, can he be less than the Lord God 
Almighty? Yet St. Paul declares, that his 
ability to work all manner of astonishing 
miracles for the confirmation of his ministry 
was imparted to him by the Spirit, Rom. 
XV. 19. If any farther proof is demanded, 
be pleased to consider, with an unprejudiced 
attention, that very memorable passage, 
Matth. xii. 31, 32. Suiely, from an atten- 
tive consideration of this text, we must be 
constrained to acknowledge, that the Holy 
Ghost is strictly and properly God. Other- 
wise, how could the sin against him be of 
so enormous a nature, so absolutely unpar- 
donable, and the dreadful cause of inevita- 
ble ruin ? St. Paul, in his first epistle to 
the Corinthians (vi. 19,) addresses his con- 
verts with this remarkable piece of instruc- 
tion, " Your body is the temple of the Holy 
Ghost." The same apostle, writing to the 
same believers, in his second epistle (vi. 
16,) has the following expression, " Ye are 
the temples of the living God." Who can 
compare these texts, and yet be so hardy as 
deliberately to deny, that the Holy Ghost 
and the living God are one and the same ? 
Besides, if these two scriptures, viewed in 
conjunction with each other, did not ascer- 
tain the divinity of the blessed Spirit, the 
very purport of the expression, Ye are tem- 
ples of the Holy Ghost, sufficiently evinces 
it. It is certain, that the very essence of a 
temple, or, to speak in the terms of the 



logician, the differentia constitutiva of a 
tem.ple, consists in the residence of a Deity. 
The inhabitation of the highest created 
Being cannot constitute a temple ; notliing 
but the indwelling of the one infinite al- 
mighty Lord God. Since, therefore, the 
indwelling of the Holy Spirit renders the 
bodies of Christians temples, it seems to be 
a clear case, that he is truly God, Ano- 
ther text, a text never omitted when this 
point is under debate, and a text, in my 
opinion, singly sufficient to give a final de- 
cision to the doubt, is in Acts v. 3, 4, where 
the person styled Ayiov iTvty^a in one verse, 
is expressly declared to be Qtos in the next. 
Now, can we imagine that an evangelist, 
under the guidance of unerring Wisaom, 
could write with such unaccountable inaccu- 
racy as the deniers of this article must 
maintain ? Were this supposition admitted, 
I should almost begin to question the in- 
spiration of the sacred books. At this rate, 
they would seem calculated to confound the 
judgment, and elude the common sense of 
the readers. For, to speak so frequently 
of the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
Ghost ; to speak in such language as we 
always use in distinguishing various per- 
sons ; to ascribe to them severally such 
attributes as, by universal acknowledgment, 
comport only with the supreme God ; nay, 
to call each person by himself, distinctly, 
expressly to call each person God and 
Lord ; sure, if, after all these declarations, 
there be not three persons in the one in- 
comprehensible Godhead ; if each of these 
illustrious persons be not very God ; what 
can we say, but that the Scriptures are 
inconsistent and self-contradictory pieces ? 
So that, upon the whole, we are reduced 
to this dilemma, either to admit this absurd 
and impious charge upon the Scriptures, or 
else to acknowledge the personality and 
divinity of the three persons in the adorable 
Trinity. 

But, perhaps, a curious genius, that has 
been accustomed to enter deep into the 
rationale of things, that thinks it beneath a 
sagacious inquirer to credit, unless he can 
comprehend, — such a genius may ask, with 
a kind of amazement. How can these things 
be ? Here I pretend to give no satisfaction. 
Here I confess myself at a loss. I cannot 
conceive how the principle of gravitation 
acts, or what constitutes the power of 
attraction. If I cannot penetrate the hidden 
qualities of a thousand common objects that 
daily present themselves to my senses, no 
wonder that 1 should be unable to unravel the 
awful secrets of the divine nature; no won- 
der that I should be incapable of finding out to 
perfection that infinite iVIajesty who dwells in 
light inaccessible. Since the re itva.i is 
attested by a multitude of witnesses from 
Scripture, let us\)e content to wait for the 
3 D 



770 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



cTMs, till this gross interposing cloud of 
flesh and mortality flee away ; until that 
happy hour arrives, that desirable state 
commence, when we shall no longer see 
through a glass darkly, but shall know even 
as we are known. 

I should now proceed, according to the 
ability which the great Source of wisdom 
may please to bestow, to examine Mr. 
Touikins's Calm Inquiry; but this is what 
my time, claimed by a variety of other 
engagements, will not permit ; and what, I 
presume, you yourself, tired already by a 
tedious epistle, will very readily excuse. 
Hereafter, if you insist upon my executing 
the plan laid down in the beginning of this 
paper, I will communicate my remarks (such 
as they are) relating to the forementioned 
treatise, with all that cheerful compliance 
and unreserved openness, which may most 
emphatically bespeak me, dear sir, yours, 
&c. 



LETTER XXV. 

Weston Favell, Feb. 9. 1745-6. 

Thanks to you, dear sir, for your kind 
wishes. Blessed be the divine Providence, 
I am now able to inform you that what you 
wish is accomplished. I have had one of 
the most agreeable losses I ever met with ; 
I have lost my indisposition, and am in a 
manner well. 

I send herewith the poem on Christianity. 
The other books, which you have been 
pleased to lend me, will follow by the first 
opportunity. I read Mr. Hobson's per- 
formance with eagerness and delight. What 
is wrote by a valuable friend, has a kind of 
secret unaccountable charm. It may not 
be preferable to other compositions, yet 
methinks it pleases more. 

I congratulate you, sir, and my country, 
on the good news received from the North. 
— How do you like Stackhouse's history of 
the Bible? I am sure he has one advantage 
superior to all the historians of the world ; 
that the facts which he relates are more 
venerable for their antiquity, more admirable 
for their grandeur, and more important on 
account of their universal usefulness. I 
have often thought that the Scripture is 
finely calculated to furnish out the most ex- 
quisite entertainment to the imagination, 
from those three principal sources mention- 
ed by Mr. Addison, the great, the beautiful, 
and the ne^o. But what is that compared 
with that infinitely noble benefit, to impart 
which is their professed design — the benefit 
of making us wise ta salvation, of making 
us partakers of a divine nature ? I am, 
&c. 



LETTER XXVI. 

Weston- Favell, Feb. 11, 1745-6. 

Dear Sir, — I received your ticket some 
time ago, in which you desire me to consi- 
der some particular passages of Scriptuie. 
After an afflictive indisposition, which con- 
fined me to my room several days, I have 
examined the texts you allege. They 
relate, I find, to that grand question, which 
has lately been the subject of our debate, 
the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, I 
could have wished that the controversy had 
been brought to a satisfactory and happy 
issue. Very unwilling to engage in it a 
second time, I must beg leave to sue for 
my bene decessit, and resign the management 
of so important a dispute to incomparably 
more able hands. However, in obedience 
to your request, f quid enim amicitice denegan- 
dum !J I shall briefly lay before you my 
opinion concerning those portions of inspir- 
ed wisdom ; and then proceed, in pursuance 
of my promise, to weigh with calmness and 
impartiality the most material of Mr. Tom- 
kins's objections. 

You observe. That the Father is never 
represented yielding obedience to Christ, or 
praying to Christ. I acknowledge the truth 
of the remark, and assign this clear and 
obvious reason, Because it was the peculiar 
office of the second person of ihe Trinity to 
humble himself, to unite hiaiself to flesh and 
blood, and to be made in all things like unto 
us, sin only excepted. Had not the blessed 
Jesus been clothed with our nature, and 
partook of our innocent infirmities, we 
should never have heard any such thing as 
his yielding obedience, or praying to ano- 
ther greater than himself. This results not 
from his essential, but his assumed nature ; 
nor is it at all repugnant to reason, to be in- 
ferior in one character, and at the same 
time absolutely equal in another. His 
majesty King George may be inferior to the 
Emperor in the capacity of Elector of Han- 
over ; he may be subject to the imperial 
authority, as he is a prince of the Germanic 
body; and yet equal to the most illustrious 
monarchs, obnoxious to no earthly jurisdic- 
tion, in his nobler quality of King of Great 
Britain, France, and Ireland. This seems 
to be a very easy and natural solution of the 
difficulty : whereas, I think, I may venture 
to defy the nicest metaphysician, or the 
most acute casuist, to reconcile the notions 
of divinity and inferiority. As well may 
contradictions be made compatible. A 
God who is inferior, is, to my apprehension 
a perfect paradox. It is necessarily implied 
in the idea of God, that he "be, as our old 
translation of the Psalms very emphatically 
and beautifully styles him. The Most High- 
est, Therefore, our Saviour, who often 



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771 



asserts his claim to divinity, declares, as an 
inseparable consequent of this high prero- 
gative, All things which the Father hath 
are mine. Is the Father's existence incon- 
ceivable and eternal ? the same also is the 
Son's. Has the Father an unequalled abso- 
lute supremacy ? such likewise hath the Son, 
But I see you have ready at hand to ob- 
ject, John xiv. 28. My Father is greater 
than L Who are we to understand by the 
person I ? Doubtless that Being who was 
capable of going and coming, who was 
sometimes in one place, and sometimes in 
another ; now with the disciples on earth, 
anon separated from them by a translation 
into heaven ; and who can this be but the 
man Christ Jesus, the human nature of our 
Redeemer ? The attribute of limited lo- 
cality determines this point with the utmost 
clearness ; why then should any one apply 
that property to the Godhead of our blessed 
Master, which he himself so plainly appro- 
priates to his manhood ? 

This text very opportunely furnishes us 
with a key to enter into the true meaning 
of your next quotation, 1 Cor. xi. 3. The 
head of Christ is God. Only let St. John 
be allowed to expound St. Paul : I ask this 
single concession from my worthy friend, 
(and sure it is no unreasonable one) : Let 
us agree to pay a greater deference to the 
beloved disciple's comment than to Mr. 
Pierce's paraphrase, or the interpretation of 
the Arian creed, then the sense will be as 
follows. The Deity is the head of the Me- 
diator. As the members are conduct- 
ed by the head, and subservient to the 
head, so Christ Jesus, in his human ca- 
pacity, acted and acts in subordination to 
the Godhead ; obeying the significations of 
his will, and referring all his administrations 
to his glory. This exposition, I imagine, 
the context corroborates, and the scope of 
the apostle's arguing requires. 

As for Heb. i. 8, 9. this text affirms, in 
the most express terms, that Christ is God. 
And what can be a stronger proof of his un- 
rivalled supremacy and sovereignty? But 
perhaps this may be one of those places in 
which, we are informed by our objectors, 
the word God signifies no more than a king 
or ruler ; consequently does not prove our 
Redeemer to be God in reality, and by na- 
ture, but only to be complimented with 
this appellation in respect of his office and 
authority. I believe, sir, you will find, 
upon a more attentive inquiry, that this 
subtile distinction is contrary to the perpe- 
tual use of the Scriptures- A very cele- 
brated critic observes, that wherever the 
name Elohim is taken in an absolute 
sense, and restrained to one particular per- 
son, (as it is in the passage before us,) it 
constantly denotes the true and only God. 
Magistrates are indeed said to be Elohhn, 



in relation to their office, but no one ma- 
gistrate was ever so called ; nor can it be 
said without blasphemy to any one of them, 
Thou art Elohim, or God. It is also 
recorded of Moses, Thou shalt be Elohim ; 
yet not absolutely, but relatively only — a 
God to Pharaoh, and to Aaron ; i. e. in 
God's stead, doing, in the name of God, 
what he commanded, and declaring what 
he revealed. Besides, does not the apostle 
in this very chapter, verse 10, address^ the 
following acknowledgment to Christ, Thou, 
Lord, in the beginning, hast laid the found- 
ation of the earth, and the heavens are the 
work of thy hands ? And is not the work 
of creation the unshared prerogative and 
honour of the supreme God ? This I am 
pretty sure of, it is the prerogative of that 
God to whom the worship of the saints, 
under the Old Testament, is directed ; of 
that God who has declared himself jealous 
of his honour, and resolves not to give his 
glory to another. Melchisedec made this 
illustrious Being the object of his adoration, 
Blessed be the most high God, possessor 
of heaven and earth. The day is thine, and 
the night is thine ; thou hast prej^ared the 
light and the sun — was judged by the 
Psalmist one of the noblest ascriptions of 
praise which could be made to the Deity. 
Jonah has left us a confession of his faith, 
and an abstract of his devotion, in the fol- 
lowing words : I fear the Lord, the God 
of heaven, who hath made the sea, and the 
dry land. Yet St. Paul assures us, that 
this great Creator and Pi'oprietor of heaven 
and earth, this object of divine worship in 
all ages of the ancient church, is he — o 

v\l/.uv, ver. 3. Now, can we view the mag- 
nificent system of the universe, the immen- 
sity of its extent, the vast variety of its 
parts, the inimitable accuracy of its struc- 
ture, the perfect harmony of its motions, 
together with the astonishing energy and 
effects of its mechanic powers ; can we 
contemplate this world of wonders, and 
withhold ourselves a single moment from 
ascribing the glory of incomparable wisdom 
and matchless perfections to its Maker ? 
('an we glance an eye, or start a thought, 
through that ample field of miracles, which 
nature in all her ^cenes regularly exhibits, 
and still conclude, that the Author of all 
takes too much upon him when he advances 
the following claim ? 

None 1 know 

Second to me, or like, equal much less. 

Milton. 

Possibly our sceptical gentlemen are 
ready to I'eply, We are far from denying 
that Christ made the world : but we sup- 
pose that he made it only as a ministerial 
being ; not by any sufficiency of his own, 
but by a power delegated to him froni th^ 



772 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



inthiite Godliead. But sure the abettors 
of this opinion never considered that em- 
phatical passage, Col. i. 16. By whatever 
artful evasion they may think to elude the 
force of the former expression, 1 cannot see 
what possible escape they can contrive from 
the latter. It is plain, from the philoso- 
phical principles of an apostle, that the uni- 
verse was formed by Christ as the almighty 
Artificer, for Christ as its final end ; and 
is not this a demonstration that Christ was 
not a mere instrument, but the grand, glo- 
rious, self-suflficient Agent ; the Alpha and 
Omega of all things ? 

After all that has been said upon this 
text, will it be intimated, that I have been 
partial in my examination of it? that the 
sentence which most particularly favours 
your opinion, and looks with the most 
frowning aspect upon mine, is passed over 
without notice, namely, where it is taught, 
That God anointed Christ with the oil of 
gladness above his fellows ? Heb. i. 9. I 
reply, by owning, that these words most 
mideniably imply inferiority ; they imply a 
state of indigence, which wants something 
it has not naturally ; a state of impotence, 
which receives from another what it cannot 
convey to itself. Surely then, this clause 
must, according to all the laws of just inter- 
pretation, be referred to that nature which 
admitted of such wants, and was subject to 
such infirmities. To ascribe it to that na- 
ture which is characterised as God, would 
be almost as affronting to reason as it is to 
the Deity. It is farther observable, that 
the very expression limits the sense to that 
capacity of our Redeemer, in which others 
stood related to him as his fellows : And 
can this be any other than the human ? Let 
me add one word more before I dismiss this 
inquiry : Suppose I was to shift sides in 
the dispute, and turn the tables upon the 
disciples of Arius. Gentlemen, since you 
take so much pains to prove the inferiority 
of our Lord Jesus Christ, permit me to 
try if I cannot outshoot you in your own 
bow. I will undertake to show, on your 
own principles, that he was inferior to mil- 
lions of created beings ; for this I have the 
positive and sure evidence of Scripture, 
We see Jesus, who was made a little lower 
than the angels, Heb. ii. 9. These gen- 
tlemen, I verily think, would have so much 
regard for the honour of a person on whom 
their everlasting all depends, as to answer, 
with some becoming spirit. You are to 
distinguish between what our Saviour was 
made occasionally, and what he was ori- 
ginally : Though his human nature was 
taken from a class of beings lower in dig- ■ 
nity than the angels, yet his nobler and more I 
exalted nature was greatly superior to them 
all. Now, sir, as we must have recourse 
sometimes to this distinction, our adver- 



saries themselves being our judges and our 
precedent, why should we not carry it along 
with us continually ? Without it, a multi - 
tude of texts appear perplexed in their 
meaning, and clash with other scriptures ; 
with it, they drop their obscurity, are dis- 
entangled from their intricacy, and harmo- 
nise entirely with the whole tenor of sacred 
writ. 

1 Cor. XV. 28, is another scripture point- 
ed out for consideration. This, I confess, 
is a difficult, and admitting it was (to me at 
least) an unintelligible passage, nay direct- 
ly repugnant to my hypothesis, what would 
be a rational procedure in this case ? To 
renounce my faith, because I cannot recon- 
cile it with one scripture, though it stands 
supported by a copious multiplicity of others? 
If, in debating on any question, there be five 
hundred ayes, and but one no, I appeal to 
the conduct of the honourable House of 
Commons, whether it be reasonable that the 
point should be carried by the single nega- 
tive, in opposition to so vast a majority of 
affirmatives ? However, the state of our 
doctrine is not so bad, nor this text so dia- 
metrically opposite to it, as to destroy all 
hopes of establishing it with a nemine con- 
tradicente. The apostle affirms, that at the 
consummation of terrestrial things, when 
the state of human probation ends, and the 
number of the elect is completed, then shall 
the Son also himself be subject unto him 
that put all things under him, that God may 
be all in all : i. e. according to my judgment, 
the Son, at the commencement of that grand 
revolution, will entirely resign the adminis- 
tration of his mediatorial kingdom ; he will 
no longer act as an advocate or intercessor, 
because the reasons on which this office is 
founded, will cease for ever ; he will no 
longer, as a high-priest, plead his atoning 
blood in behalf of sinners, nor, as a king, 
dispense the succours of his sanctifying 
grace, because all guilt will be done away, 
and the actings of corruption be at an end : 
he will no longer be the medium of his 
people's access to the knowledge and enjoy- 
ment of the Father, because then they will 
stand perpetually in the beatific presence, 
and see face to face, know even as they are 
known. I may probably mistake the mean- 
ing of the words, but whatever shall appear 
to be their precise signification, this, I think, 
is so clear as not to admit of any doubt, 
that it relates to an incarnate person ; re- 
lates to him who died for our sins, was 
buried and rose again, 1 Cor. xv. 3, 4. 
And can the surrender of all authority made 
by the man Jesus Christ, be any bar to his 
unlimited equality as God? 

You refer me to Psalm viii. 5, and Ixxxii. 
1, 6. Exod. xxii. 28, and add, these texts 
prove that God signifies, in some places, 
king or ruler. I acknowledge that the 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



77o 



word Elohim, in the afore-cited passages, 
signifies no more than angels, kings, or 
rulers. But is this a demonstration that 
the word Jehovah, the incommunicable 
name, signifies no more than an angel, a 
king, or a ruler ? This is the conclusion 
our adversaries are to infer ; this the point 
they are to make good, otherwise their at- 
tempts drop short of the mark, fly wide from 
their purpose : Because it is plain from 
incontestable authorities, that Jesus is Je- 
hovah. This was hinted in a former letter ; 
and if you please to compare Isa. vi. 3, 
with John xii. 41, you will find another 
convincing evidence, that the Jehovah of 
the Jews is the Jesus of the Christians. 
Besides, in all those places where the term 
God is used to denote some created being, 
invested with considerable authority, or 
possessed of considerable dignity, the con- 
nexion is such as absolutely to exclude the 
person so denominated from any title to a 
divine nature; whereas, when the name 
God is applied to the second person of the 
Trinity, it is connected with such conse- 
quents or antecedents as necessarily include 
the idea of divinity and supremacy. For 
instance, when the apostle recognises the 
Deity of our Lord Jesus Christ, in those 
remarkable words, Rom. ix. 5, Who is 
God — lest this idle piece of sophistry should 
have any room for admittance, he adds a 
most determining clause — over all, blessed 
for ever. I have called it idle sophistry, 
for really it is nothing else. Only observe 
the process of the pretended argument, and 
you yourself will allow it no better appella- 
tion. What is designed for the argument 
runs thus : Because rulers of distinction 
have sometimes the title of Elohim, there- 
fore Jesus, who has the title of Jehovah, 
is not very God, but only a ruler of distinc- 
tion : Or, the word God, when necessarily 
determined by the context to some subor- 
dinate being, signifies a subordinate being ; 
therefore the word God, when necessarily 
determined by the context to signify the 
supreme God, does not signify the supreme 
God, but only some subordinate being. 
These are the mighty reasonings, such the 
formidable artillery, with which the adhe- 
rents of Arius attack the divinity and 
equality of our Saviour. May the ai ms of 
our foreign enemies and intestine rebels be 
made in their kind, of such metal, consist 
of such strength ! and I may ventm'e to 
address my countrymen in David's encou- 
raging language. Let no man's heart fail 
because of them. 

I hope it will not be objected, that I have 
sometimes mistook the particular point to 
be discussed, and confoimded the divinity 
of our Lord with his equality to the Fa- 
ther. I own I have not been scrupulously 
careful to preserve any such distinction, 



because I am persuaded it is perfectly chi- 
merical. Whoever admits the former grants 
the latter ; the one cannot subsist without 
the other ; or rather they are one and the 
same thing. To be equal with the Father 
is to be divine ; and to be divine is to be 
equal with the Father. An inferior deity 
was a notion that passed current in the 
heathen world ; but we have not so learned 
the divine nature as to adopt it into our 
creed. It is a proposition that confutes 
itself. The predicate and subject are self- 
contradictory. God certainly means a being 
of incomparable, unparalleled glory and per- 
fection. No one will dare to give a lower 
definition of the Godhead. Yet this the 
first term of the sentence affirms, the second 
denies. Whenever I hear the awful word 
God, I form an idea of a being possessed 
of absolute supremacy. Inferiority is alto- 
gether as inconsistent with my apprehen- 
sion of the Godhead, as a limited extension 
is with immensity. The schoolmen's maxim 
is strictly true when applied to the divine 
nature, that his properties and excellencies 
non recipiunt magis aut minus. Besides, sir, 
is there not another apparent inconveniency, 
another inextricable difficulty, attending this 
superfine distinction ? Does it not sup- 
pose, instead of distinct persons, distinct 
beings, distinct essences ? That which is 
inferior cannot be the very same with its 
superior. Identity, in this case, consists 
not Avith inequality. The consequence of 
this tenet is polytheism. 

For my part, I lay it down as an incon- 
testable principle, such as reason and Scrip- 
ture concur to establish, that whatever, 
whosoever is God, must be absolutely su- 
preme. I then proceed to examine, whether 
the divine names, attributes, honom's ; those 
which are incommunicably divine, v^hich 
flow from the divine essence, which Ccintiot 
comport with a finite existence, but are the 
sole prerogative of the unequalled God ; 
A\ hether these are in Scripture clearly as- 
cribed to the sacred person of the Son ; if 
they are, my reason requires me to believe 
that he is very God, and co-equal with the 
Father. My reason, in her sedatest mo- 
ments, assures me, that Scripture cannot 
deceive, though I may be unable to con- 
ceive. My reason declares, that I shall be 
a rebel against her lu^vs, if I do not submit 
to this determination of Scripture, as de- 
cisive, as infallible. — I am, &c- 



LETTER XXVIL 

Weston-FaveU, April 1, 174:6. 
Dear Sir, — If you can spare the Night- 
Thoughts, the bearer of this tic-lcet will 
bring them safely to Weston. I propose 



774 



A COLLECTIOiN OF LETTERS. 



to read them when business is done, and | 
the day is fled ; so that the time may cor- 
respond with the subject. 

I hope the bookseller has, before this 
time, waited on you with the little volume 
which desires yom- acceptance. Was it to 
pass through my hands before it was pre- 
sented, I should almost be induced to in- 
scribe it with that pretty line in Virgil, 
Munera parva quidem, at magnum testantur amorem. 

Pray, do you think that passage, Luke 
vi- 38. ^Mfmgrtv ti; rov noXTTav vf/.eov, is rightly 
rendered by our translators. Shall men give 
into your bosom ? Is the idea of men ne- 
cessarily implied in the original ? Or can 
fact and experience justify the translators 
in giving this sense to the original ? God, 
and conscience, and a futm-e state, will am- 
ply recompense the beneficent ; but whether 
men, the generality of men in this world, 
are thus generous and grateful, seems to be 
a point that wants confirmation. This re- 
mark was suggested in perusing the place ; 
but I submit it to your judgment, and re- 
main, dear sir, &c. 



LETTER XXVIIL 

Weston-Favell, Nov. 22, 1 746. 
Dear Sir, — As I cannot attend the in- 
firmary this day, permit me to tkke this op- 
portunity of acknowledging the favour of 
your last. 

The sermon you was pleased to lend me 
I admire. Christ the great propitiation is, 
with m.e, a most favourite subject ; and I 
think the author has been so happy as to 
treat it in a clear, nervous, pathetic manner. 
I am delighted with his reply, and rejoice to 
observe that it has passed a second edition. 
I hope the antidote will operate, and spread 
as wide as the poison. This writer has an- 
other recommendation : His conciseness, 
added to perspicuity, renders his arguments 
easy to be apprehended, and not difiicult to 
be remembered. I am so much ciharmed 
with his performance, that I beg leave to 
keep it a few days longer ; and should take 
it as a favour, if, in the mean time, you will 
give the bookseller an order to send for one 
of the sermons for me. 

I heartily applaud that zeal you show for 
the spiritual welfare of the patients. The 
infirmary would be an inestimable blessing, 
if, by the grace of God, it might be produc- 
tive of a reformation in the persons whom 
it admits and discharges. As distressed 
objects will, in all probability, resort to it 
from all parts of the country, a change 
wrought in their hearts, and a renewal be- 
gun in their lives, might be a happy means 
of diflfusing religion far and near. I hope 
the clergy concerned in the management of 



the infirmaiy will, with delight and assidu- 
ity, concur in the prosecution of so desir- 
able an end. I can promise for one, so far 
as God shall give him ability. I wish some 
proper scheme was contrived for the execu- 
tion of this design, in which I might bear 
some little part, without giving umbrage to 
my brethren, or alarming their jealousy. I 
have sometimes thought of offering to give 
the patients a kind of lecture or exhortation 
once a-week, formed upon some or other of 
those Scriptures which are the standing me- 
mentos of their wards.* But sometimes 
doubtful whether such a proposal would 
meet with acceptance, sometimes checked 
by the infirmities of my constitution, I have 
hitherto neglected to mention the aiFair ; 
however, I now venture to submit it to your 
consideration. To this, or any other more 
advisable method, I should very readily con- 
tribute the best of my assistance. 

" Are you inclined, dear sir, to give the 
poor creatures all the instruction in the 
Christian religion you are capable of?" We 
take you at your word ; and henceforward 
look upon you as an associate in our great 
work. In a warfare of such unspeakable 
importance, we are glad to strengthen our 
force by the accession of every ally ; much 
more of such an auxiliary, as will be regard- 
ed by the patients with an uncommon de- 
gree of attention and pleasure. Nor can I 
think it anywise inconsistent with the office 
of a physician, or any derogation from the 
dignity of his character, to feel the pulse of 
the soul, to examine into the symptoms of 
spiritual maladies, to ask exploring ques- 
tions concerning the habit of the mind, and 
prescribe accordingly, either for the purgin.: 
oflf the peccant humours of vice, or corro - 
borating the relaxed powers of grace. 

May that infinitely condescending and 
compassionate Being, who disdained not in 
his own sacred person to take our sickness( s, 
and bear our infirmities, both direct your 
counsels, and prosper your endeavours ii. 
this momentous aflfair. 

I purpose to wait upon you some after- 
noon in the next week, and cannot think of 
a more agreeable topic of conversation, than 
that of concerting measm'es for the proper 
exertion of this labour of love, and encou- 
raging each other to abound in the work of 
the Lord. I am, dear sir, &c. 



LETTER XXIX. 

Weston-Favell March 1745-6. 
Dear Sir, — In a former letter I consi- 
dered, Whether the blessed Spirit is really a 



* Texts of Scripture in the Northampton, Win- 
chester, and several other infirmaries, are written on 
the walls, and consequently are very useful, if se- 
riously reflected on. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



distinct person ; whether this person is truly 
and properly God? It appeared, from a 
variety of Scriptures, that both these ques- 
tions were to be resolved in the affirmative. 
These preliminaries being settled, I would 
hope, with some perspicuity of reason and 
strength of argument, I now proceed, in 
consequence of my engagement, to examine 
Mr. Tomkins's objections against the re- 
ceived custom of addressing divine worship 
to this divine Being. 

The author, I freely acknowledge, writes 
with a great appearance of integiity ; with 
a calm and decent spirit of controversy; and 
with a very plausible air of truth. As the 
subject of his inquiry is of the highest dig- 
nity and importance, as his method of ma- 
naging the debate is, to say the least, by no 
means contemptible, I cannot forbear ex- 
pressing some surprise, that none of the in- 
genious dissenters to whom the piece is par- 
ticularly inscribed, have thought proper to 
interest themselves in the dispute, and ei- 
ther confute what is urged, or else (like 
persons of that inviolable attachment to the 
pure scriptunil worship which they [irofess) 
recede from the use of their allowed doxo- 
logies. 

For my part, as I firmly believe it a pro- 
per practice to woi ship the Son, as we wor- 
ship the Father, and to woi-ship the Holy 
Ghost, as we worship the other persons of 
the undivided Trinity, I am so far from dis- 
approving, that I admire our custouitu-y dox- 
ology, and think it a very noble and instruc- 
tive part of our sacred service. Noble, be- 
cause it exhibits one of the grand mysteries 
and glorious peculiarities of the gospel ; — 
instructive, because it so frequently reminds 
the worshipper of a point which it so greatly 
concerns him to believe, and which is fitted 
to inspire the brightest, the strongest hopes, 
of final, of complete salvation. 

But, lest this persuasion should be deemed 
the crude production of early prejudice, ra- 
ther than the mature fruit of sedate consi- 
deration, we will very readily hear whatever 
can be alleged against it ; and not willingly 
secrete one objection, or misrepresent one 
argument, occurring in the inquiry. 

" Let it be supposed," says our author, 
" that the Holy Spirit is one of the persons 
of the Godhead ; I still query, What war- 
rant Christians have for a direct and distinct 
worship of this third person in the God- 
head ?" (page 1. ) I should think there can 
be no reasonable doubt, whether worship is 
to be paid to the Divinity. Thou shalt 
worship the Lord thy God, is a law of in- 
contestable authority, and eternal obliga- 
tion. As for the circumstances of worship 
included in its being direct, this cannot alter 
the case, nor render the practice imjiroper. 
According to my apprehension, all true and 
genuine worship is direct. If it be address- 



77.1 

ed to the divine object at second hand, it 
has more of the nature of idolatry than wor- 
ship. Such is the religious foppery of the 
Papists, who will not apply directly to the 
Father of everlasting compassion, but adore 
God, as it were, by proxy. With regard to 
the distinctness of the worship, this depends 
entirely upon the Scripture's distinguishing 
their persons. If this be clearly done, the 
distinctness of worship is properly author- 
ized, and the fitness of it follows of course. 
If the inspired writers assure us that the 
Father is God, this is a sufficient warrant 
to pay divine honours to the Father. If 
the inspired writers affirm that the Son is 
God, this is a sufficient ground for ascrib- 
ing divine honours to the Son. If the same 
inspired writers declare that the Holy Ghost 
is God, we need no clearer warrant, nor can 
we have a louder call, to pay him our de- 
voutest homage. In a word, it is the voice 
of reason, it is the command of Scripture, it 
is founded on the unalterable relation of 
things, that worship, direct worship, distinct 
worship, all worship, be rendered to the 
Deity. So that the divinity of the Holy 
Ghost, exclusive .of any apostolical precept 
or example, is an incomparably better rea- 
son for ascribing divine honours to this sa- 
cred person, tiian the bare want of such pre- 
cept or example can be a reason to justify 
the omission, or condemn the performance 
of it. 

I am no advocate for implicit faith in any 
human determination or opinion. Should I 
see whole sects, or whole churches in a 
glaring error, such as I can pro\e from 
Scripture to be palpably wrong, and of j)er- 
nicious tendency, I would make no scruple 
to remonstrate, dissent, and enter my pro- 
test. But in a case, which Mr. Tonikins 
himself (page 2, line 19.) allows to be of a 
dubious nature ; where I have no positive 
proof from God's holy word that the prac- 
tice is unlawful or improper ; I cannot but 
apprehend, that it becomes a modest person, 
diffident of his own judgment, to acquiesce 
in the general, the long- continued usage of 
all the churches. This is urged by an in- 
spired writer as a forcible motive for reject- 
ing a practice ; and why should not I admit 
it as a motive of weight for adhering to a 
practice ? We have no such custom, nei- 
ther the churches of God, (1 Cor. xi. 16.) 
was an apostolical argument. And in an 
instance where we are not precluded by any 
prohibition of Scripture, I think the rea- 
soning is equally conclusive if changed to 
the affirmative. We have such a custom, 
and the churches of God. Was I to settle 
my opinion, and adjust my conduct, with 
regard to such a point, I should be inclined 
to argue in the following manner : I cannot 
bring one text from the sacred writings 
which forbids the usage ; and as it is unani- 



776 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



mously praptised by devout persons of al- 
most evei7 denomination, as it has been the 
received, the miinterrupted practice of the 
Christian church for more than a thousand 
years ; who am I, that I should disturb the 
peace, or separate myself from the commu- 
nion of the church, for a procedure which 
such multitudes of excellent persons main- 
tain to be consonant, and which I cannot 
prove to be contrary, to the sense of Scrip- 
ture? Who am I, that I should fancy 
myself to have more of the mind of God 
than the whole united church of true be- 
lievers, eminent saints, and illustrious mar- 
tyrs? 

" But there is no precept for this worship 
in Scripture," (page 1.) and Dr. Owen 
affirms, " That a divine command is the 
ground" (he means, I presume, the only 
ground, or else the quotation is nothing to 
our author's purpose) " of all worship," 
(page 25.) Dr. Owen's character, I own, 
is considerable, as well as his assertion per- 
emptoiy ; but yet I cannot prevail on my- 
self to submit to his ipse dixit as an oracle, 
nor reverence his judgment as infallible. I 
would ask the Doctor, What divine com- 
mand the Heathens ever received to worship 
the blessed God ? I know of no verbal or 
written precept. But they saw their war- 
rant included in their wants ; they perceiv- 
ed tlieir obligation resulting from the divine 
attributes. Will Dr. Owen maintain, that 
no worship was expected from the Pagans ? 
that they had been blameless, and acted 
according to the principles of their duty, if 
they had withheld all acts of veneration 
from the Deity ? No, surely. St. Paul, 
in declaring them faulty for not worshipping 
the Almighty in such a rational manner as 
was suitable to his pure and exalted nature, 
clearly intimates, that it was their duty both 
to worship, and to worship aright. It is 
not said by the apostle, though it is the 
consequence of the Doctor's position, that 
they ought to have refrained from all wor- 
ship, and not have meddled with matters of 
devotion, till they received an authentic 
warrant from revelation. The inspired 
casuist grounds his duty, in this particular, 
upon the eternal power and Godhead ( Rom. 
i. 20.) of the Supreme Being, which were 
discoverable by the exercise of their under- 
standings, and from a survey of the creation. 
In conformity to the apostle's sentiments, 
I should rather place the foundation of 
religious worship in the gloiies, the mercies, 
the unsearchable riches, of the almighty 
Majesty. These, together with the relation 
which dependent creatures bear to this all- 
producing, all-sustaining, infinitely benefi- 
cent God, are the grand warrant to autho- 
rize addresses of adoration. These are 
reasons prior to all express revelations, and 
would have subsisted if actual commands 



had never been given. If this be not true, 
what will become of all natural religion ? 
Scripture, indeed, has declared explicitly 
the binding nature of these motives ; Scrip- 
ture, like a sacred herald, has promulgated 
what God foreordained, what reason had 
decreed, what necessarily flowed from the 
habitudes of persons and things. Or, to 
represent the point in another light, the 
perfections of the Godliead are the original, 
the inviolable obligation to all expressions 
of homage and devotion : to ratify this 
obligation, and impart to it all possible so- 
lemnity and sanction. Scripture has added 
the broad seal of heaven. If this be right 
reason, and if the Holy Ghost be really 
God, his all-sufficient excellencies, and my 
state of dependence, are a proper license, 
or rather a virtual mandamus, for the appli- 
cations of prayer and the ascriptions of 
praise. Grant this one proposition relating 
to the divinity of the blessed Spirit, and 
admit that his eternal power and Godhead 
are a sufficient ground for religious worship, 
and we shall find ourselves unavoidably de- 
termined. We must rebel against our 
reason, must violate the dictates of our 
conscience, must act in opposition, not to 
one particular text, but to the main tenor 
and scope of the whole Scripture, if do 
not render all the service, yield all the re- 
verence due to a glorious Being, in whom 
we live, move^ and exist. 

But still we are told, in various place?, 
again and again we are told, " 1 hat thei e 
is no express warrant." Prodigious stress 
is laid upon this word express ; the whole 
force of the objection seems to terminate on 
this point. There is no express warrant, 
therefore it is an uuNA arrantable practice. 
For my part, I have not discernment enough 
to perceive the conclusiveness of this ar- 
guing. I must beg leave to deny the con- 
sequence of such a syllogism. For if the 
sense of various Scriptures has made it a 
duty, this is warrant enough, though it be 
not particularly enjoined, or tolerated in 
form. This maxim our ingenious author 
will admit in other cases, and why not in 
the present? There is no express com- 
mand to add any prayer at the celebration 
of baptism. When our Lord instituted the 
ordinance, he only delivers the form of 
initiation into the Christian church, v/ithout 
any presciiption relating to concomitant 
prayer. When Philip administered this 
sacrament to the eunuch, there is no 
mention of any address to the Almighty, 
pertinent to the occasion. I cannot recol- 
lect, that any of the holy writers either 
inform the world that they practised such 
a method themselves, or so much as inti- 
mate that they would advise others, in suc- 
ceeding ages, to accompany this solemnity 
with suitable devotions. But though we 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



have no ]iositive ' injunction, we have the 
reasonableness of the thing for our plea. 
Other Scriptures, that virtually, though not 
exphcitly recommend it, are our warrant. 
In every thing, says St. Paul, let your 
requests be made known unto God ; con- 
sequently, in this sacred and important 
thing. 

I must again declare, that I can by no 
means assent to our author's grand postu- 
httutn, That nothing in the v/ay of divine 
"'orship is allowable, but what has an ex- 
];ress warrant from Scripture. Because 
virtual warrants are warrants ; consequen- 
tial warrants are warrants. Our objector 
must maintain this in some instances, and 
why should he disclaim it in others ? To 
be consistent in conduct is surely essential 
to the character of an impartial inquirer 
after truth. Shall such an one sometimes 
reject an aj-gument as weak and insignificant 
because it happens to be illative only, and 
not direct ; and at other times urge it as 
cogent and irrefragable ? I will mention 
one very memorable particular of this na- 
ture ; that is, the case of the Lord's 
day. Why does Mr. Tomkins transfer 
the sanctification of a parti ^-lilar day 
from the seventh to the first? Has he 
any express command in Scripture, any 
express warrant from Scripture for this al- 
teration ? If he has, let him produce it. 
I must own, I have none but consequen- 
tial warrants ; warrants formed upon con- 
clusions, and derived from some remarkable 
scriptures; but these not near so numerous, 
nor near so ponderous, as those which con- 
cur to establish the divinity of the Koly 
Ghost. Now, if an express warrant be not 
needfid in the one, why should it be so ri- 
gorously insisted on in the other duty? If 
then this leading principle of our author's be 
filse or precarious, what truth, what cer- 
tainty can there be in any, in all his deduc- 
tions from it ? If the groundwork be un- 
substantial, and the foundation fall, what 
solidity can there be in the superstructure ? 
how can the building stand ? Possibly Mr. 
Tomkins may reply, " the example of the 
primitive chiu-ch determines this point." 
We find, it was the custom of the earliest 
antiquity to observe the Christian sabbath 
on the first day of the week ; and there- 
fore have veiy good reason to believe that 
the usage was established by apostolical au- 
thority. And may not I say the same with 
regard to the custom of ascribing glory, and 
rendering adoration, to the third person of 
the Trinity ? Justin Martyr, the most an- 
cient and authentic apologist for Christian- 
ity, who is next in succession, and next in 
credit to the patres apostolid; he declares 
expressly, That it was the received custom 
of the Christian Church, in his days, to wor- 
ship the Holy Gliost. His words are, U^iv- 



f^iv. You perceive, he not only avows the 
thing, but vindicates its reasonableness and 
propriety. Perhaps some captious critic 
may insinuate, that it is matter of doubt, 
whether the word Ttfjt.ufAiv implies divine 
honoiu's. I waive all attempts to prove this 
point from the original of the JSew Testa- 
ment, because, to obviate such an objection, 
we have another passage to produce from 
the same saint, father, and martyr, nviv//.a, 

T^o(P'/irtxo/ triZii/A^a, KOLi 'T^oe-x.vMiS/x.VJ^ Apol. 1. 

Can any expressions be imagined more for- 
cible in their signification, or more apposite 
to om- piu:pose ? They import the highest 
acts of adoration, and yet they describe the 
regards which were paid by the purest an- 
tiquity to the Holy Ghost. Will it still be 
suggested, that Justin makes no mention of 
offering up prayers, or addressing praises ? 
I answer, This he must certainly mean, be- 
cause no one can be said o£/3j(7^«i xa.i -kooit- 

nwize* Tov &iev « to Hvivf/.a, who V/ithholds 

praise, or restrains prayer. These particu- 
lar instances are as necessarily implied in 
those geiiernl ternis, as the species is includ- 
ed in tlie r-enus. 

You will please to observe, that this 
amounts to a great deal more than jNIr. 
Tomkins, (page 17.), not very ingenuously, 
suggests, \\z. " a few hints that learned 
men have found, in the primitive ages, of 
the ascription of praise to the Holy Ghost." 
It seems also entirely to overthrow what, m 
another place, he advances (page 2G.) not 
very consistently with truth, viz. " That 
there is so little appearance of the observ- 
ance of such a custom, for so many ages of 
the Christian church." Few hints and Lit- 
tle appearance ! Can a clear and determinate 
declaration, made by a writer of the most 
unquestionable veracit}', concerning the una- 
nimous, the universal practice of the ancient 
church ; can this evidence, with any fairness 
or equity, be rated at the diminutive degree 
of hints, and little appearance ? 

As to what is remai-ked relating to the 
corruption of the eai'ly writers, the inteqDO- 
lations, or alterations made by careless tran- 
scribers, (page 17-)} this seems to be a most 
empty and jejune insinuation. It is v/hat 
will serve any side of any debate. It is op- 
posing hypothesis to fact, precarious and un- 
supported hj-]jothesis to clear and undeniable 
fact. This sure is catching, not at a twig, 
but at a shadow. I never could like Dr. 
Bentley's oscitantia et haUuci?iatio librariorum, 
even in his animadversions on heathen au- 
thors ; because it was an outcry fitted for 
any occasion, a charge ever ready at hand, 
and equally suited to discouiitenance truth 
or detect error ; much less can I think it 
sufficient to overthrow the testimony, or in- 
validate the authenticity of our ancient 
Cliristian \\ riters. Would a bare innuendo, 



778 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



(and Mr. Tomkins's is no more), and tliat 
from an interested person, without any the 
least show of proof ; would this be admit- 
ted, in a court of judicature, to supersede the 
plain, the solemn deposition of a credible 
witness ? Supersede it ! Quite the reverse. 
It would convince the judge, and teach the 
jury, that the cause must be extremely 
wrong, utterly insupportable, since artifices 
so weak and transparently fallacious were 
used in its defence. 

But it is frequently objected, that no 
mention is made, no warrant is to be found 
for distinct worship. The afore-cited writer, 
and the whole Scripture, is silent upon the 
article of distinct worship. And the reader 
is led to suppose, that there is some mighty 
difference between distinct and T know not 
what other kind of worship. Why does 
our author harp so incessantly upon this 
string ? whence such irreconcilable aver- 
sion to this quality of worship ? One would 
almost suspect he was conscious that some 
worship should be paid, but could not digest 
the doctrine, nor submit to the payment of 
distinct worship. I must reply, oiice for 
all, that if any worship be due, distinct wor 
ship cannot be improper ; much more if all 
worship (which, I apprehend, is included in 
Justin's words, and follows from the divini- 
ty of the blessed Spirit) be requisite, dis- 
tinct worship cannot be unwarrantable. 

Another grand argument urged by our 
inquirer is, " That the apostles, as far as 
appears, never practised this woi ship of the 
Holy Ghost themselves, nor recommended 
it to others." (page 2.) He should, by all 
means, have printed as far as appears in 
Italics or capitals ; because then the reader 
would have apprehended more easily the 
uncertain foundation on which the reason- 
ing is built. But though this particular, 
relating to the practice of the apostles, does 
not appear one way or the other, yet our 
author, in his 4th page, and elsewhere, con- 
cludes from it as assuredly as if it stood up- 
on authentic record. " For," says he, " if 
we admit that the reason of things is suffi- 
cient to establish this practice, it will prove 
too much." It mil undoubtedly, if it proves 
any thing, prove it a duty to pay such wor- 
ship to the Holy Spirit ; and consequently, 
that the apostles were defective, either in 
not seeing this reason of things as well as 
we, or not practising according to it. Does 
he not here suppose the apostolical omission 
an acknowledged, undoubted point, which, 
a few lines before, he had confessed to be 
dubious and unapparent ? 

However, not to insist upon this little 
self-contradicting slip, I would ask, What 
reason has Mr. Tomkins to conclude, that 
the apostles omitted this usage which the 
Christian churches have adopted? Do 
they ever declare, or so much as hint, that 



they are determined to omit it? Do they 
ever caution their converts against it as a 
dangerous error ? Is there any such memo- 
rial preserved, or any such caveat lodged in 
their secret writings ? Now, to argue in our 
author's strain. If it was so unjustifiable a 
thing to address praise, or put up prayer 
to the tloly Ghost, there could not be a 
more necessary precaution than that the 
apostles, those careful instructors, should 
have warned their people of the mistake, es- 
pecially since it was so extremely probable, 
so almost unavoidable, that they would fall 
into it. For I appeal to the whole world, 
whether a considerate person would not na- 
turally judge it reasonable, whether a devout 
person would not feel a forcible inclination, 
to worship that venerable Name into which 
he was baptized ; and to praise that benefi- 
cent Being, who is the author of so many 
inestimable blessings. Yet though this is 
so apparently natural, such as the apostles 
could not but foresee was likely to happen, 
they say not a syllable by way of preven- 
tion ; they take no care to guard their con- 
verts against such a practice. A pregnant 
sign, that it is allowed by divine Wisdom, 
and chargeable neither with superstition nor 
idolatry. 

But our author, to corroborate his argu- 
ment, adds, " To suppose the apostles di- 
rected any explicit worship to the Holy 
Ghost, though we have no mention of it in 
Scripture, where yet we meet with frequent 
doxologies of theirs, and addresses by way 
of prayer or petition," would be an unrea- 
sonable presumption. I cannot accede to 
this assertion. The doxologies and prayers 
of the apostles, recorded in Scripture, are 
only occasional and incidental ; inserted, 
as the fervour of a devout spirit suggested, 
in the body of their doctrinal and exborta- 
tory writings. Now, the omission of such 
a practice in writings, which were composed 
with a view of instructing mankind in the 
great fundamentals of Christianity, which 
were never intended as a full and complete 
system of devotions ; the omission of this 
practice in such writings can be no fair or 
conclusive argument for its being omitted 
in their stated acts of public worship. If, 
indeed, the apostles had, in their epistolary 
correspondence, drawn up a form of devo- 
tions ; had declared, that in them was com- 
prised a perfect pattern of devotional 
addresses, proper to be oflfered to the Deity ; 
that all acts of worship which deviated a jot 
or tittle from that prescribed form, were 
unwarrantable ; if such a composition had 
been transmitted from the apostles, and 
we had found no such addresses therein as 
those for which we are pleading, I should 
then allow a good deal of force in the argu- 
ment drawn from the apostolical omission ; 
j though, at the same time, I could not be 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



779 



able to forbear wondering at the inconsis- 
tency of their doctrines, which teach us that 
the Holy Ghost is God, and of their wor- 
ship, which refuses him divine honours. 
But I think, as the case stands, no solid 
argument, nothing but a specious cavil, can 
be formed from this circumstance of its 
being xmpractised in the writings of the 
apostles. 

" It does not appear that the apostles 
addressed distinct worship to the Blessed 
Spirit ; therefore we conclude, that they 
actually addressed none :" — As though fact 
and appearance were convertible terms. I 
am surprised that an author of Mr. Tom 
kins's penetration can prevail upon himself 
to be satisfied, or should offer to impose 
upon his readers, with a deduction so very 
illogical. Is the not appearing of a thing a 
certain argument, or indeed any argument 
at all, for its not existing ? It does not 
appear that there are mountains, or groves, 
or rivers beneath our horizon : It does not 
appear that there are any such vessels as 
lymphatics, any such fluid as the chyle, in 
these living bodies of ours. But by com- 
paring them with others that have been 
dissected, and by reasoning from indisputa - 
ble principles relating to the animal econo- 
my, we assure ourselves of the reality of 
both these particulars. Consider, sir, into 
what unnumbered absurdities, and evident 
falsehoods, this way of arguing would betray 
us, if pursued in all its consequences. It 
will prove, if we once admit it as a test of 
truth, that nothing was transacted by scrip- 
tui'al men, but what is particularly recorded 
in scripture history. I nowhere read Isaac 
circumcised his son Jacob, or instructed his 
household after the example of his father 
Abraham. But shall we infer, from the 
silence of Scripture with regard to these 
matters, that he never conformed to the 
former institution, nor performed the latter 
service ? I should much rather believe that, 
as he bears the character of a godly man, he 
walked in both these statutes and ordinances 
of the Lord blameless. And since the 
apostles uniformly agree in this grand pre- 
mise, That the Holy Ghost is God, it seems 
much more reasonable to conclude from 
hence, that they paid him direct worship, 
than from their bare silence to infer, that 
they neglected this practice. 1 nowhere 
read in the sacred writings, that St. Peter 
suffered martyrdom, or sealed the testimony 
of ( 'hrist with his blood. But must we, 
on this account, persuade ourselves that he 
was not one of the noble army of martyrs ? 
No, you will say, it is very supposable that 
he laid down his life for his Saviour, even 
though this event is not expressly recorded, 
because our Lord clearly predicts it, when 
he informs him by what death he should 
glorify God. And may not I reply, with 



parity of reason, it is very supposable that 
the apostles, in their solemn devotions, ad- 
dressed direct and distinct worship to the 
Holy Ghost, because their declaring their 
belief in his personality and divinity was a 
strong intimation that they should, was a 
sort of prediction that they would, render 
all kind of homage and adoration to him. 
Upon the whole, if this be a mere pre- 
sumption, no better than a gratis dictum, that 
the apostles did not worship the Holy Ghost, 
then all the specious arguments derived from 
hence drop of course. 

Our objector still insists, " That this is 
not a necessary part of Christian worship," 
(page 2.) Be pleased to observe how he 
departs from his first proposal. His first 
inquiry, that which the title page exhibits, 
was. Whether this be warrantable ? then, 
with an evasive dexterity, he slips into 
another topic, and maintains that it cannot 
be necessary. Whether this be tergiversation 
or inaccuracy, I shall not stay to examine ; 
but must ask Mr. Tomkins, What reason 
he has for this positive determination, that 
it cannot be necessary ? Because, on the 
contrary supposition, " we shall condemn 
the apostles as guil^y of a great omission," 
(page 2.) This argument the author uses 
more than once, therefore I may be excused 
in replying to it once again. We can have 
no pretence to condemn the apostles till we 
have undeniable proof that there \A as such 
an omission in their conduct. Who can 
assert, who dares maintain, that, when the 
apostles were met together in the holy con- 
gregation, for large, solemn, copious devo- 
tion, they never recognised the divinity of 
the three sacred Persons, never addressed 
distinct acts of praise or invocation to each 
respectively ? This a\Ir. Tomkins may 
persist in supposing ; but, after all he can 
suggest in vindication of this principle, it 
will amount to no more than a bare supposal. 
I may at least as fairly suppose the very 
reverse ; and, I think, have the suffrage of 
reason, the analogy of Scripture, the consent 
of the purest antiquity, on my side. How- 
ever, in case ]\Ir. Tomkins had demonstrat- 
ed, by incontestable evidence, that the prac- 
tice under consideration cannot be necessary, 
does he confine himself, in every instance, 
to what is strictly necessary ? Does he not 
allow himself in what is expedient ? Could 
I not mention various particulars which are 
not absolutely necesssary, but yet they are 
decent and useful ; they contribute to the 
beauty and harmony of worship, to the com- 
fort and edification of the worshippers ? 
Perhaps it may not be necessary to parti- 
cularize in our devotions the present distress 
of our nation, and to form particular peti- 
tions suitable to our national ex'gencies, or 
particular thanksgivings accommodated to 
our national deliverances. But since this is 



780 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



very expedient ; since it tends to beget in all 
a more lively sense of our dependence on di- 
vine providence ; since it is a most empha- 
tical method of ascribing to the supreme 
Disposer the glory of all our public mercies, 
this practice is very becoming, very proper, 
very useful. Should I plead, in opposition 
to this custom, that it is not absolutely ne- 
cessary : Your prayers may be acceptable 
to God, and beneficial to your country, M^ith- 
out such particularizing. St. Paul gives no 
express command, sets no explicit example 
of any such usage , there is no precedent 
from any of the apostles, where the affairs 
of the state under which they lived are 
particularly displayed before God in humble 
supplication. — Would Mr. Tomkins think 
this a sufficient reason for him in his private, 
or for ministers in their public devotions, 
to discontinue the practice ? No, verily ; 
the propriety, the expediency of the thing 
would justify and ascertain its use, even 
though no scriptural pattern had recom- 
mended, no scriptural precept enjoined it^ 

It is affirmed, (page 5,) That " the ad- 
dresses of the New Testament are always 
made to the Father, or to the Son and it 
is added, (page 10,) " that there is neither 
rule nor example in it for worshipping any 
other person whatever." This point our 
author affirms with a very positive air, as 
though it were incapable of being contro- 
verted ; and therefore often builds assertions 
on it, often makes deductions from it. Sup- 
pose it was an undeniable truth, I think we 
have shown that it can be no satisfactory 
proof, that in all the enlarged devotions of 
the apostles, no addresses were ofFei-ed to 
the Blessed Spirit, because a few short eja- 
culations made no explicit mention of him. 
But this assertion, perhaps, upon a closer 
examination, may appear too bold and un- 
justifiable ; somewhat like the position which 
has been advanced with regard to the senti- 
ments of the primitive writers, and practice 
of the primitive church. It might be pro- 
per to consider, on this occasion, 2 Thess. 
iii. 5, The Lord direct your hearts into the 
love of God, and patience of Christ. This 
you will allow to be a prayer of benediction. 
You will also observe, that here is particu- 
lar mention of three persons. The Lord, 
who is the object of the invocation, and be- 
stower of the blessing, is neither the Father 
nor the Son. And who then can it be but 
the Holy Ghost? whose amiable office it is 
to shed abroad the love of God in our hearts, 
Kora. V. 5. It will not, I presume, be in- 
timated, that this is the only passage of the 
kind ; for were it the only one, yet, where 
the evidence is infallible, we need not the 
mouth of two or three witnesses to establish 
the matter in debate. However, for further 
satisfaction, we may consult 1 Thess. iii. 11 
.— 13 , 2 Thess. ii. 16. If we consider tiiese 



texts in conjunction with those Scriptures 
which speak of the Holy Ghost as a distinct 
person, we shall perceive a beautiful pro- 
priety, and a particular emphasis, in under- 
standing the verses as mentioning the sacred 
persons severally. The latter text espe- 
cially, considered in this view, is extremely 
pertinent, has a very admirable propriety, 
and agreeably to a maxim laid down by a 
great master of correct writing— 

Reddere personae scit convenientia cuique. 

Our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God 
and our Father, who hath loved us, and 
given us everlasting consolation, and good 
hope through grace, comfort your hearts, and 
establish you in every good word and work. 
Supposing the three persons implored in 
this supplication, every thing that is attri- 
buted to each has a perfect conformity with 
that part which each is represented as acting 
in the blessed work of redemption : e. g. 
Our Father, who hath loved us ; for God 
so loved the world, saith St. John, that he 
gave his only begotten Son. God, the Holy 
Ghost, who hath given us everlasting con- 
solation ; for it is the peculiar office of the 
blessed Spirit to administer comfort, called 
therefore the Paraclete. Jesus Christj who 
hath given us good hope through grace : 
We have hope in Christ, saith the apostle 
to the Corinthians ; and nothing is more 
frequently celebrated, by the apostolical 
writers, than the grace of our Lord Jesus 
Christ. Behold then a pertinency, a beau- 
ty, a significant distinction, and an exact 
harmony between all the parts of this verse, 
if taken in our sense ; but a strange, con- 
fused, tautological kind of diction, if you 
disallow that the three divine persons are 
distinctly applied to. 

Page G. it is suggested, " That we may 
incur the resentment of the other two per- 
sons, as showing a neglect or disrespect to 
them, if, of our own heads, we should in any 
peculiar and distinguishing form vv'orship the 
Father." This, sure, is a most unworthy 
insinuation, as though the infinitely sublime 
and glorious persons of the Godhead were 
meanly ambitious or weakly jealous. This 
is measuring the Deity, not by our reason, 
which is a very incompetent standard ; not 
by our senses, which are still more inade- 
quate judges ; but even by our sordid and 
vile aftections. But not to insist upon this 
gross error ; not to aggravate this affi'ont 
offered to the adorable Trinity ; this inti- 
mation, and others of the like strain, seem 
to be founded on a great mistake with rela- 
tion to the nature of the Godhead. The 
essence is one, though the persons are dis- 
tinct. So that whatever honour is paid to 
any person, is paid to the one undivided 
essence. If we call Jesus the Lord, St. 
Paul assures us, it is to the glory of God 
the Father. Whoever sees the Son, our 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



781 



Saviour himself declares, sees the Father 
also ; i. e. Whoever has a right understand- 
ing of the Son, and sees by faith his divine 
excellencies ; that man sees, is acquainted 
with, the perfections of the Father also ; 
and for this obvious reason, because the 
Father and Son a) e one. And will not this 
hold good with regard to the Holy Spirit ? 
If so, whatever honoar is paid to one, is 
paid to all the three sacred persons ; or ra- 
ther, whatever devout ascriptions of praise 
are addressed to either of the divine per- 
sons, they are addressed to the one living 
incomprehensible God. I wish Mr. Tom- 
kins had attended to this consideration. It 
might have guarded him against some other 
im wary expressions, which imply the notion 
of Polytheism ; particularly that in page 10, 
where he tells us, " that the Scripture sets 
forth the Father and the Son as the objects 
of worship." I cannot find any such repre- 
sentation in Scripture. The Scripture is 
uniform and consistent, and speaking of but 
one God, speaks of but one object of divine 
worship, viz. the infinite Deity, distinguished 
by a threefold personality. This may seem 
strange ; but since we have the Saviour's 
word, and the apostle's evidence, to sup- 
port the tenet, it should, methinks, be ad- 
mitted as true. This may seem strange, 
but is it therefore to be rejected as false ? 
At this rate, we must deny the existence of 
a thousand phenomena in nature ; we must 
explode as impossibilities numberless appa- 
rent facts. 

Page 7. the inquirer advances a veiy un- 
accountable proposition. " It should seem," 
says he, " that the Son of God had quitted 
for that time (during his humiliation) his 
claim to divine worship ; though it should 
be granted that he did receive divine worship 
before." I must ask with the Jewish ruler. 
How can these things be ? Can God aban- 
don his divinity? Can he cease to be su- 
premely great and good? Is he not (I 
would not say by the necessity, but by the 
absolute perfection of his nature,) to-day 
and yesterday, and for ever the same ? If 
so, it seems impossible that creatures should, 
for so much as a single instant, be released 
from the duty of adoration ; it seems impos- 
sible (with reverence be it spoken) that God 
should relinquish his claim to their pro- 
foundest homage. This would be to deny 
himself ; which the apostle reckons among 

the A.^vvxT», 2 Tim. ii. 13, A^vtio-x-r^xi iavrev 

8 Swvara/. This tenet, I imagine, is con- 
trary, not only to reason, but to Scripture. 
I should be pleased to know, whether Mr. 
Tomkins, when he was composing this pa- 
ragraph, recollected that memorable saying 
of our Lord, John iii. 13, No man hath as- 
cended into heaven, but he who came down 
from heaven, even the Son of Man who is 
in heaven. Is not this a manifest proof, 



that our Saviour was in heaven by his divine 
nature, even while his human nature was 
sojourning on earth, or confined within the 
limits of a scanty apartment ? And if the 
divine Son, while holding in his humanity 
a conference with Nicodemus, was present 
by his Godhead in the heavenly regions, 
could angels be insensible of his presence ? 
and, if sensible of his presence, could they 
withhold their adoration ? Credat Jndceus 
Apella, non ego. Let Socinians, and men 
that are called infidels, believe such an ab- 
sm-dity. I cannot reconcile it to my appre- 
hensions. Our Lord emptied himself, it is 
true ; because when he appeared among 
mortals, he appeared without the pomp and 
splendour of his celestial majesty. He 
sufijered no such glory to irradiate and adorn 
his person as surrounded him on the mount 
of transfiguration, and will invest him when 
he comes to judge the world ; but was in 
all things such as we are, sin only excepted. 
Thus he humbled himself, not by disrobing 
his eternal Godhead of its essential dignity, 
but by withholding the manifestations of it, 
in that inferior natui'e which he was pleased 
to assume. 

Page 8. Our author seems to mistake 
the meaning of that royal edict issued out in 
the heavenly world : Let all the angels of 
God worship him, Heb. i. 6. He supposes 
this was a command to worship the Son in 
the sublime capacity of God over all. This, 
surely, could not be the sense of the words ; 
because a command of such an import must 
be needless. This was the natural, the 
unchangeable, the indispensable duty of all 
creatures ; and such as those superior in- 
telligences could not but easily discern, such 
as those upright spirits could not but readily 
obey, without any particular injunction. 
The command, therefore, I apprehend, is 
rather referable to the humanity of our 
blessed Redeemer ; to that nature in Im- 
manuel which purged away our sins, by be- 
coming a propitiatory sacrifice. This was 
made higher than the angels. This had an 
illustrious name given it, to which every 
knee should bow. This was exalted into 
heaven ; angels, and authorities, and powers, 
being made subject unto the man Christ 
Jesus. If this remark be true, then our 
author's interpretation is erroneous ; con- 
sequently his round-about argument, de- 
rived from a mistaken principle, must fcdl 
to nothing. 

Page 12. In the note, our objector asks, 
"Did thepeopleof Israel, upon hearing these 
words, I am the Lord thy God, who brought 
thee out of the land of Egypt, ever imagine 
that there were three persons then speak- 
ing?" This question, I suppose, is intend- 
ed to invalidate the doctrine of the Trinity. 
But the great article stands upon a rock, 
too impenetrable to be undermined by such 



782 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



ail interrogatory ; too immoveable to be 
shaken by such a suggestion. I pretend 
not to give a categorical answer to the 
query, but only desire to observe, that the 
people of Israel have several intimations in 
their sacred books, of a plurality of persons 
in the unity of the divine essence. They 
were accustomed to hear Moses speak in 
the plural number, Avhen he relates the 
wonderful work of creation. Let us make 
man. Their inspired and royal preacher 
spoke of the almighty Maker of them, and 
of all things, in plural terms, Remember 
now thy Creator, Eccl. xii. L in the origi- 
nal, Creators. The prophets acknowledged 
and teach this grand mystery, particularly 
the evangelical prophet Isaiah, chap. Ixiii. 
9, 10. So that, if the children of Jacob 
and Joseph were ignorant of this awful 
truth, it seems owing rather to the blindness 
of their understandings than to the want of 
proper discoveries from above. But be the 
case as it is supposed with regard to the 
Jews, are we obliged to copy their ignor- 
ance ? Must their sentiments be our guide? 
their imaginations the model of our creed ? 
Surely for a Christian to argue, or even to 
surmise, that there is no such thing, because 
the ancient Jews M^ere not acquainted with 
it, is altogether as unreasonable as it would 
be unphilosophical to maintain, that there 
are no such places as America or Green- 
land, because they were both unknown to 
the ancient inhabitants of Canaan. Mr. 
Torakins cannot but know, that it is the 
excellency of the evangelical dispensation 
to take off the veil from the Mosaical ; that 
w^e, by comparing their law with our gospel, 
by applying the interpretation of our apos- 
tles to the doctrines of their prophets, are 
able to see clearly what they perceived but 
dimly. Ye do always resist the Holy 
Ghost, says St. Stephen ; as your fathers 
did, so do ye, Actsvii. 51. If this reproof 
be compared with the several narratives re- 
corded in the Old Testament, concerning 
the stiff necked and refractory behaviour of 
the Jews, we shall gather, by the clearest 
deduction, that the Holy Ghost is Jehovah. 
Perhaps the Israelites, when they heard 
the psalmist playing upon his harp, and 
singing his congratulatory hymn of praise, 
Thou art ascended up on high, thou hast 
led captivity captive, and received gifts 
for men ; yea, even for thy enemies, that 
the Lord God might dwell among them. 
Psalm Ixviii. 18 ; the Israelites, I say, 
upon hearing these words, might not be 
aware, that the person who ascended up on 
high was the blessed Jesus ; and that the 
Lord God dwelling among, dwelling in, de- 
praved disobedient mortals, to renew and 
reclaim them, was the Holy Ghost. But 
we, by collating Eph. iv. 8. with the former 
part of the verse, and John xiv- 17. Rom. 



viii. IL with the latter, are, to our exceed- 
ing great consolation, brought to the know- 
ledge of these glorious doctrines. 

Page 14. our author observes, " That 
Dr. Watts would prove the propriety of 
paying divine worship to the Holy Ghost, 
from the form of administering baptism." 
This argument he undertakes to invalidate. 
He proceeds in a very unexpected manner ; 
springs a mine, of which we were not at all 
apprehensive. What if it should turn to 
the overthrow of his own tenet ? The Doc- 
tor maintains, " That baptism is a piece of 
worship." Our author replies, " That hearing 
the word in the public assemblies, may also 
be reputed a piece of worship." May it so ? 
Then, ex ore tuo ; your own concession con- 
futes your opinion. For, if to hear the 
word with assiduity, with reverence, with 
an humble expectation of its becoming 
the instrament of our salvation ; if this be 
a species of worship, it is doubtless a wor- 
ship paid to him who is the author and 
giver of the word. Now, we are sure that 
it was the Holy Ghost, who spake by the 
prophets, who spake by the apostles, who 
spake all the words of that life, which in 
our religious congregations are explained 
and enforced. 

Page 15. Mr. Torakins urges the ex- 
pression of St. Paul, 1 Cor. x. 2, which I 
cannot forbear suspecting, notwithstanding 
all the remonstrances of charity, which 
thinketh no evil, he wilfully misunder- 
stands. It is evident, on the very first 
glance, that Moses in that place cannot 
mean the man Moses ; but the system of 
religion, the body of laws, moral, judicial, 
and ceremonial^ which were by him deliver- 
ed to the Jews. Is it therefore, a proof, 
that to be baptized into the name of the Holy 
Ghost is no act of worship to that divine 
person, because it was no act of worship 
to Moses to have been baptized into an 
economy instituted by God, and only pro- 
mulgated by Moses ? 

For my part, I am steadfastly persuaded, 
that to be baptized into the name of the 
Holy Ghost is a very noble and sublime 
kind of worship ; not to say, an indispens- 
able obligation to all other instances and 
degrees of worship. It is coupled with 
that greatest of Christian duties, believing ; 
which I take to be a worship of the mind, 
far more important than any bodily homage, 
without which all external expressions of 
adoration are mere formality. He that 
believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved. 
I verily think no one will deny, that bap- 
tism is, at least, equal in its import to cir- 
cumcision ; instead of which it seems to be 
substituted. Now, circumcision was evi- 
dently a token and ratification of the cov- 
enant of Jehovah. It was a visible attes- 
tation to the person circumcised, that the 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



783 



Lord was his God, engaged by covenant to 
protect, bless, and make him finally happy. 
It was a solemn declaration of an absolute 
self-smrender to the blessed God, to ac- 
knowledge him for the only Lord, to serve 
him in all dutiful obedience, to seek his 
glory, and to be resigned to his will. This 
seems to have been the meaning of that 
divinely appointed rite, emphatically ex- 
pressed in the words of the Jevnsh legislator, 
" Thou hast this day avouched the Lord to 
be thy God, to walk in his ways, and to 
keep bis statutes, and to hearken unto his 
voice. And the Lord hath avouched thee 
this day to be his peculiar people," Deut- 
xxvi. 17, 18. And can we imagine that 
baptism, which has superseded circumcision, 
is inferior to it in significancy ? Or can we 
imagine that these solemn acts of recog- 
nising the Lord for our only God, and 
consecrating ourselves to his honour, are no 
expressions of worship ? 

Though this dedication of ourselves to 
the service of the Holy Ghost should be im- 
plied in the ordinance of baptism, " still it 
must be granted," replies oiu- author, " that 
this can be no other service of the Spirit 
than what is enjoined in the New Testa- 
ment," (page 15.) Thereby insinuating, 
that it is somewhat different from the ser- 
vice we stand engaged to yield both to the 
Father and to the Son. But, according to 
all the allowed methods of speech, the bap- 
tized person is dedicated alike to each of the 
three sacred persons ; he avows them all to 
be the object of his worship, and the author 
of his salvation. There is no manner of 
difference in the terms which specify the 
obligations ; and since divine wisdom has 
made them the same, why should we i>resume 
to pronounce them diverse ? How unac- 
countably strange would the baptismal 
form be on our objector s interpretation : I 
baptize thee into an obligation to adore, to 
obey, to worship the Father and the Son ; 
but not to pay the same reverential and de- 
vout regards to the Holy Ghost? Vv'hat 
writer of ingenuity, in order to support a 
singular hypothesis, would do such apparent 
violence to the meaning of the sacred text ? 
"What reader of discernment would become 
a convert to an opinion, which must darken 
and pervert the most evident sense of Scrip- 
ture, in order to acquire an air of plausibili- 
ty ? Suppose a person should, in making his 
last will, express himself in the following 
style : I constitute A, R, and C, my joint 
executors ; I give and bequeath to them 
whatever remains of my estate and goods, 
when my legacies are paid and my debts 
cleared. Would it not be a most extrava- 
gant and unreasonable pretence if a captious 
neighbour should maintain, that C is not 
vested with an equal power, has not a right 
to an equal dividend with A and B ? If a 



gentleman of the long rob should offer to 
give this for law, would he not forfeit his 
character either of sagacity or integiity ? If 
none of these observations will convince 
Mr. Tomkins that he has misrepresented 
the tenor and extent of the baptismal en- 
gagement, we will, in order to bring the 
matter, if possible, to an amicable accommo- 
dation, accede even to his own assertion. 
He argues, " That no other semce of the 
Spirit can be meant, but such as is enjoined 
in the New Testament." Agreed : let us 
join issue on this footing : let us rest the 
cause on this bottom. As it is JMr. Tom- 
kins's own motion, I hope he will acquiesce 
in the result of such a trial. Now the New 
Testament, both virtually and explicitly, re- 
quires us to acknowledge the Holy Ghost 
to be God and Lord ; and what service is 
payable, according to the prescriptions of 
the New Testament, to such a Being? 
This, and no other, I would render myself ; 
this, and no other, is rendered by all the 
churches. I do not so much as attempt to 
be an advocate for any other worship to be 
addressed to the divine Spirit, than what the 
evangelical Scriptures direct us to offer ini- 
to that majestic and venerable, that tremen- 
dous and amiable name, the Lord our God. 
If therefore the New Testament demands 
all honour and adoration, as the inviolable 
due of this most exalted Being, then Mr. 
Tomkins must either flatly deny the divi- 
nity of the Holy Ghost, must contradict the 
express declaration of the inspired writers 
on this head, or else confess that his notion 
stands condemned even on his own princi- 
ples. 

What is alleged from I Cor. i. 1-3, seems 
to corroborate our sentiments, rather than to 
support his. St. Paul asks, with warmth, 
and a sort of holy indignation, n; to ovo/jlm 
UcivXn ■(iuTTitr^tiri? he speaks of it as an 
absurd and shocking thing. Now, what 
could render this so odious and monstrous a 
practice, such as the apostle disclaims and 
rejects with abhorrence? Nothing, that I 
can apprehend, but the horrid evil it \a ould 
imply — the evil of ascribing divine honours 
to Paul, making Paul an object of worship, 
and consecrating persons to a creature, Avho 
ought to be consecrated only to the Creator, 
God blessed for ever. So that I must de- 
clare, I think this text a strong intimation 
that baptism is really a sacred service or di- 
vine worship, which it is utterly unalloAA able 
for any creature to assume or admit. 
Therefore the good apostle renounces it, 
with a noble kind of detestation; much like 
the angel, who, when John offered to fall at 
his feet, and do him homage, cries, O^u 
Tu 0>,ij tr^oirxviircrcv, Rev. xxii. 9. 

The apostolical benediction is another 
passage usually, and deservedly, produced in 
.justification of our practice. Mr. Tomkins 



784 A COLLECTION 

jilleges, " That tliis is very different from a 
direct address by way of prayer to tlie Spi- 
rit." (page 17.) It seems to me to be an 
undoubted prayer, and to have the very same 
force as if it had been expressed in the more 
common precatory form. O Lord Jesus 
Christ, vouchsafe them thy grace ; O God 
of goodness, grant them thy love ; O eternal 
Spirit, accompany them with thy comforta- 
ble presence. That this is the purport of 
the words, is undeniable : and v/here is the 
extraordinary difference, whether they be in- 
troduced by an esto or a fac ? I believe all 
will allow the form ordained by God ( Num. 
vi. 24 — 26.) for the use of the Jewish 
priests, was a real prayer : The Lord bless 
thee, and keep thee ; the Lord make his 
face to shine upon thee, and be gracious un- 
to thee ; the Lord lift up the light of his 
countenance upon thee, and give thee peace ! 
If this was an address to the Almighty, the 
apostolical benediction is exactly of the same 
nature. To say, that it was only a kind of 
wish, and not designed for a devout aspira- 
tion to Jehovah, must greatly debase and 
enervate it ; not to hint, that this sacerdotal 
blessing contained a recognition of three di- 
vine persons, which might be obscure in 
that age, but has been fully illustrated by 
the apostles ; not to hint the probability, 
tliat St. Paul had this very passage in his 
eye, when he breathed out his benedictive 
prayer, and purposely intended to explain it 
in the evangelical sense. Besides, I would 
desire to know, whether any minister could, 
with a safe conscience, use the following 
benediction ? The grace of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, and the love of God, and the fel- 
lo^vship of the Virgin Mary, be with you 
all, amen ! Why should a conscientious 
minister be afraid of using such a form, if it 
be no prayer ? if it be not a virtual ascrip- 
tion of omniscience, omnipresence, and om- 
nipotence to the Virgin, and, in consequence 
of those attributes, a supplicatory address to 
her ? Still we are encountered with another 
objection, " If I should say to a friend, 
May the good angels attend you ; shall this 
be called a praying to the angels ?" Mr. 
Tomkins himself must own, if he will deal 
fairly, that the case is by no means parallel- 
The elect angels disavow all divine worship; 
but does the Holy Ghost do this? The 
elect angels are ministering spirits ; but of 
the Holy Ghost it is said, The Lord is that 
Spirit. The angels are confessedly created 
and finite beings, so that it would be absur- 
dity and blasphemy to mvocate them ; but 
the Holy Ghost is possessed of the perfec- 
tions, performs the works, and is called by 
the incommunicable name of God, so that 
it is wisdom and piety to pray to him. For 
. which reasons, I make no doubt but that, 
whenever the apostles },u;: up such an ejacu- 
lation, ?/ noirovici T'd uyr-d i L'jS'j/j.a'rc-,; j-cira •PTt/.v- 



OF LETTERS. 

TMv vfAMi, they accompanied it with a devout 
mental address to the uncreated Spirit ; be- 
cause it would be a piece of irreverence and 
folly, barely to wish the mercy, and not 
apply to that ever-present Being for its ac- 
complishment. 

As for the other arguments which Dr. 
Watts advances in order to vindicate the 
custom of ascribing praise to the Holy 
Ghost, viz. That it may be expedient to 
practise it frequently in some churches, 
where it has been long used, lest great 
offence should be given-." — That it may 
be proper to use it sometimes, on purpose 
to hold forth the doctrhie of the Trinity in 
times of error, and to take away all suspi- 
cion of heresy from the public worship:" 
These considerations I leave to the Doctor. 
I have no inclination to try my skill at such 
weapons, but choose to act with regard to 
them as David acted in relation to Saul's ar- 
mour ; because I really think that they ra- 
ther encumber than uphold the cause : 
They are so unwarily worded, that they 
represent the practice not as a noble essen- 
tial piece of divine worslup, founded on the 
strongest and most invariable principles, 
always suitable to our necessities, and al- 
ways correspondent to the nature of the 
blessed Spirit ; but as an occasional and 
time- serving expedient, to be used, not con- 
stantly, but now and then only ; and that 
to answer a turn none of the most important 
— to avoid not any real deficiency in wor- 
ship, but only a suspicion of heresy. Where- 
ever I am solicitous to secure the conclu- 
sion, I would by no means offer to deduce 
it from such unsolid and precarious pre- 
mises. 

I have now examined the most consi- 
derable objections urged by Mr. Tomkins 
against the unanimous practice of Christian 
congregations, whether they conform or 
dissent. I shall only beg the continuance 
of your candour and patience, while I touch 
upon another particular or two, which may 
farther corroborate our custom, and prove 
it to be somewhat more than warrantable. 

Suppose we produce a command of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, will this be sufficient to 
ascertain the practice ? Does not our Sa- 
viour give this charge to his apostles, Pray 
ye the Lord of the harvest, that he would 
send forth labourers into his harvest ? Matt, 
ix. 38. Luke x. 2. Now, I would humbly 
ask, Who the Lord of this spiritual harvest 
is ? Shall we refer ourselves to Scripture 
for satisfaction ? Will Mr. Tomkins abide 
by the determination of Scripture ? will he 
honestly acknowledge, that, if the Scripture 
declares the Holy Ghost to be the Lord of 
the harvest, we have then a clear commis- 
sion, a positive command, to address our- 
selves by way of prayer to the Holy Ghost ? 
It is the Holy Ghost who appoints the la- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



785 



bourers that are to be employed in this ' must allow, that the person who gives tli 
harvest : The Holy Ghost said, Separate commission to the prophet, and the person 



me Barnabas and Saul, for the work where^ 
imto I have called them, Acts xiii. 2. and 
XX. 28. It is the Holy Ghost who qualifies 
the workmen that are to despatch this mo- 
mentous business, with wisdom, with know- 
ledge, with utterance, and with all miracu 



whom the celestial legions adore, is one and 
the same. Since therefore the angels ad- 
dress the Holy Ghost with solemn acts of 
praise ; since they bear united testimony 
that the whole earth is full of his glory ; 
Mr. Tomkins should consider, whether he 



lous abilities, 1 Cor. xii. 8 — 11. It is the ' acts a becoming part in endeavouring to 



Holy Ghost who makes these labours ef- 
fectual, and crowns them with ample suc- 
cess, Acts X. 44. 1 Thess. i. 5. From 
these scriptures, and their testimonies con- 
cerning the blessed Spirit, it seems indis- 



exclude his glory from any Christian con 
gregation by his example, and from every 
Christian congregation by his writings. 

If Mr. Tomkins should still think his own 
opinion sufficient to overrule all these alle- 



putably plain, that he is the Lord of the gations of Scripture ; of greater weight than 
harvest. Can we have a more forcible the practice of St. Paul to the Thessalon- 



motive to pray unto him, than the consi- 
deration of his superintending, conducting, 
and prospering the progress of (that best of 



lans ; more imexceptionable, and fitter to 
be admitted as our pattern, than the exam- 
ple of the angelic host ; I cannot but ima- 



blessings) the everlasting gospel? Need gine, that the propriety of our custom is 
we a better warrant to offer our devoutest apparent, even on the tenor of his own 
applications to him than our Lord's express favourite notions. Page 12th, he quotes 
injunction, viewed in connexion with these ! that grand and fundamental law of revealed 
remarkable texts ? religion, *' Thou shalt worship the Lord 

Suppose I prove farther, that the heaven- j thy God, and him only shalt thou serve." 
ly beings pay divine worship to the Holy ! He proceeds to consider who this Lord our 
Ghost ; suppose I shew you angels and ; God is, whom we are to serve. He then 
archangels in postures of profound adora- ' informs us, " It appears from the whole 
tion at the throne of the eternal Spirit, and 



glorifying him in strains of the most sublime 
devotion : Will this be allowed a proper 



precedent for our practice ? will any one 



be 



so bold as to affirm, that he is unfit to re- 



current of Scripture, in the New Testament 
as well as the Old, that it is he who, in 
times past, spake unto the fathers by the 
prophets." Rightly judged. We make no 
appeal from this verdict, but acquiesce in 



ceive the worship of mortals on earth, if it it, though it is his own ; only taking along 
appear that he is the object of angelical , with us St. Peter's declaration, Prophecy 
worship in the heaven of heavens ? In the j came not in old time (rather at any time, 
sixth chapter of Isaiah, we meet with onepunquam not oUm, -Tton not vaXxt) by the will 

A^^i. — : : — ui„ ^^t holy men of God spake as they 

were moved by the Holy Ghost, 2 Pet. i. 
2L Mr. Tomkins himself maintains, that 
the genuine and undoubted object of divine 
worship is that infinitely wise and gracious 
Being who spake to our fathers by the 
prophets ; and St. Peter, in the most 
express manner possible, asserts, that this 
infinitely wise and gracious Being, who 
spake by the prophets, is the Holy Ghost. 
Can demonstration itself be plainer? Sure, 
then, Mr. Tomkins must either retract his 
position, or disallow the apostle's application 
of it ; or else give us leave to adhere inviola- 
bly to our practice, and to look upon it as 
justifiable beyond all reasonable exception ; 
and, what should carry some peculiar weight 
with our author, justifiable on principles of 
his own. 

May I urge this point a little farther? 1 
should be glad to know, what is the scrip- 
tural meaning of being converted unto the 
Lord? Is it not to renounce every lying 
vanity, to foi-sake every evil way, and to turn 
to the Lord with all our heart; that we 
may fear him, love him, put our whole trust 
in him, and serve him truly all the days of 
our life ? Does not this include some, 
3 E 



of the grandest representations imaginable 
Jehovah exhibits himself to the entranced 
prophet, seated on a loflyand august throne; 
before him stood the immortal host of sera- 
phim ; they veiled their faces, in token of 
deepest self-abasement ; they lifted up their 
voices with a rapturous fervour, and uttered 
this magnificent acclamation. Holy, holy, 
holy is the Lord of hosts ; the whole earth 
is full of his glory. The trisagium of the 
seraphic armies seems to intimate, that 
they addressed their praises to the one Je- 
hovah in a trinity of persons. If you look 
forward to verse 8. you will find another 
circumstance confirming this remark ; for 
the glorious Majesty speaks of himself in 
the plural number, Who will go for us ? 
But the proof I chiefly depend on, the proof 
which is absolutely incontestable, which 
none can deny, withoutsupposingthemselves 
better judges of the sense of Scripture than 
the apostles — this proof is found in Acts 
xxviii. 25. where St. Paul evidently applies 
the words spoken by this majestic and 
divine Being to the Holy Ghost, Well 
spake the Holy Ghost, saying. And if he 
atitibutes the words to this sacred person, 
w ho dares separate the honours? since all 



786 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



rather, is it not comprehensive of all wor- 
ship ? So that if it is certain from Scripture 
that sinners are to be converted to the Holy 
Ghost, then it is equally certain that sinners 
are to pay, not some only, but all vrorship, 
to that blessed Being, who is the centre of 
their souls and the source of their happiness. 
Be pleased to read attentively 2 Cor. iii. 
16, 17. and we dare venture to stand by 
your decision. 

Let me add one more consideration, and 
I have done. The blessed Spirit is to help 
our infirmities in prayer, Rom. viii. 26. 
The Spirit is to subdue our iniquities, and 
mortify the deeds of the body, Rom. viii. 
13. The Spirit is to shed abroad the love 
of God in our hearts, Rom. v. 5. The 
spirit is to sanctify us wholly, in all our 
faculties, 1 Thess. v. 23. The Spirit is to 
transform us into the divine image, 2 Cor. 
iii. 18. The Spirit is to seal us unto the 
day of redemption, Eph. iv. 30. ; and to be 
the earnest of an incorruptible inheritance, 
Eph. i. 14. In a word, from the Spirit we 
are humbly to expect all the fruits of 
goodness, righteousness, and truth, Eph. v. 
9. Now, what a comfortable prospect 
rises before us, if this Spirit be the all- 
sufficient, the infinite God, to whom no- 
thing is impossible ; who is able to do for 
us exceeding abundantly, even above all 
that we can ask or think ! But how languid 
must be our hopes, how scanty our expec- 
tations, if he be not the divine Being, but 
only some finite existence ! And, in an- 
other state of things, to whom will right- 
eous souls acknowledge themselves inex-^ 
pressibly indebted, to whom will they re- 
turn their ardent thanks, and address the 
most joyful praises, but to the author of 
these inestimable blessings ? If this then 
is likely to be the employ and the delight of 
heaven, should it not be begun on earth? 

Upon the whole, since the custom of 
offering prayer and addressing praise to the 
Holy Ghost, is contrary to no text of Scrip- 
ture, is founded upon his divine nature, and 
results from the indispensable obligation of 
creatures to worship the Godhead : Since 
it was undeniably the practice of the Chris- 
tian church in its purest days, and has been 
received, by unanimous approbation, for 
many hundreds of preceding years : Since 
it is probable, if we will allow their doc- 
trines and conduct to be consistent, it is 
certain, if we will prefer the most accurate 
and unembarrassed interpretation of their 
epistles, that the apostles used this method 
of worship : Since the analogy of the whole 
Scripture justifies it, and the innumerable 
benefits which are communicated to us from 
the blessed Spirit demand it -. Since angels 
ascribe glory to bis awful majesty, and our 
Saviour directs us to put up prayers to his 
almighty goodness : These, and other con- 



siderations, determine me to join, without 
the least scruple, with full assurance of its 
propriety, in that ancient noble doxology, 
Glory be to the Father, who hath loved us 
with an everlasting love ; and to the Son, 
who hath washed us from our sins in his 
own blood ; and to the Holy Ghost, who 
applies these blessings of redeeming grace 
to our corrupt hearts ; to this great, eter- 
nal, incomprehensible Trinity, be rendered 
undivided honours, and immortal praise ! 

Having been so very prolix already, I 
shall not render myself more tedious by 
making any apology; but shall only add, 
what no consideration can induce me to 
omit, that I am, dear sir, your obliged friend, 
&c. 



LETTER XXX. 

Weston-FaveJl, March 1745-6. 
Dear Sir, — You have set me a task, 
which I should be glad to execute, if I was 
able. God forbid that I should be back- 
ward to plead for the interests of that Re- 
deemer on earth, who, I trust, is making 
perpetual intercession for me in heaven. 
But my fear is, lest the noble cause should 
suffer by the unskilfulness of its defendant. 
It is for this reason, purely for this reason, 
I wish to decline accepting the challenge 
you seem to give me in your letter. For 
this once, however, I will enter the lists, 
and venture to try the strength, not of your 
arm, but of your arguments. 

• I do not wonder that you have objections 
to make against Christianity. I know some 
eminent Christians who were formerly warm 
and zealous in the opposition ; yet they 
have frankly owned, that their minds were 
then either very inconsiderate, or else im- 
mersed in other speculations ; and that they 
had no leisure, or no inclination, to weigh 
the evidences and examine the nature of 
the evangelical doctrine. Since they have 
applied themselves to consider these points 
with a seriousness and attention becoming 
an inquiry of the last importance, an inquiry 
in which their very souls and all their eter- 
nal interests were embarked, they are tho- 
roughly convinced that their former senti- 
ments were wrong. They are fully per- 
suaded, that the gospel institution is of 
divine extract ; that it is a system, noble 
and sublime, benevolent and gracious, every 
way suitable to the majesty of God, and 
admirably calculated for the comfort, the 
improvement, and the happiness of man- 
kind. 

Methinks you will reply, and very rea. 
sonably, " That all such should be able to 
account for the change of their opinions." 
I dare say they can. But as you call on 
me so particularly to vindicate the religious 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



787 



principles which I have from ray infancy 
embraced, I will -now attempt to vindicate 
them from the various charges of which 
they stand arraigned in your letter. 

Be pleased then, deai* sir, to observe that 
the Ciiristian doctrine teaches, that when 
God brought man into being, he blessed 
him with a state perfectly holy and happy. 
If you read the Bible, the authentic narra- 
tive of oiu- fall, as well as the only guide to 
our recovery, you will find it an avowed 
truth, that God made man upright, if, 
therefore, man corrupted himself, and (as 
it is impossible to bring a clean thing out of 
an unclean) polluted his offspring ; where 
is the harshness, where the injustice, of the 
divine procedure in adjudging him worthy 
of death? Let God be justified, and let 
mortals bear the blame. 

You think it very odd, that this tragical ca- 
tastrophe should be occasioned by eating an 
apple. So should I too, was there nothing 
more in the case than barely eating an apple. 
But this was a wilful and presumptuous 
breach of a most positive command, of the 
only command which the almighty Lawgiver 
enjoined. And the smaller the matter of 
the prohibition, the more inexcusable was the 
fault of not complying with it. In this act 
of disobedience was implied — the most per- 
verse discontent in the happiest circum- 
stances imaginable ; the most shameful in- 
gratitude for the most inestimable favours ; 
pride and arrogance, even to an unsuflerable 
degree ; implicit blasphemy, making God a 
liar, and hearkening to the suggestions of 
the devil, in preference to the solemn de- 
clarations of truth itself. Indeed, this 
transgression was a complication of iniqui- 
ties ; and, though represented under the 
extenuating terms of eating an apple, was 
really the most horrid provocation that was 
ever committed. 

But that the transgression of Adam 
should fasten guilt, or transmit corruption 
to his latest posterity, this, you imagine, is 
all a chimera. If then you was created in 
a perfect state ; if you suffered nothing 
by the original lapse, why is your heart 
prone to numberless evils ? why do you 
tread in the steps of an apostate ancestor ? 
why do you violate the law of an infinitely 
pure God, and too often delight in that 
abominable and accursed thing which he 
hateth — sin ? You are too honest and in- 
genuous to deny the truth of these expostu- 
lations. And if so, you must allow that 
your nature was depraved in Adam, or, 
which seems to be more culpable, that you 
have corrupted yourself. Then, there is 
no such great cause to find fault with the 
supreme Disposer of things for including you 
in Adam's trespass, since you yourself do 
the same things. 

Is it consistent, you ask, with the char- 



acter of an infinitely good Being, to make 
this resolve. That he would, on account of 
this single crime, bring into existence al- 
most innumerable millions of creatures, so 
spoiled by himself, that they should all de- 
serve etenial damnation ? I answer, this is 
entirely a misrepresentation of the Christian 
scheme. It was not in consequence of the 
original crime that God determined to 
bring the human race into being, but in 
pursuance of his own eternal purposes, 
which are always the issue of consummate 
wisdom, of unbounded benevolence, and 
will, unless his creatures stubbornly reject 
the overtures of his love, terminate in their 
unspeakable fehcity. Neither was the hu- 
man race spoiled by the Creator, but by 
themselves. To suppose that the Author 
of all excellence should deprave the work 
of his own hands, is doubtless a shocking 
thought, and such as we utterly disavow. 
So far was he from being the sole operator, 
that he was not so much as accessary in any 
degree to their misery ; but warned them 
of their danger ; charged them to beware ; 
and planted the barrier of his own tremen- 
dous threatenings between chem and 
ruin. 

You are displeased, that everlasting hap- 
piness should never be attainable by any 
of these creatures, but by those few to whom 
God gives his effectual free grace. If the 
proposition be set in another light, which 
is really the true method of stating it, if we 
say. That, though all have forfeited, yet all 
may recover everlasting happiness, because 
effectual grace is freely offered to all ; what 
can a man of candour object to such a dis- 
pensation ? Will he not acknowledge the 
goodness of the divine procedure, and in- 
veigh against the perverseness of mortals ; 
the most unreasonable perverseness of all 
those, who are too proud to be sensible of 
their want of grace, or too careless to trou- 
ble their heads about it ? Will he not be 
constrained to declare them suicides, and 
that they are chargeable, if they perish, 
with their own destruction ? If we pre- 
scribe a medicine of sovereign efficacy, and 
the sick is so self-willed as to refuse the re- 
cipe, who is to be blamed in case of a mis- 
carriage — the physician or the patient? 

When, therefore, you talk of persons be- 
ing unavoidably damned, you quite miscon- 
ceive the tenor of our most merciful and be- 
nign institution ; which ofl^ers forgiveness 
to all, though ever so profligate, through 
the Saviour's atonement ; which makes a 
tender of grace to all, though ever so aban- 
doned, through the Saviour's mediation. 
The languag'e, the most compassionate lan- 
guage of which is. Turn ye, turn ye from ' 
your evil ways, for why will you die ? And 
because the sinner, enslaved to vice, is un- 
able to shake off the fetters, it farther says, 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye 
shall find grace sufficient for you. 

As to the meaning of the term grace, I 
apprehend it signifies the pardon of obnox- 
ious, and the acceptance of unworthy per- 
sons, on account of the expiation and 
merits of the Redeemei'. It imports also 
a communication of knowledge and strength 
to ignorant and impotent creatures, that 
they may discern their Creator's will, and 
discerning, may be enabled to perform it. 
And in forming these ideas, I can see no- 
thing stupid ; in expecting these blessings, 
nothing fooHsh. 

. But still, perhaps, you think it scarce re- 
concileable with the wisdom, the justice, 
the mercy of God, to suffer mankind to 
fall. That he foresaw it, and could have 
prevented it, is undeniable. He foresaw it, 
or else he could not be omniscient ; he was 
able to have prevented it, otherwise he 
could not be omnipotent. But what if the 
eternal Maker knew, that this would give 
occasion to the most ample and glor- 
ious manifestation of those very attri- 
butes which you suspect are eclipsed here- 
by? Would this conciliate your approba- 
tion ? would this incline you to acquiesce 
in the economy of the gospel ? 

Certainly it is a most stupendous discoV' 
ery of wisdom to find out a method, where- 
by the seemingly jarring attributes of jus- 
tice and mercy may be reconciled ; whereby 
the sinner may be saved, without any in- 
jury to the inviolable holiness of his laws, 
or any derogation to the honour of his just 
and righteous government. It was impos- 
sible to give such an amazing proof of his in- 
finite kindness for poor mortals, as by de- 
livering his own Son to take their inferior 
nature, and bear all their guilt. Nor can 
there be so signal an exertion of justice, as 
to punish this most excellent Person when 
he stood in the place of offenders ; or of 
mercy, as to divert the vengeance from their 
obnoxious to his immaculate and innocent 
head. 

As from the scheme of redemption the 
highest glory redounds to the divine ma- 
jesty, so the richest consolation is derived 
from hence to frail creatures. The happi- 
ness of men consists in the favour of God. 
His love is better than life. To be gra- 
ciously regarded by that adorable Being, 
who stretched out the heavens and laid the 
foundations of the earth ; to be the objects 
of his complacency, whose smile constitutes 
heaven and whose frown is worse than de- 
struction ; this, this is human felicity. And 
how could God Almighty give us a brighter 
evidence, a more pregnant proof of his in- 
conceivably tender concern for us, than by 
surrendering his only Son to condemnation 
and death for our sake? Transporting 
thought ! big with a delight which man 



could never have known had not Adam 
fallen. This obviates an objection on which 
you strongly insist. That you and others 
never consented to make Adam your re- 
presentative. For if this method of or- 
dering things be productive of a superior 
felicity to all that are willing to be happy, 
then it can be no wrong to the world in 
general, or to any individual person in par- 
ticular ; no more than it is a wrong to the 
minor, for his guardians to procure interest 
for his money, and improve his estate against 
the time of his coming to age. 

Upon the whole, there is no reason to 
quarrel with that sovereign will of God 
which permitted us to fall in Adam, from 
thence to contract guilt, to derive pollution, 
and consequently to deserve damnation : 
But rather, there is abundant cause to ad- 
mire, to adore, to bless his holy name, for 
providing a Redeemer; a Redeemer of un 
known dignity, and unutterable perfection ; 
a Redeemer, by whom all the evils of the 
fall may be more than redressed ; a Re- 
deemer, in whom all the awful and amiable 
attributes of the Deity ai"e most illustriously 
displayed ; a Redeemer, through whom the 
most wicked and most unfortunate of our 
race may find mercy and arrive at happiness; 
a Redeemer, who most compassionately in- 
vites all, all that are weary and heavy laden, 
to come to him, and most assuredly declares, 
that whosoever believeth in him shall not 
perish, but have everlasting life. And is it 
not strange, very strange, hardly credible, 
sure, that any should reject so great salva- 
tion, and choose death rather than life ? 

Let me beg of you, sir, to consider these 
points with calmness and impartiality. 
You cannot but be sensible, that many 
learned, many wise, many excellent persons 
most cordially believe them ; receive their 
chief satisfactions from them, and would 
rather die than renounce them. Since it is 
possible, at least, that they may be in the 
right ; since you do not pretend to be in- 
fallible in your judgment ; and since you 
acknowledge a God of unerring wisdom and 
everlasting goodness ; let me beseech you 
to implore his guidance in your search, and 
his direction in your determination. For I 
am not ashamed to own, or rather I am bold 
to maintain, that this wisdom cometh from 
above ; this wisdom is the gift of God ; and 
prayer is altogether as necessary to its at- 
tainment, as sagacity of mind, or the ac- 
complishments of learning. 



LETTER XXXI. 

Weston-Favell, Nov. 1, 1746. 
Dear Sir, — This morning I received 
your favour. The day lowers, and threatens 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS 



78& 



rain, which debars me from the pleasure of 
paying you my thanks in person. 

Mr. Huygens I hope to read very care- 
fully. But, I believe, it will be proper to 
take heed of adopting into my plan any no- 
tions that are difficult and abstruse. I would 
have every thing so perspicuous^ that the 
dimmest understanding may apprehend my 
meaning ; so obvious, that he who runs may 
read. Let me lay before you a httle sketch 
of my design, with a request that you would 
alter the general order, and make retrench- 
ments, or additions of particular incidents, 
as you shall think most expedient. 

A contemplative walk. The approach of 
evening, and gradual extinction of light. 
The advantages of solitude. The stillness 
of the universe. The coolness of the at- 
mosphere. Darkness, and its usefulness to 
mankind. Sleep, and its beneficial effects. 
Dreams, and their extravagance. A glow- 
worm glimmering. An owl shrieking. A 
nightingale singing. The very different cir- 
cumstances of mankind : some revelling and 
carousing ; some agonizing and dying. A 
knell sounding. The notion of ghosts 
walking. The moon, with its various ap- 
pearances, and serviceableness to our globe : 
the heavenly bodies ; their number, size, 
courses, distances, display many of the glo- 
rious attributes of their Creator ; some of 
which are specified. They teach nothing of 
redemption ; this the peculiar prerogative of 
revelation. Christ the day-star from on 
high, that points out and makes clear the 
way of salvation. 

These are some of the subjects which, I 
imagined, might be admitted into the com- 
position of a night-piece. If others occur 
to your mind more pleasing, or more strik- 
ing, be pleased to suggest them. 

I am glad to find, by the quotation from 
Mr. Locke, that your esteem and veneration 
for the Scriptures are on the increasing hand. 
May we be persuaded, ever more and more, 
of the incomparable excellency of those sa- 
cred volumes. This one consideration, that 
they are the book of God, is a higher re- 
commendation of them than could be dis- 
played in ten thousand panegyric orations. 
For my part, I purpose to addict myself, 
with more incessant assiduity, to this de- 
lightful and divine study. Avvay, my Ho- 
mer ; I have no more need of being enter- 
tained by you, since Job and the Prophets 
furnish me with images much more magni- 
ficent, and lessons infinitely more important. 
Away, n>y Horace ; nor shall I sufier any 
loss by your absence, while the sweet singer 
of Israel tunes his lyre, and charms me with 
the finest flights of fancy, and inspirits me 
with the noblest strains of devotion. And 
even my prime favourite, my Virgil, may 
withdraw; since in Isaiah T enjoy all his 
•*iajesty of sentiment, all his correctness of 



judgment, all his beautiful propriety of dic- 
tion, and — But I must have done. The 
micssenger waits ; he can stay no longer than 
barely to allow me leisure to subscribe my- 
self, dear sir, &c. 



LETTER XXXIL 

Weston-Favell, Nov. 29, 1746. 

Dear Sir, — Having taken cold, and got 
a hoai'seness, I am afraid to venture abroad, 
lest I should lose my voice, and be incapable 
of performing the duty of the morrow. 

If any method is agreed upon by the com- 
mittee, for endeavouring, in some more ef- 
fectual manner, to promote the spiritual re- 
covery and everlasting welfare of the infir- 
mary patients, I wish you would be so kind 
as to inform me of it in a letter, that, if any 
part of this generous undertaking should fall 
to my share, I may address myself to the 
prosecution of it, with all the ability which 
the Divine Goodness shall vouchsafe to 
communicate. Or, if there be no need of 
my concurrence, that I may accompany it 
with my best wishes, and, at least, further 
it with my prayers. Who am, &c. 



LETTER XXXIIL 

My very dear Friend, — Your last 
found me on the recovering hand, getting 
strength and spirits, though by slow de- 
grees. 

Soon after I received your favour, a mes- 
senger came from London, bringing us the 
alarming news, that my youngest brother 
was extremely ill. My father's bowels 
yearned, and his heart bled ; but the infir- 
mities of age, and an unwieldy constitution, 
hindered him from taking the journey. Upon 
me, therefore, the Qffice fell. Feeble and 
languid as I was, there was no rejecting 
such a call. Accordingly I took coach, 
and in two days arrived safe at London, 
where I found my poor brother (the packer) 
seized with a most violent fever- He was 
attended by two eminent physicians ; but 
they proved vain helpers, and miserable 
comforters. For a considerable time his 
stout constitution struggled with the disease, 
but at last was forced to yield, was forced 
to drop in the dreadful combat. After at- 
tending his sick-bed for several days, I had 
the melancholy task of closing his dear 
eyes, and resigning him up to death. 

Oh ! the uncertainty of mortal things ! 
What is health but a glimmering taper, that 
expires while it shines, and is liable to be 
extinguished by every motion of the air ? 
What is strength, but a tender blossom. 



700 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



that is often withered in its fullest bloom ; 
often blasted, even before it is blown ? Who 
could have thought that I should survive 
my brother, and follow him to the grave ? 
I, sickly and enervated, he always lively 
' and vigorous : In flourishing circumstances, 
and blessed with prosperity in his business ; 
but now removed to the dark, inactive, 
silent tomb : Lately married to a beautiful 
and blooming bride ; but now everlastingly 
divorced, and a companion for creeping 
things. 

Scarce was I returned to Weston, but 
another awful providence fetched me from 
home. My very worthy physician, Dr. 
Stonehouse, who lives and practises at 
Northampton, had the misfortune to lose 
an amiable and excellent wife. She al?o 
was snatched away in the morning of life 
(aged 25), and dead before I so much as 
heard of her being disordered. At this 
valuable friend's house I was desired to 
abide some time, in order to assist in writ- 
ing letters for him, and despatching his ne- 
cessary affairs ; in comforting him concern- 
ing the deceased ; and (if the will of God 
be so) in endeavouring to improve the 
awakening visitation to our mutual good. 

You will surely say, when you read this 
account, that I have been in deaths oft. 
Once upon the borders of it myself, and 
more than once a spectator of its victory 
over others. However, my dear friends, 
let us not be dismayed. Let no man's, at 
•s> least no believer's, heart fail, because of 
this king of terrors. Though thousands 
fall beside us, though ten thousands expire 
at our right hand, and though we ourselves 
must quickly give up the ghost ; yet the 
word is gone out of our great Redeemer's 
mouth, and it shall not return unfulfilled, — 
I will swallow up death in victory. He 
shall stand at the latter day upon the earth : 
he shall say to the grave. Give up ; and to 
the sea, Keep not back ; release my sons 
from your dark confinement, and restore 
my daughters to their everlasting Father's 
arms. Then shall we lead him captive 
whose captives we were, and triumph eter- 
nally over this last enemy. In the mean 
time, let us lay all our help, all our guilt, 
upon the divine Author of our faith, and 
Captain of our salvation. So shall we no 
longer be in bondage, through fear of death ; 
but, with the saints of old, overcome through 
the blood of the Lamb ; overcome the 
dread, even while we sink beneath the 
stroke of this our mortal foe. 

What I wrote concerning a firm faith in 
God's most precious promises, and an hum- 
ble trust that we are the objects of his ten- 
der love, is v/hat I desire to feel, rather 
than what I actually experience. Conside- 
rations they are, witis which I would ply 
my own hearty in hopes that they m;iy be 



effectually set home by divine grace, in 
hopes that they may become the happy 
means of making me strong in faith, and 
enabling me thereby to give glory to God. 

Your remarks on this important point are 
exceedingly judicious, and perfectly right. 
After which, it will be insignificant to my 
friend, and look like arrogance in his cor- 
respondent, to add, that they exactly coin- 
cide with my sentiments. 

I do not doubt but there are many dear 
children of the blessed God, who are in a 
much better condition, with regard to his 
favour, than they can easily be persuaded 
to believe. Many sincerely righteous, for 
whom light is sown ; many true hearted, for 
whom joyful gladness is prepared : which, 
though latent in the furrows of inward tri- 
bulation, or oppressed under the clods of 
misgiving fears^ shall, in another world, 
spring up with infinite increase, and yield 
an everlasting harvest. 

That humble hope, mixed with trembling, 
you have very pathetically described, in the 
breathings of a renewed soul panting after 
God ; languishing for the tokens of his 
love ; ardently desiring the final enjoyment 
of him in his heavenly kingdom ; and rely- 
ing wholly on the meritorious passion, 
pleading nothing but the perfect righteous- 
ness of Jesus Christ. Happy, without all 
peradventure, happy the heart, in which 
such affections habitually prevail. They 
are the beginning of heaven, and '.vill cer- 
tainly be completed in glory. They con- 
stitute a signal part of that meetness for the 
inheritance of saints in light, concerning 
which the apostle speaks, and which is ont 
of the surest evidences of our designation 
to that purchased possession. Christ mil 
in no wise, on no consideration of past pro- 
vocation or present corruption, either for 
weakness of faith or want of confidence, 
cast out such a one. Let not such a one 
question, but he who has begun the good 
work will accomplish it even unto the end. 

We should, however, as you most perti- 
nently observe, lament all the remains of 
unbelief as a misery ; repent of them as a 
sin ; and labour to obtain a more assured 
faith, both as our duty and our felicity. 
The direction for prayer, you know, is, that 
we draw near in full assurance of faith : ajid, 
whatsoever things ye ask in prayer, believe 
that ye receive them, and ye shall have 
them. The Thessalonians are commended 
for receiving the gospel with much assur- 
ance of faith. Receiving the gospel ! What 
is meant by that expression ? Believing 
that the apostles were no impostors ; that 
Jesus Christ was the true Messiah ; and 
that his doctrine came from heaven ? This, 
and abundantly more, I apprehend, it im- 
plies. That Christ died, not for sins only 
in general, but for their sins in particular; 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



7S1 



that he bore all their iniquities, in his own 
bleeding body and agonizing soul, on the 
cursed tree ; that all their crimes being 
fully expiated, the most rigorous justice 
would not demand a double payment for 
the same debt ; and consequently, that there 
remained no condemnation for them. This 
is the glad tidings, which they not only at- 
tended to, and credited with a speculative 
assent ; but with a personal application of 
it, each to his particular case. And why 
should not we do the very same? I shall 
only subjoin further on this head, what I 
take to be a very clear and accurate expla- 
nation of the apostle's celebrated definition 
of faith : Faith is the substance of things 
hoped for, the evidence of things not seen ; 
putting us into a kind of present possession 
of the promises, and setting divine truths 
before the mind in all the light and power 
of demonstration. For this beautiful il- 
lustration of the inspired writer, I am ob- 
liged to an excellent clergyman of this 
neighbourhood, who lately favoured us with 
an admirable visitation sermon ; and, for the 
good of the public, was prevailed on to print 
it. i^'ou will give me leave to close the 
topic with a distinction which I have some- 
where read, or on some occasion heard ; a 
distinction which I think properly adjusts 
the case under, consideration, and settles it, 
neither on a precarious nor a discouraging 
issue. Many have the faith which bringeth 
salvation, who have not that faith which 
produceth assurance ; but none have the for- 
mer who do not aspire after and endeavour 
to possess the latter. 

On the whole, I heartily beseech the 
adorable and infinitely gracious Giver of 
every perfect gift, to establish, strengthen, 
settle us in the faith of our Lord Jesus 
Christ ; that he would fulfil in us all the 
good pleasure of his will, and the work of 
faith with power. And I dare say, we shall 
often lift up our hearts to our heavenly Fa- 
ther, and breathe out that ardent petition. 
Lord, I believe ; help thou mine unbelief ! 
If we have such frequent recourse to the 
overflowing and inexhaustible fountain of all 
good ; if we add to our prayers meditation 
on the merits of Jesus, and on the sure 
word of promise, — our faith will grow ; the 
grain of mustard-seed will be quickened, 
and shoot up into a tree ; the little drop 
will become a stream, and the stream spread 
into a river. The waters that issued from 
the sanctuary were, at first, deep to the 
ancles only ; then they arose to the knees ; 
soon they reached the loins ; and were af- 
tei vvards waters to swim in. 

The Contemplations you are pleased to 
inquire after are, after long delays, or a very 
slow procedure of the press, launched into 
the world. What may be their fate I dare 
not conjecture. Whether, by the general 



disapprobation, they may be unfortunately 
becalmed; or, by the severity of critics, 
may split on the rocks of censure ; or, 
foundering through their own un wor- 
thiness, may sink in oblivion ; or, blessed 
by a gracious Providence, may gain the 
haven of public acceptance, and import 
those valuable commodities, pleasure which 
improves, and improvement which delights. 
When they reach your parts, be so good, 
dear sir, as to peruse them, first with the 
humble child-like spii'it of a Christian, who 
seeks religious advantage in all that he reads. 
Next, with the candid rigour of a friend, 
saying, as you proceed. Here his thoughts 
are redundant, and want the pruning knife ; 
there they are deficient, and call for the 
grafter's hand ; here the language is obscure, 
and perspicuity is the only remedy ; there 
it is inexpressive, and must be rendered 
more nervous, in order to reach the judg- 
ment or strike the passions. Above all, 
let me beg of you to implore a blessing from 
the most high God, both upon the author 
and his piece ; that the one may be a monu- 
ment of divine mercy, the other a polished 
shaft in the great Immanuel's quiver. 

Should not a sense of his love make us 
more ardently desirous of bringing others to 
partake of that everlasting bliss which we 
humbly expect as our final portion ; and of 
which some foretastes have been indulged 
even in our present state ? Should we not 
be stirred up with greater assiduity and 
love, to warn every man, and exhort every 
man, that they also may be presented per- 
fect in Christ, and live for ever in the light 
of his countenance ? The book I mentioned 
formerly, and took leave to recommend, 
shall be sent. I have set it apart as a pre- 
sent for my dear friend ; and whether my 
life be prolonged, or my death hastened, 
neither of these circumstances shall make 
any alteration in my design. Only let me 
desire you, in your next, to give me once 
more the proper directions for conveying it 
to you ; for, some way, or other, in my late 
unsettled state, I have mislaid your letter. 

Please to present my thanks to Mrs. 

for her kind wishes ; and tell her, that they 
are, and shall be most cordially returned, by 
her and your most faithful and affectionate 
friend, &c. 



LETTER XXXIV. 

Weston- Favell, Feb. 28, 1747. 
Dear Siu, — I have read the ingenious 
gentleman's letter attentively. Though he 
says the strongest things that can be urged 
upon the point, I still adhere to my senti- 
ments ; and not because they are mine, but 
the Scripture's, and supportable, I am per- 



792 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



suaded, by a variety of texts from the oracles 
of truth. I beg leave to vi^aive the prose- 
cution of the controversy. Controversy is 
what I naturally dislike, and what I have 
seldom found advantageous. I know his 
opinion, and he has given me an opportunity 
of declaring mine ; and would only add, 
that if in any thing we be otherwise minded, 
(than is consistent with the gospel of grace) 
God (upon a diligent application to his 
word, and humble prayer for the teaching of 
his Spirit) will reveal this unto us, Phil, 
iii. 15. 

I have been reading Mr. Baxter's Saint's 
Everlasting Rest, and admire the copious- 
ness, the justness, and the devotion of his 
thoughts. How happy the soul that, while 
reading them, can make them his own ! 
May this be always the prevailing desire, 
and, in due time, the heaven-vouchsafed 
portion of the worthy owner of the book, 
and of his most affectionate friend, &c. 



LETTER XXXV. 

Weston-Favell, Feb. 11 Al. 

Dear Sir, — I have heard nothing from 
my printer during all this interval. What 
can be the reason of his long silence, and 
great negligence, I cannot imagine. But 
this week it occurred to my mind, that if 
he delays the second edition at this rate, I 
may possibly be able to prepare the third 
letter to accompany it. Accordingly, I have 
postponed other business, and applied wholly 
to this work. I have transcribed some part 
of the intended piece, and send it for your 
perusal. Pray be so good as to examine it j 
narrowly, and favour me with your remarks i 
and improvements, on a separate paper. 
There are, I fear, besides more material j 
faults, several mistakes in the copy, owing 
to my want of leisure to review it. I sup- ' 
pose the remainder of my design, when com- 
pleted, will consist of about the same num- j 
ber of pages. 

If I live till Monday, I propose to visit , 
my patient at the infirmary : and, if com- ! 
pany happens to be agreeable, v»dll take the , 
pleasure of spending an hour with a certain 
valuable and very much esteemed friend at 
Northampton. If you are not able to guess 
the person I mean, you shall soon be in- 
formed by, dear sir, yours, &e. 

Vir bonus et prudens versus reprehendet inertes, 
Culpabit duros, incomptis allinet atrum 
Transverso calamo signum, ambitioso recidet 
Ornamenta, parum Claris lucem dare coget, 
Arguet ambigue dictum, mutando notabic. — Horace. 

This I transcribe, not to inform you of 
the critic's office, but only to apprize you 
of what I wish, and what I humbty re- 
quest. 



LETTER XXXVL 

Weston-Favell, April 12, 1747. 
Dear Sir, — I have folded down a come: 
of the leaf at the place where your perusal 
left off There is a note or two subjoined 
to the preceding pages, which I wish you 
would please to examine. My humble ser- 
vice to Dr. . I desire he will write 

his remarks and corrections on a separate 
paper. What think you of the following 
lines for a motto ? 

Night opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe 
Which gives those venerable scenes full weight, 
And deep impression on the intender'd heart. 

Night Thoughts 

Si quid novisti rectius istis, 

Candidus imperti. 

Your plan for forming a Christian society, 
and regulating our interviews, I greatly 
approve. It seems to me to be complete. 
I see nothing that should be taken from it, 
nor can think of any thing to be added to 
it. I heartily wish to have it carried into 
execution, and hope it will be productive of 
considerable comfort and advantage to tl e 
members ; and not to them only, but, by 
rendering them more useful in their respec- 
tive stations, to many others. 

A cold, and hoarseness on my voice, miske 

me somewhat fearful of coming to ■ this 

day. I hope you have perused the remain- 
der of the manuscript ; and cannot but wish 
you would give the whole a second reading. 
The unknown importance of what we print, 
inclines me to urge this request. Who can 
tell how long it may continue, and into what 
hands it may come ? I almost tremble a 
such a thought, lest - 1 should write unad- 
visedly with my pen, and injure instead ol 
serving the best of causes. 

If you have put my little piece into the 

hands of my Aristarchus, Dr. I mean, 

desire him to be particularly attentive to the 
redundancies, and lop them off with a plenti- 
ful hand. 

I shall soon create you a second task, by 
transmitting for your correction twenty folio 
pages of remarks on the stars, and serious 
improvements. — Yours, &e. 



LETTER XXXVIL 

Weston-Favell, June 27, 1747. 
My dear Friend, — Coming home this 
evening, I could not forbear musing on the 
various topics which furnished matter for our 
discourse ; and now I am all thoughtful and 
retired, I cannot forbear taking notice of 
some particulars relating to our conversa- 
tion. To be silent in such a case, would, I 
am persuaded, be more displeasing to a gen- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



793 



tlemen of your discernment and generosity, 
than to use the utmost freedom of speech. 

Was it you, dear sir, or I, that, when a 
certain passage in Scripture happened to be 
mentioned, treated it, not indeed with a 
contemptuous disdain, but with too ludi- 
crous an air ? descanted on it in a sportive 
and frolicsome manner, in order to create a 
little pleasantry ? If I was the person that 
indulged this improper levity, I beseech you 
to rebuke me, and severely too. Though 
my design might be innocent, my conduct 
was apparently wrong. That infinitely pre- 
cious and important book should be always 
held in the highest veneration. Whatever 
the divine Spirit vouchsafes to dictate, 
should be thought and spoke of by mortals, 
with gratitude, dutifulness, and awe. It is 
the character of a religious man, that he 
trembles at God's word ! and it is said of 
the great Jehovah, that he has magnified his 
name and his word above all things. 

Who was it, dear sir, that lent to our va- 
luable friend that vile book, Le Sopha, and 
yet wrote by Crebillon, with an enchanting 
spirit of elegance ; which must render the 
mischief palatable, and the bane even deli- 
cious ? I wonder that your kind and bene- 
volent heart could recommend arsenic for a 
regale. It puts me in mind of the impois- 
oned shirt presented to Hercules. I am sure 
you did not think on it, or else you Avould 
no more have transmitted such a pestilent 
treatise to the perusal of a friend, than you 
would transmit to him a packet of goods 
from a coimtry depopulated by the plague. 
If that polluting French book still remains 
in your study, let me beg of you to make it 
perform quarantine in the flames. 

The last particular relates to attendance 
on the public worship of God. Let us not 
neglect the assembling ourselves together. 
This was the advice of the best and greatest 
casuist in the world ; not to say, the injunc- 
tion of the Maker of all things, and Judge 
of all men. Would we be assured of our 
love to God ? This is one evidence of that 
most noble and happy temper, — Lord, I 
have loved the habitation of thy house, and 
the place where thy honour dsvelleth. 
Would we glorify the Lord ? Then let us 
appear in his courts, fall low on our knees 
before his footstool, and in this public man- 
ner avow him for our God, recognise him 
for our King, and acknowledge him to be 
our Supreme Good. Would we follow the 
example of our devout and blessed Master ? 
Let us remember how it is written, Jesus 
went into the synagogue, as his custom was. 
And, if we take due care to get our hearts 
prepared, by a little previous meditation and 
earnest prayer, I dare answer for it, our at- 
tendance will not be in vain in the Lord. 
God will, according to his promise, meet us 
in his ordinances ; make us joyful in his J 



house of prayer : and we shall experience 
what (if I remember right) that brightest 
ornament of the court of judicature, Judge 
Hales, declared, That he never sat under the 
preaching, even of the meanest sermon, but 
he found some word of edification, exhorta- 
tion, or comfort. 

Dear sir, bestow a thought on these things. 
If the remonstrances are wrong, I willingly 
retract them ; if right, you will not pro- 
nounce me impertinent. Love and friend- 
ship dictate what I write ; and the only end 
I have in view, is the holiness, the useful- 
ness, the happiness, the final salvation of 
my much esteemed friend. It is for this, 
this only, I have now taken my pen in hand, 
and for this I shall often bend my knees be- 
fore God, and thereby prove myself to be, 
dear sir, &c. 



LETTER XXXV^IIL 

Weston^Favell, July 18, 1747. 
Dear Sir, — I desiire you to accept my 
thanks for the variety of beautiful lines 
which you sent me to choose a motto from. 
They are all elegant, but not sufficiently 
expressive of the design of the piece. 
Therefore I imagined the following quota- 
tion from Dr. Young somewhat more suita- 
ble :— 

Night is fair virtue's immemorial friend ; 

The conscious moon, through every distant age. 

Has held a lamp to wisdom. 

You advised me to add a sort of note to the 

passage objected to by Mr. , relating to 

the spark's being visible. In pursuance of 
your direction, I subjoined the following : — 

" I beg leave to inform the young gentle- 
man, whose name dignifies my dedication, 
that this was a remark of his worthy father, 
when we rode together, and conversed in a 
dusky evening. I mentio'n this circum- 
stance, partly to secure the paragraph from 
contempt, partly to give him, and the world, 
an idea of that eminently serious taste which 
distinguished my worthy friend. The less 
obvious the reflection, the more clearly it 
discovers a turn of mind remarkably spirit- 
ual, which would suffer nothing to escape 
without yielding some spiritual improve- 
ment. And the meaner the incident, the 
more admirable was that fertility of imagi- 
nation, which could deduce the noblest 
truths from the most trivial occurrences." 

Will not this be looked upon as a sly 
underhand artifice whereby the author ex- 
tols himself.' 

Does the famous Dutch philosopher, 
Nieuentyt (I think is his name), treat of 
the heavenly bodies ? If he does, be so good, 
in case he dwells in your study, to send him 



794 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



on a week's visit to me. Dr. Watt's treatise 
on astronomy I should be glad to peruse. 

The Hymn to the Moon, whoever is 
meant by Scriblerus Decimus Maximus, is 
very poetical. I durst not venture to add 
what is wanting to render it a complete ad- 
dress, lest it should become like the vision- 
ary image, whose head was of gold, his feet 
of iron and clay. 

My transient remarks on Dr. Rymer's 
Kepresentation of Revealed Religion are 
lost. I must desire leave to postpone my 
observations on the other books. — I am, dear 
sir, &c. 



LETTER XXXIX. 

Weston-Favell, Aug. 8, 1747. 
Dear Sir, — After my thanks for what 
passed in yesterday's interview, give me 
leave to add my acknovvledg'ments for the 
perusal of your poem- entitled The Deity. 
It is a noble piece, quite poetical, ti'uly 
evangelical, and admirably fitted to alarm 
and comfort the heart, to delight and im- 
prove the reader. I must desire to read it 
again. 

I visited the poor condemned malefactor ; 
found him an ignorant person ; aimed chief- 
ly at these two grand points, to convince 
him of the heinousness of his sin, and shew 
him the all-sufficiency of the Saviour to 
obtain pardon even for the very vilest of 
offenders. To preach and teach Jesus 
Christ, is our office ; to make the doctrine 
effectual, God's great prerogative. Nothing 
more occurs, but that 1 am, &c. 



LETTER XL. • 

Weston-Favell, Aug, 8, 1747. 

Dearest Mr. , I ought to take 

shame to myself, for sufTering so kind a 
letter, received from so valuuble a friend, 
to remain so long unanswered. Upon no 
other consideration than that of my enfeeb- 
led and languishing constitution, can I ex- 
cuse myself, or hope for your pardon. My 
health is continually upon the decline, and 
the springs of life are all relaxing. Mine 
age is departing, and removing from me as 
a shepherd's tent. Medicine is bafHed ; 
and my physician, Dr. Stonehouse, who is 
a dear friend to his patient, and a lover of 
the Lord Jesus, pities, but cannot succour 
me. This blessing, however, together with 
a multitude of others, the divine goodness 
vouchsafes to gild the gloom of decaying 
nature, that I am racked with no pain, and 
enjoy the free undisturbed exercise of my 
understanding. 



I am much obliged to you for carrying 
my message to the Abbey with so much 
speed, and conveying to me with equal des- 
patch a satisfactory answer. When you 
visit the worthy family again, be pleased, 
after presenting my affectionate compli- 
ments, and most cordial good wishes, to 

inform Mrs. , that the piece is sent to 

the press, and after some corrections made 
in the dedication, addressed to my god-son. 
It is my humble request to him, and my 
earnest prayer to God, that he may regard 
it, not merely as a complimentaiy form, but 
as the serious and pathetic advice of his 
father's intimate acquaintance, and his soul's 
sincere friend ; who, in all probability, will 
be cut off from every other opportunity of 
fulfilling his sacred engagements, and ad- 
monishing him of whatever a Christian 
ought to know and believe to his soul's 
health. 

I forgot whether I told you, that the last 
work will be divided into two parts ; will 
be full as large as the two first letters ; and 
therefore the whole will be disposed into 
two small pocket volumes, on a very neat 
paper, with an elegant type, in duodecimo. 
But a convenient number of the new essays 
will be printed in the octavo size and cha- 
racter, for the satisfaction of those who 
purchased the former edition, and may pos- 
sibly be willing to complete their book. 
It was a considerable time before I could 
think of a title for the last pieces, that 
suited their nature, and expressed their de- 
sign. At length I have determined to style 
them Contemplations on the Night, and 
Contemplations on the Starry Heavens. 

Now 1 apprehend myself to be near the 
close of life, and stand, as it were, on the 
brink of the grave, with eternity full in my 
view, perhaps my dear friend would be glad 
to know my sentiments of things in this 
awful situation. At such a juncture, the 
mind is most unprejudiced, and the judgment 
not so liable to be dazzled by the glitter of 
worldly objects. 

I think, then, dear sir, that we are ex- 
tremely mistaken, and sustain a mighty loss 
in our most important interests, by reading 
so much, and praying so little. Was 1 to 
enjoy Hezekiah's grant, and have fifteen 
years added to my life, I woidd be much 
more frequent in my applications to the 
throne of grace. 1 have read of a person 
who was often retired and on his knees, 
was remarkable for his frequency and fer- 
vency in devotion j being asked the reason 
of this so singular a behaviour, he replied, 
Because I am sensible I must die. I as- 
sure you, dear Mr. , I feel the weight 

of this answer, I see the wisdom of this 
procedure ; and, was my span to be length- 
ened, would endeavour always to remember 
the one, and dailj' to imitate the other. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



795 



I think also we fail in our duty, and 
thwart our comfort, by studying God's holy 
word no more. I have, for my part, been 
too fond of reading every thing elegant and 
valuable that has been penned in our own 
language ; and been particularly charmed 
with the historians, orators, and poets of 
antiquity. But was I to renew my studies, 
I would take my leave of those accomplish- 
ed trifles. I would resign the delights of 
modern wit, amusement, and eloquence, 
and devote my attention to the Scriptures 
of truth. I would sit with much greater 
assiduity at my divine Master's feet, and 
desire to know nothing but Jesus Christ 
and him crucified. This wisdom, whose 
fruits are peace in life, consolation in death, 
and everlasting salvation after death ; this 
1 would trace, this I would seek, this I 
would explore, through the spacious and 
delightful fields of the Old and New Tes- 
tament. In short, I would adopt the apos- 
tle's resolution. Acts vi. 4, and give myself 
to prayer, and to the word. 

With regard to my public ministry, my 
chief aim should be, to beget in my people's 
minds a deep sense of their depraved, guilty, 
undone condition ; and a clear believing 
conviction of the all-sufficiency of Christ, 
by his blood, his righteousness, his inter- 
cession, and bis Spirit, to save them to the 
uttermost. I would always observe to la- 
bour for them in my closet, as well as in 
the pulpit ; and wrestle in secret supplica- 
tion, as well as to exert myself in public 
preaching, for their spiritual and eternal 
welfare. For unless God take this work 
into his own hand, what mortal is sufficient 
for these things ? 

Now, perhaps, if you sat at my right 
hand, you would ask, What is my hope with 
regard to my future and immortal state ? 
Truly my hope, my whole hope, is even in 
the Lord Redeemer. Should the king of 
terrors threaten — I fly to the wounds of the 
slaughtered Lamb, as the trembling dove to 
the clefts of the rock. Should Satan accuse 
— I plead the Surety of the covenant, who 
took my guilt upon himself, and bore my 
sins in his own body on the tree. Should 
the law denounce a curse — I appeal to him 
who hung on the accursed tree, on purpose 
that all the nations of the earth might be 
blessed. Should hell open its jaws, and de- 
mand its prey — I look up to that gracious 
Being who says. Deliver him from going 
down into the pit, for I have found a ran- 
som. Should it be said. No unclean thing 
can enter into heaven ; my answer is, — 
The blood of Christ clean seth from all 
sin : though my sins be as scarlet, through 
his blood they shall be as white as snow. 
Should it be added, None can sit down at 
the supper of the Lamb without a wedding- 



garment, and your righteousness, what are 
they before the pure law and piercing eye 
of God, but filthy rags ? These I renounce, 
and seek to be found in Christ Jesus, who 
is the Lord my righteousness. It is written 
in the word that he is to judge the world at 
the last day, By his obedience shall many 
be made righteous. 

So that Jesus, the dear and adorable 
Jesus, is all my trust. His merits are my 
staflT, when I pass through the valley of the 
shadow of death. His merits are my an- 
chor, when I launch into the boundless 
ocean of eternity. His merits are the only 
riches which my poor soul, when stript of 
its body, desires to carry into the invisible 
world. If the God of glory pleases to take 
notice of any mean endeavours to honour 
his holy name, it will be infinite condescen- 
sion and grace ; but his Son, his righteous 
and suffering Son, is all my hope, and all 
my salvation. Dear sir, pray for me, that 
the weaker 1 grow in body, the stronger I 
may become in this precious faith. May 
the choicest blessings attend you and yours ! 
A letter would revive yours, &c. 

P.S. — Though the days are come upon 
me, in which I have reason to say of world- 
ly things, I have no pleasure in them ; yet 
I find a secret satisfaction in this considera- 
tion, that to you, my dear friend, and to 
others of my candid acquaintance, I may be 
permitted, even when dead, to speak in my 
little treatises. May they, when the author 
is gone hence, never to be seen in these 
regions below, O may they testify, with 
some small degree of efficacy, concerning 
Jesus, that Just One ! may they fan the 
flame of love to his person, and strengthen 
the principle of faith in his merits ! Once 
more, dear sir, adieu. 



LETTER XLL 

Weston-Favell, Aug. 22, 1 747. 
Dear Sir, — Having read Dr. Middle- 
ton's introductory discourse, 1 hardly know 
what to think of his bold assertion, That 
all the miracles supposed to be wrought af- 
ter the apostolic age, are absurd and ficti- 
tious. I must suspend my opinion con- 
cerning this point, till I find it either con- 
firmed by the silence, or confuted by the 
arguments of the advocates for ecclesiastical 
antiquity. In the main, I approve of his 
design, which is to settle the proofs of our 
holy religion on the basis of the inspired 
writings, and to deduce its doctrines from 
the same sacred source. The Scriptures, 

as our friend H beautifully expresses 

himself, are the armoury of God, from 
whence we may draw weapons of a divine 



796 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



temper, wherewith to engage all that oppose 
the truth, or hold the same in unrighteous- 
ness. 

Does not this ingenious writer bear a 
little too hard upon the religious character 
and exemplary behaviour of the primitive 
fathers ? I cannot but think they had, at 
least in this respect, a very evident super- 
iority over most of their successors. How 
flowing, perspicuous, and elegant is the 
Doctor's style ; and how stiff, obscure, and 
bombast, the language of the archdeacoii ! 
I dare say you could not forbear smiling at 
his — blazing out most fastidious hypercri- 
tics ; reproaching, (not virulently, but) 
tartly ; lashing, (not severely, but) supercil- 
iously ; and penetrating the very vitals of 
the dead languages. 

If your Matho is not lent out of town, I 
wish you would be so good as to send for 
it, and favour me with a sight of it by the 
bearer. The reason of my requesting this 

is, that Mr. informs me by my 

brother, if he has not the last piece by the 
middle of next week, his press must stand 
still. And methinks I would gladly peruse 
Matho before I suffer my last essay to de- 
part. When can you afford me your con- 
versation for an hour or two, in order to 

examine Mr. 's remarks, and bestow 

the finishing touches on the piece ? Shall I 
wait upon you on Monday morning early ? 
When this business is despatched, your 
book, and my thanks, shall be returned to- 
gether. — Yours, &c. 



LETTER XLIL 

Weston-Favell, Oct. 31, 1747. 

Dear Sir, — With thanks I return Col- 
onel Gardiner's life. The worthy author 
has presented me with a copy, which I hope 
will serve to humble and animate me so 
long as I live. 

Abernethy on the Divine Attributes, I 
will soon restore. In the mean time, shall 
I beg the favour of borrowing Pliny's Na- 
tural History ? 

You may remember who is to call upon 
you {Deo volentej on Monday morning. I 
must devote the greatest part of this day 
to prepare my translatory quota of Dick- 
son's Thereapeutica Sacra. The thoughts 
of our little society bring to my mind a 
pleasing circumstance, which I observed 
when we were at our last interview. My 

very valuable friend Dr. S told a 

story, in which he had occasion to refer to 
some profane and execrable language. In- 
stead of defiling his lips with a repetition of 
the hellish jargon, he was so truly discreet 
as only to mention it under the general ti- 
de of horrid oaths. A delicacy this, which 



I thought highly becoming both the Chris- 
tian and the gentleman. I have sometimes 
taken the freedom to observe, in the most 
respectful manner, upon some little inad- 
vertances in my worthy friend's conduct ; 
but now it is with the highest pleasure that 
I congratulate him upon a most amiable 
piece of religious decorum introduced into 
his discourse. — I am &c. 



LETTER XL in. 

Weston-Favell, Dec % 1 747. 
Dear Sir,— The surprise which your 
letter gives me is inexpressible, and the 
grief equal. I will hasten as soon as possi- 
ble to uiy worthy and afflicted friend. O 
that I could bring with me some healing 
balm for his wounded heart ! It would be 
no small alleviation of my own sorrows, if I 
might be instrumental to make his less. A 
long continued cold, and an unexpected 
journey, have unfitted m.e from following 
your prescriptions. I am obliged to your 
candour for ascribing my neglect to this 
cause, and not to any disregard of your ad- 
vice ; for I am persuaded, 

Si qua potuissent Pergatna dextra 

Defendi, etiam hac defensa fuissent. 

I will stay the messenger no longer ; and 
I hope I shall not stay long before I set out 
myself. It is owing wholly to an accident 
that I do not accompany the bearer, with a 
view and a hope of administering some con- 
solation to Dr. S . I am, &c. 



LETTER XLIV. 

Northampton, Dec. 5, 1747. 
Dear and worthy Sir, — You will won- 
der to see a name which you have but late- 
ly known at the bottom of this paper. But 
how, how will you be surprised, how griev- 
ed, to read the occasion ! It is so afflicting, 
almost so insupportable to our valuable 
friend, that he is unable to give you the 
narrative ; therefore has committed the of- 
fice (triste ministerium f J to my pen. And 
must I tell you ? can you bear to hear it? 
Mrs. S is dead ; that amiable and ex- 
cellent lady is dead. She was safely deli- 
vered of a daughter the very day on which 

Dr. S wrote to you last ; w^as as well 

as could be expected or wished on Sui;day 
morning ; and departed this life on Tues- 
day evening. On Sunday in the evening 
our common friend perceived her to be at- 
tended with some alarming, and, as he ap- 
prehended, fatal symptoms. Dr. K 

was immediately sent for, who gave some 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



797 



encouragement.- On Monday came Dr. 

J through a very deep snow, and most 

terrible weather, but urged by friendship and 
compassion. The moment that sagacious 
practitioner beheld her, he confii-med Dr. 

S 's first sentiments, that the case was 

irrecoverable : and added, that the great 
change was at the very door, and would pro- 
bably take place in twenty-four hours, which 
came to pass accordingly. 

Your own tender and sensible heart will 

naturally conclude Dr. S is so oppressed 

with sorrow, as not to be capable, at pre- 
sent, of answering his most valued corres- 
pondents : 

Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent. 
But he intends, when time has somewhat al- 
leviated his grief, and religion has more re- 
conciled him to the awful dispensation, to 
make a particular reply to the whole of your 
epistolary favour. You will, I do not ques- 
tion, recommend our distressed friend to the 
Father of mercies, and the God of all com- 
fort. May we all lay this awakening stroke 
of Providence to heart, and give all diligence 
to have our sins pardoned through redeem- 
ing blood, our souls renewed by sanctifying 
grace ; that whether we live, we may live 
unto the Lord ; or whether we die, we may 
die unto the Lord ; so that living or dying 
we may be the Lord's. 

The second edition of my Meditations, 
with the addition of another volume, is at 
last published. I have given directions 
to my bookseller to send you a copy ; and 
beg of you to accept it as a small, but the 
most speaking and eloquent expression I am 
able to form, of that great, that growing es- 
teem I have conceived for Dr. Swan, ever 
since our first interview at Weston. Be 
pleased dear sir, to read it with the utmost, 
or rather with your own candour ; and some- 
times dart up a short petition for the author^ 
that, whatever is the fate of his book, him- 
self may live over his wTitings, and be what 
he describes. — I am, &c. 



LETTER XLV. 

Wesion-FaveS, 1747. 

Dear Sir, — Mr. H delivered your 

message. Upon a repeated perusal of your 
Rules and Orders, I find nothing to add, 
nor any thing to alter. I think it is a finely 
calculated scheme, and seems very likely to 
be productive of considerable good. 

When the disciples were together, after 
their Master's resurrection, they had the 
honour, the comfort, and advantage of his 
divine presence. And why may not we, 
when associated on such a plan, and con- 
versing with such views, reasonably hope for 
the same blessing ? 



I shall return all your books by the first 
opportunity , only the first volume of the 
History of the Bible, I beg to keep a little 
longer. The Bible I intend, for the future, 
to make the principal object of my study. 
That beautiful and important exhortation 
shall be my ruling directory, O Xoyot t» Xu^it 

Perhaps Dr. W 11 will be so obliging 

as to answer my letter. And if so, I think 
it will be proper to defer writing to Mr. 

R n, and sending the draught, till I 

hear the Doctor's sentiments. I beg of 
you to accept the cordial compliments, as 
you have always the best wishes, and fre- 
quently the earnest prayers of, dear Sir, 
yours, &e. 



LETTER XLVL 

Weston- Favell, Dec 12, 1747. 
Dear Sir, — This, I hope, will find you 
perfectly recovered from your indisposition, 
and thoroughly reconciled to God's holy 
will. Afilictions, when sanctified, are real 
blessings ; they work humility, and wean 
from the world ; they teach us to pour out, 
not our words only, but our very souls, be- 
fore God in prayer ; and create an ardent 
desire after that inheritance in heaven, 
which is incorruptible and immortal ; after 
those mansions of peace, where sorrow and 
sighing flee away. May this be the effect 
of that awful stroke which has made so de- 
plorable a breach on my friend's domestic 
comfort. 

Next week Abernethy will return to your 
study ; and I only wish that he might bring 
with him a little more of the everlasting and 
glorious gospel. With my compliments to 
Mrs. , I am, &c. 



LETTER XLVH. 

Western, Dec. 1747. 
Dear Sir, — I truly commiserate your 
variegated calamity ; and heai'tily wish I 
could suggest any thing v,-hich might be the 
means of administering some ease to your 
afiflicted mind, and of assisting you to reap 
ample benefit Irom your distressing situa- 
tion. 

You well know that all afilictions, of 
what kind sover, proceed from God : I 
form the light, and create darkness ; 1 make 
peace, and create evil ; I the Lord do all 
these things, Isaiah xlv. 7- They spring 
not from the dust ; are not the effects of a 
random chance, but the appointment of an 
all-wise, all-foreseeing God, who intends 
them all for the good of his creatures. This, 



79S 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



I think, is the fundamental argument for 
resignation, and the grand source of com- 
fort- This should be our first reflection, 
and our sovereign support. He that gave 
me my being, and gave his own Son for my 
redemption, he has assigned me this suffer- 
ing. What he ordains, who is boundless 
love, must be good ; what he ordains, who 
is unerring wisdom, must be proper. 

This reconciled Eli to the severest doom 
that ever was denounced : It is the Lord ! 
and though grievous to human nature, much 
more grievous to parental affection, yet it is 
unquestionably the best; therefore, I hum- 
bly acquiesce, I kiss the awful decree, and 
say from my very soul, let him do what 
seemeth him good, 1 Sam. iii. 18. 

This calmed the sorrows of Job under 
all his unparalleled distresses ; The Lord 
gave me affluence and prosperity ; the Lord 
has taken all away ; rapacious hands and 
warring elements were only his instruments; 
therefore I submit, I adore, 1 bless his holy 
name. 

This consolation fortified the man Christ 
Jesus at the approach of his inconceivably 
bitter agonies : The cup which, not my 
implacable enemies, but my Father, by their 
administration, has given me, shall I not 
drink it ? It is your Father, dear sir, your 
heavenly Father, who loves you with an 
everlasting love, that has mingled some gall 
with your portion in life. Sensible of the 
beneficent hand from which the visitation 
comes, may you always bow your head in 
patient submission ; and acknowledge, with 
the excellent but afllicted monarch Heze- 
kiah. Good is the word of the Lord con- 
cerning me, 2 Kings xx. 19. 

All afflictions are designed for blessings ; 
to do us good at the latter end, however 
they may cross our desires, or disquiet our 
minds at present. Happy (says the Spirit 
of inspiration, and not wretched) is the 
man whom God correcteth. Job v. 17; 
and for this reason, because his merciful 
chastenings, though not joyous but grievous, 
yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness 
unto them that are exercised thereby, Heb. 
xii, II. God's ways are not as our ways. 
The children \vhom we love we are apt to 
treat with all the soft blandishments and 
fond caresses of profuse indulgence ; and 
too, too often cocker them to their hurt, if 
not to their ruin. But the Father of spirits 
is wise in his love, and out of kindness severe. 
Therefore it is said, Whom he loveth he 
chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom 
he receiveth, Heb. xii. 6. Would you not, 
dear sir, be a child of that everlasting Fa- 
ther, whose favour is better than life ? 
Affliction is one sign of your adoption to 
this inestimable relation. Would you not 
be an " heir of the inheritance incorrupti- 
ble, undefiled, and that fadeth not away ?" 



Affliction is your path to this blissful pat- 
rimony. Through much tribulation we 
must enter into the kingdom of heaveii, 
Acts xiv. 22. Would you not be made 
like your ever-blessed and amiable Redeem- 
er ? He was a man of sorrows, and ac- 
quainted with grief; and every disciple 
must expect to be as his master. 

Perhaps you may think your affliction 
peculiarly calamitous ; and that, if it had 
been of some other kind, you could more 
cheerfully submit, more easily bear it. But 
you are in the hands of an all -wise Physi- 
cian, who joins to the bowels of infinite 
love the discernment of infinite wisdom. 
He cannot mistake your case. He sees 
into the remotest events ; and, though he 
varies his remedies, always prescribes with 
the exactest propriety to every one's parti- 
cular state. Assure yourself, therefore, the 
visitation which he appoints is the very 
properest recipe in the dispensatory of hea- 
ven. Any other would have been less fit 
to convey saving health to your immorta. 
part, and less subservient to your enjoyment 
of the temporal blessings which may, per- 
haps, be yet in store for you. 

Should you inquire what benefits accrue 
from afflictions? Many and precious. They 
tend to wean us from the world. When 
our paths are strewed with roses, when no- 
thing but music and odours float around, 
how apt are we to be enamoured with our 
present condition, and forget the crown of 
glory, forget Jesus and everlasting ages ? 
But affliction, with a faithful though harsh 
voice, rouses us from the sweet delusion. 
Affliction warns our hearts to rise and de- 
part from these inferior delights, because 
here is not our rest. True and lasting joys 
are not here to be found. The sweepiiig 
tempest, and the beating surge, teach the 
mariner to prize the haven, where undis- 
turbed repose waits his arrival. In like 
manner, disappointments, vexations, anxie- 
ties, crosses, teach us to long for those 
happy mansions, where all tears will be 
wiped away from the eyes, Rev. xxi. 4 ; all 
anguish banished from the mind ; and no- 
thing, nothing subsist, but the fuhiess of 
joy, and pleasures for evermore. 

Afflictions tend to bring us to Christ. 
Christ has unspeakable and everlasting 
blessings to bestow : such as the world can 
neither give nor take away ; such as are 
sufficient to pour that oil of gladness into 
our souls, which will swim above the waves 
of any earthly tribulation. But are we not, 
dear sir, are we not most unhappily indol- 
ent and inattentive to these blessings, in" 
the gay hours of an uninterrupted prosperi- 
ty ? It is very observable, that scarce any 
made application to our divine Redeemer, 
in the days of his abode with us, but the 
children of iiiiliction. The same spirit of 



A COLLECTION 

siipineness still possesses mankind. Wei 
undervalue, we disregard the Lord Jesus, 
and the unspeakable privileges of his gos- 
pel, while all proceeds smoothly, and nothing 
occurs to discompose the tenor of our tran- 
quillity. But when misfortunes harass our 
circumstances, or sorrows oppress our 
minds ; then we are willing, we are glad, 
we are eaniest, to find rest in Christ. 

In Christ Jesus there is pardon of sins. 
Sin is a burden, incomparably sorer than 
any other distress. Sin would sink us into 
the depths of eternal ruin, and transfix us 
with the agonies of endless despair. But 
Christ has, at the price of his very life, pur- 
chased pardon for all that fly to him. He 
has borne the guilt of their sins in his own 
body on the tree, 1 Pet. ii. 24. Have they 
deserved condemnation ? He has sustain- 
ed it in their stead. Are they obnoxious 
to the wrath of God? He has endured it 
as their substitute ; he has made satisfac- 
tion, complete satisfaction for all their ini- 
quities, Horn. iii. 25, 26. So that justice 
itself, the most rigorous justice, can demand 
no more. O that distresses may prompt 
us to prize this mercy ! may incite us to 
desire ardently this blessedness ! then it 
will be good for us to have been afflicted, 
Psalm cxix. 7L 

Christ has obtained for us the gift of the 
Holy Spirit, (Gal. iii. 2.) to sanctify our 
hearts, and renew our natures. An unre- 
newed carnal mind, is ten thousand times 
more to be lamented, more to be dreaded, 
than any external calamities. And nothing 
can cure us of this most deadly disease but 
the sanctification of the Spirit. The divine 
Spirit alone is able to put the fear of God 
in our souls, and awaken the love of God 
in our hearts, Jer. xxxii. 40. His influences 
suggest such awful and amiable thoughts to 
our minds, as will be productive of these 
Christian graces. This sacred principle 
subdues our corruptions, and conforms us 
to our blessed Redeemer's image. How is 
this best gift of Heaven disesteemed by the 
darlings of the world, who have nothing to 
vex them ? But how precious is it, how 
desirable, to the heirs of sorrow? They 
breathe after it, as the thirsty hart panteth 
for the water brooks. They cannot be 
satisfied without its enlightening, purifying, 
cheering communications. This is all their 
request, and all their relief, " that the spirit 
of Christ may dwell in their hearts," Rom. 
viii. 9 ; may enable them to possess their 
souls in patience, Luke xxi. 19, and derive 
never-ending good from momentary evils. 
Before I close these lines, permit me to re- 
commend one expedient, which yet is not 
mine, but the advice of an inspired apostle, 
If any be afflicted, let him pray. Dear sir, 
fly to God in all your adversity, pour out 
your complaints before him in humble sup- 



OF LETTERS. 799 

plication, and show him your trouble. Psalm 
cxlii. 2. When I am in heaviness, says a 
holy sufferer, I will think upon God, Psalm 
Ixi. 2. — his omnipotent power, his unbound- 
ed goodness, whose ear is ever open to re- 
ceive the cry of the afflicted. When the 
psalmist was distressed on every side, with- 
out were fightings, within were fears, the 
throne of grace was the place of his refuge ; 
I give myself to prayer, Psalm cix. 3, was 
his declaration. This method, we read, 
Hannah took, and you cannot but remem- 
ber the happy issue, 1 Sam. i. 10. Let me 
entreat you to imitate these excellent exam- 
ples ; frequently bend your knees, and 
more frequently lift up your heart to the 
Father of mercies, and God of all consola- 
tion ; not doubting, but that through the 
merits of his dear Son, through the inter- 
cession of your compassionate High-priest, 
he will hear your petitions, will comfort you 
under all your tribidations, and make them 
all work together for youi' infinite and eter- 
nal good. 

In the mean time, I shall not cease to 
pray, that the God of all power and grace 
may vouchsafe to bless these considejIxV- 
TJONS, and render them as balm to your 
aching heart, and as food to the divine life 
in your mind. I am, dear sir, with much 
esteem, compassion, and respect, your very 
sincere well-wisher, &c. 



LETTER XLVHL 

Weston-Favell, Dec. 5, 1717. 
My DEAR FiiiEND, — I assure you I 
am extremely concerned for the death of 
your most excellent wife, as indeed I 
think she has left few equals behind her : 
" Take her all in all, I shall never see her 
like again."* But, my dear friend, you 
must not give way to excessive sorrow. 
A\l proper allowances 1 tenderly do and 
ought to make, as such will be made both 
by God and man ; but yet our sorrows 
must not be immoderate, or inconsistent 
with the will of God, and resignation to 
his providence. Give me leave to present 
you with, and recommend to you, on this 
melancholy occasion, a repeated perusal of 
Dr. Grosvenor's Mourner, or the Afflicted 
Relieved. It is a most valuable gem ; and 
as it is wrote in numbers like the Specta- 
tors, it will not weary your attention. I am 
sure you stand in need of the consolations 
and helps there suggested. I am never 
without some of these little books to give 
away to my acquaintance under affliction, 
especially for the loss of deal" relations or 



* Shakspeare'i* Hamlet. 



800 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



valuable friends. I think it, for these pur- 
poses, one of the most judicious and uni- 
versaliy useful books extant : and it well 
deserves to be translated into the language 
of every nation where Christianity is pro- 
fessed. 

Do not you often recollect, in this sea- 
son of distress, the discourse, the prayers, 
the amiable, the rejoicing, and the heavenly 
spirit of our dear friend, who was with us 
last month ? Blessed be God for making 
him such a lovely example, and such a zeal- 
ous promoter of pure and undefiled reli- 
gion ! Blessed be God for promising us 
the same Divine Spirit ; and giving us the 
same glorious hopes, Vvhich have had such 
a quickening and ennobling influence on his 
heart ! The rich goodness of the Lord 
exercised to others, sho^ild encourage oiur 
expectations, should strengthen our faith. 
Let it then, let it be so. Adieu, my dear 
friend ! I will come to you again very soon. 
In the mean time, I shall not cease to pray 
for you ; as I am, with great compassion 
and great esteem, most tenderly, most sin- 
cerely yours, &c. 



LETTER XLIX. 

Weston-Favell, Jan. 12, 1748. 

My dear Friend, — Loth to make your 
servant stay, and loth to trespass too much 
upon the patience of our family who wait 
for me, I write in the utmost hurry. After 
so great an opinion as that of the judicious 
Dr. , 1 hardly dare venture to deli- 
ver my sentiments ; yet I must confess 
myself strongly inclined to prefer your in- 
tended motto. 

Is it a vulgarism ? Rather the simplici- 
ty of the gospel ; accommodated to the 
lowest capacity, suited to strike ordinary 
readers ; who are the persons most likely 
to be impressed. Or, if it is a vulgarism, 
let this be for the illiterate, the poetry for 
the polite. 

Is it Puritanical? Be not ashamed of the 
name. They (the Puritans) were the 
soundest preachers, and I believe the truest 
followers of Jesus Christ. If such an im- 
putation is a bugbear, we shall not act like 
gallant soldiers of Christ. Is it not the 
most important truth in the whole book of 
God ? the surest, easiest, most compendious 
means of overcoming the dread of death ? 
if so, I need not make the conclusion, 

Will censure ensue ? Dear sir, dread it 
not. Be bold for once to despise ridicule ; 
or rather, if it must needs fall upon you, to 
glory in this : Dedecus haud indecorum. 

Pardon my freedom. Only just think 
on my reasons. Reject them, and welcome. , 



I shall be glad to be overruled fer the bet- 
ter — -Yours, &c. 

LETTER L. 

■ ■• k"*?'^ ■ 

Weston-Favell, JeJ. 4. 1748, ^ 
Dear Sir,— -I sincerely thank you for 
taking the trouble of correcting my marks 
for Italics. I am glad you did not erase 
Mrs. S — — 's name. I assure you. Doctor, 
I shall always esteem it a real honour to be 
reckoned in the number of your friends ; 
and shall look upon it as one of the satisr 
factions accruing from my book, that it tells 
it in so pertinent a manner to the world ; 
though, with regard to your truly amiable 
deceased lady, I fear it will be an instance 
of the tu'rogance of my heart, and a reproach 
upon the impotence of my pen, or else I 
would say, 

Si quid mea scriptula possunt. 

Nulla dies unquam meinori illam eximet aevo. 

Yours, &c. 



LETTER LT. 

m& 

Weston-FaveU, March MiB^-i 
Dear Sir, — I am very much obliged for 
the present of your franks ; they could 
never be more wanted, or more welcome. 
If you have not so much as you wish, to 
relieve the necessities of the poor, distri- 
bute from my stock. I am cloistered up 
in ray chamber, and unacquainted with the 
distresses of my brethren. Lend me there- 
fore your eye to discover proper objects, 
and your hand to deal about my little fund 
for charity. Do not forbid me to send a 
guinea, in my next, for this purpose ; do 
not deny me the pleasure of becoming, 
through your means, an instrument ofsome 
little comfort to my afflicted fellow-crea- 
tures ; and (what is a far more endearing 
consideration) to the friends, the brethren, 
the members of him who died for my sins. 
If you have any other friend, to whose 
taste it may be agreeable, and in whose 
hands useful, I will empower you to make 
the j!reFent. Herewith comes the Descant 
enlarged. I hope you will be able to read 
it, and not a Httle to improve it. Can you 

engage Dr. to run it over ? to grant 

postremum hoc munus 9 

I must write it over again, so fear not to 
erase and blot. I have not seen where or 
how I can handsomely introduce that fine 
quotation from Mr. Dyer's Ruins of Rome, 
but will still consider it, because you desire 
it. — i am, dear sir, yx)tt/s,:i&c, 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



801 



LETTER LIL 

April 1748. 

Fy, fy upon you, dear Dr. I had 

been endeavouring all the day long to fix 
my admiration on that most exalted, that 
most amiable Being, who, though possessed 
of excellencies which the very angels con- 
template with rapture and adoration, yet 
humbled himself to death, the death of the 
cross, for my friend and me ; when your 
praises, kind indeed, but alas ! perniciously 
kind, fetched my thoughts from their pro- 
per element, and proper object, to grovel 
on a creature, and that the meanest of crea- 
tures — self. I could wish myself, on such 
occasions, like the deaf adder, which stop- 
peth her ears, and refuseth to hear the voice 
of the charmer, charm he never so sweetly. 
Praise is most enchanting music to the hu- 
man ear; shall I rather say, most delicious 
poison to the human taste ? From stran- 
gers, or complimentary correspondents, we 
must expect a touch upon this string, a 
sprinkling of this spice. But among friends, 
bosom friends, Christian friends, it must 
not be so. You and I, dear sir, will teach 
one another's hearts to rise in wonder, and 
glow with love, at the consideration of that 
ever-blessed sovereign, who is higher than 
the kings of the earth, higher than the po- 
tentates of heaven, and yet lay in darkness 
and the shadow of death, that he might 
make us the children of God, and exalt us 
to everlasting life. Pardon my excursions 
ou this subject. A letter from my father 
is enough to cast contempt upon created 
things. It informs me that my poor sister 
is reduced very low ; so low, that my father 
cannot hear her speak. He seems to look 
upon her life to be in very great danger. 
May the Father of compassions restore her 
health, that she may live to the honour of 
her dying Master, and be a comfort to her 
afflicted parents ! — Glad I am that my dear 
friend can relish the writings of that shin- 
ing and burning light Mr. . Our dis- 

esteem of such gospel doctrines as he 
teaches, generally arises from ignorance of 
ourselves. Therefore I heartily join with 
the Grecian sage, in saying, E coelo descm- 
dit. I am affectionately yours, &c. 



LETTER LIIL 

Weston- Favell, May 26, 1748. 
Dear Sir, — I have given directions to 
my bookseller to present you with the new 
editiofi of my Meditations ; which I desire 
you to accept, and to look upon as a small 



but unfeigned expression of my most affec- 
tionate esteem. The pleasure of your com- 
pany I cannot expect often to enjoy ; let 
me therefore, dear sir, by means of my little 
treatise, converse with you now and then, 
as it were by proxy, with a view of famil- 
iarizing to our minds those subhme subjects 
which will be the study and the delight of 
a glorious eternity. 

Another set I have sent for Mr. ; 

which I beg of you to render accept- 
able, by presenting. That worthy min- 
ister stands entitled to my grateful ac- 
knowledgments for his judicious and excel- 
lent letter. His candid and weighty ob- 
servations have induced me to alter the 
exceptionable p;.?sage in the book; and 
will, I hope, incite me to cultivate in my 
heart that amiable spirit of charity which 
hopeth all things. 

What I accidentally hinted to Dr. , 

who favoured me with a sight of Mrs. 

's letter, I never imagined would have 

been communicated to her, or any person 
living. Had 1 suspected any such conse- 
quence, I should certainly have withheld 
my pen, and concealed what I might hap- 
pen to think ; because I neither relish con- 
troversy, nor have strength of mind, or so- 
lidity of judgment, sufficient to conduct 
the procedure of an argument. All my 
aim, all my desire is, to quicken in my own 
heart the seeds of practical faith and vital 
holiness. If to this I might be enabled to 
cherish the same sacred principles in the 
hearts of some of my serious and humble 
acquaintance, I should wish for no other 
fruits of my labours. However, as Mrs. 

's objections are advanced, and are now 

before me, it would be a failure of respect 
to her, and a desertion of my divine Mas- 
ter's honour, if I did not attempt at least, to 
satisfy her scruples, and vindicate his con- 
duct. I shall, therefore, with all freedom, 
but with sincere good-will, transmit my sen- 
timents on every article of her letter. 

And first, with regard to the little assis- 
tance which I have contributed, and which 
Mrs. — — thinks worthy of her acknow- 
ledgments, I beg of her to observe, that it 
is owing, wholly owing to her adored Re- 
deemer. To him, to him alone, she is 
obliged (if there be an obligation in the 
case) for this friendly donation. He has 
been pleased to command this instance of 
my gratitude, for his unspeakably tender 
mercies to my soul. He has been pleased 
to declare, that he will look upon such a 
piece of kindness as done to his own most 
blessed self. This makes me, this makes 
all believers, glad to embrace every such 
occasion of shewing our thankfulness to our 
infinitely condescending, gracious Lord. 

The action which Mrs. 's grateful pen 

calls generous, does not arise, as she ex- 



802 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



presses it, from any innate nobleness of 
mind. I remember the time, when this 
heart was hard as the flint, and these hands 
tenacious even to avarice. But it is Jesus, 
the quickening Spirit, and the lover of 
souls, who has made your friend to differ 
from his natural self, If the flinty bowels 
are melted into compassion, they are melted 
by a believing consideration of his most 
precious blood. If the avaricious hands 
are opened, and made ready to distribute, 
willing to communicate, they are made so 
by the free grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
Therefore not unto me, not unto me, but 
unto the great and good Redeemer, are all 
the returns of gratitude due. 

<*It is utterly inconsistent," says Mrs. 

, " with my way of thinking, that the 

Son of God should be present at a wedding 
at all." But why should it be thought ut- 
terly, why in any degree, inconsistent with 
his dignity or wisdom, to be present at the 
solemnization of an ordinance which he 
himself instituted; instituted in the state 
of innocency itself ; instituted, for promot- 
ing the happiness of our nature, and for 
perpetuating, with regularity and purity, its 
very existence ? If our Lord opened his 
commission, and shewed his divine creden- 
tials at a bridal festivity, it was, in my hum- 
ble opinion, with a very peculiar propriety : 
Because it was a significant intimation of 
the benign and amiable genius of his reli- 
gion, that he came, not in the austere and 
recluse spirit of the Baptist ; came not to 
forbid, but to sanctify, the lawful and truly 
valuable comforts of our present being. If 

Mrs. pleases to consult the office of 

matrimony, as it is celebrated by our church, 
she will find a substantial reason assigned 
for our Saviour's gracing this solemnity with 
his presence, and working his first miracle 
on this occasion. And the more attentive- 
ly she reads the Scriptures, she will find, in 
various places, how the Son of God delights 
to honour this sacred institution ; since he 
calls himself the bridegroom of true believ- 
ers : and declares that he will betrothe 
them to himself in righteousness : since he 
shadows forth their spiritual union with his 
blessed self, by that most endearing, most 
indissoluble of ties, the nuptial ; and figures 
out the satisfaction resulting from his gos- 
pel, and even the sublime enjoyments of 
his heavenly kingdom, by a marriage feast. 
When these things are taken into consider- 
ation, I hope it will appear that our holy 
Redeemer acted entirely in character, and 
conformably to the whole tenor of his re- 
velation, by ennobling, by blessing the ma- 
trimonial festival with his presence. 

But " such a sort of feast is in general a 
scene of revelling." It is, I must acknow- 
ledge, too frequently so in our nation, and 
in our age. But was it also a scene of re- 



velling, offensive to modesty, or contrary to 
sobriety, in early times and among the Jew- 
ish people ? There seems to be a hint in 
this very narrative, that they were particu- 
larly careful to prevent all manner of inde- 
cency, or dissolute indulgence. For this 
reason, they appointed a governor of the 
feast ; a principal part of whose office was 
to see that no irregularities were committed, 
but that all was conducted with decorum 
as well as economy. Besides, if some of 
those festivities are perverted, will it follow 
that all are abused ? Might not there be 
some serious set of neighbours who knew 
how to be merry after a godly sort, and ful- 
fil the old Mosaical rule of rejoicing before 
the Lord their God? I myself have been 
present at the celebration of a wedding be- 
tween Christian parties, and among Chris- 
tian friends, where heavenly conversation, 
and joyful thanksgiving to the adorable Au- 
thor of all our comforts, made the chief and 
the choicest part of our entertainment. 
And is there not very evident cause to 
suppose, that the nuptials in question were 
consummated between persons of such a 
character? The holy Jesus, his devcmt 
mother, and serious disciples, would scarce- 
ly have been invited, or would hardly 
have accepted the invitation, if it was an 
irreligious couple, or a wanton assembly of 
guests. 

But " in such a mixed multitude, ft is 
hardly supposable that all should be serious 
in their dispositions, or innocent in their 
conversation." Would not then the pre- 
sence of so venerable and divine a Person, 
strike an awe upon the most loose inclina- 
tion ? Could not his eternal power and 
Godhead control the most abandoned tem- 
per and ungovernable tongue? He that in- 
timidated the sacrilegious rabble, when they 
profaned the temple, and drove them be- 
fore his single scourge ; he that struck 
prostrate to the ground a whole band ot 
armed men, only with his word ; he who 
had all hearts in his hand, and could turn 
them whithersoever he pleased ; he wonld 
doubtless prohibit, at this juncture, what- 
ever might carry the appearance of an im- 
modest or intemperate freedom. So that 

Mrs. need not question but that, if any 

of the company was dissolutely disposed, 
the authority of our Lord's character, and 
much more the agency of his Spirit on 
their minds, did most effectually restrain all 
licentiousness. 

*' One would think," it is farther ob - 
served, " he ' might have improved some 
occurrence or other to their information 
and advantage." That this was not done 
is taken for granted ; I suppose because the 
evangelist does not expressly record it. Rut 
is this a fair deduction, or a satisfactory 
reason ? Are there not many mighty works 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



803 



Whicli Jesus performed, many edifying con- 
ferences vvtich Jesus held, professedly omit- 
ted by the inspired penman? Was not our 
Lord's tongue a fountain of wisdom ever 
flowing, and a well of life never exhausted ? 
When did that good Shepherd let slip an 
opportunity of feeding the flock ? He went 
to feasts, in the same spirit, and for the 
same purpose, as he came into the world, 
to turn poor mankind from darkness to 
light, and from the power of Satan unto 
God. The sun might as v/ell forbear shin- 
ing as the Sim of righteousness neglect to 
diffuse healing rays and heavenly knowledge 
ail aroimd. God's great design in sending 
his Son into the world was, that ignorant 
and sinful men might be reclaimed from the 
error of their ways, and be made wise unto 
salvation. And oiu: Saviour solemnly de- 
clares, that he always did the will of him 
that sent him. If, therefore, this declara- 
tion be true, and if our Lord's conduct was 
unifonn, we cannot but conclude, that at 
Cana, as well as throughout all Galilee, his 
mouth was exercised in wisdom, and his 
tongue talked of judgment ; that the words 
which dropped from his gracious, his in- 
structive lips, were much sweeter than the 
richest dainties which the table yielded; 
much more reviving than even that gene- 
rous wine, produced by a miracle, which his 
divine power, on this distinguished occa- 
sion, wrought. This reminds me of an- 
other objection, couched in the following 
words : — 

" It is harder yet to reconcile his beha- 
viour when there. To increase the wine 
when the guests had well drunk, could tend 
to no other end than to promote and en- 
courage intemperance." Perhaps Mrs- 

does not sufficiently attend to the 

narration of the evangelist. I do not fiiid 
it asserted that these guests had well drunk. 
The expression is used, but applied to other 
persons, and the custom usual at other ce- 
remonies of this nature. I once was ac- 
quainted with a worthy gentleman who 
frequently invited to his table the young 
persons of his neighbourhood ; and would 
take a pleasure in cultivating, by his discourse, 
the principles of sobriety, industry, and 
piety in their minds. Now, in case he had 
said, after supper was removed, " I know 
very well, my honest neighbours, it is cus- 
tomary with some persons of fortime to 
please and to pride themselves in making 
their visitants drunk. They push the glass 
briskly round, and press one bumper upon 
another, till they send their guest staggering 
to bed." But now, would any one infer, 
from such a remark on the practice of others, 
that this was also the practice at my friend's 
house ? To form ^my conclusion injurious 
to the sobriety of those guests, seems to be 
•.much the same illogical and unreasonable 



arguing. But, supposing the expression 
applied to the guests then present, what is 
its sigrufication ? The original word some- 
times signifies no more than to drink with 
so moderate an indulgence, as innocently to 
exhilarate the spirits. It is used concern- 
ing Joseph's brethren, when they were 
treated in his palace, and had portions sent 
from his table. Gen. xliii. 34. Now, can 
any one, who is at all acquainted with the 
character of that exemplary patriarch, ima- 
gine that he would permit his brethren, in 
his own presence, to transgress the rules of 
temperance ? Much less can any one, who 
really believes in Jesus, and seriously con- 
siders the design of his coming into the 
world, allow himself to suspect, that he 
woidd furnish fresh wine for those who 
(in the obnoxious sense of the word) had 
well drunk already. Could he, who is our 
sanctification, the Lord our purifier, admi- 
nister to our inordinate gratifications ? 

" Yes," says Mrs. , " because this 

increase of the wine could tend to no other 
end than to promote and encourage intem- 
perance." Mrs. possibly forgets, that 

the Jewish festivals were prolonged for 
several days ; that a fresh succession of 
guests might be expected ; that very pro- 
bably a much greater resort of company 
than was provided for might be occasioned 
by our Lord's illustrious presence ; that the 
miraculous supply might be intended for 
their accommodation ; or, that it might not 
be all spent on that occasion, but reserved 
for the future accommodation of the marri- 
ed couple.* We read, John xxi. that the 
disciples took, at one cast, a vast multitude 
of great fishes. But did they eat them all 
immediately ? Then they would have been 
gluttons indeed. They used for themselves 
what was necessary to satisfy their hunger, 
and sold the remainder to procure a liveli- 
hood. And why should we not conclude, 
that the bridegroom also, after a cheerful, 
but temperate refreshment of his visitants, 
preserved the remainder of that fine wine 
for future exigencies ? This I take to be 
the case ; and that our divine Master, by 
tills means, rewarded him for his hospitality 
to himself and his followers ; at the same 
time giving a most conspicuous proof, 'that, 
as he and his disciples were henceforth to 
have neither storehouse nor barn, but to 
subsist on the charity of others, none should 
be losers by entertaining him and his 
friends ; that every such kindness should 
meet with a full recompense of reward. 

" I must not omit the rough answer 



* Many commentators are of opinion, that the 
water was not turned into wine in the water-pots, 
but as it ran into the cup, and the liquor in the 
water-pots rem.ained water still. If so, which inter- 
pretation, without the least force, the text vnW very 
well bear, the lady's objection will appear to have 
less strength yet. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



which he makes to his mother upon this 
occasion ; which, I think, stands in need of 
an excuse, thougli we find none in the evan- 
gelist for it." I do not wonder that Mrs. 
— . — is somewhat offended at this expres- 
sion. She is a lady of refined taste, and 
delicate address ; and as she is not acquaint- 
ed with the original language, nor aware 
how the phrase sounded in oriental ears, 
her remark is not to be looked upon as a 
censorious reflection, but as a proof of the 
politeness of her own sentiments. How- 
ever, when she has an opportunity of con- 
sulting the ancient writers, she will find 
that their language had less of compliment, 
and more of sincerity than ours. It was so 
plain and artless, that persons of the best 
breeding have addressed ladies of the high- 
est quality by this very name ; and without 
intending any slight, or giving the least 
affront. She may remember, that the ele- 
ven brethren, when pleading before the go- 
vernor of Egypt, pleading for their liberties, 
or even their very lives ; when, if ever, their 
expressions would be most carefully guard- 
ed, and full of the utmost reverence, yet 
use this (to modern ears) uncourtly style — 
the man ; meaning the viceroy himself, 

Gen. xliv. 26. Surely Mrs. cannot 

forget, that our Lord, in his last moments, 
calls his mother by the very same appella- 
tion. Much less can she suspect, that he 
could be wanting in respect and tenderness, 
when his concern for the parent of his 
flesh triumphed over the agonies of the 
cross. 

Perhaps the substance of the reply may 
be thought somewhat unkind. I believe it 
should be translated, Woman, what hast 
thou to do with me ? i. e. in such instances 
as this, wherein my Deity is concerned, and 
an interposition of my omnipotence is re- 
quisite. I would have thee to know, once 
for all, that in aflfairs of this nature thou 
hast no authority over me ; neither does it 
become thee to direct me. She was over- 
forward ; she took too much upon her ; and 
the answer was intended for a plain and 
serious rebuke. Accordingly, the humble 
mother-, like one sensible of her misconduct, 
acquiesces with silent submission, and ne- 
ver oflfers (throughout the whole course of 
the history) to interfere in such a manner 
any more, but leaves it to his wisdom to 
determine, both when his divine power 
should be exerted, and what it should 
effect. 

" I do not know how it happens," says 
Mrs. — — , " but the more nearly I exam- 
ine matters of faith, the further I am from 
assenting to them." Will it be acceptable 
to my dear friend • , or will it be dis- 
gustful, if I attempt to tell her how this in 
general happens ? She seems to be pos- 
sessed of great mgenuity of temper, and 



equal penetration of mind; therefore I 
cannot think she will take amiss, what I 
only offer to her impartial consideration, 
without any application to herself. It hap- 
pens, because people are unrenewed by thfe 
sanctifying influences of divine grace. This 
is not my precarious conjecture, but the Jh- 
fallible declaration of the great Searcher of 
hearts. The carnal man, says the Wisdom 
of heaven, receiveth not the things of the 
Spirit of God ; for they are foolishness unto 
him; neither can he know them, because 
they are spiritually discerned. This was 
the case with Nieodemus, Our Lord's 
discourse was a riddle, was quite unintelligi- 
ble to him, because he was not born of the 
Spirit, had not experienced that sacred 
change on his heart. Sometimes it hap- 
pens, because persons are wise in their 
own eyes ; depending more upon the 
sagacity of their own judgment than upon 
the enlightening grace of God. I thank 
thee, O Father, says our blessed Re- 
deemer, that whereas thou hast hid these 
things from (suffered them to lie hid, to 
escape the discernment of) the wise and 
prudent, thou hast revealed them unto babes. 
But who are they that are wise in their own 
conceits ? I answer, they who study much, 
but pray little ; who are often at their desk, 
but seldom on their knees ; often exercise 
their minds in contemplations, but seldom 
lift up their hearts in earnest supplications 
to the Father of lights. But I must not 
enlarge. I shall be insufferably tedious. I 

most cordially commiserate Mrs. 's 

afflicted condition. I beg of her to be 
more frequent, more importunate, in her 
devout addresses to the gracious God. 
This is proper, peculiarly proper for her 
distressed circumstances. If any be afflict- 
ed, let him pray — ^is a recipe prescribed 
from heaven; but more especially needful 
for the unsettled state of her mind. For 
let me say, and let it not be looked upon 
as an unfriendly saying, 1 cannot but fear 
that soul is sadly unsettled, far from being 
fixed on that Rock of ages, that oidy Foun- 
dation, Jesus Christ, who can suppose the 
blessed Redeemer chargeable with such 
great indecencies of speech, and still grosser 
improprieties of conduct. Can a mind, 
which admits such unworthy apprehensions 
of the great Immanuel, rely on him as its 
all-satisfying atonement, its complete right- 
eousness, as the only anchor of its final, 
eternal hopes ? May the God of all good- 
ness reveal his dear Son in her heart, and 
in mine ; that to us it may be given to know 
the mystery of bis gospel ; that we may see 
it to be the wisdom of God, and feel it to 
be the power of God to our salvation ! 
You will, I dare say, heartily join your 
Amen to this important request. If any 
fresh difficulties are started, I beg leave to 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



805 



decline the province of attempting their 
sohition ; and would remit all future inqui- 
ries to the much clearer judgment and abler 

pen of our valuable friend Mi*. . 

Dear Sir, pardon my prolixity ; pray for my 
little piece and its author ; and assure your- 
self of a willing and hearty return of this 
kindness, from your truly, &c. 



LETTER LIV. 

Weston-Favell, May 1748. 
sj; I SEKD my dear fnend the letter, which 
?>by his instigation I write. I send it this 
night, that if he discerns any thing in it 
very improper, it may be returned by the 
bearer, and the needful alterations made. 
Methinks it gives a person a tasteful satis- 
faction to find favour with judicious and 
excellent men. What a transport of de- 
light must it create, to meet with the ac- 
ceptance of the great Judge, the eternal 
King, the Fountain of all perfection ! To 
be admitted into his immediate presence ; 
to be favoured with the brightest manifes- 
tations of his divine attributes ; to love him 
Iwith all our souls, and to be infinitely more 
beloved by him; to be conformed to his 
glorious, his most amiable image, and so 
much the more as ages in an endless suc- 
cession roll on ages — this is life, this is 
blessedness, this is heaven ! And this life 
is in his Son ; this blessedness is purchased 
for us sinners by the obedience of Christ ; 
to this heaven Christ is the way, the door, 

,^{!the passport. O let us not doubt but he 

j jflivill make us meet, by his Spirit, for the 
, jieheritance which he has obtained by his 

,s.)|>|ood. Ever yours, &c. 

iij'ihsQii Yiifii'jyq^o v. 

to'i .bffim 19 rl m 

«ioqo b9:^oo{ ad 

x^mui }omji>-L;ETTER LV. 

gaiad' , 

^iltH ■ Weston-Favell, Aug. 18, 1748. 
ydj My very Dear Friend, — I received 
jviiyour letter, full of tenderness and full of 
; >s|>i.ety, last night. The very first thing I 
^>napply myself to this morning, is to acknow- 
vjedge your favour, and confess my own ne- 
jrgligence. But your affectionate heart will 
jigity rather than blame me, when I inform 
U :,-you, that a relapse into the disorder of 
fujvvhich I was never thoroughly cured, has 
-ifcrought me very low; insomuch that I am 
unable either to discharge the duties of life, 
or to answer the demands of friendship. I 
have not been capable of preaching for 
ii(^veral Sundays. Pyrmont water, ass's 
milk, and such kind of restoratives, I try, 
but try in vain. A great while ago I had 
begun a very long letter to my ever-esteem- 
ed Mr. . In this I proposed can- 



didly to represent the reasons of my be- 
lief with regard to the final perseverance of 
the true believer. But weakness of spirits, 
and its never-failing concomitant, imbecility 
of thought, obliged me to desist. In the 
new edition of my Meditations, a note is 
added on this subject, declaring. That I am 
far from maintaining it as essential to 
Christianity, or necessary to salvation, &c. 
Where I say. What infidels are we in fact ? 
my meaning is, that we are all in some 
measure chargeable with practical infidelity; 
as we are all in some degree carnal, in some 
degree sinful, while we continue in this 
mortal body. Considering the infinite ve- 
racity, and unchangeable faithfulness of the 
blessed God, the most exalted saints have 
too much cause to lament their deficiency 
in point of faith, and evermore to cry out, 
Lord, help our unbelief! 

An humble, well-grounded assurance of 
our reconciliation to God, is an unspeak- 
ably precious blessing. It is what all 
should seek, and many have attained. A 
gentleman told me a few days ago, That 
though he was often solicited to sin, often 
defiled with corruption, yet he had no man- 
ner of doubt concerning his everlasting sal- 
vation for these twenty years. On trying 
occasions, that seemed to endanger his final 
happiness, he fled, I presume, to the Foun- 
tain opened for sin and uncleanness. He 
viewed, by faith, the infinite, (O transport* 
ing truth!) the infinite satisfaction made 
by the bleeding Immanuel ; and could not 
but confide, that a divine expiation was more 
powerful to save, than all past sins or pre- 
sent infirmities to destroy. This is the 
white stone of which Job was happily pos- 
sessed — I know that my Redeemer liveth ; 
and this sweet confidence supported him 
under all his tribulations. This is that ear- 
nest of the Si)irit in our hearts, of which 
St. Paul makes mention, and with which 
he was endued : We know that if our 
earthly house of this tabernacle be dis- 
solved, we have a buildisig of God, an 
house not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens. And, in the full assurance of 
this blessed hope, may you, my dear friend, 
be every day more and more established, 
strengthened, settled ! 

If at any time I am favoured with this 
heavenly gift, it is derived from such com- 
fortable Scriptures : The Son of the Most 
High came into the world to save sinners : 
He died, the just for the unjust : He pour- 
ed out his soul for transgressors- And 
since you and I know ourselves to be sin- 
ners, unjust, transgressors, why should we 
not take to ourselves the comfort here of- 
fered for our acceptance ? Why should we 
not make use of the privilege here consign- 
ed over to our enjoyment, and claim the 
legacy, in these clauses of our dying Mas- 



806 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



ter's testament, most evidently beqeathed 
to our souls ? To found oui- expectations 
on this bottom, will be a means both of 
humbling and exalting us ; of filling us with 
shame, and fi^Uing us with hope ; that we 
may abhor ourselves, and yet rejoice in 
God our Saviour. Many build their hopes 
upon their religious duties and righteous 
deeds : such a building must unavoidably be 
shaken by every temptation, and sapped 
by every working of corruption. These are 
in no wise the foundation, but evidences 
rather that we are fixed on it. For ray 
part, when I can exercise a grace, or per- 
form a duty, that is debased by no imper- 
fection, mingled with no corruption, then I 
will trust on self-righteousness. But till 
then, I must be very unreasonable if I do 
not rely on my illustrious Surety ; fly to the 
ark of his wounds, and make mention of 
his righteousness only. This is all-suffi- 
cient ; and never, never faileth those that 
trust in it. 

You are not ignorant of my sentiments 
with regard to our dissenting brethren. 
Are we not all devoted to the same su- 
preme Lord ? Do we not all rely on the 
merits of the same glorious Redeemer ? 
By professing the same faith, the same 
doctrine which is according to godliness, 
we are incorporated into the same mystical 
body. And how strange, how unnatural 
would it be, if the head should be averse to 
the breast, or the hands inveterately pre- 
judiced against the feet, only because the 
one is habited somewhat differently from 
the other ? Though I am steady in my 
attachment to the established church, I 
would have a right hand of fellowship, and 
a heart of love, ever ready, ever open, for 
all the upright evangelieal dissenters. I 
thank you for the news you sent ; it is im- 
possible for me to pay in kind. Make my 
most respectful compliments acceptable to 

worthy Mr. I had agreed to wait 

upon him when I was in town ; but my 
brother's illness growing worse, and soon 
proving fatal, deprived me of this pleasure, 
and sent me home to attend his corpse 
with sorrow to the grave. I hope you 
will be pleased with Archbishop -Leigh- 
ton's works ; and I heartily pray, that 
they may be abundantly blessed to both 
our souls. I sincerely commiserate poor 

Miss D 's case. Despair is indeed a 

fiery dart of the devil ; but, blessed be So- 
vereign Goodness, there is a remedy against 
this malady. The Israelites, though wound- 
ed by the deadly serpents, looked to the 
brazen type hung upon the pole, and found 
a certain cure. And though we are stung 
by a sense of guilt, and almost perishing in 
extreme despondency, yet let us turn our 
eye to him who was lifted up on the cross, 
and we shall be whole. He who was gash- 



ed with wounds, and covered with Wood, 
who was pierced with irons, and stabbed to 
the heart ; he is our medicine, our recovery, 
our life. By his stripes we are healed. 
Oh ! let us look unto him from the depths 
of distress, as well as from the ends pf the 
earth, look unto him and be saved. My 
paper admonishes me to have done; but I 
cannot conclude without assuring you, that 
I love you most affectionately ; so long as 
life and understanding last, shall pray for 
you among my choicest friends ; and hope, 
when this transitory scene of things is at an 
end, to be, in bonds of nobler friendship 
and tenderer endearment, ever, ever yours, 
&c. 



LETTER LYI. 

Weston-Favell, June 3, 1749. 

So, my dear Sir, the physicians upon the 
whole have given your friend no great hopes 
of a cure. The apothecary's shop, the ass's 
dugs, and the mineral waters may, they 
apprehend, palliate the disorder ; but that 
even a palliation, it seems, is not to be ex- 
pected, without keeping the mind quiet and 
cheerful : and that this important end may 
most effectually be answered, the doctors 
have recommended diversions, travelling, 
and company ; giving a caution, at the same 
time, I am told, against retirement, so much 
praying, and poring over religious books. 

Now, if cheerfulness be the grand, the 
fundamental, the only recipe adequate even 
to the mitigation of this disease, I may ven- 
ture to assert, that such recipe is to be found 
(possibly what I declare may be wondered 
at, but I aver it is to be found) in the 
Bible. Jt may be seen wrote at length, 
and it well deserves consideration, in Prov. 
xvii. 22. " A merry heart doth good like a 
medicine, but a broken spirit drieth the 
bones." 

That a satisfied, a serene, and cheerful 
state of mind, will in this case be more be- 
neficial than all manner of restoratives for 
decayed nature, or cordials for the sinking 
spirits, I can easily believe ; nay, I am far- 
ther convinced, that whatever can be con- 
trived by the most solicitous care of the 
physicians, will probably be rendered inef- 
fectual, without this prime preparative, this 
most sovereign prescript. It is indispen- 
sably necessary, that all possible endeavours 
should be exerted to have the thoughts calm, 
placid, and easy. Every thing must be 
sacrificed to this most desirable end. No- 
thing can be more pernicious, in such cir- 
cumstances, than the contrary situation of 
mind. But here will arise a question. How 
this inward tranquillity may most easily be 
attained, and most surely established ? By 



A COLLECTION 

company, by travelling, by diversions, the 
doctors and some others will reply. — I am 
far, very far from being an enemy to diver- 
sions, when properly chosen, and used with 
moderatioii. Travelling may beguile the 
sense of woe, and palhate for a while the 
malady. Company, when cheerful and im- 
proving, is an excellent source of comfort j 
vvheri innocent only and entertainining, is 
of some present service, and ought to be 
allowed ?at intervals) admittance. But 
these will no more reach the case now 
under consideration, are no more able to 
create a settled tranquillity in the breast, 
than the gentle motions of a fan are suffi- 
cient to impel a wind-bound fleet. If they 
engross our time, and leave no leisure for 
nobler methods of consolation, they will 
certainly prove like heavy lowering clouds, 
and, instead of diffusing, will intercept the 
rays of heartfelt satisfaction. But what, 
may it be asked, would I substitute instead 
of these expedients? I would beg leave 
(unpolite as it may seem, and in a manner 
exploded) to recommend prayer to God, 
and the daily reading of the Scriptures. If 
kind and friendly conversation be judged 
proper, why should prayer be disapproved ? 
Prayer is an humble, but delightful inter- 
course, with the best, the greatest, the ever- 
lasting Friend. And has any earthly friend 
exercised more loving-kindness ? is any 
earthly friend more able to administer relief, 
than the blessed God? If there be such 
friends, let them be our whole dependance, 
and let omnipotent Goodness be secluded 
from any regard. 

God has so loved us, that he gave his 
own Son, dearer to himself than angels, 
and all worlds, to die for our salvation. 
Rather than we should perish for ever, he 
sent his infinitely glorious Son to take upon 
him our nature, and suffer the unknown 
agonies of crucifixion. To show his readi- 
ness to succour us in any distress, he styles 
himself the Father of mercies, and God 
(not of some, but) of all comfort, 2 Cor, i. 
3. And where is the person from whom 
we may more reasonably expect to receive 
tender and compassionate succours, than 
from this all-gracious God ? Is he not as 
powerful as he is gracious ? What Job said 
of his companions, is in a degree true of 
every human aid, — Impotent and miserable 
comforters are ye all. But the God of 
heaven is able to give songs in the night of 
distress ; to make the bones that sorrow and 
anguish have broken, to rejoice. If he 
speak peace, who shall cause disquietude, 
or what shall destroy our tranquillity ? In- 
deed, if we apply for comfort to any thing 
lower than heaven, or by any such means 
as exclude frequent prayer, we neglect the 
fountain of living waters, and hew out to 
ourselves cisterns, broken cisterns that can 



OF LETTERS. 807 

hold no water. The Scriptures (and be- 
lieve me, as I speak from dajly experience) 
are a treasury of comfort. One who had 
drank deep of the cup of sorrow declai'es, 
that they rejoice the heart ; and that for his 
own part, if his delight had not been in 
the divine law, he should have perished in 
his trouble; (see Bible, Psal. cxix. 92.) 
These things, says the favourite disciple, 
write we unto you (not barely that you may 
have joy, but) that your joy may be full, 
John XV. 11, And St. Paul adds, that 
whatever things are written by the Spirit 
of inspiration, are written for our benefit ; 
that we, through patience and comfort of 
the Scriptures, might have hope, Rom. xv. 
4. ; that blessed hope of eternal life, which 
is an anchor to the soul in all the storms of 
adversity ; which is the oil of gladness, 
swimming above all the waves of afliiction. 
By having recourse to diversions and amuse- 
ments, in preference to the strong consola- 
tions suggested in the Bible, we act as in- 
judiciously, we shall be deceived as cer- 
tainly, as if, amidst the sultry heats of sum- 
mer, we should seek cooling refreshment 
from a painted tree, and shun the embower- 
ing shady covert of a real grove. 

If we are afflicted, the Scriptures acquaint 
us, that our afflictions are the chastisements 
of a Father, not the scourges of an enemy. 
They give us assurance, that the all-dispos- 
ing Providence will not suffer us to be af- 
flicted above what we are able to bear ; (see 
1 Cor. x. 13.) ; that they shall turn to our 
good, and bring forth the peaceable fruits of 
righteousness ; that they are light, are only 
for a moment, and yet shall work out for U9 
a weight, an eternal weight of glory. Can 
all the volumes of heathen morality suggest, 
or all the recreations of the world afford, 
such rational and solid consolation ? With- 
out these consolations, afflictions will be 
like a latent sore, smarting and rankling in 
the heart ; will produce discontent with our 
condition, and repining at Providence ; a 
melancholy temper, and a fretful carriage. 
Trifling company, and worldly pleasures, 
will serve only to aggravate the misery, and 
make us inwardly mourn, that while others 
are in the elevations of mirth, we are pressed 
with a* weight of calamity; whereas, by 
means of those sovereign consolations, af- 
flictions may be improved to the health of 
the mind, and become a most salutary ex- 
pedient for furthering our spiritual happi- 
ness. 

Can any thing be more, or equally com- 
fortable, than the privileges recorded in that 
charter of our salvation, the Scriptures ? 
There we are told, that as many as truly 
believe in Jesus Christ, are children of the 
Almighty ; that the Lord who commandeth 
the waters, the glorious God who maketh 
the thunder, the everlasting King who ruleth 



808 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



all things in heaven and earth, is their 
Father; he pities them as a father pities 
his own children, Psalm ciii. 13. ; and that 
a mother may sooner forget her sucking 
child, than he can remit his tender care for 
their present welfare and endless felicity, 
Isaiah xlix. 15. That because we are sin- 
ners, Christ Jesus, with infinitely more 
than parental tenderness, bore our sins, and 
expiated all our guilt, in his own bleeding 
body upon the tree, 1 Peter ii. 24. Be- 
cause we frequently offend, and always fail, 
our merciful High-priest ever liveth to make 
intercession for us, and to plead his divine 
merits in our behalf, Heb. vii. 25. Be- 
cause we have many corruptions within, 
and are assaulted by various temptations 
without, we have a promise of the blessed 
Spirit to subdue our corruptions, Gal. iii. 
l4. ; Ezek. xxxvi. 27- and renew us after 
the image of him who created us, Col. iii. 
10. Because we are liable to manifold 
misfortunes, and visited with *a variety of 
sorrows, the same Holy Spirit is promised, 
under the amiable character of a Comforter, 
John XV. 7.; Luke xi. 13. Because all 
flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof 
(the youth, the beauty, the wealth, all mor- 
tal accomplishments, and every worldly en- 
joyment) is withering, and transient as the 
flofwer of the field, (Isa. xl. 6.) the Scrip- 
tures direct our view, and consign over to 
our faith a most incomparable reversionary 
inheritance ; an inheritance reserved in hea- 
ven for us, which is incorruptible, undefiled, 
and that fadeth not away, 1 Pet. i. 4. 

Are these things, I would ask the phy- 
sicians, likely to deject the mind, or oppress 
it with heaviness ? Need their patients fear 
an aggravation of distresses from the offer, 
from the enjoyment of such blessings ? 
Much more reasonably might the bleeding 
wound fly from the lenient hand, dread the 
healing balm, and court its cure from the 
viper's envenomed tooth. Have these truths 
a tendency to engender gloomy apprehen- 
sions, as the medical gentlemen are too apt 
to imagine, or do these increase the load 
which galls the afflicted mind? Rather, 
what heart (that attends to, and believes 
such glad tidings) can forbear even leaping 
for joy ? These are calculated to put off 
our sackcloth, aiid gird us with gladness ; are 
enough to turn the groans of grief into the 
songs of gratitude. 

Cheered by these reviving considerations, 
supported by this blessed hope, the ancient 
Christians were more than conquerors over 
all their calamities ; they even gloried in 
tribulations, because these were the appoint- 
ed way to the kingdom of heaven. Acts xiv. 
"22. They took joyfully the spoiling of their 
good?, knowing that they had, in the world 
above, a better and more enduring sub- 
stance, Heb. x. '34, They perceived with 



complacency the decay of their earthly ta- 
bernacle ; because there remained for them, 
after their dissolution, a house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens, 2 Cor. 
V. 1. Perhaps we may not arrive at such 
heights of heroic and triumphant exultation j 
but surely we should try those remedies, 
which in their case were so surprisingly and 
happily successful. 

Upon the whole, a peaceful composiure 
of mind, and calm resignation to the all-wise 
will of God ; a holy joy in the merits of our 
ever-blessed Redeemer, and a well-grounded 
hope of unutterable and immortal bliss in a 
better world ; these, these are more abso- 
lutely needful for a case like this, and will 
do more towards relief, than all the drugs 
that nature produces. And very sure I am;^ ^ 
that these noble anodynes are dispensed no 
where but in the Scriptures ; are to be pro-f^ 
cured no otherwise than by prayer. Other 
methods may stupify for a moment, but ^^^ll 
not remove the pain, much less introduce 
permanent ease. 

I speak not this from mere speculation.;^ 
or conjectural probability. I have mysel:^^! 
experienced the efiicacy of the preceding, 
expedients for these desirable purposes^r 
Having been a sort of veteran in affliction^.. 
I have been under a necessity of applyiii^f 
these consolations j and have the utmost^ 
reason to bear witness, that there are non& l 
like them. The Scriptures are the treasur^ ' 
of joy and peace, and the truly religious ai-|.^ 
generafly the most uniformly cheerful. :'| 

If you apprehend what I have here atji. 
vanced on the means of obtaining tfue 
cheerfulness and sohd^eace of mind, may 
be in any measure instrumental to the com- 
fort of your friend, you would do well per- 
haps to communicate it, as I presume you 
are not ashamed of appearing in the recom- 
mendation of the Bible. The physicians 
would probably sneer at such sort of advice, 
but the arguments will not be the less valid 
on that account ; and if their patient be 
seriously disposed, such sneers would have,, 
little or no effect. 

Do you recoflect Dr. Young's lines * in 
the Eighth Night? /; 

— ^Wouldst thou not laugh, 'Ic 

This counsel strange should I presume to give— 
Retire and r<>ad thy Bible to be gay ; 
There truths abound of sovereign aid to peace. 
But these, thou think'st, are gloomy paths to joy j 
False joys indeed are bom from want of thought ; , 
True joy from thought's full bent and energy : ^ ^ 
And this demands a mind in equal poise, : 
Remote from gloomy grief and glaring joy. j 
Much joy not only speaks small happiness ; ; - 

But happiness that shortly must expire. . 
Can joy, imbottom'd in reflection, stand ? . .j.'^ 

Can such a joy meet accidents unshock'd ? f 
Or talk with threatening death, and not turn pale* ; 

Though my letter is much longer tlian 
at first intended, and stands in need of a|i. 



# See Letter CLX. in this volume. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



809 



apo.ogy for its prolixity, I cannot conclude 
without giving you a fresh assurance, that 
amongst the great number of those who 
etsteem and respect you, there is not one of 
them who more sincerely regards you than, 
good sir, your most obedient, and very hum- 
ble servant. 



^^^:f^?*LETTER LVIL 

Weston-Favell, July 2S, \7 49. 

Dear Sir, — The favour you have done 
me, in presenting me with Mr. Moses 
Brown's v.'orks, was far from my expecta- 
tion. Please to accept my best thanks for 
the gift, which, I dare say, will in the per- 
usal prove perfectly agreeable, and not a 
little useful. 

I hope the divine Providence will give 
his Sunday Thoughts an extensive spread, 
and make them an instrument of diffusing 
the savour of true religion. Seldom, if 
ever, have I seen a treatise that presents 
the reader with so full, yet concise a view ; 
so agreeable, yet so striking a picture of 
true Christianity, in its most important ar- 
ticles, and most distinguishing peculiarities. 
Though I am utterly unacquainted with the 
author, I assure myself he is no novice in 
the sacred school, and has more than a spe- 
culative knowledge of the gospel ; eveiy 
page discovers traces of an excellent heart, 
that has itself experienced what the muse 
sings. I am, &c. 



LETTER LVIIL 

Weston-Favell, July 29, 1749. 
; "^' Thanks to my dear friend for his wel- 
come letter. It imparted joy to my heart ; 
and having communicated pleasure to our 
famOy, is gone (part of it, I mean) to make 
glad your chUdien and your friends at 
Northampton. I must confess, I never 
was so much disheartened at your disorder 
as many others were, even though the phy- 
sicians themselves had given you over ; 
and though I have been often accosted by 
some of your cordial well-wishers with such 
saddening addresses, *' I am sorry, sir, to 

hear that Dr. S is gone to Bristol, 

without any likelihood of returning alive," 
I really believe that God has some signal 
work for you to do. He that has snatched 
the brand from the fire, and made it a po- 
lished shaft in his qiuver, will not, I per- 
suade myself, so soon cast it away, or break 
it to pieces. I have a strong presage, that 
almighty Goodness will continue you as an 
instrument to glorify his Son Jesus Christ, 
aiid to turn many to righteousness, yeai's 



and years after I am gone hence, and seen 
no more. And I bless, together with you, 
his ho!y name, for confirming so far my 
apprehensions, as to begin the work of 
your recovery from so deplorable an illness. 
May he do in this case as he will in the 
more important affair of our eternal salva- 
tion, thoroughly accomplish what he has 
graciously begun ! 

Your family is in prosperity ; your olive 
plants thrive, and are glossy with health. 
I asked Sally, Where her papa was, and 
how he did? and her pretty little lips 
lisped. Very bad, and gone to Bristol. 
Think, my friend, when you remember 
those sweet and engaging children, think 
on that delightful promise in Sciipture, 
Can a mother forget her sucking child ? 
yea, she may forget, yet will not I forget 
thee, Isa. xlix. 13. 

From my heart I pity your sufferings ; 
but if I pity your distress, with what in- 
finitely more tender compassion are you re- ' 
garded by your heavenly Father? by him 
who said in the multitude of his mercies, 
" My Son shall bleed, that you may be 
healed : My only Son shall die, that you 
may live for evermore." May this blood, 
thus shed for you, presei-ve your body and 
soul to everlasting life ! I hope you will 
be enabled to cast your burden upon the i 
Lord, and resign yoiu*self wholly to his ' 
wise disposal ; and, doubtless, you will ex- 
perience to yoiu- comfort, that he has the 
bowels of a Father to commiserate, and 
the arm of Omnipotence to succoiu". 

A passage in the epistle to the Colossi- 
ans, which I read this very day, (viz. chap, 
i. ver. 11.) is extremely pertinent to your 
case, and what I shall frequently pray may 
be fulfilled to your great consolation,— 
That you may be strengthened with all 
might, according to his glorious power, 
unto all patience and long-suffering, with 
joyfulness. If you should live to give me 
an hour's conversation, this verse, and the 
preceding, would furnish us with a most 
pleasing and improving subject of discourse. 
The conciseness, the propriety, the energy 
of the inspired supplications, is admirable. 
But I must waive such remarks, lest I 
send you a preachment instead of an epis- 
tle. 

I heard you condemned the other day, in 
a large company, and indeed treated with a 
malignant severity, about an affair in which, 
to my certain knowledge, you had acted 
with great generosity. I explained, to the 
confusion of the relater, all those circum- 
stances which he had so grossly misrepre- 
sented ; and then I quoted the remark of 
Mr. Richardson, in his Clarissa, viz. 
" That difficult situations (like yours) 
make seeming occasions of censure una- 
voidable ; and that wliore the reputation of 



619 A COLLECTION 

another (especially of a man of character) 
is concerned, we should never be in haste 
to censure, or to judge perempt(trily on 
first surmises." Audi alteram partem, is 
always my rule. It is our duty to use cir- 
cumspection ; and to be upon our guard to 
cut off occasion from those who seek occa- 
sion to misrepresent and injure us : after 
this precaution, we should not be too soli- 
citous about the clamours of the malevo- 
lent and the unthinking. May the God of 
wisdom give us that prudence, which is 
profitable to direct ! And then 

Conscia mens recti famse mendacia ridet. 
This was the Heathens' cure for the wounds 
of defamation; this their armour against 
those keenest of arrows, bitter words. But 
see in this, as well as in every other in- 
stance, the noble superiority of the Chris- 
tian scheme ! Being defamed, wc bless, 
says the apostle. Pray for them that de- 
spitefuUy use you, says his divine Master. 
This not only bafiles, but more than tri- 
umphs over the efforts of malice ; and 
brings an increase of virtue, consequently 
qf happiness, even from the poison of ma- 
lignity, and the gall of misery. 

The bishop has been at Northampton, 
and his charge turned upon the study of 
the Scriptures ; which he affectionately re- 
commended, and forcibly urged. There 
was something omitted, which I could not 
but wish had been represented and enforc- 
ed ; however, in the main it was excellent, 
and what I should rejoice to have reduced 
to universal practice. Our dear friend, 

. Mr. , spied the defect I hint at ; and 

when his mealy-mouthed companion would 
not indeed have concealed it, but rather 
have enlarged upon what was valuable, 
" Truly," says he, " I do not see why we 
should not speak boldly, and bear our tes- 
timony, though it make the ears of the 
hearers to tingle." He is cut out for a 
champion in the cause of our blessed Lord ; 
very sensible, and much of the gentleman : 
bold too as a lion, he breathes defiance 
against the world and hell. Confiding in 
his almighty Master, he fears neither the 
scourge of the tongue, nor the pomp of 
power. 

Please to present my affectionate com- 
pliments to Mr. C and to Mr. G — , — . 

I need not solicit a place in their or your dai- 
ly intercessions, because I am persuaded nei- 
ther of you can withhold so needful a piece 
of charity. Accept my best wishes, to which 
I join my earnest prayers for your health, 
your comfort, and happiness ; and believe 
me, as I am, my dear doctor, yoiu- truly 
affectionate friend, &c. 



OF LETTERS. 

LETTER LIX. 

Weston^Favelt, Aug. 30, 1749. 

We have seen marvellous things to-day, 
said the people of old ; and I may tinily 
say, I have read marvellous tidings this 

evening. What ! is become a serious 

and zealous preacher? He that so often 
filled the scorner's chair, is he transformed 
into a strenuous advocate for the gospel, 
and a devoted champion of Christ ? Ne- 
ver, surely, was the prophet's exclamation 
more seasonable, Grace ! grace ! Zech. iv. 
7. How sovereign its power ! How su- 
perabundant its riches ! 

I heartily congratulate you, my dear 
friend, my very dear brother I must call 
you now, on this change. And I thank 
Christ Jesus our Lord, that he hath count- 
ed you faithful, putting you into the minis- 
try. 1 think the hand of Providence, in 
conducting this affair, is very visible, and 
much to be regarded ; which must give yoii 
no small satisfaction, and tend to work, not 
the spirit of fear, but of love, and of faith, 
and of a sound mind. 

How honourable is your new office !, to 
be an envoy from the King of heaven \ 
How delightful your province ! to be con- 
tinually conversant in the glorious truths of 
the gospel, and the unsearchable riches of 
Christ ! How truly gainful your business ! 
to win souls ! this is, indeed, an everlasting 
possession. And how Olustrious the re- 
ward promised to your faithful service — 
When the chief Shepherd shall appear, 
you shall receive a crown of glory that 
fadeth not away ! 

May we clearly discern, and never forget, 
what a Master we serve ! so glorious, that 
all the angels of light adore him ; so gracious, 
that he spilt his blood even for his enemies ; 
so mighty, that lie has all power in heaven and 
on earth ; so faithful, that heaven and earth 
may pass away, much sooner than one jot 
or tittle of his word fail. And what is Ins 
word, what his engagement to his ministers ? 
Lo, I AM WITH YOU ALWAYS. I write it in 
capitals, because I wish it may be written 
in our hearts. Go forth, my dear friend, in 
the strength of this word j and, verily, you 
shall not be confounded. Plead with your 
great Lord, plead for the accomplishment 
of this word, and the gospel shall prosper 
in your hand. In every exercise of your 
ministerial duty, act an humble faith on this 
wonderful word, and the heart of stone 
shall feel, the powers of hell fall. Would 
to God I had health and strength, I would 
earnestly pray for grace, that I might join, 
vigorously join, in this good warfare. But 
you know, I am like a bleeding, disabled 
soldier, and only not slain. I hope, how- 
ever; I shall rejoice to see my comrades 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



'811 



routing the foe, and reaping their laurels ; ■ 
rejoice to see them go on, conquering and 
to conquer ; though no longer able to share, I 
either in the toils or the triumphs of the day. 

I believe it will be no easy matter to 
procure a curate, such as you will like ; at 
least, none such offers to my observation. 
I heartily wish your valuable friend, Mr. 

, that faith in the all- atoning blood of 

the Lamb, and that comfort in the commu- 
ijications of the Spirit, which may sweetly 
outbalance the weight of any sorrow, and 
enable him to rejoice in tribulation ! 

Remember, now you are a minister of 
<xod, that your tongue is to be a well of 
life : you are to believe in Christ, daily to 
cherish your faith in Jesus, that out of your 
heart may flow rivers of living waters j such 
tides of heavenly and healing truths, as may 
refresh the fainting soul, and animate its 
feeble graces. 

Please to present my affectionate com- 
pliments to Mr. C , and Mr. S ; 

engage their prayers to the father of com- 
passions in my behalf ; and when you your, 
self draw near to the throne, through the 
blood of the everlasting covenant, fail not 
to remember, dear sir, yours sincerely, yours 
unalterably, &c. 



LETTER LX. 

Weston- Favell, Sat. evening. 

My Dear Frienl, — This morning I 
received your parcel, with a ticket full of 
the affection of your heart, and sprightli- 
ness of your temper. My health languish- 
es, but it is a singular mercy that it is not 
tortured away by racking pains. I would 
do any thing to repair my constitution, and 
prolong my life j that, if it should please 
the divine Providence to renew my strength, 
I might devote it wholly to his service, and 
be less unprofitable in my generation. But 
from what I feel, and yet cannot describe, 
I have no expectation of this kind. 

I am highly delighted with Witsius de 
(Economia Fsederum : he is an author ex- 
exactly suited to my taste ; so perspicuous, 
so elegant, so orthodox. I wish such a 
treasure had fallen into my hands, when I 
Studied at the university, 

I like Mr. 's spirit, only wish it was 

a little more evangelical. Let us so act 
our parts, as, &c. Might not Tully have 
said the same ? has not Seneca said as 
much ? Why should not Christ Jesus be 
the foundation of our hopes ? Is it less ra- 
tional, less comfortable, to say with St. 
Paul, He that spared not his own Son, but 
gave him up for us all, how shall he not 
with him also freely give us all things ? 



I heartily pity our Staffordshire friend. 
Cheer him, speak comfortably to him, let 
not the consideration of his circumstances 
increase the depression of his spirits. We 
will never abandon him, nor suffer him to 
want, so long as we have any thing our- 
selves. I said, we will not abandon : But 
how poor and cold the consolation arising 
from this succoiu- ! What are we ? impo- 
tence, misery, sin ! I believe he loves the 
Lord Jesus, flies for refuge to the hope set 
before him (Heb. vi. 18,) in the everlast- 
ing righteousness, and perfect atonement of 
Christ. He may therefore boldly say, and 
apply to himself those glorious promises — . 
I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee : 
The Lord is my helper, and I \vill not fear 
what man shall do unto me, Heb. xiii. 5, 6. 
Present my tender and affectionate compli- 
ments to him. 

I am glad you have invited to your house 
that eminent fiiend of God, and dear friend 

of yours,»the Rev. Mr. , (for such I 

know he is.) In so doing you certainly 
act the 70 hojiZis, and I cannot but think 
the TO v^i-xov, even in the judgment of the 
world. Thus doing, you are in the fashion ; 
for It is a reigning maxim at court, (the 
court of the blessed and only potentate, the 
King of kings, and Lord of lords,) *' Be 
not forgetful to entertain strangei's." And 
can there be a more worthy stranger ? 
'< Let the elders that rule well be counted 
worthy of double honour, especially they 
who labour in the word and doctrine." 
You know who it is that says of his faith- 
ful ministers, " He that receiveth you, re- 
ceiveth me." Gracious and adored Re- 
deemer ! shall we not receive thee into our 
houses, who, for our sakes, hadst not where 
to lay thy blessed head ! wast an exile in 
Egypt ; a prisoner at the bar ; a corpse in 
the grave ! Pray for me, dear friend, that 
J may bow my poor head in dutiful resig- 
nation to the divine will ; that I may bless 
the hand and kiss the rod that chastises; 
and love the Lord who takes away the 
strength of my body, but has given me th^ 
blood of his Son. I beseech Mr. — — to 
unite his supplication with yours ; for I am 
fearful lest I should disgrace the gospel in 
my langmshing moments. 

Upon a repeated review of the Hints yoi| 
have wrote to promote the cause of religion, 
I do not see how to improve them : only 
exercise your talent; stir up the gift of 
God by a zealous use, and you yourself wilj 
be the best improver of such hints. O ! 
let us work while the day lasts ; the Judge 
is at the door, and eternity at hand. May 
we watch and pray always, that we may be 
found worthy to stand before the Son of 
man at his coming. I am ever, and most 
affectionately yours. 



812 A COLLECTION 

LETTER LXL 

My dear Friend, — am quite ashamed 
to be found so dilatory in acknowledging 
your welcome letter ; made doubly valuable 
by bringing with it the judicious observation 

of Mr. . Your late favom- has hinted 

a consideration, which will always pass for 
some excuse with my compassionate friends; 
and which, so long as this earthly taberna- 
cle is upheld fi'om falling into the dust, I 
shall always have to allege : I mean, a very 
languid and disordered state of body. And 
as I number you amongst my truly compas- 
sionate friends, I look upon myself to be 
acquitted as soon as arraigned. 

I entirely agree with Mr. , in his 

remarks on my lord bishop's well-meant and 
pathetic letter. It is pity, and it is strange, 
that ki an earnest exhortation to repentance, 
no regard should be had to Christ Jesus. 
Is it not his gift to impotent sinners, who 
is exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour, to 
give repentance and remission of sins ? Is not 
his precious, but bitter passion, the exciting 
cause of evangelical repentance ; according 
to the testimony of the prophet, They shall 
look on him whom they have pierced, and 
mom-n ? And can our poor imperfect re- 
pentance find favour in the sight of the 
Lord, unless it be accepted in the Beloved ? 

I am as much pleased with that ingeni- 
ous ^vriter's observations on my own little 
volumes. Let the righteous smite me 
friendly, and reprove me. With thankful- 
ness I shall receive, with readiness submit 
to correction, I am very far from thinking 
Mr. ■ a sour critic. On the contrary, 
I admire his candour in transmitting the 
mistakes to the author himself, and not 
trumpeting them abroad to the discredit of 
the work. I have so high an opinion of 
bis judgment, that if the Father of lights 
should enable me to finish the small piece 
I am attempting, I should be extremely 
glad ^ to have every sheet pass under the 
correction of so wise and penetrating an 
observer. 

To call Sisera's mother a Midianitish 
lady, is a most undoubted and palpable 
blunder. If the divine Providence pleases 
to give another edition to the book, it shall 
certainly be altered. 

As to the frontispiece, there was great 
doubt whether I should have any at all. It 
was first drawn with a direct crucifix, such 
as is represented in the Romish churches, 
and almost idolized, I fear, by the Chris- 
tians of that communion. For this reason 
the decoration, though sketched out by my 
very obliging draughtsman, was w^holly 
omitted in the second edition. Then it 
was suggested that a piece of machinery 



OF LETTERS. 

might succeed — ^be equally expressive and 
yet unexceptionable, which is the import of 
the present figure ; our Lord, not portray- 
ed in the window, nor exhibited in imagery, 
but rising from the spot, or miraculoiKly 
appearing in the place. ; o ' 

With regard to my calling those pei*sQjls 
who took up arms against King Charles 1. re- 
bels ; you know it is the avowed tenet of the 
Church of England, and the declared sense 
of our legislators. If I was to alter that 
expression, especially since it has stood tso 
long, it might probably disgust readers who 
are in a contrary way of thinking ; at least 
it would give occasion for speculation, and 
stir up the embers of mutual animosity, 
which, I hope, are now sleeping, and upon 
the point of being extinguished. For my 
part, I look upon King Charles as one of 
the best men that ever filled a throne ; and 
esteem the Puritans as some of the most 
zealous Christians that every appeared in 
our land. Instead of inveighing against 
either, I woidd lament the misfortune of 
both ; that, through some deplorable mis- 
management, they knew one another no 
better, and valued one another no more. 
Otherwise, how happy might they have 
been ! they, in so devout a sovereign ; be, 
in such conscientious subjects. 

Washing away sins by baptism is a scrip- 
tural expression : " And now," say& Ana- 
nias to the converted persecutor, " why tar- 
riest thou? Arise, and be baptized, and 
wash away thy sins." Where, I suppose, 
washing with water, which is the sign, is 
put for the application of the Lamb's blood, 
which is the blessing signified. This, I 
apprehend, extends to native impurity, as 
well as committed iniquity, since they both 
render us children of wrath. Not that it 
implies an extirpation of original corruption, 
but refers to its condemning power ; which 
is done away when the atoning merits of 
Christ's death are applied and sealed to the 
soul. Upon the whole, I think the expres- 
sion is justifiable. Yet if Mr. — ^'s re- 
monstrance had come sooner, it would have 
been more explicit in its meaning, and more 
guarded from possibility of mistake : And 
was I called upon to explain my sentiments, 
I should take leave to borrow Mr. - "s 
words. . , 

Please to present my most affectionate 
compliments to him ; and let him know, I 
acknowledge myself obliged to him for his 
valuable remarks, and shall be still more 
obliged, if he pleases sometimes to remem- 
ber me in his effectual fervent prayers ; 
that I may, though weak in body, be strong 
in faith ; giving glory, by a thankful resigna- 
tion, and comfortable hope, to God our 
Saviour. I hope he intends to publish his 
I discourse upon the Christian Sabbath. I 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



813 



tltink such a treatise is not a little wanted. 
I have seen nothing upon the subject that 
has given me satisfaction. 

Transmit my most cordial affection to 

good Mr. ; I dearly love him, and 

rejoice in the expectation of meeting him 
in the everlasting kingdom of our glorious 
Redeemer. How inconsiderable, what a 
perfect nothing, is the difference of preach- 
ing in a cloak or in a go^vn, since we both 
hold the Head, both are united to the same 
Saviour, and have access by the same Spirit 
to the Father. I assure him his name has 
been constantly mentioned in my poor in- 
tercessions, ever since he favoured me with 
his friendly and edifying epistle. Tell 
him, I am making some faint attempts to 
recommend to the world a doctrine which 
is music to his ears, and better than a cor- 
dial to his heart — the righteousness of Im- 
manuel, freely imputed to wretched sinners, 
for- their complete justification and ever- 
lasting acceptance. I would also represent, 
in an amiable and endearing light, that 
other precious privilege of the gospel, sanc- 
tification of our hearts, and newness of 
life, through the power of the blessed 
Spirit ; and give, if the Lord should enable, 
a pleasing picture of death, stripped of his 
horrors, and appearing as an usher, com- 
missioned by the court of heaven, to intro- 
duce us before the Priiice of the kings of 
the earth. Beseech my worthy friend to 
assist me with his prayers to the Father of 
mercies and Fountain of light, that if I 
write, it may not be I, but the Spirit of 
the Lord Jesus that writeth by me, enab- 
ling blindness itself to find out acceptable 
words, and to hit the avenues of pleasure 
find conviction. 

rf t' I am glad to hear that the second part of 
}fSanday Thoughts is come abroad. Pray 

. do not fail to let Mr. have six sets 

for me before Thui-sday morning ; because 
he has another parcel to transmit to me 
this week, in which those may with conve- 
nience be enclosed. You have paid me an 
obliging compliment : beg of the blessed 
'God, dear sir, that I may not be puffed up 
siwith vain conceit of myself or my writings. 
hfj0 that earth and ashes, that guilt and sin 
-alshould be proud ! WTiat so unreasonable ? 
- yet what so natural ? May the Lord of 
glory rebuke this arrogant spirit, and 
teach my soul to be humble, to be ever- 
. more dependent on his aid as a weaned 
sicbhild. 

3it>- As to your entering into holy orders, I 
-nlaave no manner of doubt — by all means do 
i ait. It is what I have been praying for these 
Irtseveral years ; it is what all the disciples of 
-iir^hrist ai-e directed to implore at the Lord's 
Uidi^H^ that 'he* would send many such la- 
d?Aki >q OJ . 



bourers into his vineyard. As God has 
inclined your heart to the work, as he has 
given you so clear a knowledge of the truth 
as it is in Jesus, and stirred you up to be 
zealous for the interests of a bleeding Sa- 
viour; I assure you, if the king would 
make me a bishop, one of the first acts of 
my episcopal office should be to ordain the 
author of Sunday Thoughts. I hope the 
Lord will guide you with his Spirit, will 
commission you to feed his flock, and make 
you a chosen instrument of bringing many 
sinners to Christ, many sons unto gloiy- 
Pray do not think yom' letters are trouble- 
some ; they are always pleasing, always 
cheering to, dear sir, your very sincere, and 
truly affectionate friend, &c. 



LETTER LXn. 

My Dear Friend, sent me some 

time ago your translation of Zimmerman- 
nus. I was so engaged in urgent business, 
that I really had not leisure, and so oppress- 
ed with bodily weakness, that I had not 
ability to undertake the office of comparing 
it with the original. I added my solicita- 
tions to yours, and pressed to revise, 

and, if need be, correct the maiuiscript ; 
and I would beg of you, my deal- friend, not 
to be hasty in publishing. In this affair, I 
am for following the example of Fabius, 
Cunctando restituit rem. 

If I have not been punctual in answering 
your letter, ascribe it to the usual, which 
is indeed the true cause ; I mean to a 
failure of strength, and languor of spiiits, 
which both disincline and disqualify me for 
every thing. The winter has made me a 
prisoner. I have not been any farther 
than the church these two months. May 
you and all the ministers of the blessed 
Jesus be anointed mth the Holy Ghost 
and with power ! May you, in imitation 
of our divine Master, go about doing much 
spiritual good, and shedding abroad the 
savour of his most precious name. O that 
I had strength ! I would then pray ear- 
nestly that I might go and do likewise. 

Since it is represented that I have en- 
gaged to preface the translation of Zim- 
mermannus, I will not balk the expecta- 
tions of my valued friend, though I assure 
you I shall address myself to it with some 
trepidation ; sensible that it will carry too 
assuming an air, and seem as though, from 
being an obliged author, I should take upon 
me to act as dictator, and direct the public 
in their choice of books. — ^ Yours affection- 
ately, &c -msih ^nr^Id 

-Otfjg ■ '?rf* h■■A'^'rf^ -■ 



814 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



LETTER LXIIL 

My dear FiiiEND, — I received your let- 
ter ; am sorry to hear you have been ill, 
heartily wish you a re-establishment of your 
health, and shall be glad, when it suits your 
inclination and conveniency, to see you at 
Weston. 

I am glad you are beginning to catechize 
your children. I hope you will be enabled 
to feed Christ's lambs, and dispense to them 
the milk of the word, as they may be able 
to bear it. Indeed you apply to a wrong 
person for advice. I make some efforts, it 
is true, to discharge this duty, but not to my 
own satisfaction ; and great will be the 
glory of divine grace, if it is to the edifica- 
tion of my people. My time for catechiz- 
ing is during the summer ; when the days 
are long, and the weather is warm. But I 
think you do right to conform to the usual 
custom of catechizing in Lent. 

My method is to ask easy questions, and 
teach the children very short and easy an- 
swers. The Lord's prayer was the last 
subject of our explanation. In some such 
manner I proceeded : — Why is this prayer 
called the Lord's prayer ? Because our Lord 
Jesus Christ taught it us. Why is Christ 
called our Lord? Because he bought us 
with his blood. Why does he teach us to 
call God Father ? That we may go to him 
as children to a father. How do children 
go to a Father ? With faith, not doubting 
but he will give them what they want. Why 
our Father in heaven ? That we may pray 
to him with reverence. What is meant by 
God's name ? God himself and all his per- 
fections. What by hallowed? That he 
may be honoured and glorified. How is 
God to be honoured? In our hearts, with 
our tongues, and by our lives, &c. &c. 

On each question I endeavour to com- 
prehend, not all that may be said, but that 
only which may be most level to their ca- 
pacities, and is most necessary for them to 
know. The answer to each question I ex- 
plain in the most familiar manner possible ; 
such a manner, as a polite hearer might per- 
haps treat with the most sovereign contempt. 
Little similes I use, that are quite low, 
fetched non ex academia, sed e trivio. In 
every explanation I would be short, but re- 
peat it again and again. Tautology, in this 
case, is the true propriety of speaking ; and 
to our little auditors, the cramhe repetita will 
be better than all the graces of eloquence. 

I propose to explain to them principally 
the creed, the Lord's prayer, and the com- 
mandments. What relates to the two sa- 
craments, at present, I do not attempt to set 
before them ; let them first have some to- 
lerable notion of the former. I fancy you 
had bettor proceed in the same method. If 



I know your sentiments about baptism 
aright, with which our catechism begins, I 
should apprehend it would be most prudent 
to go immediately to the great fundamen- 
tals. However, pray to the Lord, whose 
work you work ; and he who is all-wise will 
direct you, he who is all-powerful will pros- 
per you. Pray give my very affectionate 
compliments to , Through the ever- 
lasting righteousness of our Redeemer, I 
hope to meet them in the world of glory ; 
and there he that is feeble will be as David 
Yours sincerely, &c. 



LETTER LXIV. 

Weston-Favell, April 5, 1750^ 
Dear Sib, — When you meditate on 
Hosea iv. 6, 7, [namely, " My people are 
destroyed for lack of knowledge : because 
thou hast rejected knowledge, I will also 
reject thee, that thou shait be no priest to 
me : seeing thou hast forgotten the law of 
thy God, I will also forget thy children. 
As they were increased, so they sinned 
against me ; therefore will I change their 
glory into shame ;] when, I say, you medi- 
tate on this terrifying text, compare it with 
Hosea xi. 8, 9; xiii. 9, 12; xiv. 1, 2; 
[namely, " How shall I give thee up, 
Ephraim ? how shall I deliver thee, Israel ? 
how shall I make thee as Admah ? how 
shall I set thee as Zeboim ? Mine heart 
is turned within me, my repentings are 
kindled together. I will not execute the 
fierceness of mine anger, I will not return 
to destroy Ephraim ; for I am God, and 
not man, the Holy One in the midst of 
thee,"] Hosea xi. 8, 9. 

In the next passage, Christ shows the 
only remedy for our misery ; [namely, " O 
Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but in 
ME is thine help. The iniquity of Ephraim 
is bound up, his sin is hid,"] Hosea xiii. 9, 
12. 

In the last passage is prescribed the me- 
thod of applying the remedy to your own 
soul ; [namely, " O Israel, return unto the 
Lord thy God, for thou hast fallen by thine 
iniquity. Take with you words, and turn 
to the Lord ; say unto him. Take away all 
iniquity, and receive us graciously ; so will 
we render the calves of our lips,"] (or spi- 
ritual sacrifices of the heart, not calves with 
horns and hoofs,) Hosea xiv. 1, 2. 

Pray take these texts into frequent con- 
sideration, or else you will do a threefold 
injury, viz. to the divine mercies ; to the 
Redeemer's merits ; to your own com- 
fort. 

Be it that guilt is great ; yet, is it bound- 
less ? is it infinite like the kindness of God 
through Christ ? Remember what message 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



815 



our Lord sent to Peter after his fall ; what 
offers he made at Jerusalem after it had 
murdered the Prince of peace; how emi- 
nently useful and happy he made David, 
after the commission of enormous crimes. 
He is the same gracious, long-suffering, sin- 
forgiving God, to-day, yesterday, and for 
ever. 

Beware, dear sir, that you add not unbe- 
lief (the greatest of sins, the most provok- 
ing of sins, the most destructive of sins) to 
all your other offences. W e have trampled 
upon the divine laws, and defiled our own 
souls ; but let us not charge the divine de- 
claration with FALSEHOOD, let us not make 
God a LIAR. I am sure God loves you, 
and Christ intercedes for you ; else whence 
this searching of your heart, this acknow- 
ledgment of guilt, this self-condemnation, 
and thirst after pardoning and sanctifying 
grace. 

Another proof, to me a very evident and 
pregnant proof, that the blessed God has a 
very tender and particular concern for your 
eternal welfare, is his disconcerting your 
schemes ; than which nothing, I think, 
could be more effectually calculated to waft 
you along the smooth stream of insensibi- 
lity and pleasure into the pit of perdition. 

Let this, though a thorn in the flesh, be 
a token for good. He that has begun to 
rescue you will accomplish his gracious pur- 
pose. Ere long I trust this new song will 
be put into your mouth, " The snare is 
broken, and I am delivered," Psalm cxxiv. 
7. Be of good comfort, dear sir, for with 
the Lord there is mercy and plenteous re- 
demption, Psal. cxxx. 7. 

Read by way of consolation, Manasseh's 
humiliation, 2 Chron. xxxiii. 12, 13. And 
see likewise God's gracious dealings, even 
vdth Rehoboam himself, 2 Chron. xii. 6, 7. 

Do not indulge dispiriting ideas, or have 
hard thoughts of the God of everlasting 
compassion : Oh how weak is our faith ! 
Read and study well that excellent and 
comfortable little tract, Liburius* Zimmer- 
mannus de eminentia cognitionis Christi. Con • 
verse with some experienced Christians, 
and remember what our blessed Saviour has 
promised, " Where two or three are ga- 
thered together in my name, there am 1 in 
the midst of them. We never make any 
doubt but our friends (especially if they be 
the distinguished servants of Jesus) will 
fulfil their promises ; yet we question (fie 
upon us, fie upon us for our unbelief) whe- 
ther the divine Master himself will accom- 
plish his Avord ! 

1 am, dear sir, with much esteem, and 
with much concern for your present and 
eternal welfare, yours very sincerely, &c. 



* See Letter LXXII. 



LETTER LXV. 

Weston-FaveU, Maij 27, 1750. 
Dear Sister, — The country is now in 
its perfection. Every bush a nosegay, all 
the ground a piece of embroidery ; on each 
tree the voice of melody, in every grove a 
concert of warbling music. The air is en- 
riched with native perfumes, and the whole 
creation seems to smile. Such a pleasing 
improving change has taken place ; because, 
as the Psalmist expresses it, God has sent 
forth his Spirit, and renewed the face of the 
earth. Such a refining change takes place 
in mankind, when God is pleased to send 
his Holy Spirit into the heart. Let us 
therefore humbly and earnestly seek the 
influences of this divnne Spirit. All our 
sufficiency is from this divine Spirit dwell- 
ing in our hearts, and working in us both 
to will and to do. Without his aids, we are 
nothing, we have nothing, we can do no- 
thing. Would we believe in Christ to the 
saving of our souls ? we must receive power 
from on high, and be enabled by this divine 
Spirit ; for no man can say, that Jesus is 
the Lord, or exercise true faith OJi his 
merits, but by the Holy Ghost. Would 
we be made like unto Chiist? It can be 
done only by this divine Spirit. We are 
transformed into the same image, says the 
apostle, not by any ability of our ow^n, but 
by the Spirit of the Lord. Would we be 
set on the right hand of our Judge at the 
last day ? This is the mark that will dis- 
tinguish us from the reprobates, and num- 
ber us with his faithful people. For unless 
a man, unless a woman, have the Spirit of 
Christ, they are none of his. But, since 
we infinitely need this enlightening and 
sanctifying Spirit, is the God of heaven 
equally willing to give it? He is; indeed 
he is. To obtain this gift for us sinners, his 
own Son bled to death on the cross. That 
we may be made partakers of this gift, he 
intercedeth at the right hand of his Father ; 
and he has passed his word, he has given 
us a solemn promise, that if we ask, we 
shall receive it. See, remember, and often 
plead in prayer, Luke xi. 13. From your 
affectionate brother, &c. 



LETTER LXVL 

June 28, 1750. 
My dear Friend,— If you chide, I must 
accuse. Pray where was your warrant, 
where your commission to impress me into 
this journey ? However, as becomes a gocd 
Christian, I forgive you and your acco;n- 
plice — ■■ 



816 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



At St. Alban's I was weary and dispirit- 
ed ; was loth, could not prevail on myself 
to desire Dr. Cotton's company at the inn, 
and was scarce able to crawl to his house. 
Believe me, I sincerely honour, and cor- 
dially love, the worthy doctor. Though I 
am naturally shy, I should want no solicita- 
tions to wait on so very ingenious and im- 
proving a friend ; a pleasure I promise my- 
self, if Providence brings me back alive. 
We got to London about three o'clock on 
Saturday. I took up my lodgings, not at 
my brother's after the flesh, but with the 
brother of my heart. On Sunday he preach- 
ed with his usual fervour, and administered 
the sacrament to a great number of very 
serious communicants. He delights in the 
work of the ministry, and embraces eveiy 
opportunity of preaching the everlasting 
gospel. He is indeed in labours more abun- 
dant. Dear sir, what a pattern of zeal, and 
ministerial fidelity, is our excellent friend ! 
and God rewards him vnth joy unspeakable. 
God also fulfils to him, in a remarkable 
manner, his gracious promise, " They that 
honour me, I will honour." This day he 
was most respectfully entertained at the 
houses of two noblemen. What a most 
exalted satisfaction must he enjoy in attend- 
ing these great personages, not to cringe 
for favours, but to lay upon them an ever- 
lasting obligation ; not to ask their interests 
at court, but to be the minister of their re- 
conciliation to the King of kings ! Thus 
far was wrote on Sunday night, but was 
hindered from finishing soon enough for the 
post — Monday morning : Yesterday our 
indefatigable friend renewed his labour of 
love, and with such assiduity, that I had. 
not spirits to attend what he had strength 
to execute. He preached to a crowded 
audience, and yet multitudes went away for 
want of room. In the midst of this au- 
dience was a clergyman in his canonical 
dress, a stranger ; his name I could not 
learn ; he behaved with exemplary serious- 
ness, and expressed much satisfaction. One 
day last week I was most agreeably sur- 
prised. Drinking tea at a friend's house, 
a person knocked at the door ; the servant 
brought word that it was a stranger, who 
desired to speak with Mr. Hervey. And 
who do you think it was ? One whom I 
tenderly love, but never expected to see 
again. It was the accomplished and amia- 
ble Mr. . We took sweet counsel 

together at Gains, mine host's, and wished 
one another a happy meeting in the world 
of glory. My fellow-traveller saw your 
letter, and bid me tell you, that if you are 
chained to the oar, the chains are of your 
own making. Dear sir, preach the glorious 
gospel. Be an ambassador of the most 
high God. Devote yourself to this most 
important, most noble service, and your 



divine Master, T hope, will furnish you with 
employ, and open a door for your useful- 
ness. The fruit of such labours will abide, 
and our friend is a proof in v/hat peace, in 
what joy, they are sown. My animal na- 
ture is so very, very feeble, that I find no 
benefit from the change of air, nor from the 
enjoyment of the most pleasing society. 
Ever yours, &c. 



LETTER LXVII. 

London, Sept. 4, 1750- 

Dear Sir, — Our dear friend ■ is 

much engaged in making interest to succeed 

the minister of , who, though not stone 

dead, is ill enough to alarm the hopes of 
neighbouring preachers. O that we may 
every one contend who shall bring most 
glory to the crucified King of heaven, and 
love most ardently his all- gracious and in- 
finitely amiable Majesty ! A strife this, 
which wiU not foment, but destroy malig- 
nant passions ; in which strife angels will 
be our competitors, honour and joy the ever- 
lasting prize. 

I wish our dear friend H the rich 

anointings of God's Spirit in composing, 
and the powerful presence of God's Spirit 
in delivering his iniirmary sermon. My 
most cordial love is ever his, and ever yours. 

Thank you I do sincerely, for your pray- 
ers to God in my behalf ; and oh how shall 
I thank sufiiciently him who procured access 
for us through his blood ! We often re- 
member you, and wish and pray that you 
may be a burning and a shining light in your 
generation. Dear friend, adieu. 



LETTER LXVin. 

Sept. 11, 1750. 

My dear Friend, — I received your 
last favour. It was without date, but very 
welcome. We have lost our zealous friend 
for several days. He has been displaying 
the banner of the gospel at , and gath- 
ering together the dispersed of Israel. We 
admire the hero that wins battles, takes 
towns, and leaves trophies of his victories 
in every place. But where will all such 
toils, and the very remembrance of them 
be, when the monuments of his labours en- 
dure for ever in heaven ? 

Thanks for your subscription : I have 
procured more of another friend. I shall 
soon be a poor man, here are so many ne- 
cessitous objects. And who can bear to 
be in affluence, while so many fellow-crea-- 
tures are in deplorable want ? Especially 
if we remember him, who, though he was 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



8 



ricl], for our sake became poor ; and had 
not where (O marvellous, marvellous abase- 
ment!) had not where to lay his head. 

This night dear Mr. is with us ; 

returned from his expedition, full of life, 
and rich with spoils ; spoils won from the 
kingdom of darkness, and consecrated to 
the Captain of our salvation. I have been 
prevailed on to sit for my picture. If ever 
portrait was the shadow of a shadow, mine 
is such. O that I may be renewed after 
the amiable image of the blessed Jesus ! 
and when I awake up after his likeness, 1 
shall be satisfied with it : This wish is 
breathed in a language to me unusual. I 
generally comprehend my dear friend in such 
petitions, and make his eternal interests in- 
separable from my own. 

On Sunday I heard the admired Mr. . 

His text was Rom. v. 1. ; his doctrine evan- 
gelical. The faith which purifies the heart, 
and works by love ; the imputed righteous- 
ness of Jesus Christ, comprehending both 
his active and passive obedience ; the ope- 
ration of the blessed Spirit in producing this 
sound and lively faith, were the substance 
of his discourse. I commit you, my dear 
friend, to the tender mercies of our God, 
and the powerful word of his grace ; remain- 
ing inviolably yours, &c. 



LETTER LXIX. 

London, Oct. 23, 1750. 
My DEAR Fbiend, — As your stay in town 
was so short, we could not expect to see 
you. On Sunday afternoon your old ac- 
quaintance Mr. called upon me, sat 

about an hour, inquired after you, and talk- 
ed as became the Christian character, and 
the sacred day. The conversation was per - 
fectly pleasing ; but the subjects, whether 
we were led to them by chance, or directed 
to them by Providence, were peculiarly 
noble and important. " I know that my 
Redeemer liveth," &c. Job xix. " Behold 
my servant shall deal pmdently," &c. Isa. 

lii. We expect to see our dear friend ■ 

in a little time. O that we may meet each 
other, and daily converse on the fulness of 
the blessings of the gospel of peace ! I say 

no more about poor Mrs. ; perhaps 

my concern for her may be uncommonly 
tender, because there have few days passed 
since I knew her, in which I have not made 
mention of her name in my prayers for the 
afflicted. May the God of wisdom teach 
you, and the God of power enable you, to 
do always such things as are acceptable in 
his sight, through Jesus Christ. And may 
the Father of compassions make her sorrows 



bring forth the peaceable fruits of righteous, 
ness, and issue in everlasting joy ! I hope 

the truly valuable Dr. and his family 

took knowledge of you, that you had been 
with Christ. Let us study, let us labour, 
to spread abroad the savour of his blessed 
name, who suffered the vengeance due to 
all — to all our sins. That his presence may 
be with yon, and his love be in you, is the 
invariable wish of your affectionate, &c. 



LETTER LXX. 

London, Nov. 15, 1750. 

My DEAR Friend, — I have communis 
cated your two messages to .. . he is now 
with his old acquaintance at — — , On 
Sunday he preached moi'ning and afternoon 
at L— ^ — church. May his word prove a 
seed of life and immortality to the hearers. 
On Tuesday he and Mr, — — breakfasted 
with us : the talk turned principally upon 
the mystic writers. Dr. — . — - began to warm 

a little to hear Mr. inveigh pretty 

sharply against them ; but by giving a soft 
answer, and making considerable conces- 
sions in their behalf, Mr. cooled and 

qualified all. He spoke with remarkable 
command of temper, and, I think, with great 
solidity of judgment. I wish it may lessen 

our valuable fi'iend H 's attachment to 

those authors, which I believe is immode- 
rate, and I fear is pernicious, I heartily 
wish your children may recover, and live to 
be a comfort to their father, an honour to .', 
their religion. I have received Dr. D 's „ 
remarks j very judicious, and equally faith- 
ful. I scarce know any friend who has so 
true a taste, and so much sincerity. Fiet , 
Aristarc/ms is the character he deserves. 

Yesterday a serious dissenter from the>,, 
countiy came to see me. God had freed | 
him from a spirit of bigotry, and made my 
book acceptable to him. that we may j,, 
all love one another, and bear with one ^ii-'r.q 
other ! so fulfil the law, and follow the ex- . 
ample of Christ. In the new JerLisakni,- ^ 
that city of the living God, all our little- 
differences of opinion, as well as all the re-(;^ 
mainders of corruption, will fall of. In tha, , (, 
light of God's countenance we shall see the 
truth clearly, and enjoy the life, the life of •.!■ , 
heaven and eternity perfectly. O that we 
may love that amiable and adorable Being 
every day, every hour, more and more ! who, 
though the king immortal and invisible, 
gave his own Son to bleed and die for .. 
worms, for rebels ; for you, my dear frieud,.^,^ 
and for yoiu' unworthy, but truiy alftctiuit- , 
ate, &c. 

3 a 



£18 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



LETTER LXXI. 

Nov. 27, 1750. 
My dear Friend, — Present my very 
grateful acknowledgments to our obliging 

friend Mr- ■ I rejoice in his lines, as 

they are a pledge of his affection and friend- 
ship ; but I really am under apprehensions 
from them, as they are to be a public enco- 
mium on my character, lest they shoxild 
make me think more highly of myself than 
I ought to think. O ! may the high and 
lofty One, who inhabits eternity, and dwells 
with the humble heart, vouchsafe to defend 
me from all the insinuations of pride. To 
be sure this is a trying occasion ; for laudari 
a laudatis is no common honour. I would 
beg leave to postpone the publication of the 
verses till the mezzotinto plate is finished, 
and the print ready to be sold ; because, if 
such a recommendation appears at such a 
junctme, I am persuaded it will cause a de- 
mand for the picture, and further its sale. 
Good heavens ! who would ever have thought 
that so mean a name, and so obscure a per- 
son, should appear in the world with such 
an air of significancy ? O that it may be 
for the glory of that ever blessed and ador- 
able Being, who manifests his transcendent 
excellency most chiefly in shewing mercy. 

When you heard of 's death, did you 

not immediately think of the prophet's de- 
claration, " All flesh is grass, and all the 
goodliness thereof as the flower of the 
field ?" Did you not also ardently desire 
and resolve to seek for an assured interest 
in the promises of that word which endur- 
eth for ever ? May the God of grace seal 
those promises to our hearts by his blessed 
Spirit, and witness with our spirits that we 
are the objects of his love and heirs of his 
kingdom ? Then we may defy death, and 
boldly bid the king of terrors do his worst. 

is making an excursion to and 

to May the Lord God of Hosts go 

forth with his servant, and make him ter- 
rible to the infernal enemy, as an army with 
banners ; welcome to poor sinners, as the 
refreshing dews after parching heat. How 
my soul longs to be employed in the same 
sacred, blessed cause ! Does not yours 
also throb with the same desires ? I can 
no more. Supper waits for me. Adieu. 
All spiritual blessings be multiplied upon 
you, and ever yours, &c. 



LETTER LXXIL 

December 8, 1 750. 
My dear Friend, — Why do you say 
Zimmermannus is too comfortable for you ? 
The comfort of Christianity is, the sweet 



allurement to draw us to heaven, and the 
powerful instrument to fit us for heaven. 
If our afl^ections are attached to the world, 
the comfort of Christianity is ordained to 
wean us from its vanities, and win us to 
God. If we have sinned, the love of the 
Lord Jesus Christ is the most sovereign 
means of wounding our hearts, and bring- 
ing us to repentance. When Nathan said 
unto David, " The Lord hath put away thy 
sin, thou shalt not die ;" then it is supposed 
he penned the 32d psalm, and poured out 
his soul in unreserved confession. When 
the blessed Jesus turned and looked upon 
Peter, then his conscience smote him deep ; 
then he went out and wept bitterly. And 
how did his dear Master look? was it a 
resentful, upbraiding, menacing glance ? 
Quite the reverse. Is this your promised 
fidelity ? this your kindness for your friend ? 
Ah, Peter ! Peter ! I feel more from your 
perfidy than from all the insults of my ene- 
mies. But I know your weakness, and I 
am going to die for your guilt. Willingly, 
willingly I lay down my life, that this sin 

may never be laid to your charge Such 

was the language of that gracious look. I 
do not wonder that it fetched a flood of 
tears from his eyes. I find it impossible to 
refrain on the bare meditation on it. O 
that the adorable Redeemer may manifest 
his all-forgiving goodness in our souls, and 
sure it will overcome our most stubborn 
corruptions. What can withstand such 

heavenly love ? I know ; and think 

you have a peculiar privilege in having op- 
portunity and ability to succour so sincere a 
Christian. He will, more than repay you 
with his prayers. Whatsoever you do for 
him, I am persuaded will be done unto 
Christ. And who can do enough for him 
who despised the shame, and endured the 
cross for us ? Your writing paper came 
safe ; and I would have returned it to the 
stationer as too coarse, but has, since its 
arrival, been seized; seized in the king's 
name, by one of the king's ofiicers. Pray, 
have you taken care to pay duty ? have you 
not been deficient in some instance or other? 
O, said Gaius mine host, when he heard 
of its coming back, It is good enough for 
me ; it wiU just suit my purpose ; I wanted 
such a supply : so it is in his hands, to be 
employed in the service of a great King, 
whose name you can guess, whose goodness 
you have experienced, and for whose honour, 
I hope, we shall all be very zealous. What 
say you ? will you turn the forfeiture into 
a free gift, by sending your full consent to 
the deed ? Our dear friend has been visited 
with a fever ; attended by the doctor every 
day this week ; but, blessed be God ! is, 
we trust, upon the eve of a thorough re- 
covery. He talks of preaching to-morrow, 
but I shall use my utmost interest to dis- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



819 



suade him. Let him desist for a while, 
that he may persist for a long season. We 

have but a small share of 's company. 

O that we may meet where we shall part 
no more, shi no more ! Adieu ! Ever yoiu-s, 
&e. 



LETTER LXXIIL 

Dec. 20, 1750. 

My very dear Friend, — Your letter 
found me, after a considerable delay in its 
passage, where do you think ? Where I 
never expected to go any more ; found me 
at London ! From whence I write this, and 
return you my sincerest thanks. Prevailed 
on by the repeated importunity of my 
friends, I came by easy stages to town, in 
order to try whether change of aii- may be 
of any service to my decayed constitution ; 

for my worthy physician Dr. S has 

declared, that nothing which he can pre- 
scribe is likely to administer any relief. 

I have reason to be convinced, from the 
accounts which j'our letter brings, and from 
the reports which I receive in this place, 
that here we have no continuing city. 
Thanks, everlasting thanks to the divine 
Goodness, which has prepaied for us a 
mansion, not made with hands, eternal in 
the heavens ; a mansion whose builder, 
whose maker, and whose glory is God. 
Not only the disappointment, but even the 
acquisition of our desires, bespeaks the 
emptiness of the world. But M hat a com- 
plete felicity, what an all-satisfying portion, 
will the enjoyment of God be ! When I 
awake up after thy likeness, (and am ad- 
mitted to stand in thy beatific presence), 
I shall be satisfied with it. 

I pitied as I rea-d poor Miss 's case. 

There cannot be a keener distress than a 
conscience that is awakened, and a heart 
that desponds. The spirit of a man will 
sustain his other infirmities, but a wounded 
spirit who can bear ? A wounded spirit was 
the bitterest ingredient even in the cup of 
our Lord's exquisitely severe sufferings. 
He that bore the racking tortures of cruci- 
fixion without a complaint, cried lament- 
ably, wept blood, when the arrows of the 
Almighty were \vithin him. Then his soul 
was sorrowful, exceeding sorrowful, sorrow- 
ful even unto death. This dejection of our 
adored Master should be our consolation, 
his agonies are our ease ; he was deeply 
sorrowful that we might be always rejoicing. 
To believe that he was wounded for our 
sins, and bruised for our iniquities ; that he 
was destitute, afflicted, tormented for our 
sake ; that by his vicarious and most meri- 
torious obedience unto death, he has ob- 
tained everlasting redemption for us ; firmly 



to believe this is not an-ogance, is not pre- 
sumption, but our bounden duty, as well as 
our inestimable pri\alege. This is his com- 
mand, says St. John, that we believe on 
the name of his Son Jesus Christ. Never, 
never was any commaiid more gracious, or 
more worthy to be witten on the tables of 

our hearts. Let us not, my dear Mr. , 

by indulging imbelief, O let us not dis- 
honour the boundless m^ercy, and the in- 
violable fidelity of God ; let us not depre- 
ciate the infinite merits, and all-prevailing 
intercession of our blessed Mediator ; but 
say with the lively poet, Dr. Watts, in his 
Hytans, 

O ! for a strong, a lasting faith. 
To credit what the Almighty saith ! 
To embrace the promise of his Son, 
And call the joys of heaven our owi ! 

You inquire about my new work intended 
for the press. It is a great uncertainty 
whether my languid spirits, and enfeebled 
constitution, will permit me to execute my 
design. It is a pleasure, however, to hear 
that I am sometimes admitted to converse 
with you by my book. May the divine 
Spirit accompany every such conversation ; 
and teach our souls to glow with gratitude 
to that transcendently great and gracious 
Being who stretched out the heavens, and 
laid the foundations of the earth ; who 
stretched out his arms on the cursed tree, 
and laid the foundation of our happiness in 
his ovv n blood. Please to present my most 

respectful compliments to Mrs. , yom- 

worthy neighbour Mr. , and his nieces. 

Give me leave, instead of wishing you a 
merry Christmas, to wish them and you all 
that joy which the holy prophet felt, when, 
in an ecstasy of delight, he cried out, " To 
us a child is bom ! to us a Son is given !" 
All the glories of heaven unite in his won- 
derful person ; all the blessings of time and 
eternity are the fruit of his precious incar- 
nation. Adieu, my dear sir, and cease not 
to pray for your ever affectionate, &c. 



LETTER LXXIV. 

London, Dec. 22, 1750. 
My dear Friend, — Be so kind as to 
let your sers'ant look out for some person 
of CoUingtree, and deliver to him the in- 
closed letter. He will probably find some 

such person on Monday at ; and I 

would have the letter conveyed by Christ- 
mas, that it may furnish my people with. 
matter for conversation at their hospita- 
ble meetings. Our excellent friend follows 
the advice of the Preacher — whatsoever, 
of a charitable or godly nature, his hand 
findeth to do, he does it with his might ; 
as one that is deeply convinced that there 



820 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



IS no wisdom nor device in the grave, whi- 
ther we all are hasting. Does not so ami- 
able a person, such an indefatigable servant 
of Christ, such a compassionate friend to 
mankind, does not he deserve encourage- 
ment ? 

We have just been to hear a very excel- 
lent discourse upon Zech. iv. 7. Mr. 

, who made one of the congi-egation, 

sends his compliments to you, and to Dr. 

; which when you present, be pleased 

to add mine. Who do you think I lately 
drank tea with? The two ladies before 
whom you put me so extremely to the blush. 
May neither they nor I be put to everlast- 
ing shame and confusion. I did what was 
in my power to prevent it, by recommend- 
ing that adorable Saviour to their affections, 
in whom whosoever believeth shall not be 
ashamed. They commissioned me to trans- 
mit their compliments to you. You have 
thanks and prayers (the reward which a 
prophet gives) for the writing paper. 
What account can you give us of Lady 
's health ? Never, never will the phy- 
sician's skill be employed for the lengthen- 
ing of a more valuable life. May Almighty 
Goodness bless those prescriptions, and 
command her constitution and our zeal, 
uvuSciXXiiv ! — Ever yours, &c. 



LETTER LXXV. 

Dec. 29, 1750. 
My dear Friend, — This time last week 
I took pen in hand to beg ; now I should be 
ungrateful if I did not resume it, in order to 
return my thanks, which I do most sincere- 
ly, in my own name, and on the behalf of 
my excellent host. He is now engaged in 
company, and cannot possibly steal a quar- 
ter of an hour to make his acknowledgments. 
The limner has been with me twice, and 
is to give the finishing touches on Monday. 
How slowly, and how patiently, these 
artists advance ! A pattern for us. So may 
we have the image of the amiable Jesus 
gradually instamped on our hearts, till death 
gives the finishing stroke, and makes us 
completely like our Beloved* In the mean 
time, we have need of patience. Patience 
must be exercised towards ourselves ; and 
God, the blessed God, is unspeakably pa- 
tient towards us all. Mr. is willing 

to undertake Zimmermannus. I would 
have it thrown into the form of a dialogue. 
Why do you entertain such harsh thoughts 
of the deai-est, most benign, and gracious 
of all beings? I can no more. — Ever yours, 
&c. 



LETTER LXXVL 

Dear Sir, — I return you thanks for 
the perusal of your pamphlets. Be pleased 
to accept the two little volumes which ac- 
company your other books, as an expression 
of my gratitude to your pen, and sincere 
affection to your person. May I request 
the favour of you, good sir, sometimes to 
implore the blessing of a gracious God 
upon the author, and his weak attempts : 
that the one may vi-alk suitably to his holy 
profession, and high calling ; that the other 
may please the reader for his good to edifi- 
cation. This will be a singular favour, and 
shall be readily returned by, reverend sir, 
your affectionate friend and humble servant, 
&c. 



LETTER LXXVII. 

London, Dec 24, 1750. 

Dear Mr. Nixon, — I am ashamed to 
see so obliging a letter from so valuable 
a friend lie so long unanswered. I delayed 
my grateful acknowledgments to you on 
this subject, till I could see what would be 
the issue of our design. As you propose 
to recommend my picture by your iiigenious 
verses, I should rather chuse to have them 
inserted (with your permission) in the ma- 
gazines and public papers, than to have them 
affixed to the copperplate. This practice, 
though once customary, is now, I believe, 
seldom used ; and for me to revive it, when 
it does me such distinguished credit, would 
be too vain-glorious ; otherwise, I assure 
you, dear sir, I should be glad to have a 
memorial of our friendship engraved on 
brass, or a more durable metal. And give 
me leave to declare, that though I was ex- 
ceedingly pleased with the character you 
gave of my book in your excellent anniver- 
sary sermon, yet I was much more delighted 
with your acknowledging me as your friend, 
and suffering it to be know^n that I have a 
share in your affection. 

I propose to make a long stay in town, 
and shall promise myself the pleasure of 
your company at my brother's. Have you 
ever met with a little poem, entitled Sun- 
day Thoughts ? The author is a very 
worthy man, and the poem not beneath 
your regard. Shall I wish my worthy friend 
a merry Christmas ? This compliment will 
be paid you by multitudes. Rather let me 
wish that Christ Jesus, the ever blessed 
Immanuel, may be formed in both our 
hearts ! Renewed after his amiable and 
divine image, may you see many revolving 
happy new-years below, and at last have an 
abundant entrance into the new Jerusalem, 



A COLLECTION OP LETTERS. 



which is above. Breathing such wishes, I 
remain, dear sir, your much obliged, and 
very affectionate friend, &c. 



LETTER LXXVIII. 

London, Jan. 3, 175L 
Dear Sister, — I have taken my pen in 
hand to write to you, and yet have no news 
to transmit. I have nothing to send but 
my good wishes, and my best advice. 

The old year is gone ; and if we look 
back, what a nothing it appears ! Departed 
as a tale that is told. Thus will our whole 
life appear, when our end approaches, and 
eternity opens ; but eternity will never ex- 
pire, eternity will last world without end. 
When millions, unnumbered millions of 
ages are passed away, eternity will only be 
beginning. And this short life, this little 
span, is the seed-time of the long, long 
eternity. What we sow in this state, we 
shall reap in the eternal state. Should we 
not therefore be careful, very careful, to 
improve our time, and make the best pro- 
vision for an eternity of happiness ? Should 
we not be careful to get faith in our Lord 
Jesus Christ ; to get the love of God shed 
abroad in our hearts ; and our souls re- 
newed according to the amiable example of 
our blessed Redeemer ? This, and nothing 
but this, is true religion. Going to church, 
hearing sermons, and receiving sacraments, 
profit us nothing, unless they promote these 
desirable ends. Fix, dear sister, this truth 
in your memory. A true faith in Christ, 
an unfeigned love of God, and a real holi- 
ness of heart, are the greatest blessings you 
can desire. Without them we shall not, we 
cannot, enter into the kingdom of heaven. 
These you should incessantly, you should 
earnestly seek, through the whole advancing 
year ; and these I most sincerely wish 
you, who am your very afFectionate brother, 
&c. 



LETTER LXXIX. 

London, Feb. 5, 175L 
Dear Mrs. , I received your valua- 
ble letter, and thank you for it. I am ex- 
ceeding glad, and bless the unspeakable 
goodness of God, if he has made my poor 
ministry in any degree serviceable or com- 
fortable to your soul. I accompany my 
former labours (if such extremely feeble 
attempts may be called labours,) with 
my repeated prayers; and bear my little 
flock on my supplicating and affectionate 
heart all the day long. O that the gracious 
God may fulfil in them all the good plea- 



821 

sure of his will, and the work of faith with 
power ! 

I rejoice to find that you know the truth. 
May you know it more and more ; be estab- 
lished in it, and experience the efficacy of 
it. May the truth make you free ! free 
from the prevalence of unbelief, the do- 
minion of sin, and the oppression of sor- 
row ! Give glory to God for opening the 
eyes of your mind, and bringing you lo the 
riches of Christ. Take to yourself the 
comfort of this inestimable blessing, and by 
no means reject your own mercy. Pray 
do not harbour hard thoughts concerning 
the blessed God, nor cherish desponding 
apprehensions concerning yourself, though 
always frail, and in every respect imperfect. 
The great and good Father of our spirits 
knows whereof we are made ; he rem.embers 
that we are but dust, and will not be ex- 
treme to mark what is done amiss. Ex- 
treme to mark ! so far from it, that to those 
who seek him in sincerity, seek him through 
his dear Son, he is tender and compassion- 
ate beyond all imagination. " As a father 
pitieth his own children, so is the Lord 
merciful unto them that fear him," Psalm 
ciii. 13. ; and "as a mother comforteth her 
son, so will the Lord thy God comfort 
thee," Isa. Ixvi. 13. Since we want loving- 
kitidness and mercy to follow us all the 
days of our life, blessed, for ever blessed 
be the God of heaven, in these he delight- 
eth, Jer. ix. 24. 

O "cast thy burden upon the Lord," 
says the Holy Spirit. Cast it upon the 
Lord Jesus Christ. This is an art which 
the Christian should be diligent to learn 
and watchful to practise. Christ is a Sa- 
viour, but we neglect to make use of him ; 
we are come to him, but we forget to walk 
in him. When guilt accuses us, or guilt 
overtakes us, instantly let us fly to Christ, 
as the Israelites, when wounded, looked to 
the brazen serpent. There, let us say, 
there is the propitiation for this abominable 
sin. For this, and for all my other iniqui- 
ties, his heart was pierced, and his blood 
spilt. The vials of wrath, due to my pro- 
vocations, were poured upon that spotless 
victim ; and by his stripes 1 am healed. If 
our own obedience is deplorably defective, so 
that we are sometimes ready to cry out with 
tile prophet, " My leanness ! my leanness ! 
woe is me !" let us turn our thoughts to the 
great Mediator's righteousness ; this is con- 
summate and divine ; this was wrought out 
for us ; this is iiriputed to us ; in this all 
the seed of Israel shall be justified, and in 
this should they glory. Jf your prayers are 
dull and languid, remember the intercession 
of Christ. He ever appears in the pre- 
sence of God for you ; and how can your 
cause miscarry which has such an advo- 
cate ? If tiT^ nnnr wiriow m-o., heard, even 



822 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



by the unjust judge, shall not the dearly 
beloved Son of God prevail when he makes 
intercession to a most gracious Father ? a 
Father who loves both him and his people. 
If you want repentance, want faith, want 
holiness, Christ is exalted to be a Prince 
and a Saviour, and to give all these desir- 
able blessings. He has ascended up on high, 
has led captivity captive, and received gifts, 
spiritual gifts for men, yea, even for his 
enemies, for the rebellious. It is his office 
to bestow these precious graces on poor 
sinners ; and he is as ready to execute this 
office as the mother is ready to administer 
the breast to a sucking child. Do you 
read the Scriptures ? Still keep Christ in 
view. When dreadful threatenings occur, 
say. These I deserved ; but Christ has bore 
them in my stead. When rich promises 
are made, say, of these I am unworthy ; 
but my Redeemer's worthiness is my plea ; 
he has purchased them for me by his me- 
rits. All the promises of God are yea and 
amen (sure and certain to the believing 
soul) in Christ Jesus. 

To make such a perpetual application of 
Christ, is to eat his flesh, and drink his 
blood. Thus may you, may I, may all my 
dear people, be enabled to pass the time of 
our sojourning here below ! deriving our 
whole spiritual life, our pardon and sancti- 
fication, our hope, and our joy, from that 
inexhaustible fountain of all good. Though 
I am not with you in person, I am often 
with you in spirit ; and daily commit you 
to the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls ; 
who is ten thousand thousand times more 
condescending, compassionate, and faithful, 
than your truly afFectionate friend, &c. 



LETTER LXXX. 

Dear , I received your kind letter, 

and am glad to find that you, and Mi's. 

, and Mrs. , often meet together, 

and, like the people mentioned by the pro- 
phet, speak one to another of the things of 
God. O let us exhort one another to faith, 
to love, and to good works ; and so much 
the more, as we see the day, the day of 
eternal judgment, approaching. Ere long 
we shall hear the shout of the archangel, 
and the trump of God. O let us imitate 
the wise virgins, and get oil in our lamps, 
true grace in our hearts ; that we may be 
prepared for our Lord's second comjng, and 
not dread, but love his appearing. 

My departure from Northampton was 
sudden and unexpected. Could I have 
- seen my people, and given them my parting 
advice, it should have been in the words of 
that good man Barnabas, who exhorted all 



the disciples, that with purpose of heart 
they would cleave unto the Lord. 

Cleave, my dear friends, to the Lord 
Jesus Christ; cleave to his word ; let the 
word of Christ dwell in you richly, and be 
your meditation all the day long. Let the 
Bible, that inestimable book, be often in 
your hands, and its precious truths be ever 
in your thoughts. Thus let us sit, with 
holy Mary, at the feet of Jesus ; and, I hope, 
we shall experience his word to drop as the 
rain, and distil as the dew. 

Cleave to his merits. Fly to his divine 
blood for pardon ; it is the fountain opened 
for sin, and for uncleanness. It purges from 
all guilt, takes away all sin, and, blessed be 
God, it is always open, always free of ac- 
cess. Fly to his righteousness. Let us 
renounce our own, and rely on his obedi- 
ence. What unprofitable servants are we ! 
how slothful in our whole life ! how imper- 
fect in every work! But as for Christ, 
his work is perfect ; it is complete, and in- 
finitely meritorious. In this shall all the 
seed of Israel, all true believers, be justified ; 
and in this shall they glory. 

Cleave to his Spirit. Seek for the divine 
Spirit ; cry mightily to God for the divine 
Spirit. Let them that have it pray that 
they may have it more abundantly, and be 
even filled with the Spirit. This blessed 
Spirit reveals Christ, strengthens faith, 
quickens love, and purifies the heart. 
Christ died to obtain this Spirit for us ; he 
intercedes for us that we may receive it ; 
and his heavenly Father, for his sake, has 
promised to give the Holy Spirit to those 
who ask it. He has promised (O glorious 
privilege !) to give it more readily than . 
parent gives bread to a hungry child. 

Cleave to his example. Study his hoi) 
life, eye his unblamable conduct, observe 
his amiable tempers ; look to this heavenly 
pattern, as those that learn to write look to 
their copy ; and God grant that we all, be- 
holding with open face the glory of the 
Lord, may be changed into the same image 
fiom glory to glory, even as by the Spirit 
of the Lord ! 

Thus let us cleave to Christ the Lord ; 
cleave with full purpose of heart, incessant- 
ly, closely, inseparably. Let us say with 
our father Jacob, I will not let thee go. 
Let us imitate the Syrophcenician woman, 
whom no discouragements could divert 
from her purpose. Temptations, difficul- 
ties, all the assaults of our enemy, should 
make us hasten to, and abide in the strong- 
hold, the city of refuge : And he has pro- 
mised, " I will never leave thee, nor for- 
sake thee." He will gather us with his 
arm, and lay us in his bosom. He will 
guide us by his grace, and receive us into 
; his glory. There., in those happy, happy 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



823 



mansions, may we, and many, very many 
of my dear flock meet, and never be parted 
more I This is the heart's desire, and the 
daily prayer of their and your truly affec- 
tionate friend, &c. 



LETTER LXXXI. 

175L 

Dear , And are you very weak ? is 

sickness in the chamber, and death at the 
door ? Come, then, let us both sit down 
with dissolution and eternity in view, and 
encourage one another from the word, the 
precious word of God. I have as much 
need of such consolation as you, my dear 
friend, and may, perhaps, have occasion to 
use them as soon. 

What is there formidable in death, which 
our ever blessed Redeemer has not taken 
away ? Do the pangs of dissolution alarm 
us? Should they be sharp, they cannot be 
very long ; and our exalted Lord, with 
whom are the issues of death, knows what 
dying agonies mean. He has said, in the 
multitude of his tender mercies, " Fear 
thou not, for I am with thee ; be not dis- 
mayed, for I am thy God : I will strengthen 
thee, yea, I will help thee, yea, I will up- 
hold thee with the right hand of my right- 
eousness," Isa. xli. 10. This promise au- 
thorizes us to say boldly, " Yea, though I 
walk through the valley of the shadow of 
oeath, I will fear no evil ; for thou art 
with me, thy rod aiid thy staff comfort me," 
Psalm xxiii. -1. 

Are we afraid to enter into a strange, in- 
visible, unknown world ? It is the woi ld 
into which our divine Master is gone ; 
where he has prepared everlasting mansions 
for his people, John xiv. 2. Luke xvi. 22. 
and has appointed his angels to conduct us 
thither. Having such a convoy, what should 
we dread ? and, going to our eternal home, 
where our all-bountiful Redeemer is, why 
should we be reluctant ? 

Are we concerned on account of what 
we leave ? We leave the worse to possess 
the better. If we leave our earthly friends, 
we shall find more loving and lovely com- 
panions. We shall be admitted among the 
" innumerable company of angels, and to 
the general assembly and church of the 
first-born, that are written in heaven," 
Heb. xii. 22, 23. Do we leave the ordi- 
nances of religion, which we have attended 
with great delight ? leave the word of God, 
which has been sweeter to our souls than 
honey to our mouths ? We shall enter 
into the temple not made with hands, and 
join that happy choir, who rest not day nor 
night, saying, " Holy, holy, holy, Lord 
God Almighty, which was, and is, and is 
to come," Rev. iv. 8. And if our Bible 



is no more, we shall have all that is promis- 
ed, we shall behold all that is described 
therein. If we .drop the map of our hea- 
venly Canaan, it will be to take possession 
of its blissful territories. " That city has 
no need of the sun, neither of the moon, 
to shine in it ; for the glory of God does 
lighten it, and the Lamb is the light there- 
of," Rev. xxi. 23. O, my friend ! blessed, 
for ever blessed, be the grace of our God, 
and the merits of his Christ ! We shall 
exchange the scanty stream for the bound- 
less ocean ; and if we no longer pick the 
first ripe grapes, we shall gather the copi- 
ous, the abounding, the never-ending vint- 
age. 

Do we fear the guilt of our innumerable 
sins? Adored be the inexpressible loving- 
kindness of God our Saviour ! our sins have 
been punished in the blessed Jesus : " The 
Lord laid on him the iniquity of us all, 
Isa. liii. 6. He his own self bare our sins, 
in his own body, on the tree, 1 Pet. ii. 24-. 
So that there is no condemnation to them 
that are in Christ Jesus," Rom. viii. L O 
that we may be enabled, with the apostle, 
to make our boast of this Saviour, and to 
triumph in this faith ! " Who shall lay 
any thing to the charge of God's elect ? It 
is God that justifieth ; who is he that con- 
demneth ? It is Christ that died, yea 
rather that is risen again, who is even at 
the right hand of God ; who also maketh 
intercession for us." 

Is judgment the thing that we fear ? To 
the pardoned sinner it has nothing terrible. 
The Lord Jesus, who keeps his servants 
from falling, " presents them also faultless 
before the presence of his glory with exceed- 
ing joy," Jude ver. 24. Observe the sweet 
expressions, presents faultless, and with ex- 
ceeding joy. Justly therefore does the apostle 
reckon it among the privileges of the Chris- 
tians, that they are come to God the Judge 
of all, Heb. xii. 2-3. ; for the Judge is our 
friend, the Judge is our advocate, the Judge 
is our propitiation, the Judge is our righte- 
ousness. And is it not a privilege to come 
to such a judge as will not so much as men- 
tion our iniquities to us, but condescend to 
take notice of our poor unworthy services ? 
who sits on the great tribunal, not to pass 
the sentence of damnation upon us, but to 
give us a reward, a reward of free grace, 
and of inconceivable richness ? 

Let me conclude with those charming 
words of the evangelical prophet, " Comfort 
ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. 
Speak you comfortably to Jerusalem, and 
cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplish- 
ed, that her iniquity is pardoned ; for her 
Redeemer, her all-gracious Redeemer, hath 
received of the Lord's hand double for all 
her sins," Isa. xl. 1, 2. May the God of 
our life and salvation make these Scriptures 



824 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



be unto us a staff in the traveller's hand, 
and as a conlial to the fainting heart, that 
\ve may be strong in the faith of our Lord 
Jesus Christ ; that we may glorify him in 
death, and glorify him for death ; because 
death will introduce us into his immediate 
presence, where we shall be sorrowful no 
more, sinful no more, at a distance no more ; 
but be joyful, and be like our Lord ; love 
him with all our souls, praise him to all 
eternity. Let us then be of good cheer, 
soon in our heavenly Jerusalem we shall 
meet again. Because God is faithful, in- 
violably faithful, and infinitely merciful, who 
hath promised, promised to you, and pro- 
mised to your affectionate friend, &c. 

P, S— My kindest respects to Mr. , 

and Mrs. ; bid them be of good cour- 
age, and go on their way rejoicing, for their 
Redeemer is mighty, his merits are unspeak- 
able, and his love is' unchangeable. My 
most respectful compliments wait upon Mr. 

and Mrs. . What a pleasure 

should I think it, was I able to execute the 
ministerial office, to bring home to their 
parlours the glad tidings of an all-sufficient 
Saviour, as well as to preach them in the 
pulpit ! Polly, I hope, loves her Bible ; 
may the word of Christ dwell in her richly ; 
and may he be with your father and mother, 
now they are old and grey-headed. 



LETTER LXXXII. 

Dear , I hope this will find you a 

little better in your health ; but if it should 
find you in a weak and languishing condition, 
I hope a gracious God will sanctify what it 
contains to the comfort of your soul. 

Often consider, if you die, you will leave 
a world full of sin ; a condition full of frail- 
ty, ignorance, and misery ; a body that has 
long been a heavy burden, a sore clog, both 
to your services and to your comforts : and 
why should any one be greatly unwilling to 
leave such a state ? If you die, you will 
go into an imknown world ; but the comfort 
is, you have a kind and faithful friend gone 
thither before — Jesus Christ, your best 
friend, and the lover of your soul, is the 
Lord of that unseen world. Joseph's 
brethren were not afraid to go down into 
Egypt, when they knew that their dear bro- 
ther was governor of the country. And 
since your most merciful Saviour is ruler of 
the invisible world, be not afraid to leave 
the body, and depart thither. It is said, 
the spirit of old Jacob revived when he saw 
the waggons sent to carry him to his be- 
loved son ; and the poor languishing believer 
may look upon death as the waggon sent by 
Jesus Christ to bring his soul home to hea- 
ven. 



But after death comes judgment, and this 
is terrible. Consider, who is the Judge. 
Was the father that begat you, was the 
mother that bare you, or the friend that is 
as your own soul ; was any one of these to 
be the Judge, and to pass the sentence, you 
would not be apprehensive of rigorous pro- 
ceedings, you would expect all possible cle- 
mency. Mercy, in this case, would rejoice 
against judgment. But, to our unspeakable 
comfort, we are informed by the Scriptures, 
that a glorious Person, far more merciful 
than a father, far more compassionate than 
a mother, far more affectionate than a friend, 
is to decide our doom — even the Lord 
Jesus Christ, who loved us with an ever- 
lasting love ; who declares, that a woman 
may forget her sucking child much sooner 
than he forget to be merciful to those that 
put their trust in him ; for thus it is written, 
" God hath appointed a day, in which he 
will judge the world in righteousness, by 
that man whom he hath ordained, even Je- 
sus Christ," Acts xvii. 3L 

The Judge calls himself our Husband, 
the Bridegroom of poor believing souls. 
And will the Bridegroom deliver to destruc- 
tion his own bride, whom he has bought 
with his blood, and with whom he has made 
an everlasting covenant ? Isa. liv. 5. 

The Judge vouchsafes to be our Advo- 
cate. And will he condemn those for vi'hom 
he has long interceded ? will he condemn 
those for whom he poured out his prayers 
when he was on earth, and on whose behalf 
he has constantly pleaded in the presence 
of God ? 1 John ii. 1. 

The Judge condescends to be our Head, 
and calls the weakest believers his members 
And did ever any one hate his own body ; 
Did ever any one delight to maim, or take 
pleasure to ruin his own flesh, and his 
bones? Col. i. 18. 1 Cor. xii. 27. 

The Judge has been our Victim, the sa- 
crifice for our sins. And will he consign 
those to damnation, for whom he endured 
the agonies of crucifixion ? If he has given 
himself for us, will he not with this gift 
freely give us all things ? give us pardon at 
that awful day ? give us the crown of glory, 
which fadeth not away ? Heb. ix. 14, 26. 

Farther, to confirm your faith, and esta- 
blish your hope, it will be proper to con- 
sider what you have to plead. The proud 
Pharisee made his abstaining from gross in- 
iquities, and his punctuality in some exter- 
nal performances, his plea. The blinded 
Jews went about to establish their oww 
righteousness, and depended on this broken 
reed for acceptance. But we have a surer 
foundation whereon to build our comfortable 
expectations. 

If arraigned on the foot of guiit — great 
guilt — manifold guilt — aggravated guilt — 
long contracted guilt ; we have an atone- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



825 



merit to plead, a sacrifice of unknown value, 
a propitiation glorious and divine. We 
have the blood of the Lamb to plead ; blood 
that taketh away not one sin, or a few sins, 
or a multitude of sins only ; but (O delight- 
ful truth !) tiiketh away all, all, all sins. 
Yes, it taketh away all sins from the be- 
liever, be they ever so numerous ; all sins, 
be they ever so heinous ; 1 John i. 7. Rev. 
i. 5. 

Should the law take us by the throat, and 
make that severe demand, Pay me that thou 
owest : It is paid, we reply, by our divine 
Surety. An incarnate God has been obe- 
dient in our stead. In the Lord, the Lord 
Redeemer, have we righteousness. And 
can the law insist on a more excellent satis- 
faction ? Does not this magnify the law, and 
make it honourable? " By the obedience of 
one, (that is, Christ) shall many be made 
righteous ;" Isa. xlv. 24. Rom. v. 19. 

Should it further be urged, Without ho- 
liness no man shall see the Lord : Is not 
holiness the thing that we have longed for? 
It is true, we have not attained to ho- 
liness ; spotless and undefiled holiness, 
neither could we in the regions of tempta- 
tion, and in a body of corruption. But has 
not our guilt been our sorrow, and our in- 
dwelling sin our heaviest cross ? Have we 
not groaned under our remaining iniquities, 
and been burdened with a sense of our fail- 
ings? And are not these groanings the first 
fruits of the Spirit ? Are not these the 
work of thy own grace, blessed Lord ! 
and wilt thou not consummate in heaven 
what thou hast thus begun upon earth ? Do 
we not desire heaven, chiefly because in 
those blessed mansions we shall sin no 
more ; we shall offend our God no more ; 
be no more forgetful of a dying Saviour ; no 
more disobedient to the motions of a sanc- 
tifying Spirit ? And shall we be disappointed 
of this hope? It cannot, itcaimot be. They 
that hunger and thirst after righteousness, 
are not filled while they abide in the flesh ; 
therefore there remaineth the accomplish- 
ment of this promise—they will assuredly 
awake up after the likeness of their Lord 
at the great resurrection day, and in another 
world be fully, everlastingly satisfied with 
it. 

I must now come to a conclusion : But 
I cannot conclude without wishing you all 
joy and peace in believing. Though your 
flesh and your heart fail, may God be the 
strength of your heart, and your portion for 
ever ! I daily, I frequently make mention 
of you in my prayers ; and, what is better 
than all, the dearly beloved of the Father 
remembers you now he is in his kingdom. 
I am your very affectionate friend, &c. 



LETTER LXXXin. 

[The following letter was sent to the preacher by a 
cottager in a country village ; and is here printed, 
to show how thankfully the poor receive the preach- 
ing of the gospel, and to preserve so remarkable and 
useful a letter from perishing.] 

Reverend Sm, — I humbly beg your par- 
don for presuming to write to you. Be- 
mg one of your hearers, I was very much 
affected with your good sermons, having 
known and experienced the truth of them, 
viz. That persons must be convinced of 
their undone state by nature, and brought 
into a state of concern, or self- condemn atioti, 
before they will seek and earnestly desire 
the knowledge of Christ crucified. To one 
who feels the condemning power of the 
LAW, Christ is precious. Such have tasted 
the bitterness of sin ; for till then they are 
alive without the law, as St. Paul saith, Rom. 
vii. 9, not seeing that the law requires per- 
fect obedience, and that theirs at the best 
is very imperfect. Hence the best of us in 
our carnal state are striving to be justified 
by our own works ; yea, though we cannot 
but know that we often brealc the laws of 
God, Rom. iii. 20, 28. 

But then we think, It is true 1 am a sin- 
ner, and there is none without sin. Thus 
we do presume upon our seeming obedience, 
not considering how great a change must 
be wrought upon our soul by repentance ; 
and that we must be united to Christ by 
faith, and partake of his likeness, without 
which Christ, as to us, is dead in vain, Gal. 
ii. 21. And when the Holy S])irit has 
convinced us of our misery by sin, (John 
xvi. 8,) and need of Christ, then, usually, 
we are thinking to do something to purchase 
an interest in him ; not considering we must 
be humble supplicants at his feet, waiting for 
every thing we want at the throne of grace 
— repentance, pardon, sanctification, re- 
demption — as purchased by Him : Eternal 
life is the gift of God, Rom. vi. 23. 

It is the humbled person who will accept 
of Christ in all his offices ; not only as a 
priest to atone for sin, but also as a prophet 
to teach, and a king to rule over him, aiid 
subdue all his sins. The covenant of grace 
answers all our wants : there is not only 
mercy to pardon, but also grace to sanctify, 
and renew our nature. It is the humbled 
believer who can sincerely say, " Christ is 
the power of God unto salvation," Rom. i. 
16. 

And now I think nothing more needful 
than for clergymen to preach as youdio ; for 
though Christianity is generally professed 
among us, yet many seem as Unconcerned 
about these things as if there were no such 
truths in the gospel. This is the way of 
preaching which has ever been most effec- 
tual to the converting of sinners ; and may 



826 A COLLECTION 

the blessed Spirit attend the word preac'bed, j 
*' purifying the hearts of your hearers by i 
faith," Acts xv. 9. That the righteousness 
of Christ, accepted and applied to them- 
selves by a lively faith, may entitle them to 
heaven, Rom. v. 19 ; and that their sincere, 
though imperfect obedience, may evidence 
their title to be true and real, is the hearty 
desire of, reverend sir, your most humble 
servant. 

To true believers the law is set forth as a 
rule of manners, not as a law of condemna- 
tion, for there is no condemnation to them 
who are in Christ Jesus, Rom. viii. 1,6; 
or, in other words, those who love Christ, 
love his commandments, as kind rules of 
life, not obeying (like legal people) with 
reluctance, and out of fear of being punish- 
ed. There is not, perhaps, a greater or 
more important truth, than that in propor- 
tion as our faith in the Redeemer, evi- 
denced by our works, increases, so our fear 
of death proportionably decreases. 



LETTER LXXXIV. 

Dear , You need make no excuse 

for recommending Mr. in his distress- 
ed condition. I am pleased to see you so 
tenderly concerned for a brother's welfare ; 
and I am glad you have used the freedom of 
applying to me ; seeing divine providence 
has put it in my power to help a disciple, a 
child, a member of Christ. I purposed to 

have given him , and to have lent him 

three ; nor should I have been very rigorous 
in exacting the debt, provided there was but 
little ability to repay. But lest the fear of 
not being able to repay should create anxiety 
in an honest heart, and lessen the comfort 
of a seasonable supply, I make him a pre- 
sent of the whole ; heartily wishing that the 
same gracious God who inclined a stranger's 
heart to bestow it, may also prosper his en- 
deavours to improve it. And if he often 
calls to remembrance that Almighty power 
and goodness which made a few drops of 
oil at the bottom of a cruse, and a little 
handful of meal that was the gleaning of the 
barrel, a lasting support to the prophet, and 
to the poor widow and her son, I doubt not 
but that he will be enabled to tix his de- 
pendence upon the same everlasting Father, 
for needful success in trading : so that, by 
God's blessing, I hope this little stock, fru- 
gally managed, may, through his kind Pro- 
vidence, put him in a way of procuring ne- 
cessaries in this wilderness, till he comes to 
the fulness of the heavenly Canaan. 

I think every instance of kindness shown 
to us, or exercised by us, should enlarge our 
apprehensions of the divine benevolence. 



OF LETTERS. 

What is a grain of dust to the whcde earth ? 
what is a drop of water to the great ocean? 
or what are a few days to the countless ages 
of eternity ? Less, unspeakably less is all 
created kindness, compared with the bound- 
less goodness of God in Christ Jesus. For 
by him we have access to the Father, being 
reconciled by his blood shed on the cross. 
We are adopted and received into the 
church, whereof Christ is the head. Being 
thus in the favour of God, he delighteth in 
hearing the prayer of faith, which those who 
believe in Christ daily put up to the throne 
of grace. O how great is his loving-kind- 
ness and tender mercy ! He is exalted, that 
he may have mercy upon all that call upon 
him in sincerity and truth. He waiteth to 
be gracious. He giveth liberally, and up- 
braideth not, for past ingratitude and great 
unworthiness. O how great are these bless- 
ings which he giveth ! Blessings, in com- 
parison of which silver is as clay, and gold 
as the mire of the streets. He giveth grace 
and glory, and no good thing will he with- 
hold from them who live a godly life; from 
them who are accepted in the belov^ed, and 
love him who first loved them. I shall add 
that charming declaration of the beloved 
disciple, and earnestly wish that we may 
learn by happy experience, and feel in our 
souls what it means, "We have known and 
believed the love that God hath lo us." 
Let me beg my dear friends to remember at 
the throne of grace your affectionate friend, 
&c. 



LETTER LXXXV. 

Dear Sister, — I have taken my pen in 
my hand to write : but what shall be the 
subject? News I have none ; or, if I had, 
my brother would communicate it in his 
conversation. Let me imitate a royal ex* 
ample. It was once said by a renowned 
king, My song shall he of mercy and judg- 
ment : of the same let my letter treat. The 
former was very lately the topic of some 
agreeable discourse with a young gentleman. 
We observed how necessary it is to be 
firmly persuaded of the infinitely rich mer- 
cies of God in Christ Jesus. This will 
make us delight to think of him, and encou- 
rage us to fly to him : Whereas, if we have 
a jealousy that he bears us ill-will, or de- 
signs our ruin, we cannot take pleasure in 
him, or place our confidence in him. There- 
fore the condescending God has given, us 
repeated and solemn assurances of his pity, 
his grace, his tender mercy in Christ Jesus. 

Exod. xxxiv. 6, 7. He makes it his veiy 
name. Intimating, that a man may forget 
his own name, before the blessed God can 
cease to be merciful to them that fear him. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



827 



Ezek, xxxiii. 7, 11. He confirms his 
divine good will to us by an oath. He 
swears by his very life, that he desires our 
happiness, and seeks our salvation. Here 
are two immutable things, the name and 
the oath of God. Can we have stronger 
confi^rmation of his loving kindness ? 

I think, if it be possible, we have. He 
has so loved us, saith the Scripture. How 
hath he loved us ? So as no words, no, not 
of his own all-wise Spirit, can express ; 
nothing but the unspeakably precioirs effects ; 
so as to surrender his own Son to die, that 
we might live ; to be made subject to the 
law, that we by his obedience might be made 
righteous ; to become a curse, that we might 
inherit the blessing. Read what the wife 
of Manoah veiy justly alleges, and apply it 
to the point before us, (Judges xiii. 23.) for 
I can no more ; I hear the coach coming to 
carry me out on a visit. — Yours, &c. 



LETTER LXXXVL 

My DEAii Friend, — I am glad to find 
that the beloved traveller called at your 
house, and gave you so much of his com- 
pany. Cold as the weather was, did not 
your heart burn within you ? burn with zeal 
and love for that all-glorious God, whom 
he (excellent man) so faithfully serves in the 
gospel of his Son ? 

May Mrs. increase in humility, be 

more convinced of guilt, more sensible of 
depravity ; and then she will grow in every 
other grace. Proud minds' sufl!er the curse 
imprecated on the mountains of Gilboa ; 
v/liile humble souls ^are like the valleys 
spread forth by the rivers, or as a field which 
the Lord hath blessed. 

I think you should not have shown her 
the free remark which I made ; it was well 
meant, and she is well disposed, but human 
nature is very, very depraved. And per- 
haps there is no greater instance of it, than 
our proneness to take offence at the least 
disparaging hint ; nay, sometimes to fancy 
ourselves wronged, if we are not extolled to 
the skies. I heartily wish the blessed Jesus 
may give this yoimg lady the ornament of a 
meek and humble spirit ; that being lowly 
in her own eyes, she may be exalted by the 
great God. 

I see so much indigence, and so many dis- 
tressed objects, that I begrudge myself all 
unnecessary disbursements of money. Who 
would indulge too much, even in innocent 
and elegant amusements, and thereby lessen 
his ability to relieve, to cherish, and com- 
fort the Lord Jesus, in his afflicted mem- 
bers? 

I wish you could have preached at Col- 
lingtree. My poor people long for the sin- 



cere milk of the word. You would have a 
congregation, all of them honouring you, 
most of them attentive to you, and many of 
them edified by you. It grieves me, it pains 
me at my very soul, that I am dismissed, or 
rather cut olF from the honourable and de- 
lightful service of the ministry. But to be 
resigned, perhaps, is better than to labour ; 
and an adoring submission, for me at least, 
more proper than a zealous application. O 
may I bow my head, and dutifully stand in 
the lot which the almighty sovereign pleases 
to assign ! — Ever yours, &c. 



LETTER LXXXVIL 

London, Saturday niyht. 

My dear FiiiEND, — I congratulate you 

on 's recovery. Why do you call 

her ? It is a strong temptation to 

vanity. She must be deeply ballasted with 
humility, not to be puffed up at such a title, 
which assimilates her to one of the most 
lovely and accomplished characters that ever 
was described. 

O that we all may be recovered from that 
lethargic indolence which deadens our at- 
tention to the one thing needful ! What 
a God have we ! how immensely glorious, 
and how little do we reverence him ! What 
a Saviour ! how unutterably gracious ! and 
how little do we love him ! — What pro- 
mises ! how inviolably faithful ! yet how 
feeble is our affiance in them ! — What a 
heaven ! how transcendently delightful 
yet how languid are our desires of it ! O 
that the blessed, blessed Redeemer may 
baptize us with the Holy Ghost, as with a 
flaming fire, to quicken, animate, and kindle 
into a glow of devotion, these benumbed 
souls of ours ! I must add no more, only 
that I am, with great sincerity, though in 
great haste, inviolably yours &c. 



LETTER LXXXVIIL 

My dear Friend, — I am surprised at 

what you say relating to dear . What 

evil hath he done, or wherein has he of- 
fended, that disesteem should be his lot ? 
Yet what are such instances of contempt, 
compared with the reproaches and insults 
offered to the all-glorious Redeemer ? God, 
I tmst, will bless his sermon ; and so much 
the more as it is regarded by some people 
with an evil eye. O what a comfortable 
consideration is it, that the success of our 
discourses depends not upon our own abili- 
ty, which is as nothing ; depends not upon 
the favoiu: of men, which is very capricious ; 
but depends wholly upon the influence of 



828 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



that almighty Spirit, whose presence is un- 
limited, and power uncontrollable ! 

My father had engaged Mr. to sup- 
ply at Collingtree : 1 hope he grows in 
grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord 
and Saviour Jesus Christ. Adieu, my 
dear friend, adieu. 



LETTER LXXXIX. 

London, Feb. 23. 

Sir, — Mr. and Mr. may have 

tried, and may repeat their attempts, to 
alienate the affections of my Collingtree 
hearers. I am imder no concern with re- 
gard to myself. Fragile cvpiens illidere 
dentem, offendet solido, will, 1 believe, be the 
issue of their endeavours. I am only sorry, 
for the people's sake, that they should 
squander away their ministerial talents and 
ministerial labours to so poor a purpose. 
Let them be more incessant in warning 
every man, and teaching every man, that 
they may present every man perfect in 
Christ Jesus. Thus let them seek to win 
their affections, and I do rejoice, yea, and 
will rejoice, in their success. Dear sir, the 
way to secure the love of other.s is, to love 
them, to pray for them, and with a willing 
assiduity to set forward their true happiness. 
This, whenever I was amongst them, my 
people will confess, 1 did not cease to do. 
And the God of heaven knows I daily bear 
them on my heart, and often recommend 
them to the tenderest mercies of our ever- 
lasting Father. Never, therefore, be ap- 
prehensive of my losing either their esteem 
with regard to my conduct, or their affec- 
tion with regard to my person. O that 
their precious souls were as firmly united 
to Christ, as their favourable opinion is 
secured to me ! Well, should neighbours 
undermine us, and friends forsake us, the 
adorable and all-condescending God is 
faithful. He chaiigeth no.t. His word of 
grace endureth for ever. He loves his 
people with an everlasting love. And O 
what worms, what dust, what mere nothings, 
are all men, are all creatures, before that 
infinitely blessed Author of all perfection ! 
What a sense had the Psalmist of this 
weighty truth, when he poured forth that 
rapturous exclamation, " Whom have I in 
heaven but thee? and there is none, there 
is nothing on earth, that I desire in com- 
parison of thee !" May this, my dear 
triend, be the continual language of your 
hccirt ; and of his, who hopes to be, both in 
time and to eternity, affectionately yours, 
&c. 



LETTER XC. 

Wednesday morning, Mile's4ane. 

Dear Mr. Nixon, — Your obliging let- 
ter found me at my brother's in Mile's- 
laiie, where I propose to abide to the end 
of the week : and here your entertaining 
and improving company would be a favour, 
not to myself only, but to the whole family. 

I am indebted to your good-nature for so 
candidly accepting the small but free obser- 
vation made in my last. I am going to 
run myself farther in debt, by proposing to 
your consideration what now occurs to my 
thoughts. The enclosed queries I submit 
entirely to your judgment, and from your 
determination shall make ho appeal. 

1 have read Elihu ; and very much ad- 
mire his zeal for that most comfortable doc- 
trine, the righteousness of our Lord Jesus 
Christ imputed to sinners for their justifica- 
tion. I highly honour also his distinguished 
veneration for that incomparably excellent 
book the Bible. Surely his works will be 
a means of causing the study of those Xoyi » 
^aivTo, to revive. Do not you think the 
style is masculine, and the manner enliven- 
ed ? As to the Hutchinsonian peculiarities, 
I do not pretend to be a competent judge, 
and dare not peremptorily condemn them. 
Yet they seem to be so very finely spun, 
and to have so large an alloy of fancy, that 
1 know not how to admit them for sterling 
truth. I am truly concerned to hear of 

Mr. 's and his lady's illness. Dear 

sir, what a fading flower is health, and what 
an expiring vapour is life ! May you be an 
instrument of bringing souls to the know- 
ledge of the adorable God, and to the faith 
of Jesus Christ whom he hath sent ; then 
they will, in another state of things, possess 
a vigour that is subject to no decay, and 
enjoy that life that knows no end. 1 am, 
dear sir, your obliged and affectionate friend, 
&c. 

P. S. — Is " lively oracles" an exact 
translation of the above-mentioned Greek 
clause ? 



LETTER XCL 



London, March 28, 1751. 
My dear Friend, — You depend, you 
say, upon my promise : and see how readily 
it is performed. And if you depend on 
the execution of a promise from a frail, frail 
' creature ; will you not much more expect 
accomplishment of promises, made by that 
adorable Being " whose counsels of old are 
faithfulness and truth ?" O, that we may 
not dishonour God's goodness, disparage 
his veracity, and depreciate his dear Son's 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



829 



unspeakable merits, by unbelief, base, vile, 
destructive unbelief! 

I have not an opportunity of communi- 
cating your news to our dear friend. He 
has left London. It is not knowm when 
he will return. He is not expected till 
some months are expired ; ^ind who knows 
how many may be gone into eternity before 
that period is arrived ! 

You ask how it fares with my health ? 
You may remember, that I have more than 
once answered such an inquiry with silence ; 
for I do not like to be upon the complaining 
string, and I cannot say my health is either 
restored or improved. When your letter 
came (not till Tuesday about five o'clock) 
it found me in a state of extreme languor. 
I had written nothing, done nothing since 
dinner. Though I took up an easy and 
entertaining book, I was obliged to lay it 
down again. Thus 1 spend, rather thus I 
lose, many hours ; so that between inter- 
vening company, and debility of spirits, I 
make but a very slow, scarce any progress 
in my intended work. 

I have no news, though at the great mart 
of intelligence. My sister is safely deliver- 
ed of a son ; which puts one in mind of the 
glorious piece of news, celebrated by the 
angels, and foretold with a rapturous delight 
by the prophet, " To us a Child is boni ; 
to us a Son is given. His name shall be 
the Mighty God ;" and yet his office shall 
be, to bear our sins in his own body on the 
tree. May this news be ever sounding in 
the ears, and ever operative on the hearts 
of my dear friend, and of his ever affection 
ate, &c. 



to know him ! Then we have a promise ; a 
promise more stable than the foundations 
of nature, that our " labour shall not be in 
vain in the Lord." Gold has no value, and 
diamonds lose their lustre, when compared 
with those unsearchable riches of Christ, 

which Mr. so largely enjoys himself, 

and so freely offers to others. His minis- 
try is signally owned by his condescending 
and almighty Master. Many, I am told. 
of the superior, as well as lower orders in 
life, attend his ministry. And if there be 
efficacy in united prayers ; if there be zeal 
in the Lord God of Hosts, for the honour 
of his dear Son ; if there be faithfulness 
and compassion in our exalted Saviour, his 
labours will, they will be blessed- May 
they, eveiy day, every hour, be blessed 
more abundantly ! Most cordially yours, &c. 



LETTER XCIL 

Tottenham, May 30, 1751. 

My dear Friend, — I am now at my 
brother's country house. Pray who is Mr. 

, the writer of the letter enclosed in 

yoiirs ? He asks me to get him a curacy ; 
little aware that 1 am but a curate myself. 
1 believe the world has a notion, that I am 
a dignified, or a beneficed man at least. 
Dear sir, may it be yom- benefice and mine 
to do good to souls ! and our highest dig- 
nity to glorify the ever-blessed Redeemer ! 
M'ho for our sake had not where to lay his 
head, till he was numbered with the trans- 
gressors, and laid in the silent grave. 

I hope your health is established ; and 
how does your soul prosper ? Do not you 
delight to think of, to talk of, to have com- 
munion with, that wonderful, that amiable 
Being, whom to know is wisdom, whom to 
enjoy is happiness ; happiness, not to be 
described by words, only to be understood 
by experience ? Oh that we may follow on 



LETTER XCIIL 

Tottenham, July 2, 1751. 

My dear Friend, — I hope you have 

done with Mr. : I hope your house 

is sufficiently ornamented. I think it is 
rather overstocked with decorations. Now 
let us be good stewards of Jesus Christ ; 
employ what we can spare for the honour 
of his blessed name, and comfort of his in- 
digent people. " Worthy is the Lamb 
that was slain, to receive riches as well as 
blessings and praise." 

Pray do not mention me to Mrs. . 

Though I honour and compassionate her, 
I am not fit to visit her, nor qualified to 
edify her. This is with me the tiying sea- 
son of the year, and my animal nature is all 
relaxation. O that I may be strong in 
faith"! that precious faith, that " where sin 
hath abounded, grace will much more 
abound." 

Do not you sometimes see our dear 

friend ? I find he has been at Bristol 

lately, to distribute, I do not doubt, the 
waters of life, far more precious and heal- 
ing than the waters of that medicinal spring. 
Let us do likewase. " For yet a very, very 
little while {y.iK^ov ofov oaov) and he that 
shall come, will come, and will not tarry." 
Then opportunities of spiritual and bodily 
charity cease for ever. 

I believe it is four months since I heard 

from Mr. . How precarious human 

interchanges of kindness ! what a blessing 
that the way to heaven is always open ! 
Whenever we will, we may have access to 
God through the blood of his Son. And 
" he never faileth them that seek him." 

How does Mr. go on ? Do not you 

sometimes stir up the embers in his heart, 
if so be the coals may glow, and the fire at 
length burn ? I hope your conversation is 



830 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



blessed to Mrs. • Glad to find she 

admits Mrs. to her company; a godly 

sensible woman, who understands, relishes, 
talks savoudly and intelligently on the 
truths of the gospel : Is discreet likewise ; 
knows how to keep a becoming distance, 
and will not make a wrong, an assuming use 
of a lady's condescension. May the God 
of heaven bless them both, and give them to 
grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our 
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. And what 
I pray for them, I pray for my dear friend. 
Ever yours, &c. 



LETTER XCiy. 

Tottenham, July 14, I75L 
My dear Friend, — -I am sorry to hear 
your account of Mr. — — . See what snares 
are around us. How the devil endeavours 
to obstruct our usefulness, by blemishing 
our credit. May the ministers of Christ be 
upright and undefiled in the way ! or else 
they will not be able to reprove and exhort 
with all (no, nor with any) authority. The 
God of power and faithfulness says of his 
church, says of his people, " I the Lord 
keep it, I will water it every moment, lest 
any hurt it : I will preserve it night and 
day," Isa. xxvii. 3. May this promise be 
our shield ! be fulfilled to us evermore ! Do 
not you go on, my dear friend, to lay up 
these precious pledges of heaven in your 
memory, and enrich your heart from them 
by frequent meditation ? They are the seed 
of faith. By these we are to be " made 
partakers of the divine nature!" Partakers 
of the divine nature i volumes cannot ex- 
plain what is comprised in those few words. 
May we know what they mean, by happy, 
happy experience ! 

1 pity poor Mr. , knowing what it is 

\.o be in a state of languishing. Ah ! ah ! 
my dear sir, lay up a stock of comfort, get 
your graces lively while animal nature 
blooms. When the blast of sickness 
smites, and our strength becomes labour 
and sorrow, how miserable must be our 
condition without an interest, an establish- 
ed interest, in the all-glorious Redeemer ! 

Why do you cherish distrustful thoughts 
of the blessed God ? Is he not boundless 
goodness ? Is not his goodness greater than 
the heavens ? Does not his mercy, that 
lovely attribute, endure for ever ? All the 
kindness of the most endeared relations, 
compared with the tender compassions of a 
God in Christ, are no better than cruelty 
itself. Read the last chapter of Hosea, 
" Hide it within your heart." Turn it into 
prayer to the King of heaven ; and I hope 
it will be to your soul as the dawning-day j 
after a darksome night. 1 



Our dear friend has met with uncommon 
favour and acceptance. Excellent man ! 
How does he work while it is day ! How 
sweet to such a labourer will be heaven's 
everlasting rest ! There may you m.eethim ! 
and there find, as a monument of infinitely 
free grace in Christ, your truly affectionate, 
&c. 



LETTER XCV. 

Octm, 1751. 

My dear Friend, — Two of your letters 
are now before me, who expected long ere 
this to have been before the Judge of quick 
and dead. Blessed be God 1 am got down 
stairs, and the day before yesterday went 
abroad in a coach. Oh ! vAisA great trou- 
bles and adversities hast thou shewed me ! 
yet didst thou turn and refresh me; yea, and 
broughtest me from the depths of the earth 
again. Oh I my dear friend, how shall I 
be thankful? May that infinitely good and 
gracious God, who has given me such cause, 
give me power to be grateful. May I be 
enabled to devote every moment of that 
life which he has prolonged, and every fa- 
culty of that body which he hath preserved ; 
devote them wholly to the honour of his 
blessed name. 

Poor 's case I commiserate. The 

charge attending my illness will be consi- 
derable ; but I am not without hopes that 
my father will be so good as to defray it, 
then my hands will not be straitened ; O 
that my bowels may never be straitened, 
but may I " draw out my soul to the 
hungry." 

I am glad to hear that a seventh edition 
of Dr. Stonehouse's book is demanded. 
May it go forth in the name, in the strength, 
and for the honour of the blessed Jesus, and 
may it prosper ! though, as you observe, he 
and I think differently on some points ; nor 
is the doctor an admirer of my favourite au- 
thor Mr. Marshall. The acceptance, how- 
ever, which God has given to his and to my 
own writings, should send both of us oftener 
to the throne of grace, and quicken our ap- 
plications to the divine Goodness, that his 
all-powerful Spirit may accompany our in- 
structions, and make them a real blessing to 
our readers. 

I write as a poor prisoner that lately ex- 
pected to have the sentence of death exe- 
cuted, but has now got a short, uncertain 
reprieve. May I never forget how much 
I shall want an assured faith in the all-glo- 
rious Redeemer, when that awful change 
approaches. Let us labour after such a 
firm establishment in Christ, such an un- 
shaken affiance in his merits, and such an 
unfeigned Jove of his name, as may make it 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



831 



gain to die, and the day of our dissolution 
better than the day of our nativity. Poor 

Dr. ! Oh ! may he and his afflicted 

partner find consolation in the faithfulness, 
the goodness, the unsearchable riches of 
Christ ! These, apprehended by a sweet, 
assured, soul-reviving faith ; these, I say, 
are our sovereign support under all trou- 
bles, and our most effectual preservative 
from all temptations. We believe ; blessed 
blessed Jesus, help our unbelief ! I am, my 
dear sir, ever yours, &c. 



LETTER XCVL 

London, MiUs-lane, Dec. 3, 175L 
Dear Mr. Nixon, — It is probable you 
may have heard of my late dangerous sick- 
ness ; and it is more than probable, nay, I 
look upon it as a certainty, that your good 
nature has admitted this circumstance as an 
excuse for my silence. Indeed, dear sir, I 
was sick, and nigh unto death. Little did 
I think of writing any more to my friends, 
or of being written any longer among the 
living. Oh that I may devote the life that 
has been prolonged, devote it wholly to the 
God of my health and my salvation ! 

I received by Dr. your quotation 

from Plato, proving that the preposition 
avTi bears a vicarious signification. For 
which be pleased to accept my thanks. It 
is a most reviving and delightful truth, that 
Christ has suffered in our stead, and bore 
all our sins in his own body on the tree. 
When I was lately upon the verge of eter- 
nity, and just going to launch into the invi- 
sible world, I could find consolation in no- 
thing but this precious, precious faith. If 
all my iniquities were laid upon the beloved 
Son, they will never be laid to my charge 
in the day of judgment. If the blessed Je- 
sus made full satisfaction for my transgres- 
sions, the righteous God will never demand 
two payments of one debt. "What an an- 
chor for the soul is such a belief ! how sure, 
how steadfast ! May it be our solace in life 
and our security in death ! 

A volume of letters, written by the Earl 
of Orrery to his son, has very much capti- 
vated the attention of the public. Dr. 
Brown's Remarks too upon Lord Shaftes- 
bury's Characteristics are, I think, equally 
worthy of universal acceptance. It is a re- 
fined entertainment to peruse such elegant 
and judicious compositions j but how flat 
are they all, how jejune and spiritless, com- 
pared with the sincere milk of the word, 
the lively oracles of God- I hope they wiU 
always prove a whet to our spiritual appe- 
tite ; quicken our desires, and heighten our 
relish of that heavenly manna which is 
spread over every page of the Bible. I 



am, dear sir, your very affectionate friend, 
&c. 



LETTER XCVIL 

London. Jan. 14, 1752. 
My dear Friend, — I know you will 
excuse my long silence, and acquit me on 
the receipt of this letter, though I own 
myself in your debt for another. When I 
have a lucid or a lively interval, I think it 
my duty to employ it in attempting to finish 
my little work ; which, alas ! proceeds as 
slowly as my blood creeps hea\nly through 
my veins. Happy, happy they, who have 
firmness of nerve, and fertility of thought, 
and are enabled to devote them both to their 
gracious Redeemer's service. 

Please to pay my best thanks to Dr. Cot- 
ton for his very delicate Visions. I wish 
they may do good, and promote virtue ; then, 
I am persuaded, they will answer the bene- 
volent intention of the author. I wish, at 
the same time, that he would be a little ex- 
plicit and courageous for Jesus Christ. He 
deserves it at our hands, who for our sake 
endured the cross, "and despised the shame : 
he will recompense it nito our bosom by 
owning us before his Father and the holy 
angels. Nor can I ever think that the 
spread of our performances will be ob- 
structed by pleasing him who has all hearts 
and all events in his sovereign hand. A 
vision upon death, without a display of 
Christ, seems to me like a body without a 
heart, or a heart without animal spirits. I 
am sure, when I was lately (as myself and 
every one apprehended) on the brink of 
eternity, I found no consolation but in 
Christ. Then I felt, what I had so often 
read, that there is no other name given un- 
der heaven whereby man may obtain life and 
salvation, but only the name, the precious 
and inestimable name of Jesus Christ. Oh ! 
that its savour may be to us, both living and 
dying, " as ointment poured out." 

Tell Mrs. , that she has not offend- 
ed me ; but I am grieved that I should give 
her occasion for such a suspicion. 

You refer me to 2 Esdras v. 33. " And 
I said, speak on, my Lord ; then said he 
unto me, thou art sore troubled in mind for 
Israel's sake : lovest thou that people bet- 
ter than he that made them ?" It is a sweet 
passage, a noble and comfortable truth ; and 
the apparent doctrine of Scripture, however 
found in an apocryphal book. Oh ! that 
we may seek more assiduously to our ali- 
condescending and omnipotent friend. He 
will never upbraid us for our im.portunity ; 
he will never disappoint our hope ; he is 
able to do exceeding abundantly above all 
that we can ask or think ; and, blessed fur 



832 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



ever be bis name, as his power, so is his 
love to his people, bis chiidreii, his heirs. 
In this blessed number may be rank my dear 
friend, and his ever affectionate, &c. 



LETTER XCVIIL 

Mile's-lane, Ma fch 24, 1752. 

My dear Friend,— I received your 
favour. I congratulate you on your success 
in your profession. Moses says, It is 
God who giveth power to get wealth." May 
such accessions of prosperity enlarge your 
heart with gratitude, and attach your affec- 
tions to our divine benefactor ! I am sorry 

to hear your account of dear . O that 

we may be taught (pooviiv us ro ff/xp^ovuv. 
" Lord lead me in a plain way," was the 
prayer of a noble sufferer. May the thing 
that he prayed for be the desire of our 
heart, and guide of our life. — I wiU very 
readily give him some Bibles ; if he (for he 
is, if I mistake not, a member of the So- 
ciety for Promoting Christian Knowledge) 
will send me an order in his name, a dozen 
shall be at his service. I shall think my 
own books are published to good purpose, 
if they enable the author to distribute the 
invaluable book of God. 

Upon reflection, I charge myself with 

folly for putting it into Mr. 's power 

to communicate a certain rumour. The 
wise man says, humorously and sarcasti- 
cally, " Venture to conceal a secret, and 
behold it will not burst thee." Intimating 
withal, that a secret in most people's breast 
is like fermenting liquor in a cask, which 
must have vent» or else it will burst the 
vessel. Therefore, 

Qu d de quoque viro, et cui dicas, sspe caveto. 

Mr. 's last piece I have not read 

through. I cannot say I am fond of that 
controversy. The doctrine of the perse- 
v^erance of Christ's servants, Christ's child- 
ren, Christ's spouse, and Christ's members, 
I am thoroughly persuaded of. Predesti- 
nation and reprobation I think of with fear 
and trembling. And if I should attempt 
to study them, I would study them on my 
knees. 

I wish you would ask Dr. S 's 

opinion about Eph. iv. 16. witb relation to 
the anatomical propriety of the passage ; 
and, with his, give me your own, I know 
not what to do about publishing. — May 
the Father of lights direct me ! and not 
suffer me, either to write improperly, or 
to print precipitately ! With thanks for your 
letter, and with prayers for your increase in 
faith, in love, and holiness; or in that " king- 
dom of God, which is righteousness, and 



peace, and joy in the Ho\y Ghost," I am, 
ever yours, &c. 



LETTER XCIX. 

Mile's-lane, 1752. 

Dear Mr. Nixon, — I am obliged to you 
for the favoui- done me by your letter, and 
for the honour done me by your verses to be 
engraved under my mezzotinto picture. 1 
should have acknowledged both these obli- 
gations sooner, if my printseller had not 
been dilatory in publishing the picture ; 
which is now transmitted to Dr. Stone- 
house, and desires your acceptance. 

I cannot forbear thinking that what is 
called honour is a little capricious and whim- 
sical. I, for my part, had taken my final 
leave of her ; expected none of her favours, 
and was become familiarly acquainted with 
contempt. How is it then that she singles 
out a person whose name has long ago been 
struck out of her list ; and bestows her ca- 
resses upon a mean creature, that has been 
used to sit on the dunghill ? Oh that it may 
be for the glory of Christ's grace, Christ's 
wisdom, Christ's power ! May I serve to 
the Sun of Righteousness as a cloud is sub- 
servient to the sun in the firmament, which, 
though all-gioomy in itself, exhibits a rain- 
bow ; and thereby shows the world what 
beautiful colours are combined in that mag- 
nificent luminary. 

You are pleased to inquire after my little 
work ; dear sir, add to your kind inquiries 
a prayer to God, that it may be executed 
under the anointings of his spirit, and ap- 
pear (if ever it appears) under the influence 
of his blessing. My late sickness laid an 
absolute embargo upon it for a considerable 
time ; and has so shattered my feeble con- 
stitution, that I proceed like a vessel that 
has lost its rigging, and is full of leaks. 
However slowly I advance in this essay, 
may I grow daily in grace, and in the know- 
ledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ ; 
and meet you^ dear sir, in that happy, hap})y 
haven, where we both would be. Till then 
be pleased to rank in the number of your 
sincere and affectionate friends, your obliged 
humble servant, &c. 



LETTER C To his Mother. 

April 6. 

Honoured Madam, — I received your 
favour of the 4th instant- Am very sorry 
to find my father is so ill. Hope and ear- 
nestly pray that the great eternal Lord of 
life and death will rebuke his disorder, and 
restore him to health. You need not doubt 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



of being remembered in my supplications to 
the throne of grace : O that they were bet- 
ter! O that they proceeded from firmer 
faith, and were accompanied with greater 
fervour ? Poor and weak as they are, they 
are often put up in behalf of my honoured 
parents, that the God and Father of our 
Lord Jesus Christ may strengthen them 
with all might, according to his glorious 
power, unto all patience and long-suffering 
with joyfulness ; may give them an humble 
resignation to his blessed will ; enable them 
to rejoice even in their tribulations, and 
make all things work together for their 
good, their exceeding great and everlasting 
good. 

1 have, in obedience to your orders, put 
my affairs in readiness to leave the city ; 
but hope there will be no occasion for such 
a speedy removal. But if I should come, 
alas ! what can I do? My weakness is in- 
conceivable. None can know it but the 
all-searching God. I am evidently worse, 
now the milder weather is advancing. 

I am glad to hear my sister holds well. 
God always mingles our cup of affliction 
with some sweetening drops. None but 
Christ, that dear and adored Redeemer, 
none but Christ had gall without any honey, 
and vengeance without any mercy. Bless- 
ed be his most holy name for enduring all 
kind of misery, that we might want no man- 
ner of thing that is good. I am, &c. 



LETTER CI. 

Totteyiham, Oct. 18, 1751. 

Dear Sm, — What shall I say, or how 
shall I excuse myself? I seem to be in the 
condition of Pharaoh's butier, v/ho remem- 
bered not his good frivnd Joseph, but forgat 
him. Yet be assured, dear sii', that I have 
not forgot your kindness j I have retained a 
warm sense of gratitude in my breast. The 
reason of my not acknov.^ledging your favour 
sooner, was this, — I proposed to have trans- 
mitted my piece to your hands, (that part of 
it at least which was to be enriched Avith 
your own thoughts,) that it might have the 
advantage of your critical revisal, and judi- 
cious corrections. 

But extreme weakness of body has re- 
tarded me in accomplishing, has almost 
rendered me incapable of prosecuting the 
work ; to ail which inlh-mities, the provi- 
dence of our all-wise heavenly Father has 
been pleased to superadd a violent fever, 
which confined me for eight weeks, and 
brought me to the very brink of the grave. 
I beg of you, dear sir, to accept my best 
thanks for your letter, and its valuable con- 
tents; though kite in their arrival, tliey are 
very sincere in their ten<it r. I hope you 



will give me leave to be obliged to you fo'' 
one favour more. If ever the Divine good- 
ness shall enable me to complete my design, 
allow me to put it imder your examination ; 
I shall send it abroad into the world with 
much less trepidation, with much greater 
satisfaction, if it has undergone the scrutiny 
of your judgment, and received the correc- 
tion of your pen. I am, at least I wish to 
be, sensible of my own incapacity for hand- 
ling the glorious, the divinely excellent 
truths of God's everlasting gospel. If the 
apostle, who had been caught up into the 
third heaven, could not forbear crying out 
with so much vehemence, " Who is sutii- 
cient for these things ?" what, O what shall 
I say ! Indeed, I have much fear and 
trembling of heart, lest I should give some 
wrong touch to the ark ; or by any impru- 
dent, though officious kiss, betray my divine 
Master to his enemies, rather than recom- 
mend him to the world. Good sir, assist 
me with your prayers, that if I write, I may 
be anointed with that unction from the 
Holy One, which may teach me all things, 
and lead me into all truth, which may fur- 
nish m.e with the tongue of the learned, and 
give me the pen of a ready writer. 

Have you seen i\ir. Taylor's late Trea- 
tise on the Sacrifice and Atonement ot 
Jesus Christ ? If you have, I should be 
glad to know what remarks occurred to your 
mind on the perusal. As you are a lovei- 
of natural philosophy, I wish you would 
consider the blessing of Joseph, Dent, 
xxxiii. 13 — 16, and favour me with your 
sentiments upon that beautiful passage. 1 
should not make either this or the preced- 
ing request, if 1 had not the highest opinion 
of the freedom and fidelity of your temper, 
and the accurate discernment of your nn- 
derscanding. As the blessed God has been 
pleased to deaden yor.r sense of hearing, 
may he daily quicken your spiritual senses 
to discern both good and evil. May he give 
you to hear the sweet and still voice of bis 
good Spirit witnessing with your spirit, that 
you are the child of God and an heir of 
glory! And would you implore the same 
blessing for your unworthy friend, it would 
be a kindness most gratefully to be acknow- 
ledged by, dear sir, your much obliged and 
affectionate servant, &c. 

P.S.— We have put one of Mr. IMoses 
Browne's children apprentice to a handsoiiie 
business ; and it will be a pleasure to do so 

I vv'orthy a man all the service that lies in n^y 

' power. 



LETTER CTL 

London, Miles-lane, Ih-c. 2-2, 1751. 
Dear Sister, — Yesreidii)' in the afrer- 
noon, Mr. and h.s inoiiivr called upon 

O II 



834 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



me : lie offered to convey a letter, or any 
message, to Weston. I could not neglect 
this opportunity of sending you my best 
wishes, and the congratulations of the sea- 
son. 

Please to thank my mother for her kind 
letter. The wine was to have come last 
week, but my brother forgot to give the 
necessary orders, until it was too late. I 
hope no such disappointment will happen, 
if we live to see the end of this week. I 
wish you much of the divine presence, and 
joy of the Lord in using it. May we all 
drink of those living waters which Christ 
Jesus has promised in his gospel, of which 
they who drink shall thirst no more ; but 
they shall be in them a well of water spring- 
ing up into everlasting life. Pray let me 
know what those living waters mean? 

I have no present to make you this 
Christmas, unless you will accept one from 
God's holy word. In the 9th chapter of 
Isaiah it is foretold, that poor sinners shall 
not only have a good hope, but shall even 
lejoice before God ; rejoice with exceeding 
great joy ; such as the husbandman feels, 
when he gathers in his harvest, and receives 
the reward of all his toil ; such as the soldier 
experiences, when he has conquered his 
enemy, and is dividing the spoil. 

What shall be the source of this joy? 
their worldly wealth ? Alas, riches make 
themselves wings, and fly away. They 
profit not in the day of wrath — Their car- 
nal pleasures ? These are always froth, and 
frequently gall. To be enamoured with 
these, is death, — Their own good deeds? 
These are a broken reed, a filthy rag ; and 
should cover us with confusion, not fill us 
with conceit. Whence then is this joy to 
flow ? From Christ, wholly from Christ : 
he is the rich gift of God, he is the pearl of 
great price ; the only consolation of sinners, 
and the supreme joy of his people. There- 
fore the prophet adds, in the language of 
triumph and exultation, " To us a child is 
born ; to us a Son is given, and the govern- 
ment shall be upon his shoulder, and his 
name shall be called Wonderful, Coynsel- 
lor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting 
Father, the Prince of Peace." This Child 
is Jesus Christ, who is the foundation of 
all our comfort, the spring of all true de- 
light. He is the Son of the Most High, 
yet given to be made man, to be made a 
sacrifice, to be made a curse, for us. So 
great, that the government of universal 
nature is upon his shoulder. The sceptre 
of supreme authority is in his hand ; he is 
" Head over all things to his church." So 
glorious, that his name shall be called Won- 
derful. God and man in one matchless and 
marvellous person, clothed with clay, yet 
possessed of all the fulness of the Godhead : 
like Jacob's ladder ; whose foot was fixed \ 



on earth, while the summit was lost in the 
skies. So gracious, that he is the Counsel- 
lor, to instruct ignorant creatures, and by 
his word and Spirit make them wise unto 
salvation. " The Mighty God to subdue 
our iniquities, to write his laws in our 
hearts, and make us partakers of a divine 
nature. " The Prince of Peace recon- 
ciling us to God by his death, and making 
peace by the blood of his cross ; by apply- 
ing these blessings to our consciences, fill- 
ing us with that peace of God which pass- 
eth all understanding. « The Everlasting 
Father ;" to cherish us under the wings of 
his providence and grace, to make all things 
work together for our good, and prepare for 
us an everlasting inheritance ; even the in- 
heritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that 
fadeth not away. O may the adorable Re- 
deemer be all this to us ! The prophet re- 
peats this expression. To us. This circum- 
stance is of the last importance. Then only 
is Christ our Fountain of life, and full of 
delights, when he is all this, does all this, 
to us, even to us. 

Let this Scripture be the subject of our 
meditation amidst the approaching solemni- 
ty. And may an everlasting sense of its 
blessings give an additional, a heavenly 
relish to all our other entertainment ! 1 am 
your affectionate brother, &c. 



LETTER CIIL 

Dear Sir,— It is not the difficulty of 

answering Dr. 's questions that makes 

me avoid it, but the disagreeable nature uf 
the office ; as it will oblige me to shew that 
he entirely mistakes both the nature of the 
Scriptures, and the nature of man. He 

would make Dr. 's and Dr. -'s 

sentiment of things the touchstone of di- 
vine revelation. What is level to their 
apprehensions, must be right ; what com- 
ports with their notions, must be true. At 
this rate, they are not doers of the law, but 
judges. On the contrary, if they do not 
understand the doctrine of union wi h 
Christ, or the fitness of free justification to 
promote holiness, it is because their under- 
standings are darkened ; it is a sign, that 
they want the eye-salve ; a proof, that their 
senses are not exercised to discern between 
good and evil. 

Dr. has Roman virtue ; but indeed 

he very much wants the eye- salve. He 
sees no glory and comeliness in Christ, but 
much in his own conformity to the com- 
mands of his Maker. While such senti- 
ments possess the mind, people have no 
eyes to discern the beauty of free grace. 
Christ is just as insignificant, as the physi- 
ician's offering to prescribe for a pereon in 



A COLLECTION OF LETTEliS. 



835 



perfect health. I am sure, my poor, lame, 
mangled conformity to my Maker's com- 
mands, tills me with shame, and would make 
me hang down my head as a bulrush. But 
my Lord's death, my Lord's obedience, my 
divine Lord's merit, encourages me, imbold- 
ens me, and enables me to say. Who shall 
condemn me ? Be pleased, by the bye, to 

compare Dr. 's foundation for comfort 

and confidence with St. Paul's, Rom. viii. 
33, 34. Who is in the right I leave you to 
determhie. I will only venture to assert, 
that Paul of Tarsus had as much conformi- 
ty to the commands of his Maker as our 
amiable friend. Oh that he was less amia- 
ble in his own eyes ; and knew himself to 
be " wretched, and miserablje, and poor, and 
blind, and naked." See Rev. iii. 17. 

1st, " A persuasion of our reconciliation 
to God, previous to our performance of 

holy duties." Dr. asks, what is the 

foundation of such a persuasion? To which 
I answer, the doctrine delivered by St. Paul, 
Rom. v. 10. " When we were enemies, 
M'e were reconciled to God by the death of 
his Son." From this passage he will see, 
that reconciliation to God is previous to 
our performance of holy duties. It is a 
blessing procured for enemies ; and to say, 
that enemies have performed holy duties, is 
to confound the difference between rebels 
and subjects ; is to make rebellion and alle 
giance the same. Nay, more, this blessing 
has no manner of dependence on our per- 
formance of holy duties, because it is pro- 
cured, not partially, but wholly procured by 
the death of Christ. It is not said, when 
we, who were some time enemies, began to 
perform holy duties ; but when we were 
enemies, while we were enemies, and con- 
sidered only as enemies. Then, even then. 
— Wondrous grace ! grace worthy of a God ! 
Will not such grace incline the rebels to 
throw down their arms ? 

The Doctor, having laid down some pre- 
mises, makes this inference : " Hence the 
phrase of our reconciliation to God, when 
we have renounced our sins." But does 
this inference tally with the apostle's de- 
claration, or is it the proper consequence of 
his doctrine? Let not the acute disputant, 
but the wayfaring man, judge. 

" Our blessed Saviour," adds the Doctor, 
" directly asserts, that the performance of 
religious duties is the sole evidence of re- 
conciliatio}»." We are not inquiring about 
the evidences of reconciliation, but about 
the wtiy to acquire them. To determine 
what are the evidences of a cure, is easy 
enough; but to prescribe the expeditious 
and certain method of working the cure, 
this is the thing we want. Here, accord- 
ing to my poor opinion, Mr. Marshall ex- 
cels as much in the spiritual, as Dr. 

in the animal Therapeutica. 



The Doctor urges our Lord's words, 
" Ye are ray friends, if ye do whatsoever I 
command you." Wandering from the point 
again. The question is, How M^e shall be 
animated, strengthened, and enabled to do 
them ? 

Upon this subject reason tells us, that 
such a discharge of religious duties can 
alone convince a Christian of the sincerity 
of his profession. It may be so : but pmy, 
Madam Reason, do not be impertinent, we 
did n-Ot ask your opinion upon the point ; 
if you would speak to the purpose, you 
must tell us, how we may be enabled to 
discharge these religious duties. Does 
your ladyship know, which is the first reli- 
gious duty ? I question it ; be content 
therefore, to receive information from 
Scripture : " Thou shalt love the Lord thy 
God with all thy heart." This is the first 

religious duty : now tell Dr. and me, 

tell us honestly and explicitly, how we can 
perform this duty ? Is it possible to love 
the Lord, to love him with all our heart, if 
we look upon him as incensed against us, 
unreconciled to us ? Is it possible to love 
him, when we apprehend ourselves to be 
under his wrath, or suspect that he will 
prove an enemy to us at the last ? 

The Doctor having a higher opinion of 
reason* than 1, is a greater favourite with 
her ; I would therefore heg to know of him, 
what reply she makes to this interrogatory]; 
and I promise beforehand, that I will stand 
to her award, if she can point out any 
method of practising this duiy, diiferent 
from that proposed by Mr Marshall ; then 
my favourite author and myself will submit 
to the charge of enthusiasm. 

Idly, " A persuasion of our future enjoy- 
ment of the heavenly happiness, previous to 
our performance of holy duties." 

I ask Mr. Hervey, " What is the foun- 
dation of such a persuasion ?" Mr Her- 
vey answers, Our free justification through 
Jesus Christ, which we receive under the 
character of ungodly persons ; consequently 
before the performance of good works, 
Rom. iv. 5. I answer again, The free 
promise of God : " God hath given unto 
us eternal life," 1 John v. 11. But is not 
this promise founded on our own duties 
and obedience ? No ; but on the duties and 
obedience of our great Mediator. " This 
life is in his Son." 

In the first book of the sacred writings 
is this important iiite negatory, made by 
God himself, " If thou dust well, shalt 
thou not be accepted ?" Here I beg leave 
to ask, in ray turn, Which is the person 
who does well ? Dr. , who would per- 
suade us to reject the gift of God, 1 John 
v. 11. and not believe his word? or Mr. 



Reason, 1 mean, in her preiicnt fallen siat«. 



836 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



Marshall, wlio would engage us to credit 
the divine declaration, and receive the di- 
vine gift ? The apostle says, by not believ- 
ing this record, " we make God a liar," 
] John V. 10. And shall we call this 
doing well? or is this the way to be ac- 
cepted ? 

The Doctor farther urges. In the very 
last chapter of the same sacred volumes Ave 
are told, " Blessed are they who do his 
commandments, that they may have a right 
to the tree of life." Let me ask again, 
Does the Doctor remember what the com- 
mandments of the Almighty are ? He may 
see them reduced to two particulars, and 
ranged in the exactest order, 1 John iii. 
23. The first of these commandments is, 
" That we believe on the name of his Son 
Jesus Christ." Let the Doctor only inter- 
pret this precept, tell me what is included 
in this injunction, and I am inclined to 
think, he will find each of Mr. Marshall's 
preliminary articles contained in its import. 
To believe in Christ, is to live under a per- 
suasion that he has died to reconcile me to 
God ; that he has obeyed to obtain eternal 
life for me ; and intercedes in heaven that 
I inay receive the Holy Ghost the Com- 
forter. Take away these ingredients from 
faith, and its spirit evaporates ; its very life 
expires ; you have nothing left but a mere 
caput mortuim. 

The Doctor charges us " with spiritual 
pride." But is it pride to confess ourselves 
ungodly wretches, and, as such, to receive 
free justification from infinitely rich grace ? 
*' With presumption and unwarrantable per- 
suasions." But is that a presumptuous 
claim, or that an unwarrantable persuasion, 
which is founded on the infallible promise 
of God, and implied in the very nature of 
faith ? He bids us beware, lest we be the 
dupes of our own credulity. We thank 
\iim for the friendly admonition ; and, to 
shov/ our gratitude, we would suggest a 
caution to our worthy friend, that before he 
argues on a religious subject, he would gain 
clearer ideas of its nature. He talks of 
reconciliation, as implying concern and 
grief. Here he fights with a shadow, and 
a shadow of his own raising; no mortal 
ever affirmed or dreamed of any such thing. 
Becouciliation is neither more or less than 
a removal of offence, and a restoration to 
favour. He mentions Mr. Marshall's 
three propositions as the requisite signals 
of faith ; whereas they are the constituent 
parts, the very essence of faith : they dif- 
fer-as much from a signal, as the fiorid blood 
and lively spirits differ from the bloom on 
the cheek, or the sparkle in the eye. He 
tells us, *' That the faith of the Jet\'s was 
one thing; but after our Saviour's death, 
the faith of the Gentiles was anotiier." 
St. Paul, who vs-c'.s a Jew by birth, and ;m 



apostle of the Gentiles b> ^-k-cj, tells us 
the very reverse. There is one faith, of 
which Christ, the Lamb slain from the 
foundation of the world, was and is the in- 
variable object. " To him give all the 
nrophets," as well as all the apostles, " wit- 
ness, that whosoever believeth in him shall 
receive remission of sins." Believing iu 
Christ, we see, is the one, constant, unal- 
terable way, in which both Jews and Gen- 
tiles, the hearers of the prophets and the 
converts of the apostles, obtained pardon, 
life, 8T)d glory. 

Kad Dr. observed this caution, he 

vv'ould not have spent so many needless and 
random words on the third proposition, 
which proceed upon an absolute mistake of 
the point. " We advocates for self suffici- 
ency in man!" 1 wonder how the ingeni- 
ous Doctor can entertain such a suspicion, 
especially as he knows we have subscribed, 
we believe, and we maintain the tenth arti- 
cle of our Church. He has blamed us for 
this belief; therefore he should, in all 
reason, blame himself for those extravagant 
excursions of his pen ; v/hich are just as 
far from sobriety and fact, as the Anti- 
podes are from the latitude of London. 
Our maxim and Mr. Marshall's meaning 
is, Though less than nothing, though worse 
than nothing in ourselves, we can do all 
things through Christ's strengthening us. 
I. am, &c. 



LETTER CIV. 

. ^ Saturday morning. 

Shall I beg you to tell Dr. , that 

his beautiful Visions* were, by Dodsley 
the bookseller, put into the hands of a very 
pious and ingenious friend of mine, who 
proposes an alteration in the ninth line of 
the sixty-ninth page of the fifth edition, 
where he would read Jesus instead of 
virtue. 

At that important hour of need, 
Jesus shall prove a friend indeed. 

But I am not of his opinion, unless an 
uniform vein of evangelical doctrine had 
run through the whole. This, I must con- 
fess, I could have been glad to have seen 
in so elegant a poem, where Spenser's fan- 
cy, and Prior's ease, are united. And I 
hope if the Doctor should ever write any 
more poetry, he will take this important 
hint into his consideration. Indeed he 
ought ; for even in his Vision on Death, 
he has not paid the least regard to Chi'ist 
GUI- Redeemer, the conqueror of death. 
I presume they sell according to our wishes. 
May they, under the blessing of a most 



* See Letter XCVII. 



A COLLECTION 

gracious God, impart good to the world, 
and bring gain to the author ! 

If I mistake not, you are a subscribing 
member of the Society for Promoting 
Christian Knowledge ; will you be so kind 
us to procure for me a dozen of Bibles, 
;ind a dozen of the Bishop of Man on the 
Lord's Supper ? I give away this to com- 
municants, because it has the communion- 
service in it ; and because it is more evan- 
gelical, and less exceptionable than the 
generality of what are called preparations 
for, or companions at the sacrament ; too 
many of which books, by long prayers for 
each day in the week, and by injudicious 
representations, have sometimes, I fear, a 
contrary effect to what was intended. I 
had once a design, nor have I wholly laid 
it aside, of extracting from Jenks' Office 
of Devotion, the few leaves he has there 
wrote so pathetically on the sacrament, and 
of printing them with the communion ser- 
vice, after the manner of the Bishop of 
Man ; adding on the sides suitable observa- 
tions of my own, to supply Jenks' deficien- 
cies. I propose likewise to add what Mar- 
shall says on the subject, and insert from 
the Bishop of Man his short, yet striking 
meditations on some well-chosen texts of 
Scripture, which wUl be of service to every 
one ; particularly to those who are unac- 
customed to meditate, or have no taleuts 
for it, and consequently want such an as- 
sistance to employ the time while others 
are receiving the bread and wine. What 
savs ray fidus Achates to this ? Give it a 
place in your thoughts ; and however w( 
may determine on this, let us determine to 
cleave more closely to the Lord, and wait 
upon our God continually. " Unto thee 
lift I up mine eyes, O thou that dwellest 
in the heavens." Let this be our pattern, 
and such our practice. To his tender care, 
and continual guidance, I commit you ; and 
am cordially yours, &c. 



LETTER CV. 

London, Mile's-lane, April 9, 1752. 
Dear Sir, — Soon after 1 received your 
/ast favour, we were visited by a very alarm- 
ing providence : a fire broke out in a sugar- 
baker's workhouse, part of which commun- 
icated with my brother's house, and the 
whole Was separated from us only by a 
court-yard, four or five yards in breadth. 
Three engines played from his house, and 
another stood ready in the dining room, ,in 
case of any unexpected exigency. We were 
all consternation and confusion ; in the 
hurry, I mislaid, somewhere or other, your 
valuable letter, and cannot recover it by 
miy search. I wish you would be so kind 



OF LETTERS. 837 

as to direct me once more to the Magazine 
in which your chronological observation is 
inserted. I shall be more particularly pleased 
to see difficulties of this nature cleared up ; 
because the works of a veiy celebrated 
genius are lately published, in which he 
very much decries the chronology and his- 
tory of the sacred Scriptures ; I mean some 
posthumous volumes written by the late 
Lord Bolingbroke. 

You will excuse me for not making my 
thankful acknowledgments sooner. The 
objections you started, and the answers you 
gave, v. ere richly worth preserving ; I am 
truly sorry that the afore-mentioned disaster 
has, I fear, deprived me of them. Have 
you no copy taken for your own satisfaction ? 
With relation to my intended work, if it 
was in your hands, I believe you would not 
think it expedient to add any thing more of 
the argumentative kind. I fear 1 have been 
too prolix already ; and if ever I should be so 
happy as to obtain your revisal of it, should 
be very desirous that you would make very 
free with the pruning- knife. I have no 
vindication, but some excuse for my delay 
in writing. I catched such a cold, on the 
late terrifying occasion, (being obliged to 
wade through water, in order to escape the 
fire), as confined me to my chamber several 
weeks. I mentioned to you Taylor's 
Treatise of Original Sin. As you have noti 
seen the work, give me leave to transmit, 
as fully as I can recollect, one or two of his 
objections to the orthodox opinion. God is 
the Maker, the true and immediate Maker 
of all men, Job xxxi. 15. Now it is impos- 
sible that God should make our nature, and 
yet not make the qualities and propensities 
which it has when made. Therefore, what- 
ever principles, or whatever seeds are im- 
planted in our constitution, they cannot be 
principles of iniquity nor seeds of sin ; be^ 
cause they are all infused and planted by 
our infinitely good and holy Creator. Such 
passions, appetites, propensities, cannot be 
sinful, because they are necessary and un- 
avoidable, (and that cannot be sinful in me, 
which I can nowise avoid, help, or hinder), 
neither can they render us objects of God's 
wrath ; for it is infinitely absurd, and highly 
dishonourable to God, to suppose he is dis- 
pleased at us for what he himself has in- 
fused into Qur nature. 

What says St. James? (James iii. 9.) 
" Therewith curse we men, who are made 
after the similitude of God." The simili- 
tude of God signifies those moral endow- 
ments which distinguish the possessor, both 
from the brutes and the devils ; and in this 
image, or vested with these qualifications, 
men are made. What then becomes of the 
doctrine of original sin? 

St. Paul speaks of people that had their 
understanding darkened, that were alienated 



5338 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



in their minds, were haters of God, &c. 
But this is affirmed of the idolatrous hea- 
then. The very Gentiles, according to St. 
Paul's account, " Shew the work of the 
law written on their hearts, their con- 
sciences meanwhile accusing or else ex- 
cusing one another." Here then are 
Heathens who have the work of the law 
(not barely discerned by their understand- 
ing, but) written on their heart?; ; have both 
the knowledge and the love of its moral 
precepts; with an awakened tender con- 
science, ever ready to act the part of an 
impartial reprover, or a zealous advocate ; 
and what higher character can you give of 
your first-rate believer ? They are also said 
to " do by nature the things contained in the 
law ;" an irrefragable proof that our nature 
is not so depraved in point of inclination, 
nor so disabled with regard to its executive 
powers, as the doctrine of original sin sup- 
poses. 

Let me request the favour of your senti- 
ments upon the preceding objections. Your 
ingenious remarks on Deut. xxxiii. 13, &c. 
I received ; I prize, and I thank you for 
them. May the gracious God, for a recom- 
pense, lead you farther and farther into the 
unsearchable treasures of wisdom hid in the 
Scriptures, and fill you with all wisdom and 
spiritual understanding. I comfort myself 
in thinking, that you do not in your prayers 
forget, dear sir, your much obliged, and 
truly affectionate friend, &c. 



LETTER CVL 

Weston-Favell, Dec. 14, 1752. 
Rea'^ekend Sir, — Little did I think, 
when I recommended to the public the 

Observations on *, that I should 

be so agreeably and amply recompensed for 
my occasional note — recompensed with a 
letter from the author ; which, I assure 
you, was extremely welcome, not only on 
account of the same strain of elegance which 
runs through and adorns your book, but for 
the tender which it brought me of a very 
valu'dble accession to the small number of 
my friends. Your friendship, dear sir, I 
accept as a privilege, and shall cultivate 
with delight. Only I must, in common 
justice, forewarn you of one particular. 
That your social intercourses with James 
Hervey, will be an exercise of charity, 
rather than an advantageous traffic to your- 
self. Besides other reasons which I might 
too truly allege for the support of this hint, 
a long continued habit of indisposition, and 



* Probably the Observatio is on Tacitus com- 
J^'ended by Mr. Hervey, in hi; Letter to a Lady of 
vuality. 



bodily vi'eakness, has laid a heavy hand on 
my animal spirits, which (take my word for 
it, since I hope you will never know it by 
experience,) both cramps the exertion, and 
obstructs the improvement of the intellect- 
ual faculties. You remember, however, 
who has said, " It is more blessed to give 
than to receive ;" which, I think, will hold 
good when applied either to the treasures 
of the mind or the riches of fortune. 

Your approbation of any thing in my 
slight remarks will give me singular satis- 
faction ; yet I should be no less obliged for 
your free thoughts on what should have been 
added, expunged, or altered. Let this, 
dear sir, be the first fruits of our friendship. 
Point out my blemishes, and supply my de- 
fects. Applause may be more soothing to 
my vanity ; but such kind corrections will 
be more pleasing to my judgment, and more 
serviceable to our common cause. It is 
scarce probable that a second edition should 
be published, as the first was numerous ; 
but if there should be such a demand, I 
am sure your animadversions would en- 
rich and ennoble it. 

I thank you for your Reflections on the 
Scriptures, which are perfectly just, and 
peculiarly animated. I cannot but wish 
that the vindication of their dignity, and 
the display of their excellency, had fallen 
to your share. This, I trust, is a ser- 
vice reserved for your pen, to be drawn with 
ten-fold energy and success on some future 
occasion. And may you, when called to 
such an important work, be " a vessel unto 
honour, sanctified, and meet for the Master's 
use !" 

I bless God for the just notions you form 
concerning the Holy Spirit, and the neces- 
sity of his enlightening influences ; without 
which the Scriptures will be a sealed book, 
and even the word of life a dead letter. 
Men of superior abilities too often lean to 
their own understanding, and reject the 
guidance, the teachings, of the Holy Ghost'; 
not because these are not mentioned, in- 
sisted upon, promised in the gospel ; but 
because they fancy themselves capable of 
comprehending, without any' supernatural 
aid, ra ^£yaX£/a t8 0s8. But may we, sir, 
be sensible, ever sensible, that all our suffi- 
ciency is of God ; and not blush to be the 
humble pupils of the heavenly teacher, who 
" hideth these things /rom the wise and 
prudent, but revealeth them unto babes." 
I am desirous of being taught by the labours 
of learned men ; more desirous of being 
taught by the written woi'd of revelation ; 
but, amidst all, and above all, to be taught 
of God ; or, as our Liturgy very boldly,, 
but not improperly explains the prophet, 
" taught by the inspiration of God's Holy 
Spirit." 

I am pleased to hear from — — , that 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



889 



you are situated near that worthy gentle- 
man Dr. , whose works praise him 

in the gate ; to whom belongs that noble 
character, " The liberal person deviseth li- 
beral things to whom, I trust, will^be made 
good that inestimable promise in its fullest 
extent, " By liberal things shall he stand." 
They shall be his witnesses at the day of 
eternal judgment, that his faith in Christ 
Jesus has neither been empty, barren, nor 
dead. When you have the pleasure of 
waiting on him, be so good as to present 
him with my most respectful compHments. 

You are not under the least obligation to 
me, for bearing my testimony to your late 
performance. It is a debt which I owe, 
for the delight I received in perusing it. 
I wish it may soon come to a second edi- 
tion ; and, if my attestation to its merit is 
a means of introducing it into the hands of 
my readers, I do not doubt but it will do an 
honour to my taste. The present which 
you promise me will be very acceptable ; 
but, my dear sir, if you have a family, or 
your circumstances should not be affluent, 
I beg you will not think of it. You see I 
follow' your example, and speak, not as a 
new acquaintance, but as a bosom friend. 

Should it ever be in my power to do you 
any service, I can suggest a method where- 
by you might repay, more than repay the 
favour. That is, by taking the trouble of 
revising a little work which I have upon the 
anvil, and bpstowins.c upon it your free re- 
marks. A few tnuclies from your pen would, 
if the thing be not incorrigibly bad, very 
much improve it. Had I not seen a display 
of your judgment and delicacy in the Ob- 
servations, &c. I should not have asked 
such an instance of your friendship ; where- 
as now I cannot but earnestly desire it, shall 
highly esteem it, and shall very thankfully 
acknowledge it. 

Not by might, nor by strength, but by 
my Spirit, saith the Lord." And we may 
truly say, not by polished diction, or brilliant 
sentiment; not by the arts of persuasion, or 
the force of reasoning; but by God Al- 
mighty's blessing, our attempts are preva- 
lent, and our books successful. This is my 
comfort, and this my confidence: — as an 
author, I would aim, singly aim, at the glory 
of my Divine Master, and the furtherance 
of his everlasting gospel. Then I would 
resign the issue of my endeavours wholly to 
his providence and grace, who can, out of 
the mouths of babes and sucklings, perfect 
his praise. Nevertheless, I would by no 
means neglect the recommendations of a 
graceful composition. I would be glad to 
have the apples of gold, which are the truths 
of our holy religion, conveyed or set in pic- 
tures of silver. Foi this we have the ge- 
nius of human nature, which, generally 
speaking, must be pleased, in order to be 



profited. For this we have the precedent 
of the wisest of men, who "sought and 
found out acceptable Vords," even when 
that which was written was the truth of 
God. If it is consistent with your other 
engagements to oblige me in this very sub- 
stantial manner, , who undertakes to 

transmit this letter, has promised to convey 
a little parcel to your hands. 

I wish you, sir, what the eloquent apostle 
styles, (Col. ii. 2.) « the riches of the full 
assurance'of understanding ;" and, turning 
my wishes into prayers, take my leave, and 
profess myself, reverend sir, your truly af- 
fectionate friend'and brother, &c. 



LETTER CVII. 

My dear Friend, — The apostle warns 
us not to be " carried about with every wind 
of doctrine." I think Marshall has answer- 
ed great part of Dr. 's letter (see pages 

96, 97 of the 8vo edition). Pray desire 

Dr. , at his leisure, to show wherein 

he suspects Marshall to be unscriptural. 
You may depend upon it, I shall appeal 
from the Doctor's determination, unless he 
supports it by Scripture. The poor and 
unlearned generally understand the gospel 
better than the accomplished scholars; be- 
cause it pleases God, by the foolishness (see 
1 Cor. i. 21.) of preaching, to save them 
that believe. God long ago foretold, that 
but rp\r would understand and receive evan- 
gelical truth : " Who hath believed our re. 
port ?" says Isaiah : Very, very few. To 
this St. Paul adds ; " Not many wise, not 
many mighty are called." The attributes 
of the Deity will stand clear from all just 
impeachment, if we demonstrate that his 
doctrine is most excellently calculated to 
humble the sinner, to exalt the Saviour, and 
promote filial obedience. Let the objections 
and misapprehensions of such learned and 
ingenious men teach us to distrust our own 
ability ; not^to lean to our own understand- 
ings, but seek more earnestly for the spirit 
of wisdom and revelation. 

Dr. thinks the doctrine delivered 

in Marshall's book to be inconsistent with 
Scripture, and repugnant to reason : where- 
as I think it contains the very marrow of 
Scripture ; consequently, is reason in its 
highest refinement. I daily experience it 
to be the medicine of my better life, or the 
most sovereign means to comfort the con- 
science and purify the'heart. If the Doctor 
had leisure, I should be glad to hear what 
a person of - his fine sense and keen dis- 
cernment could gay against my favourite 
author. 

Have you any author of eloquence and 
spirit who has written either a treatise or 



849 



A COLLECJION OF LETTERS. 



sermon on the subject of true holiness, its 
nature, its necessity, its excellency ? If you 
could furnish me with such a treatise, I 
would endeavour to put his displays of ho- 
liness into Theron's mouth, and Aspasio 
should show the manner of acting, all on 
evangelical principles. Has Atterbury said 
any thing of this kind, or Foster in his ser- 
mons ? I wish you would search your own 
stock of ideas. Search your most admired 
Arminian writers, and produce the noble 
qualities, the important duties, which con- 
stitute the dignity or the happiness of our 
nature; and I will undertake, 1 will attempt 
at least, to point out the expeditious and 
easy way to them, all on Mr. Marshall's 
plan. 

The Doctor is strangely vague in his ar- 
gimientation. On the two first topics he 
does little else but ramble ; the last he ab- 
solutely mistakes. I do not affirm that we 
have sufficient strength. I wonder how he 
cuuld suppose this, when he knows it is our 
persuasion that we have not power so much 
as cordially to will that which is good. But 
a persuasion that God will give us sufficient 
strength, this is the point we plead for, the 
privilege to which we stand entitled by the 
go>pel. 

You forgot, my dear friend, to send me 
Jennings on Original Sin. If you think 

Mrs. is in want, I will very willingly 

give her two guineas. Who would not give 
away their su})erfluicies for his sake who 
gave his very life for our sins ? O that I had 
also strength of body, that I might spend 
what is more valuable than gold in his sacred 
service ! But forbear, my soul ; his will be 
done. I hope God may incline your heart 
to review those manuscripts, and strengthen 
your judgment to discern their improprieties. 
I really have no fondness to appear again in 
print; I had much rather decline what re- 
quires any labour of the brain. But since 
I have proceeded so far in the work, since 
there is some expectation of it, and many 
prayers put up for it, I cannot be easy when 
I ofier to discontinue it. Do, my dear 
friend, give me a little of your time, take 
some pains in my behalf ; it is tlie last 
trouble of this kind I shall ever give you. 
For should this piece be finished, never, 
never will I attempt another. Who knows, 
but if you help me in this work, I may 
converse with you when 1 am dead ; and 
perhaps a very weak hint from the pen of 
an old friend may be blessed to your com- 
fort, when he is gone hence, and no more 
seen ! Till then, afrer then, and for ever, I 
hope to be affectionately yours, &c. 

P. S. — Pray let me hear the issue of 
your interview with the gentleman. I hope 
the God of wisdom and of power will give 
you an irreproachable conduct, and a decent 
boldness. Why should we be' " afraid of 



man that shall die, and the son of man that 
shall be as grass ; and forget the Lord- in 
Maker, who stretched out the heavens, ^nd 
laid the foundation of the earth ?" Fear 
not ; you have done nothing in this whole 
affair but what, I am verily persuaded, is 
pleasing to him whose loving-kindness is 
better than life. 

Oh that it was v/orth your while to wish, 
and that it was safe for me to grant, an ub- 
solution of my sentence against you ; but 
you must not come to hear me so long as 
the small-pox is in your town, as many of 
my people will be terrified at your presence. 
I will tell you one good thing that was in 
our sermon last Sunday: this portion of 
Scripture, viz. " With the Lord there is 
mercy, and with him is plenteous redemp- 
tion," Psalrn cxsx. 7. And this, all this is 
for you, my dear, friend, and for thee, my 
sinful soul. O let us receive the blessings ; 
let us embrace the blessings ! For it is our 
gracious Master's will, by these sweet, in- 
viting, generous methods, to win us from a 
deluding world, and win us to his blessed 
self. — Adieu. 



LETTER CVIIL 

Dear Sir, — My poor father is in some 
respects better, but he is as weak and help- 
less as ever. Most of his time passes in a 
kind of dosing sleep. He has no inclinatioii 
to talk ; takes little notice of persons or 
things. I hope his great work is done, his 
interest in Christ secured, and his soul sanc- 
tified by grace. For indeed, such a srau 
of languishing is as unfit to work out salva- 
tion, and lay hold on eternal life, as to grind 
at the mill, or to run a race. Oh that we 
all may give diligent attention to the things 
which belong to our peace, before the inabi- 
lity of sickness, and the night of death ap- 
proaches. I sent for the poem on Sick- 
ness, by Mr. Thomson of Queen's College, 
Oxford, and was surprised to find it a four- 
shilling and sixpenny piece. It is, I think, a 
loose and rambling performance ; some good 
lines, but a great deal of it nothing at all to 
the purpose; not comparable, in point ot 
elegance, propriety, and beauty, to his Hymn 
on May. However, I would not have it 
depreciated, methinks, because it speaks 
worthily of the Christian religion, and the 
Rock of our hopes, Christ Jesus. — Adieu, 
my? dear friend, ever yours, &c. 



LETTER CIX. 

Dear Sister, — I hope this will find my 
father better. I heartily wish, and daily 



A COLLFXTION OF LETTERS. 



pray that the God of evei lasting compas- 
sions may comfort him under his sorrows, 
may sanctify his afilictions, and restore him 
to his health, that he may recover more 
spiritual strength before he goes hence, and 
is no more seen. 

I sent my brother some books, and hum- 
bly beseech the Giver of every good gift 
fo accompany them with his heavenly bless- 
ing; for what he blesses is blessed indeed. 

I could be truly glad to hear your com- 
plaints are removed ; but if they continue, 
do not be discouraged. " Whom the Lord 
loveth he chastiseth." God had but one 
Son without sin, but none without suffer- 
ings. Oh that his infinite goodness may 
sanctify your tribulations, that they may be 
a means of weaning you from the world, and 
bringing you to Jesus Christ ! Then you 
will one day say with the Psalmist, " It is 
good for me that I have been afflicted." — 
I am, &c. 



LETTER ex. 

Dear Sir, — Your observations are per- 
fectly just, and Dr. Doddridge's remarks 
are admirably judicious ; his alterations are 
indeed excellent and charining. Oh, may 
they be equally impressive on me as 1 tran- 
scribe them, and on all that may hereafter 
read them ! Many most solid and valuable 
corrections has the Doctor already made in 
my little piece, but, in my opinion, these 
are beyond them all. I cannot but wish he 
had leisure to have v.'ent through the whole 
with his improving strokes ; but, as the 
business of his academy and ministry is so 
various, and so important, I cannot prevail 
with myself to make such a request. I will 
try, and do the best I can to proceed on the 
plan which he has formed, and to follow 
fmagno Ucet intervalloj the example he has 
set. Be so good as to make my most 
grateful acknowledgments : Let your tongue 
speak, for really my pen cannot write, how 
greatly I am obliged to him. I will venture 
to turn, what was used formerly as an im- 
precation, into a wish and a blessing on this 
occasion, " May God do so to him, and 
more also !" 

Oh that our writings may be accompanied 
with the blessed Spirit ; and that the spirit 
of our writings may be operative on our 
hearts, and apparent in our conversation.—-; 
Ever yours, &e. 



LETTER CXL 



well, I will wait upon Dr. C on Tues- 
day morning. He has a delicate genius, 
and I dare say he is an excellent physician. 

that his fine parts may be grafted into 
the true olive tree, and bring forth fruit 
unto God. If Providence permits us to 
meet, 1 hope to have some evangelical dis« 
course with him. 

Sure you could not go to London with- 
out putting to your heart some of your own 
important questions, under the heads of 
self-examination. Have you indulged 
yourself in needless amusements, needless 
diversions of any kind ? Have you em- 
ployed your time usefully to yourself or to 
others? My dearest friend, remember in 
what book, by whose hands, several such 
like questions are written ! I fear you have 
not so much as spoke one word for Christ 
since you have entered the metropolis, 
though you must have had so many oppor- 
tunities. O why do you thus bury your 
sprightly talents in a napkin ? Edify your 
neighbours by your conversation. What a 

loss has Mr. and Mr. , and others 

of your correspondents, sustained by your 
forgetting or disusing the language of Zion ? 

1 have lately purchased Lowman's Exposi- 
tion of the Revelation. Give me leave to 
refer you to the fifth verse of the second 
chapter, "Remember therefore from whence 
thou art fallen, and do thy first works." 
Pray lend me Lowman on the Civil Go- 
vernment of the Hebrews, which I hear is 
a most excellent book, and illustrates many 
obscure passages in the Bible. 

Do you keep a diary as you used to do, 
a secret history of your heart and conduct, 
and take notice of the manner in which 
your time is spent, and of the strain which 
runs through your discourse ? Do you 
minute down your sins of omission as well 
as of commission, and observe the frame of 
your spirit in religious duties? Do yon 
register your most secret faults ; those 
faults to which none but your own con- 
science is pri\ y, none but the all-seeing eye 
discerns ? And do you often review these 
interesting memoirs ? remeaibering, at the 
same time, that for all these things God 
will one day call you into judgment. Keep- 
ing a diary is the way to know ourselves, 
and of all other preparatives it best disposes 
us to prayer, and to seek in earnest after 
that blessed Redeemer who died to save 
sinners, and through whom alone we can 
ever expect to enter the kingdom of heaven. 

Adieu, my dear friend. God in heaven 
bless and protect you ! I hope to see you 
ere long; and am, in the mean time, with 
true regard, yours faithfully find affection- 
ately, &c. 



Mile s-kme, Saturday moryiing. 
My dear Friend, -—If I am tolerably 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



LETTER CXIL 

Westo7i, Feb. 3, 1753. 
Dear Sir,— lam greatly obliged for your 
repeated favours, and truly sensible of my 
obligations. I have not acknowledged 
them so punctually as I ought ; but I hope 
you will excuse this neglect, and ascribe it 
to the real cause, ill health and weak spi- 
rits, which cramp my mind, unnerve my 
hand, and make me trespass upon the can- 
dour of all my correspondents. Why did I 
suy hope ? I see you do excuse me. Of this 
your last letter, transmitted to Mr. Moses 
Browne, is a clear and pleasing proof, which 
I safely received, and for which I sincerely 
thank you ; as I bless the God of grace, and 
the God of wisdom, for giving you so friend- 
ly a temper, ind so discerning a judgment. 

The little piece* which you have so ju- 
diciously retouched and improved, was not 
written for public view ; but I thought, after 
ficquent prayer to God for direction, and 
attending to the workings of his Providence, 
it was his will that it should be published. 
I was sensible of its many defects, but upon 
his Almighty power I depend for its use- 
fulness ; he can bid even a worm thresh the 
mountains, and make his strength perfect, 
illustrious, triumphant, in the most abject 
weakness. Blessed be his holy name, that 
the servants of Jesus Christ, and the advo- 
cates for his sacred cause, have such an 
arm to rely on. If another edition should 
be required, I will take leave to enrich my 
piece with your remarks ; and let me beg 
of you to favour me with your opinion in 
relation to some additions which 1 have oc- 
casionally penned. Page 111, after line 22, 
add, — But what shall we say to a mistake 
in the sacred chronology ; a palpable mis- 
take pointed out by his lordship, proved to 
be such by the testimony of profane history 
— Samaria said to be taken by the king of 
Assyria, twelve years after the Assyrian 
empire was no more ? For my own part, 
I make neither hesitation nor scruple to re- 
ply, If Isaiah and Herodotust vary; if 
the authors of the Kings, the Chronicles, 
and several of the prophets, differ from the 
Greek historians, I am under no difficulty 
in settling my judgment and taking my side. 
When profane writers agree with the sa- 
cred, I admit both accounts ; when they 
disagree, I reject the former, and acquiesce 
in the latter. Nor can I tax myself with 
any thing unreasonable or arbitrary in this 
proceeding ; for surely those writers who 
are able to foretell future events, must de- 
serve the preference in relating past. Those 

* This little piece was, Remarks 'on Lord Boling- 
broke's Letters on the History of the Old Testament, 
in a Letter to A Lady of Quality. 

f Herodotus does not differ from the prophet Isa- 
iah and the Scripture account of the empire of Assy- 
na ; it is Cresias and Justin that vary from it. 



witnesses who dwelt on the spot, and were 
personally concerned in affairs, are more to 
be relied on than those who lived in a dis- 
tant country, and wrote in a distant age. 
With regard to the case specified by my 
Lord Bolingbroke, I believe the attentive 
reader will find the error, not in the sacred 
chronology, but in his lordship's apprehen- 
sion. The kingdom of Assyria was not at 
that period no more ; but, like the Irish or 
Scotch crown to the English, united to the 
Babylonian ; of which, when the holy 
writers treat, they call it sometimes by one 
name, and sometimes by the other. 

Page 15, after established, insert, " If 
Isaiah speaks by divine inspiration, when 
he says of the formidable Sennacherib, 
The Lord of Hosts shall stir up a scourge 
for him, according to the slaughter of Mi- 
dian ; surely that memorable defeat, record- 
ed in the book of Judges, must be an un- 
doubted fact. Could the Spirit, vvhich is 
infallible, give such a sanction to a story 
which was fictitious ?" When the same 
Isaiah prays in that elevated and ardent 
strain, " Awake, awake ; put on strength j 
O arm of the Lord ! awake as in the an- 
cient days, in the generations of old ! Art 
thou not it that hath cut Rahab, and 
wounded the dragon ? Art thou not it, 
which hath dried the sea, the waters of the 
great deep ? that hath made the depths of 
the sea a way for the ransomed to pass 
over ?" can we reasonably imagine, that the 
prophet would plead lying vanities before 
the God of truth ; that he would ground his 
own and his countrymen's faith on a popular 
romance ; or on what my lord calls," a pure- 
ly human, and therefore fallible," narrative ? 

Does not the blessed Jesus describe the 
manner, and illustrate the efficacy of his 
own death, by the serpent lifted up in the 
wilderness, and its all-healing virtue on the 
wounded Israelites ? Does not the holy 
apostle enumerate several of the most won- 
derful miracles, wrought for, the deliverance, 
the preservation, the chastisement of Israel, 
and from these occurrences deduce the 
most important admonitions, urge the most 
forcible exhortations ? Such references, 
made by such persons, not only suppose, 
but prove more than bare illusions ; they 
are also ratifications ; and demonstrate with 
an evidence, clear as the wisdom, firm as the 
faithfulness of an incarnate God, that the 
writers of these accounts have neither de- 
jfeived us nor were deceived themselves. 
Should it be said, that these passages are 
chiefly in the Mosaical history, and there- 
fore give no authority to the other histori- 
cal memoirs ; I would ask. Does not St. 
Paul (Rom. ii. 23,) quote a passage from 
the book of Kings? Does he not build 
upon the passage as a sure and indubitable 
truth ? Does he not dignify the book with 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



843 



what I may term the incommunicable char- 
acter in writing; and style it, by way of 
superlative eminence, the Scripture ? Is it 
not undeniably certain, that the Jewish 
youths, and Timothy among the rest, were 
instructed in the historical as well as the 
prophetical volumes of the Old Testament ? 
Does not the best of judges recommend all 
those volumes to our highest estimation, by 
pronouncing them holy writings ? Does 
he not clearly manifest their divine extract, 
when he so nobly displays their divine ef- 
fects ; they " are able to make thee wise 
to salvation, through faith which is in 
Jesus Christ?" What then shall we think 
of Lord Bolingbroke's declaration, which 
I could not read without grief, and cannot 
transcribe without horror: " The Bible 
history appears to every one, who reads it 
without prepossession, and with attention, 
to be nothing more than a compilation of 
old traditions, and an abridgment of old 
records." In short, my lady, the doctrinal 
and historical parts are indissolubly, &c. 

Page 20, line 18, after the word "vigi- 
lance ;" and instead of the eight following 
lines, insert, The number of whose verses, 
especially in the Pentateuch, was comput- 
ed ; and the arrangement of the very let- 
ters, for the space of many centuries, 
known ; whether, before the coming of 
Christ, the spirit of prophecy, which con- 
fessedly existed in the Jewish Church, was 
not sufficient to prevent, or else sure to 
detect, any corrupt innovations ; whether, 
after the coming of Christ, the jealous eye 
which the Jews and Christians had on 
each other, was not an insurmountable bar 
against any material alterations. 

Page 21, line 2, after " composition," 
add, " Though we should rescue our sacred 
books from the imputation of spurious ad- 
ditions, this will not, with my lord at least, 
eitlier establish or retrieve their character." 
They contain, he says, a very imperfect 
account of the Israelites themselves, of their 
settlements in the land of Canaan, of which, 
by the way, they never had entire, and 
scarce ever peaceable possession. The 
sacred narrative is a summary account of 
the Jewish affairs; but is it therefore to 
be censured as an imperfect account ? It is 
an epitome, rather than a complete history ; 
but has it not all the qualities of a perfect 
epitome? Those particular facts are se- 
lected which have a more especial reference 
to the interests of religion and the kingdom 
of the Messiah ; in which the Divine Pro- 
vidence is most eminently conspicuous, and 
trom which mankind may be most effec- 
tually edified. Instead of finding fault with 
the writers for not being copious, when 
their professed aim was to be concise, a true 
critic would rather admire the felicity of 
their narracioii ; which; though a foreign 



history of the remotest fintiquity, relating 
to a people of the most singular manners 
and peculiar customs, expressed in an ab- 
solute dead language, and comprised in the 
shortest compass, is nevertheless so clear, 
so intelligible, and so very satisfactory. 

But they contain a very imperfect ac- 
count of the Israelitish settlement in Ca- 
naan.^ Is it possible for a person who has 
read the book of Joshua to advance such a 
position ? Was ever any thing of the kind 
described more minutely or with greater 
accuracy ? Here we have the general dis- 
tribution of the land, and the extent of each 
particular allotment. The borders of the 
several divisions are marked out as with a 
line, and the cities in the several can- 
tons mentioned by name. In short, this 
whole transaction is so circumstantial- 
ly displayed, that some readers, agreeing 
with my lord in their disaffection to the 
Bible, but diametrically opposite in their 
taste of literature, have thought it particu- 
larized even to tediousness. However, 
this particularity of description was highly 
expedient, not only to supersede any such 
objection as his lordship has raised, but 
also to ascertain, by an unalterable standard, 
the boundaries of the tribes; to prevent 
any encroachments upon the inheritance of 
each other ; and to demonstrate the wun • 
derful agreement between the ancient pre- 
diction of Jacob, the more recent proj)hecy 
of Moses, and the situation, the limits, the 
produce of the territories respectively as- 
signed to the patriarchal families. Jacob 
foretold, that Zebulon should dwell at the 
haven of the sea, whose portion actually lay 
on either side of the sea of Galilee, and ex- 
tended to the Mediterranean. Moses fore- 
told, that the Lord should dwell between 
Benjamin's shoulders, or the temple be 
placed at the extremity of his borders. 
But I would refer my reader to Gen. xlix. 
and Deut. xxxiii. in which chapters, com- 
pared with the distinguishing circumstances 
of the several tribes, he will discern a mo^t 
surprising spirit of prophecy, planning out 
with precision what was afterwards deter- 
mined by lot, and foreshowing with exact- 
ness what was not come into existence. 

The Israelites, it is added, never had 
entire, and scarce ever peaceable possession 
of the land. This, my lord imagines, must 
imply an inconsistency between the divine 
promise and the issue of things ; therefore, 
to animadvert upon it, he digresses from his 
subject. But how will his lordship's ani- 
madversion comport with the testimony of 
Joshua? Just as well as light consists 
with darkness. The Lord gave unto Is- 
rael all "the land which he sware to give 
unto their fathers ; and they possessed it, 
and dwelt therein. And the Lord gave 
them rest round about, according to all that 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



lie sware unto their fathers ; Joshua xxi. 
43, 44. Is it not demonstrable from, 
Joshua's topographical draught of thel 
country, and from the habitations allotted j 
to the several tribes, that they possessed! 
the bulk of the land ? What little remained 
in the occupation of the Canaanites, bore 
no more proportion to the heritage of Israel, 
than the addition of a fringe, or the insertion 
of a loop, bears to the whole dimensions of 
the garment. That they possessed all this 
and that they possessed no more, were 
circumstances equally consonant to the 
prophetic declarations of Scripture. The 
one a punctual execution of the minatory ; 
the other an evident accomplishment of the 
promissory. He that said to their pious 
progenitor, " Lift up now thine eyes, and 
look from the place where thou art, north- 
ward, and southward, and eastward, and 
westward ; for all the land which thou seest, 
to thee will I give it, and to thy seed for 
ever," Gen. xiii. 14, 15 ; for ever, is 
evidently promised on condition of their 
obedience ; whereas, in case of disobedience, 
the very reverse is threatened, Deut. iv. 
25, 26. ; the same said unto their degenerate 
offspring, " Else if you do in any wise go 
back, and cleave unto the remnant of these 
nations, even these that remain among you ; 
know for a certainty, that the Lord your 
God will no m.ore drive out any of these 
nations from before you," Joshua xxiii. 12, 
13. My lord must forget this last particular, 
or neglect to compare it with the preced- 
ing ; otherwise he would have seen, in these 
prophecies and their corresponding events, 
a signal manifestation of God Almighty's 
goodness, justice, and faithfulness ; good- 
ness, in giving what he gave ; justice, in 
withholding what he withheld ; and faith- 
fulness in both dispensations. 

As for peaceable possession, we have 
already heard the witness of Joshua • a 
very sufficient witness, one would presume, 
as he was generalissimo of the Jewisli 
forces, and superintendant-general of the 
affair. However, let us search the records 
of the nation : here we meet vnth long 
periods of peace, under the government of 
their first illustrious commander, and under 
the subsequent administration of their 
judges ; " The land had rest from war," 
.Toshua xiv. 15. " The land had rest 
forty years," Judges iii. 11; " The land had 
rest eighty years," Judges iii. 30. We find 
the same face of public repose in the reigns 
of David and Solomon, Asa and Jehosopbat; 
and not of one only, but of every righteous 
and religious king ; or, if peace departed 
for a season, victory supplied its place, and 
success crowned their arms. The blessing 
of national tranquillity was never promised 
to the Israelites absolutely, but U]>on con- 
dition of fiMity to their' Almighty Sove- 



reign. Whenever they were entitled to it, 
by virtue of this promise, and their corres- 
ponding obedience, they never failed to 
enjoy it. Whenever they forfeited their 
title, either by revolting to idolatry, or con- 
fiding, in idolaters, they were constantly 
punished with intestine commotions or 
foreigii invasion- What shall we infer 
from hence? a conclusion anyway prejudi- 
cial to the sacred annals ? No ; but greatly 
to their glory. From hence it appears, 
that they are indeed the annals of heaven : 
A register, not merely of political conduct, 
but of divine dispensations : The awful 
and important memoirs of a real Theocracy, 
in which, according to the emphatical lan- 
guage of Isaiah, " the Lord was their Judge, 
the Lord was their Law^giver, the Lord 
was their King." 

But these facts, my lord complains, are 
related in a confused manner. To which 
I can answer, We have each reign in the 
proper order of time. The parentage of 
the sovereign is specified, and his general 
character given. We are informed at what 
age he ascended the throne, and how long 
he swayed the sceptre ; who were the 
eminent persons, and what the remarkable 
incidents, which distinguished his govern- 
ment ; how he died, and where he was 
buried. Is this confusion? where then 
shall we look for regular arrangement ? 
Perhaps his lordship means the interchange- 
able narration of occurrences in the kingdom 
of Judah and the kingdom of Israel. This, 
1 own, is observed in the latter parts of 
the sacred history. •But this can no more 
be called confusion, than the disposition or 
varying colours in some beau tiful piece of 
mosaic can be called irregularity. It is 
rather a fine contrast, or that pleasing di- 
versification in the series of historical writ- 
ing, which my lord's poetical friend so justly 
admires in the decorations of a rural seat : — 

Here order in variety you see. 

Where all things differ, and yet all agree. — Pope. 

Page 61, to line 19, suppose I subjoin 
the following note : " Joshua and Samuel 
wrought miracles : Isaiah and Jeremiah 
foretold future events. Though it is not 
absolutely certain that all the sacred histo- 
rians were prophets, yet it is highly pro- 
bable, from 1 Chron. xxix. 29. This, 
however, is unquestionable, that their writ- 
ings were reviewed and approved by men 
of prophetical gifts ; and the approbation 
of such judges must give a sanction, little 
inferior to the authority which their own 
compositions would claim." 

Page 71, at the top of the page, add. My 
lord tells us, " That the Scripture histoiy 
contains an account of the divisions and 
apostasies, the repentances and relapses, 
triumphs and defeats of the Israelites, un- 
der the occasional government of tbcii 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



81.5 



judges, and under, that of their kings, and 
of the Galilean and Samaritan captivity." 
Whether this is mentioned by way of dero- 
gation, let the judicious reader determine. 
I would beg leave to observe, that these 
occurrences, related in the scriptural man- 
ner, with a continual regard to the superin- 
tending hand of Providence, are some of 
the most weighty and interesting mateiials 
that can enrich the historical page. None 
so well calculated to teach nations, to ad- 
monish kings, and improve posterity. His 
lordship might have said, with the utmost 
veracity ; and, I think, in common justice 
he ought to have said, They contained also 
the most unparalleled instances of national 
success and personal achievements ; the 
most beautiful and affecting pictures of 
virtue, delineated through all its branches, 
in a multiplicity of living characters ; than 
which nothing can be better accommodated 
to excite the attention, and charm the ima- 
gination ; to touch the heart, and impress 
the passions ; to inflame them with the love, 
and mould them into the image of universal 
holiness. 

Here we behold a people always desti- 
tute of cavalry, the main strength of the 
battle ; yet always a match, and more than 
a match, for their most powerful adversa- 
ries, so long as they maintained a dutiful 
reliance on their God : A people, who left 
their frontiers naked and defenceless at 
three stated solemnities in every year ; yet 
never were invaded at this critical juncture 
by their most vigilant ^ner#es, so long as 
they persisted in obedience to their almighty 
Protector : A people, whose very land, as 
well as its inhabitants, was wonderful — 
both the scene and the subject of miracles ; 
for, after five years uniritermitted tillage, 
(which one would imagine should have ex- 
hausted its prolific powers), it yielded con- 
stantly a double increase, in order to supply 
the demands of the succeeding year ; when, 
by the Divine appointment, all was to lie 
fallow and uncultivated. Here we behold 
men of such singular and exalted piety, that 
they Avalked with God, and were trans- 
lated into the realms of glory without pass- 
ing through the gates of death : Men of 
such undaunted courage, that they have re- 
buked princes, confronted angry monarchs, 
and smiled at the severest menaces of a 
tyrant, whose bare frown has made the 
%vorld to tremble : Men of such heroic abi- 
lities, that one of them has slain hundreds ; 
another of them has put his thousands to 
flight ;-and both by the most contemptible 
weapons ; a third, without any weapon, has 
given chase to the roaring lion, and the 
riiging bear ; and rent them to pieces, or 
smitten them to the earth : Men, that have 
bee!) empov/ered to shut or open the sluices 
oMiie sky • have coininauded the ground to 



expand her horrid jaws, and swallow up 
the living ; or bid the grave unlock her ada- 
mantine doors, and restore the dead : Men, 
who have walked amidst the burning fiery 
furnace, as composed in their spirits, and as 
secure in their persons, as if they had been 
taking the air in some calm, sequestered, 
shady bower. In a word, here is a detail 
of such marvellous things, as no eye hatli 
seen performed in any other nation under 
heaven ; no ear has heard related by any 
other annalist or biographer whatever ; and, 
though they are the very sanctity of truth, 
yet such as never entered into the imagina- 
tion, even of romance itself, to conceive. 
" Ask now of the days that are past, which 
were before thee, since the day that God 
created man upon the earth ; and ask from 
one side of heaven unto the other, whether 
there hath been any such thing as these 
great things are, or hath been heard like 
them," Deut. iv. 32. This, though spoken 
of the miracles wrought in Egypt, and the 
wonders manifested in the wilderness, is 
applicable to almost the whole tenor of the 
scriptural history. My remarks, &c. 

Your opinion with relation to the pre- 
ceding paragraphs will be received as a fa- 
vour, and attended, J hope, with a blessing. 
I find I am blamed for animadverting on 
his lordship's style, (page 36.) for not giv- 
ing his lordship the title of Noble, not 
treating him with a respect due to his dig- 
nity. I have trespassed, it is farther alleg- 
ed, against the rules of candour and bene- 
volence, page 33, 34, and page 86. I know 
you have a large share of patience ; may 
the Lord Jesus (of whose fulness his saints 
receive even graoe for grace) multiply upon 
you, both this, and every other fruit of the 
Spirit ! Pray, what do you apprehend to 
be the precise meaning of St. Paul's ex- 
pression, Rom. i. 17. " From faith to 
faith," as it is translated ? 

I should be much obliged if you would 
let me know, what are some of the most 
valuable books which you have met with 
on various subjects of importance ? what 
little treatise is most proper to put into the 
hands of illiterate people ? what are some of 
the most judicious and improving composi- 
tions in biography ? what the most sound 
and weighty authors, that might be recom- 
mended to a young student in divinity? 
You see I am always in the begging strain ; 
the language of my letters is like the horse- 
leech's two daughters. Give ! give ! All I 
can do by way of return is, to beseech the 
King immortal, invisible, the only wise 
God, to give you all spiritual blessings in 
heavenly things. To do this, with all the 
ability which God shall bestow, will be as 
truly pleasing to, as it is justly due from, 
dear sir, your much obliged, and veryaiFec- 
ti'jfiate friend 



84(» 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



LETTER CXIIL 

' Weston-Favell May 19, 1753. 

Dear Sir, — I have lately been somewhat 
busied in preparing a sermon to be preach- 
ed before the clei'gy, at our archdeacon's 
visitation ; and to my weak nerves and 
languid spirits a little business is a toil. 
A commentator, with whom I wish you 
may long be unacquainted, has taught me 
the meaning of Solomon's description, 
" The grasshopper shall be a burden." 

This, I hope, will apologize for my delay 
in answering more fully yoiu- last very ob- 
liging favour. More fully, I say, because, 
in a former letter, I acknowledged the re- 
ceipt of a parcel with your remarks. Let 
me once more, dear sir, return my sincerest 
thanks for those judicious and delicate ob- 
servations. They are so valuable, that I 
cannot but be very desirous to have the 
other parts of my proposed work undergo 
the same scrutiny, and receive a polish from 
the same hand. If this kind office will not 
too much interrupt your own studies, give 
me a permission to send another packet ; 
and withal a direction, how I shall transmit 
it to you most expeditiously. 

You will easily perceive, from several 
bints, perhaps from the whole tenor of my 
writings, that your new friend is what peo- 
ple would call a moderate Calvinist. Your 
sentiments, in some particulars, may differ 
from mine. Freely object wherever this 
is the case : I assure you I can bear, I shall 
delight, to have my notions sifted ; nor am 
I so attached to any favourite scheme but 
I can readily relinquish it, when Scripture 
pnd reason convince me it is wrong. When 
I see wise and learned men forming opinions 
different from mine, I hope it will make me 
diffident of my own judgment ; teach me 
*' not to lean to my own understanding ;" 
arid prompt me to apply more earnestly for 
that blessed Spirit, whose office it is " to 
lead into all truth." 

I shall be glad to hear that the work you 
have in hand is going on with expedition. 
What a privilege will it be, and what a 
distinguishing favour, if the great eternal 
God vouchsafes to make use of our pens 
to bring any glory to his name, or impart 
any spiritual good to his people ! To no 
occasion is the wise man's exhortation more 
applicable : " Whatsoever thy hand iindeth 
to do, do it with all thy might ; for there is 
no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor 
wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest." 
I have a treatise entitled. Dr. Hildrop's 
Husbandman's Spiritual Companion ; but 
never read a page in it, nor ever heard a 
character of it. I have a discourse upon 
the same subject amongst the writings of 



Mr Flavel : it is along time since I saw 
it, and then J only dipped into it, so 'that I 
cannot pretend to give a character of it ; 
only I think, in general, that Flavel'aboimds 
with fine sentiments, exalted piety ; and his 
language, for the most part, is expressive 
and beautiful. 

Possibly you will wonder that I should 
have had the treatise you inquire after so 
long, and not have perused a single page of 
the book; and you justly might, incase I 
had bought it : but it came to me by inher- 
itance. My study is composed of the 
books that were collected by my - - 
grandfather ; among which » ^ 

tudes that I shall continue 
long as I live, though they — at my 
right hand and my left every day. I want 
to be better acquainted with God's holy 
word ; to have its inestimable truths lodged 
in my memory, its heavenly doctrines im- 
pressed upon my heart ; that my tempers 
may take their fashion from it, that my 
private conversation may be seasoned with 
it, and my public ministrations enriched by 
it. Thus, dear sir, may the word of Christ 
dwell in us richly ! 

Will you give me leave to lay before you 
a plan of the work ? (part of which has al- 
ready received, and the remainder humbly 
requests your improving touches) : viz. Sin- 
cere obedience not sufficient for our justifi- 
cation. The design of God's law, to con- 
vince of sin, and bring to Christ. Some 
farther objections urged and ansv/ered : * 
the whole summed up. Our friends part, 
but agree to correspond. Theron, more 
attentively observing his heart and life, is 
convinced of his guilty state ; and begins to 
see the necessity of a better righteousness 
than his own ; desires to see what can be 
alleged in support of the imputation ot 
Christ's righteousness. This occasions 
some letters from Aspasio, wherein the 
point is proved from the Articles and Ho- 
milies of our Church ; from the writings of 
our most eminent divines; from the Old 
and New Testament. The excellency of 
this righteousness displayed, both from its 
matchless perfection and the dignity of the 
Author. A letter or two from Theron, by 
way of carrying on the epistolary intercourse, 
relating to the wonders of creation, as they 
appear both in the sea and on the land ; 
chiefly calculated to manifest the goodness 
of the Creator, not without a view to the 
main subject. The influence of this right- 
eousness on moral virtue and evangelical 
holiness. Our friends brought t(%ether 
again. Theron under discouraging appre- 
hensions. The freeness of grace, and of 
the gift of righteousness. Discourse on 
faith, by which we are united to Christ, and 



See page L'47. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



interested in his righteousness. The noble, 
beneficial, and delightful use to be made of 
this doctrine. Theron relapses into sins of 
infirmity ; his faith shaken ; supports pro- 
per for such a state. Sanctification ; its 
nature, its principles, its progress. Aspa- 
sio seized \vith a sudden and fatal illness ; 
his sentiments and behaviour in his last 
moments. These, dear sir, are the stamina 
of my intended piece. Oh that he, who 
educes so many millions of elegant leaves, 
lovely flowers, and graceful plants, from the 
seeds of spring, may enable this enfeebled 
hand to dilate, fill up, and finish the whole ! 

As soon as I conclude this epistle, I write 
to a very ingenious friend of yours ; with 
whom, several years ago, I had begun to 
form an acquaintance ; but my departure 
from Oxford, and other accidents, interrupt- 
ed the intercourse for several years ; and I 
was informed, to my unfeigned sorrow, that 

Mr. was dead. But a letter lately 

received from him most agreeably undeceiv- 
ed me, and brought a very welcome over- 
ture for a renewal of our correspondence. 
God Almighty grant, that all our social 
communication may be a happy means, not 
only of cherishing our affection, and refining 
our taste, but also of quickening our love to 
the blessed Jesus, and animating our zeal 
for his sacred interests ; or, as the apostle 
expresses my wish, with an energy which no 
language but his own can reach, that they 
may be subservient and efifectual n; 5ra^o|- 

One or two articles I forgot, in exhibit- 
ing to you my plan. But this * will direct 
where they are to be introduced. " The 
corruption of our nature demonstrated, first 
from Scripture, then from experience. Be- 
tween which, to relieve or entertain the 
reader, is inserted a dialogue on the admir- 
able formation and economy of the human 
body." The visitation sermon I mentioned 
in the beginning, though perfectly plain and 
artless, is in the press. It will wait upon 
you in the next parcel, as soon as I have the 
favour of your answer. It is printed for 
the relief of a poor afflicted child, as a short 
advertisement will inform the world. The 
person to whose management it is consign- 
ed, informs me, that he has given orders for 
an impression of two thousand, besides a 
hundred and fifty which I have bespoke for 
myself. Would this circumstance recom- 
mend it to your beneficent and worthy friend 
Dr. ? I may now no longer look up- 
on it as a discourse delivered by me, but as 
an agent for the miserable, and an advocate 
for the distressed. I should therefore be 
very glad, and much obliged, if he would 
(in case he approves the performance) pur- 
chase some of them in order to give away. 



Of this he may be assured, that by every 
one of which he shall so dispose, he will do 
a real act of charity to a diseased and crip- 
pled youth ; and I shall not cease to pray, 
that the God of infinite goodness may ac- 
company the piece* with his divine blessing, 
and make the gift an act of spiritual charity 
to the reader's soul. Be pleased to present 
my most respectful compliments to the 
Doctor ; and give me leave to expect, not a 
line, but a sheet filled with your thoughts. 
Then I shall promise myself one thing 
more, that you will, in the speed of your 
favour, as well as in the worth of its con- 
tents, exceed, greatly exceed, dear sir, your 
truly affectionate, and very much obliged 
friend, &c. 



LETTER CXIV. 

Weston-Favell, Aug. 18, 1753. 

Dear Sir, — I have now procured some 
franks ; and lest the want of this vehicle 
should retard the delight and improvement 
which I always receive from your corres- 
pondence, I take leave to enclose one. It 
is for your use, but my benefit. 

I received the parcel, and owe you my 
thanks for the present. I wonder that you 

should be backward to gratify Mr. . 

Certainly you have truth on your side. The 
arguments are nervous and conclusive, clear- 
ly and (for the most part) concisely stated, 
urged with propriety and a becoming 
warmth ; yet without any of that " wrath of 
man which worketh not the righteousness 
of God," but rather (for I apprehend there 
is a [^iiuffii in the expression) obstructs its 
advance, both in oiu-selves and others. If 
I was in your case, I would let my arrow 
fly as far as Providence is pleased to carry 
it ; and I beseech the blessed God to pros- 
per it, that it may give a mortal blow to 
error, and co-operate with his own holy 
word in being profitable -sT^a,- iXtyxov. Now 

I mention Mr. , pray let me desire you 

to ask, when you write to him again, whether 
he received, some months ago, a letter from 
me. If it miscarried, I shall with pleasure 
supply its place with another ; for though 
I have now but very few correspondents, 
and my enfeebled constitution will allow 
me to write but few letters, I shall strive 
hard to keep up an intercourse with those 
gentlemen from whom I expect to have my 
taste refined, or ray mind improved. And 
among that number I reckon Mr. . 

I shall sincerely rejoice to hear that your 
eye is strengthened, and your health con- 
firmed. How valuable are these blessings ! 



* His sermon, entitlea " The Cross of Christ the 
Christian's Glory." 



B48 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



especially to those who employ them for 
the honour, and devote them to the service 
of Christ. I wish you had taken minutes 
of what you saw most remarkable in your 
toTir through Westmoreland and Cumber- 
land. A description of those counties 
would be very acceptable to us, who inha- 
bit a more regular and better cultivated 
spot. Described in your language^ and em- 
bellished with your imagination, such an 
account might be highly pleasing to all ; and 
grafted with religious improvements, might 
oe equally edifying. Such kind of writings 
juit the present taste. "We do not love close 
thinking. That is most likely to win our 
approbation which extenuates the fancy, 
without fatiguing the attention. Since this 
is the disposition of the age, let us endea- 
vour to catch men by guile, turn even a 
foible to their advantage, and bait the gos- 
pel hook agreeably to the prevailing taste. 
In this sense, " become all things to all 
men." 

Permit me to ask, "Whether you have yet 
seen Witsius de CEconomia Fosderum ? I 
wish, for my own sake, that you was some- 
what acquainted with this author ; because, 
if you should be inclined to know the reason 
and foundation of my sentiments on any 
particular point, "Witsius might be my 
spokesman ; he would declare my mind 
better than I could myself. 

Conversing some time ago with a very in- 
genious gentleman, he made an observation 
which I think is new and curious ; I should 
be glad of your opinion, whether you think 
it rational and solid. It was upon these 

V/Ords, Bfl!TT;«r^(wy iWihaiog n^ii- 

^Mv, Heb. vi. 2. This passage is generally 
supposed, especially by the writers of the 
established church, to denote the sacrament 
of baptism, and the rite of confirmation. 
With regard to the latter, my friend que- 
ried. Whether the practice of confirmation 
can be allowed to constitute one of the fun- 
damentals (i^'t^sXia) of Christianity? With 
regard to the former, can it be shewn, that 
the apostle, in any other place, calls the or- 
dinance of baptism Za'^rTiffi^oi, in the plural 
number? May not then the clause more 
properly refer to two eminent Jewish 
usages ; the various purifications made by 
washings, and the imposition of hands on 
the peculiar victims ? The one of which 
represented a purity of heart and life ; the 
other was expressive of a translation of pu- 
nishment from the offerer to his sacrifice. 
Then we have signified, in language fami- 
liar r<« the Hebrews, and by images with 
which "they were perfectly acquainted, the 
sanctification of the Spirit, and the substi- 
tution of Christ in our stead. What seems 
to corroborate this conjecture is, the vast 
importance of these two aiticles. They 
are the two graiul distinguislung peculiari- 



ties of the Christian scheme t without 
them, every treatise upon fundamentals 
must be extremely defective. 

I am much pleased with your remark on 

a certain learned . The heart surely 

should be engaged in the preacher's office, 
as well as the head. 

Are passions then the Pagans of the soul ? 
Reason alone baptized, alone ordain'd. 
To touch things saored ? 

The great apostle was fervent in spirit, as 
well as cogent in arguing. He beseeches, 
conjures, and charges his people. He adds 
prayers to his entreaties, and tears to his 
prayers. "When he reasons, conviction 
shines ; when he exhorts, pathos glows. 
May your discourses, dear sir, be strong 
with the one, warm with the other, and by 
both be happily instrumental " to turn sin- 
ners from darkness unto light, and from the 
power of Satan unto God, that they may 
receive forgiveness of sins," Acts xxvi. 18. 
We have very wet unkindly weather for the 
harvest. May it teach us all to see our de- 
pendence on that Divine hand, which giveth 
rain from heaven and fruitful seasons. May 
it stir us up to long more ardently for that 
inheritance which is incorruptible, as well as 
undefi^led ; whose character is perfection, 
and whose duration is eternity. Into this, 
dear sir, may you, and many of your hearers, 
many of your readers, in due time, have an 
abundant entrance ! and there find, as a mo- 
nument of mercy, and a trophy of redeem- 
ing grace, your truly affectionate friend, &c. 



LETTER CXy. 

Westouy Oct. 28, 1753. 

And must I resume my correspondences ? 

Does my dear Mr. join with several 

other friends, to render me inexcusably 
rude, if I neglect writing any longer ? Then, 
with the Divine assistance, I will again take 
up my pen, though an incessant series of 
infirmities has wore it to the very stumps ; 
for which reason I had thrown it aside, 
with an intention to continue silent and in- 
active, as a dead man out of mind. 

To make some reparation for my past ne- 
gligence, I acknowledge your late favour 
without any delay. Yesterday I received 
it, and to day I answer it ; even though I 
might justly plead weariness as an excuse 
for a dilatory conduct. I have this after- 
noon been preaching to a crowded audience. 
The Lord Jesus Christ grant it may be an 
edified one ! You v ould be surprised, and 
I believe everybody wonders, that I am able 
to officiate for myself. I am so weak, that 
I can hardly walk to the end of my parish, 
though a small one ; and so tender, that I 
dare'not visit my poor neighbours, for fear 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



849 



of catcVmg cold in their bleak houses ; yet 
1 am enabled on the Lord's day to catechize 
and expound to my children in the morn- 
ing, and to preach in the afternoon. And 
every Wednesday evening, hay-time and 
harvest only excepted, I read prayers, and 
give them a lecture- sermon in Weston 
church. This is the Lord's doing, or, as 
your favourite book expresses it, this is ow- 
ing to " the good hand of my God upon 
me." Join with me, my dear friend, in 
adoring his grace, and pray, that if my life 
is spared, my capacity for his service may 
be prolonged ; that, if it be his blessed will, 
the day which puts an end to the one may 
put a period to the other. 

I thank you for your news from the 
west. I assure you it is highly pleasing to 
hear, especially concerning the prosperity of 
my old acquaintance. I often think of 
them, and with deep regret for my unprofit- 
ableness among them. Blessed be God for 
ever and ever, that both they and I may have 
a better righteousness than our own. May 
we all grow in grace, and ere long meet in 
glory ! 

You need not doubt but it is a pleasure to 
my heart to remember, in my best moments, 
that valuable and valued friend, with whom 
I have frequently taken sweet counsel on 
earth, and with whom I shall quickly be ad- 
mitted into the heaven of heavens ; there to 
behold the glory, the inconceivable and eter- 
nal glory of him who loved us both, and has 
washed us from our sins in his own blood. 

God has been pleased to pity the poor 
youth for whose relief the visitation-sermon 
1 preached at Northampton was printed. 
Through his good providerice, an edition of 
two thousand is disposed of ; besides a su- 
pernumerary provision of two hundred, des- 
tined to the use of my parishes. Nay, the 
manager for the distressed object is ventur- 
ing upon another edition. See, dear sir, if 
God will bless, who can blast ? If he will 
further, vv'hat can obstruct? A feather, a 
straw, if he pleases to command, shall be a 
polished shaft in his quiver. Trust not 
therefore in eloquence or argument, in depth 
of thought or beauty of style, both which 
are confessedly wanting in the present case ; 
but " trust ye in the Lord for ever, for in 
the Lord Jehovah is everlasting sti'ength." 

I am surprised that any attendant on the 
. of should inquire after my ser- 
mon, unless it was to criticise, censure, and 
expose ; because there was really given too 

much occasion, both to his and all his 

friends, to resent what some time ago I 
seemed to have done. In the midst of the 

controversy between the and , 

there was put into the Journal a para- 
graph from a letter of mine, consisting of a 

pretty high encomium on Mr, . As 

though I should, unchallenged and unj)ro- 



voked, step forth to confront your ; or 

should think to bear down a objec- 
tions by my single authority. This was also 
inserted in the most offensive manner ; not 
as an extract from a private epistle, without 
the consent or knowledge of the writer, but 
introduced as my own act, and subscribed 
with my own name. 

I have found no reason to retract one jot 
or tittle of what was said. And God for- 
bid that I should be ashamed of that incom- 
parable minister of Jesus Christ ; than 
whom I know no man on earth who has 
more of the amiable and heavenly spirit of 
Christ. Nor do I remember to have met 
with, in all my reading, a person, since the 
days of miracle and inspiration, so eminent- 
ly zealous, or so extensively useful. Yet to 
obtrude his character on the public, at such 
a time, and with such circumstances, had 
such an air of officiousness, self-conceit, and 
arrogance, as must necessarily disgust others, 
and is what I would absolutely disavow. 

This, I afterwards learned, was done by a 
well-meaning and most pious man ; but, in 
this particidar, very injudicious. It is much 
to be desired that religious persons may have 
wisdom with their zeal ; eyes in their wings, 
that, as far as is consistent with the exercise 
of integrity, and the discharge of duty, we 
may give no offence, neither to the Jew nor 
to the Greek, nor to the church of God. 

Accept my sincerest thanks for your pro- 
moting the spread of my sermon ; and con- 
tinue your prayers for its enfeebled author, 
that if the most high God vouchsafes to em- 
ploy him in any other work for the honour 
of his dear Son, he may be enabled to find 
out acceptable words, and that which is 
written may be words of truth. My affec- 
tionate compliments wait upon Mrs. . 

May you and yours dwell under the defence 
of the Most High, and abide under tlie 
shadow of the Almighty ! I am, dear sir, 
most cordially and inviolably yours, &c. 



LETTER CXVL 

Weston, May 5, 1 754. 
Dear Sir, — Some time ago, Mr. Moses 
Browne was so kind as to transmit to me 
three of your letters, which gave me both 
pain and pleasure. Pain, to think how I 
had neglected to cultivate so valuable a 
correspondent ; pleasure and improvement 
from the perusal of your truly judicious re- 
marks on Mr. Kennicott's performance, 
and Mr. Ciroodby's attempt. The latter, 
I am afraid, is not sensible of the great 
importance, and no small difficulty, of writ- 
ing a proper comment on the whole Bible. 
To explain and illustrate, with any toler- 
able justice, a book so veiy sublime, so 
3 I 



850 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



vastly comprehensive, surely should be the 
the work, not of a few months or years, 
but of his whole life, were his abilities ever 
so distinguished. I should be extremely 
sorry to see that glorious gift of heaven 
come abroad into the world, with such 
a collection of remarks as might be more 
likely to depreciate than minister to its 
universal acceptance. 

You are pleased to mention my intended 
work, and to offer your kind assistance ; an 
offer which, I assure you, I highly value : 
I desire nothing so much as to laave the 
same impartiality of criticism exercised 
upon my manuscript, as you have bestowed 
upon the aforementioned writings. When 
my piece has been enriched by your correc- 
tions, and if it receives your imprimatur, it 
shall go to the press without delay, as there 
is a likelihood of a large demand for the 
work both at home and abroad. This con- 
sideration makes me timorous and diffident, 
especially as my incessant infirmities and 
unconquerable languors render me sadly 
unfit for the support of so weighty and so 
grand a cause. If it was not for such a 
declaration in the word of truth and life as 
this, " Not by might, nor by strength, but 
by my Spirit, saith the Lord," 1 should to- 
tally despair of any success. Excuse, dear 
sir, this hasty scribble ; strengthen the 
feeblest of all hands engaged in the divine 
Jesus's service ; and pity a man whose head 
aches while he writes to you, and heart 
almost fails when he writes for the public ; 
but is, amidst all his weaknesses, your very 
sincere and much obliged friend, &c. 



LETTER CXVIL 

Weston-Favell, Maij, 20, 1754. 

My dear Friend, — Your letter was 
good news from a far country, and made 
doubly welcome by a long preceding silence, 
and by the valuable hand that brought it. 

Mr. gave me his company one after- 
noon. We talked of Christ Jesus and his 
beloved minister at O that our con- 

versation may be edifying, and build us 
mutually up in our most holy faith ! He 
was so obliging as to present me with the 
picture of the late worthy Doctor. |. hope, 
when I view it, I shall be reminded of the 
inscription of Sennacherib's statue ; E; s^s 
Tn uv (v/sUn} i<rco : * or rather, that it 
wQl address me with the apostle's admoni 
tion, " Be ye not slothful, but followers of 
them who, through faith and patience, in- 
herit the promises." 

Mr. has likewise transmitted to me 

seven of your sermons, six on common, one 



* Wlioevei looks upon me, let him worship God, 



on superfine paper. For the latter I siiu 
cerely thank you ; for the former, I desire 
you will give me leave to pay you. I pro- 
pose to gratify and oblige my friends with 
them ; and it seems utterly unreasonable 
that I should be generous at your expense. 
I admire and applaud your noble reliance on 
God and his providence ; and were you a 
single man, I would not offer to interpose 
a prudential hint. But perhaps the other 
amiable parts of yourself may not have the 
same steady and triumphant faith. For 
their sakes, therefore, it may be advisable 
to take the ant for a pattern, and lay up 
something against a rainy day. 

I heaitily wish that good Providence on 
which you depend, may spread your piece 
and prosper it in the world. Sure you 
should suffer it to be advertised in some of 
the principal newspapers. I dare say you 
desire, you covet, you are ambitious to do 
good, and be extensively useful. As this 
then is a commodious open door, let not my 
friend's modesty or seif-diffidence shut it. 

I have no desire to reconcile you, dear 
sir, to systems, human systems, of reli- 
gion ; I know other devout and godly per- 
sons that dislike them. They have been 
serviceable to my soul ; and whenever I 
read them, I think they are blessed to my 
improvement and comfort ; only let us all 
concur in prizing the blessed book of God. 
May we enter into its treasures more and 
more, and shed abroad the sweet savour of 
its doctrine in every place ! Above all, 

my dear Mr. , may we never cease to 

testify of him who is the Alpha and Omega 
of the Scripture, and the soul and centre of 
the whole Christian religion ; who is, by in- 
finite degrees, the most grand and amiable 
representative of the eternal Godhead to 
the church ; and the only source of pardon 
and acceptance, of wisdom and goodness, 
of grace and glory to the believer. 

1 rejoice to find, that you take in good 
part my very free remarks, and very feeble 
attempts to criticize. Indeed, I did not 
doubt but you would. I send two or three 
manuscripts, and beg of you to exercise the 
same frankness of admonition, and the same 
impartiality of censure upon them. My 
bookseller tells me it cannot be comprised 
in less than three volumes. I have always 
had an aversion to so diffusive a work. 
Many will not have ability to purchase 
them ; many not have leisure to read them ; 
and to some, I fear, the very sight of three 
volumes would be like loads of meat to a 
sickly or squeamish stomach. Yet I can- 
not contract the work, and reduce it to the 
size of two, without omitting those parts 
which are intended to entertain the reader, 
keep him in good humour, and allure or 
bribe him to go on. What would you ad- 
vise ? 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



851 



I bave not seen Lord 's works. 

And since thoir cliaiacter is so forbidding, 
their tendency so liurtfiil, I shall not attempt 
to see them. I do not qucsstion but the 
gi-eat Physician will provide an antidote for 
this poison, and the almighty I feud of the 
church will enable his disciples to tj'cad on 
such serpents. 

I am this day a prisoner in my chamber, 
and wnte in much pain. Blessed be God 
for that world where all tears will be wiped 
away from our eyes, and " there will be no 
more pain." And blessed be God for a 
Saviour, who is the way to those happy 
mansions, and the door of admission into 
them. O that every thing may lead my 
dear friend and me more and more to Christ. 
Ill him alone, peace, and rest, and true joy, 
are to be found. 

I send letters viii. ix. x. xi. and Dial. xv. 
xvii. Do^ my dear sir, im[)rove, polish, and 
enrich them. And if (rod Almighty blesses 
them, if our adored Redeemer vouchsafes 
to work by thetn, I will thatik }ou not only 
in these regions of sin uihI mortality, biit 
when I meet you before the throne of the 
Jjamb, and amidst the angels of light. Till 
then, may the Father of mercies keep you 
as the apple of his eye, and make you a 
polished arrow in his quiver. Believe me 
to be, dear sir, your sincere, obliged, and 
affectionate brother in Christ, &c. 



LETTER CXVIII. 

Wcslon, May 30, 1754. 

Dear Sir, — Yesterday I received your 
valuable letter. I thank you for the com- 
fortable prayer ; it exactly suits my circum- 
stances. May I be enabled to breathe it 
from my very soul in faith, and may it enter 
into the ears of the God and Father of our 
Lord Jesus Christ ! Pray, make no apology 
for the length of your letter. Whenever 
you favour me with an epistle, the more you 
suffer your pen to enlarge, the more you 
will oblige and improve your correspondent, 
I wish you success in finishing your chro- 
nological and historical treatise, and shall 
be much pleased to peruse it. 

Your solution of the difficulty in Acts 
vii. is very ingenious, and subserves the \ 
purposes of piety. But do you think the 
patriarchs would inter the Sichemites in a 
burying place that l)elonged to a stranger ; 
and not rather deposit them in their family 
vaults, or the sepulchres where their ances- 
tors lay? I should be glad to see the se- 
quel of your dissertation concerning the i 
fallen angels. I send herewith four of my 
Dialogues, whieh J beg of you to examine 
with a kind severity. I do assure you I 
can bear to receive censure from a friend, 



and will kiss the lips that adnn'nister it, 
especially when it is intended to ju'eserve 
my attempts to further the glorious gosjiel 
from the contempt of the ])ublic. 1 will, 
ere long, send you in a frank a general 
view of my plan, which in the execution is 
become too prolix, and cannot be compre- 
hended in less than three volumes of the 
same size with the Meditations, unless 
some judicious friend will help me to cur- 
tail and abridge. I am very unwilling to 
publish a work consisting of three volumes : 
I apprehend this will obstruct the sale not 
a little. Be so kind as to serve my essays 
as you have treated Mr. Goodby's exposi- 
tory notes ; take the priming-knife, and 
freely lop off the luxuriant parts. Your 
notes on Taylor of Noi'wich I return with 
thankful acknowledgments ; you will see 
what use I have made of them. I had 
permed more animadversions upon that 
piece ; but, upon a review, I found they 
would swell the work too much. I have 
a note, Dial. iv. page 4, that is directly to 
the point ; would you advise me to retain 
it ? I had expunged it. I have diiected 
the printer to restoi'e it, but Iiesitantur 1ioc> 
You will receive half a dozen of a little 
collection of scripture promises,* which I 
lately printed in two small bits of paper, 
chiefly f'oi' the jfoor", to be pasted, one at 
the beginning, and the other at the end of 
their Bibles, or indeed of any j)ious book. 
Perhaps you may know some to whom 
such a present, though minute, may be 
welcome. As soon as you i-eturn these 
manuscripts, if I have your approbation, I 
purpose to employ the press. In the mean 
time, it shall be my prayer to God, that he 
may give you a right judgment in all things. 
Your most affectionate, &c. 



LETTER CXIX. 

June 12, 1754. 
My dear Friend, — Do you wonder 
why I have not acknowledged (he receipt 
of your last ? Indeed it deserved a most 
speedy and a most grateful acknowledg- 
ment ; but I was unwilling to interrupt 
your thoughts with fr-esh inquiries. Your 
thoughts, I hope, have been emjrloyed in 
discovering tue Rev. Dr. 's mis- 

takes, and in teaching him what that means 
which our Lord gave as the commission to 
his ministers, " Pr'each the gospel." 

I r'eceived your present from Mi\ ; 

but I shall not want any memorial of yuiir 
• friendshi]), so long as you will give me lea\ e 
to consult you about diflicuit passages in 



* This collection is inserted, page "14, under the 
title of" Pnniiises to be pasted at the beginning; aiU 
end Ufa Bibla. 



852 



fA COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



Scripture; and these memorials, I assure 
you, will not be transient : I shall carefully 
preserve them ; and when their number 
and size is a little more increased, shall 
form them into a volume, which will be 
more valuable to me than any book in my 
study. 

The anecdotes of your own life are very 
welcome ; if you could add others, they 
would be still more pleasing. As you are 
w^ell acquainted with ancient history, have 
you met with any account of the four mo- 
narchies ; concise, taking in only the most 
memorable and striking facts ; and still 
more particularly calculated to explain the 
prophecies of Scripture, and demonstrate 
their exact accomplishments ? This, with 
a succinct detail of the destruction of Je- 
rusalem, and the dispersion of the Jews, 
would, I think, be a very pretty historical 
furniture for young minds. 

I think all your criticisms please and 
improve me, that only excepted which re- 
lates to 1 Cor. ix. 24. While I was writ- 
ing thi.s, Mr. P , the bearer, came in ; 

for wjiich reason you will give me leave, 
for the sake of enjoying his company, to 
conclude : only let me add, that I purpose, 
if I live till the beginning of next week, to 
finish what I intended to say in a letter by 
the post ; which very probably may anti- 
cipate what now comes from, dear sir, 
yours, &c. 



LETTER CXX. 

Deaii Sir, — I think one guinea is full 
enough for giving away to a person whose 
character we are ignorant of. There are 
too many ( dolet dictum ! J to whom an alms 
in the way of money is only an administra- 
tion of fuel to their lusts. Not that I pre- 
sume to fix such a charge upon the present 
petitioner ; yet this conviction makes me 
cautious, where I have no assurance of the 
person's sobriety. Had it not been for his 
father's worth, I should have almost thought 
it my duty to have shut my^hand, till I re- 
ceived some more satisfactory recommenda- 
tion. We are stewards of our Masters 
goods, and discretion is requisite in the 
discharge of such an office, as well as fidel- 

I fancy, my dear friend, you did not take 
notice of an unbecoming expression which 
dropt from your lips while I sat at your 
table. You was a little chagrined at the 
carelessness of your servant, and said to 
him with some warmth, " What, in the 
name of God, do you mean ?" Such 
expressions from your lips will be much 
observed, and long remembered. I need 
say no more ; you yourself will perceive, by 



a moment's reflection, how faulty they are 
in themselves, and bow pernicious they 
may be to others. May the good Lord 
pardon and deliver you from evil ! and may 
both of us more frequently meditate on this 
important text, " Set a watch before our 
mouths, and keep the door of our lips !" 
Ever yours, &c. 



LETTER CXXL 

June 1754. 
My dear Friend, — Before this can 
reach your hands, you will, in all probability, 
have seen Mr. P . He is really an in- 
genious gentleman, has a lively apprehen- 
sion, a penetrating judgment, as well as a 
large share of reading. May the almighty 
Spirit vouchsafe to sanctify those endow- 
ments ; and make our interviews, not an 
occasion of ambitiously displaying our 
talents, but of building up one another in 
our most holy faith ! I can hardly agree to 
my friend's proposal for altering the trans- 
lation of 1 Cor. ix. 24. May it not be an 
incitement to the utmost diligence? q. d. 
The contenders know, that though many 
run, yet one alone can receive the prize ; 
therefore they exert all their strength and 
all their speed, each hoping, and each striv- 
ing to be that distinguished happy one : 
So likewise do ye. — Or may it not be an 
encouragement, drawn from the prospect 
of general success ? q. d. How much 
greater reason have you to run the Chris- 
tian race, since not one only, but all may 
receive the prize of your high calling ! Of 
these interpretations, the former seems 
most suitable to the tenor of the apostle's 
discourse. What do you apprehend to be 
the precise sense of that expression, ss-e 
KUTM 'sri'rXnpeaiJt.ivoiy Col. ii. 10. Is our 
translation exact? Or should it be render- 
ed, " ye are filled with him, filled by him ?" 
filled with wisdom, holiness, &c. I was 
reading Psalm civ. and a doubt arose con- 
cerning the meaning of those expressions, 
" He layeth the beams of his chambers in 
the waters ; He maketh the clouds his 
chariot." Does the Psalmist intend to 
signify the same thing by waters and 
clouds ? Or by waters does he mean some- 
what different from the fluid which compo- 
ses the clouds ? Houbigant finds fault with 
our translation of Dure et incredibiliter Arias, 
cuntignavit aquis ; he would correct it ac- 
cording to his usual way, by altering the 
original, Nos legimus cooperiens : Sic legunt 
prceter St/rum, omnes in Polyglottis. What 
think 'you of verse 19, going down? Is that 
all which the sun knows or observes ? 
Would not that be a very imperfect dis- 
charge of his office ? May not the original 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



853 



phrase denote his going, his circuit, his 
whole journey ? Comprehending, not only 
his setting, but his rising, his meridian, and 
all his stages ; together with his passage 
from one tropic to another, and his distri- 
bution, not only of day, but of seasons also, 
through the various regions of the globe ? 
Is this word seasons rightly translated ? By 
seasons we generally mean the four grand 
distributions of the year, into spring, and 
summer, autumn and winter. But these, 
you know, are neither occasioned by the 
influences, nor regulated by the appearances 
of the moon. I could be glad to see, from 
your critical pen, a correct translation of 
this fine psalm ; together with such remarks 
as may explain what is difficult, and illus- 
trate what is beautiful. Next Saturday I 
hope to send your manuscript. In the mean 
time, let me promise myself a remembrance 
in your prayers, and expect the favour of a 
letter, which will be thankfully received, 
and highly valued by, dear sir, affectionately 
yours, &c. 



LETTER CXXIL 

Weston, June 21, 1754. 

Dear Sir, — Before this arrives, I hope 
my parcel transmitted according to your 
direction will have reached your hands ; 
and my Dialogues will have received the 
free correction and the friendly improve- 
ments of your pen. 

As, through my many and repeated in- 
firmities, I had long discontinued and have 
often, intermitted my intended work, I am 
informed from London, that the abettors of 
the Socinian scheme have been pleased to 
triumph iui my disappointment ; imagining 
that, through fear or inability, I had laid 
aside my design ; and insinuating, that I 
had changed my principles, or was conscious 
of the weakness of my cause. From these 
gentlemen, if my essay should appear in 
public, it may expect a severe examination, 
and probably a violent attack. I hope your 
friendship will anticipate their inveteracy ; 
and remove those blemishes which might 
give them a handle for censure, or a ground 
for insult. My prayer for my kind cor- 
rector is, that the Lord Jesus Christ, whose 
sacred honour and precious interest are con- 
cerned, would give him " the spirit of wis- 
dom and understanding, the spirit of counsel 
and of might." Is there not a peculiar force 
and beauty in this last metaphor ? How 
would you develop and set it forth to com- 
mon view ? I have just had occasion to 
consider that remarkable expression in 
Psalm XV* ; methinks the Bible transktion 
does not recommend itself to my judgment : 
I am better satisfied, and more edified with 



the version used by our Liturgy ; only it 
seems not to have preserved the strength of 
the original. However, I will say no more 
upon this point ; because, if I live to send 
another packet of probationary manuscripts, 
you will see my sentiments on this particu- 
lar incorporated with the work. 

What is your opinion as to publishing 
three volumes ? Mr. Moses Browne and 
another friend pronounce in the affirmative ; 
though I am much afraid that this circum- 
stance will clog the sale. There are seve- 
ral pieces that are a kind of excursion from 
the principal subject, calculated to relieve 
and entertain the reader, yet not without 
administering some spiritual benefit. A 
whole dialogue upon the wonders of wisdom, 
power, and goodness, displayed in the con- 
trivance and formation of the human body. 
Two or three letters, pointing out the 
traces of the same grand and amiable attri- 
butes in the constitution of the earth, the 
air, and the ocean. These I am afraid to 
lop off, lest it should be like wiping the 
bloom from the plum, or taking the gold 
from the gingerbread. To you I say gin- 
gerbread, though I would not say so to the 
public ; for I really think the taste of the 
present age is somewhat like the humour 
of children : Their milk must be sugared, 
their wine spiced, and their necessary food 
garnished with flowers, and enriched with 
sweetmeats. In my next I hope to lay 
before you a summary view of my whole 
design. I forget whether I enclosed in my 
last, one of the little collection of Scripture 
Promises which I caused lately to be print- 
ed, for the benefit and comfort of my peo- 
ple. I would have them pasted into their 
Bibles ; and may the God of all grace com- 
mand them to be mixed with faith, and in- 
grafted into their hearts. If I have already 
desired your acceptance of one, these I now 
send may be for your friends. I fancy a 
short but lively discourse upon each of the 
eight heads, and the texts selected, might, 
after they have been committed to the me- 
mories of the people, be acceptable, and 
what the apostle calls " a word in season." 
" Angry at the length of your letters !" 
No, dear sir ! They are, as Tully said of 
Demosthenes's orations, " The longer the 
more valuable." I am your obliged friend, 
&c. 



LETTER CXXIIL 

My dear Friend, — Thank you for wend- 
ing the cuts designed for the Bible. All 
my hope with regard to them is, that they 
may remind some beholders of the tran- 
scendent excellency of the sacred writings. 
I propose, by the next post, to write to 
Mr. . I would very willingly present 



854 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



him with my picture, as you desire it ; but 
I really think my picture, if much better 
done, is not worth a frame. And, I own, 
I do not much like giving away what sa- 
vours more of vanity than benevolence. 

Cannot you get a little leisure to peruse 
part of my intended work ? I have, for a 
month or six weeks, been prosecuting it in 
earnest. I have sent four of the Dialogues 
transcribed by my amanuensis. Do steal 
a little time from the multiplicity of your 
medical engagements to examine them ; re- 
trench, where I am redundant ; clear up, 
where I am obscure ; polish what is uncouth. 
I hope Mr. will do me the same fa- 
vour ; and may the God of wisdom give 
both my friends and me a right judgment 
in all things. I have seen Mr. 's an- 
swer. God be praised that I had no occa- 
sion for controversy. I have not seen Mr. 
Moses Browne this many a day. The last 
time he was with me he talked about re- 
printing his Sunday Thoughts, and adding 
a third part, which he had finished, and 
which completes his scheme. I would 
have the three parts printed in a neat 
pocket volume. Have you read his Poem 
on the Universe ? I think it is the most 
pleasing, and, indeed, the best thing he ever 
w rote. I hope the God of heaven will 
saiile upon his endeavours, and animate us 
all to labour in his dear Son's cause, and 
])rosper the labours which he himself excites. 
And if God will prosper, who shall ob- 
struct ? If he will work, who can let it ?" 
My dear friend, let our eyes be ever looking 
lUiXo the hills from whence cometh our help; 
to that omnipotent Being who stretched 
out I he heavens, and laid the foundations of 
the earth ; to that all-gracious Being who 
spared not (unparalleled, stupendous good- 
ness !) spared not his own Son, but freely 
gave him up for us both. O that we may 
dearly love him ; firmly trust in him ; and 
desire nothing so much as to know him 
now by faith, and after this life have the 
fruition of his glorious Godhead! — To his 
everlasting compassions I commit my 
friend ; and am inviolably yours, &c. 



LETTER CXXIV. 

Westori, July 8, 1 754- 
Dear Sir, — Your ftivour of Juiie 28, is 
now before me, and demands my sincerest 
thanks ; and mine, I assure you, are of the 
sincerest kind. I am sensible it is not in 
every one's power to do such acts of kind- 
ness ; and if Providence vouchsafes to smile 
upon my essay, they will be of the most 
lasting, the most extensive, arid the most 
important nature. If I live till next S:i 
turday, I pi-(>pose to transmit to you y;x 



more of the Dialogues, which v/ill open a 
new field for your friendly hand to weed, 
cultivate, and improve. Exercise the same 
benevolent severity upon them, and conti- 
nue to retrench, as well as to reform. 

I am obliged for your criticisms ; and oh ! 
that I may be imboldened by the extract 
from your intended work. No man, I be- 
lieve, stands in more need of such encou- 
ragements than myself. Timorous by na- 
ture, and made abundantly more so by along 
series of unintermitted languors, and a very 
debilitated constitution, for which reason, I 
promise myself, you will commend the 
writer and his attempt to that great Jeho- 
vah in whom is everlasting strength ; and 
for your kind assistance I shall think my- 
self bound to praise his adorable Majesty, 
and to pray that he would " fill you with 
all wisdom and spiritual understanding ; 
that you may walk worthy of the Lord, 
unto all pleasing, being fruitful in every 
good work, and increasing in the knowledge 
of God." 

I will, since I have the concurrence of 
your judgment, and I hope the guidance of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, determine upon 
three volumes. How long do you appre- 
hend it will be before your chronological 
and historical piece will be finished ? I 
hope it will abound with explanations of 
Scripture, and be rich with short, but strik- 
ing improvements. May you continually 
enjoythat unction from the Holy One which 
teacheth ail things ! And, oh I that its pre- 
cious influences may descend upon, dear 
sir, your much obliged and truly affectionate 
friend, &c. 



LETTER CXXV. 

Juhj 13, 1754. 
Dear Sir,— I hope my last letter, 
wherein I apprized you of a parcel to be 
transmitted to you, is in your hand. Here 
ai"e six Dialogues. May the everlasting 
and wonderful Counsellor enable you to 
search them as with a candle, and make 
them such as he will condescend to bless ! 
I have dropped several objections and an- 
swers ; yet I fear too maiiy are still retain- 
ed. A multiplicity of objects dissipates the 
attention either of the eye or the mind. 
Are wimt the painters call the two unities 
}>reserved ? one principal action and one 
grand point of view, in each piece ? Does 
I'heron speak enough ; or with such weight, 
and such a spice of the sal Atticus, as might 
suit his chai acter ? Here and there a touch 
of wit or genteel satire in him, I think, 
would be graceful, especially in the first 
part, before ho is brcuglit to a conviction of 
\ his guilt. 1 liope you will not only find out 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



855 



all the faults, but that you will point this 
arrow, and trim its feathers ; and may the 
arm of the Most High launch it, that it 
may be the arrow of the Lord's salvation. 
I am, dear sir, affectionately and gratefully 
yours, &c. 



LETTER CXXVL 

Weston-FaveM, Aug. 27, 1754. 
Dear Sir, — I have read part of your 
chronological manuscript,* and I bless God 
for giving you such a penetrating and com- 
prehensive mind. To confess the truth, it 
is beyond my power to follow, even in those 
researches where you have surmounted the 
difficulties and cleared the way ; but there 
are many things which I understand, and 
with which I am delighted ; insomuch that, 
if you do not intend to publish it, I should 
very much, desire a copy of it. But what 
should hinder the publication ? Why should 
not the learned world be improved by what 
is profound, and the whole world be edi- 
fied by what is easy ? I have no acquaint- 
ance in this neighbourhood who is versed 
in chronological inquiries, and capable of 
judging of your computations and argu- 
ments ; otherwise I would obtain for you 
his opinion. Mr. Moses Browne (author 
of the Sunday Thoughts) will gladly peruse 
it. Will you excuse me though I add no 
more? A gentleman waits for me below, 
to transact an affair of which I understand 
but very little ; he is come to take my par- 
sonage-grounds, in order to plough them for 
woad, an herb much used by the dyers. 
May prosperity attend his plough; but, 
above all, may it attend yours and mine, 
which would open the ground for the seed 
of the everlasting gospel. I am loath to 
miss a post, loath to defer my thanks for 
your last very valuable favour, otherwise 
you would not be put off with such a hasty 
scrap from, dear sir, your most obliged and 
affectionate, &c. 



LETTER CXXVIL 

October 2. 

Sir, — I have perused the greatest part of 
Dr. Hodge's Elihu. It is wrote, I think, 
in a masculine and noble style ; is animated 
with a lively spirit of piety ; and urges, 
with a becoming zeal, some of the grand 
peculiarities of the gospel. I hope it will 



* The manuscript which Mr. Hervey here takes 
notice of is called " A short Chronicle of the most 
remarkable events from the beginning of the world 
to the building of Solomon's Temple." 



prove a blessing to both the universities ; 
and be a means of testifying, to both those 
learned bodies, the truth as it is in Jesus. 
Dear Mr. has been gone from us al- 
most a fortnight. What a burning and a 
shining light is he ! Burning with minis- 
terial zeal, and shining in all holy conversa- 
tion. I hope our dear friend 's ser- 
mon was attended with a blessing ; and may 
the blessing be greatly increased by the 
publication ! May the drop become a river, 
and the river become a sea ! — I was yester- 
day with five or six young students, and this 
day with three ingenious gentlemen of the 
laity, two of whom are acquainted with the 
Hebrew. Our conversation turned wholly 
upon that superexcellent and delightful sub- 
ject, " the only true God, and Jesus Christ 
whom he has sent." Oh, may that al- 
mighty Being, who has every human heart 
in his hand, sanctify our discourse to our 
eternal advantage ! And let us, my dear 
friend, talk for him, write for him, and live 
for him, who " died for our sins, and is 
risen again for our justification." May his 
Spirit be your continual guide, and his fa- 
vour your everlasting portion ! Ever 
yours, while, &c. 



LETTER CXXVIIL 

Dear Sir, — The gentleman who versi- 
fied part of my Meditations is Mr. New- 
comb of Hackney. I thought it exceedingly 
well executed ; much superior to his ode 
on the final dissolution of the world, which 
he has since published. 

As to Bishop Fowler's Design of Chris- 
tianity, he has, as far as I have read, good 
sense, clear language, and sometimes fine 
striking sentiments. But I most cordially 
embrace the proposition, viz. " That faith 
justifieth only as it apprehendeth the merits 
and righteousness of Jesus Christ," which 
he most peremptorily condemns. Please 
to cast your eye to the fifth line of the next 
paragraph — (the Bishop's words are, " Im- 
putation of Christ's righteousness consists 
in dealing with sincerely righteous persons 
as if they were perfectly so, for the sake of 
Jesus Christ ;) — and compare his " sincere- 
ly righteous persons" with St. Paul's de- 
claration, Rom. iv. 5, that Christ justifieth 
the ungodly. When you have perused and 
considered Bishop Fowler's treatise tho- 
roughly, please to let me have it again ; es- 
pecially as you and Mr. H — r apprehend he 
has given better directions for the attain- 
ment of true holiness than Mr. Marshall. 
Thanks for young Mr. C — 's sermon. He 
is a correct writer, but wants the main 
thing. " Christ is all in all." He either 
forgets, or understands those words in a 



85G 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



manner very diiFerent from my apprehen- 
sion. Mr. G — t has much good sense, 
but to me his sermon reads flat : in his 
discourse, likewise, I wished to have seen 
more of our Immanuel's glory. I am, &c. 



LETTER CXXIX. 

Weston, Oct. 20, 1754. 
Dear Sir,— I received the parcel safe, 
and desire to bless God's providence for 
not suflJbring tbe manuscripts to be lost in 
their passage, as they had like to have 
been ; and to thank my kind friend for his 
judicious remarks. Herein is enclosed 
Dialogue xvi. I durst not venture to com- 
mit this to the press without submitting it 
to your correction. Dear sir, examine it 
with a critical severity ; and may he, whose 
eyes are as a flame of fire, enable you to 
discern and rectify what is amiss. It is, as 
you wiU easily perceive, a subject of the 
last importance. O that, in handling it, I 
might be " a workman that need not be 
ashamed." Pardon my scraps of answers, 
to your large and valuable letters. I hard- 
ly know how to get a moment's leisure, so 
very intent am I now on the publication of 
my book. I have not been able, for want 
of time, to read over this transcript : I hope 
the copier has not made any great mistakes. 
Be so good, dear sir, as to favour me with 
your remarks on this manuscript as soon as 
you possibly can : you need not return it, 
only send me your remarks. But you will 
please to preserve this, for fear of an acci- 
dent happening to the other copy. — I am, 
dear sir, yours most affectionately, &c. 



LETTER CXXX. 

Thursday, noon. 
My dear Friend, — I am glad Dr. 

C got time, and took the trouble of 

overlooking the manuscripts. He has the 
judgment of a critic, and the freedom of a 
friend. Moses Browne is persuaded by the 
bookseller to print his poem on the Uni- 
verse, and his Sunday Thoughts, in one vo- 
lume, and intends to entitle it. The Works 
and Rest of Creation ; with the addition 
of some more particular explicatory and 
subordinate title. I objected to this gene- 
ral title ; made a query, whether it was 
strictly proper ? or, if proper, whether suf- 
ficiently significant ? Instead of it, I pro- 
posed. The Works of Creation, and Rest 
of the Sabbath. 

Dr. Gill shall tell you my sentiments, in 
relation to Wesley, on the perseverance of 
the saints. Both their pamphlets on this • 



subject I send you. Whether his replies 
and interpretations in the first part are 
sound and satisfactory, judge you ; the con- 
siderations suggested in the latter part, I 
think, are full of weight, rich with conso- 
lation, and worthy of a place in our memo- 
ries and in our heart. May our own medi- 
tation fix them in the one, and the Spirit 
of our God implant them in the other ! 

I am entirely of your opinion with regard 
to Staynoe on Salvation by Jesus Christ; 
generally very prolix, and somewhat tire- 
some to the reader ; yet his style is good, 
nervous, and beautiful. Prolixity, I find, 
is an epidemical fault among writers ; the 
censure I pass on him rebounds on myself : 
save me from this misconduct, by lopping 
ofl" my redundancies. I have not looked 
into Staynoe for a great while; when I re- 
vise him again, you shall have my senti- 
ments concerning his doctrine ; which, 
though excellent in the main, is not, I ap- 
prehend, perfectly consistent, nor evangeli- 
cal throughout. I have seen Mr. 's 

verses on Dr. 's character ; I am ap- 
prehensive f inter nos ) that it will rather 
depreciate than exalt the Rev. Doctor's 
credit among readers of a gospel spirit. 
There are indeed the sales Attici, but where 
are the sales evangelici? What says our 

lively friend ? I think he is the Caleb 

of our fraternity. Caleb signifies all heart. 
His name and nature correspond. Did he 
not warm you with his zeal? Oh that we 
may glow with love to Him, who bled for 
love of us ! I have received a letter from 
our dear friend on the American continent. 
He mentions you in particular, and your 
late guest. Love, cordial love he trans- 
mits to you both. We believe him, when 
he makes a profession of kindness ; and 
why are we so backward to believe the 
more repeated, more solemn, and infinitely 
more faithful assurances, which the Scrip- 
ture gives us of our Redeemer's love ? Let 
us blush and be confounded for our unbe- 
lief; and may the Lord of all power and 
grace help our unbelief! — Ever yours, &c. 

P.S. — Certainly our friend judges right 
in not acting as a justice of peace, unless 
he would submit to the fatigue of acquaint- 
ing himself with our national lav\^s : A 
study which is, if I rightly judge, which, I 
am sure, would be to my taste of all others 
the most jejune and irksome. Not so the 
Scriptures ! God has, in tender indulgence 
to our disposition, strewed them with 
flowers, dignified them with wonders ; en- 
riched them with all that may delight the 
man of genius, and make the man of God 
perfect. May we, as new born babes, de- 
sire the sincere milk of the word ; and 
grow, grow thereby in knowledge, grow in 
faith, grow in love, in holiness, in every 
amiable and happy accomplishment. Do 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



857 



not you practise that exceliont rale, of se- 
lecting for meditation each day a text of 
Scripture ? As to publishing the first vo- 
lume of Tberon and Aspasio before the 
others are ready, I really know not how to 
act. May the God of unerring wisdom 
vouchsafe to direct, for his dear Son our 
glorious Intercessor's sake 



LETTER CXXXL 

Weston, Jug. 12, 1754. 

Reverend and dear Sir, — I received 
your favour from Islington, and acknow- 
ledge myself indebted to you for a preceding 
one from Scotland. I am, both to you and 
to other of my worthy correspondents, quite 
an insolvent ; yet trust my many infirmities, 
in concurrence with your candour, will 
plead my excuse. 

I called myself an insolvent ; but I shall, 
ere long, make one public effort to pay 
from the press all my debts of an epistolary 
nature : the payment, I confess, will not be 
in the very same specie, but it will bear the 
same image and superscription, not Caesar's 
but Christ's. This will recommend it to 
my correspondents, and not only bespeak 
their kind acceptance of it, but engage their 
coi dial prayers in its behalf. Do, my dear 
sir, remember my poor enterprise, when 
you call upon him who is omnipotent ; he 
can bid the wounded come against the for- 
tress, and the lame take the prey. Unless 
he succour, unless he support, what can 
impotence itself expect, but to miscarry in 
the attempt, and be a laughing-stock to the 
enemy ? But I read, and this encourages 
me, " It is not by might, nor by strength, 
but by my Spirit, saith the Lord." 

I did not know, till yours informed me, 

that Mr. was gone to his long, and I 

trust to his happy home. O that we who 
survive may have our affections fixed there, 
where our God and Saviour resides, whi- 
ther our friends and relations are removed ! 

I wish you and your spouse much joy in 
each other, but much more in Christ Jesus. 
As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, 
so may the Lord your God rejoice over you 
both. Let me beg of you to present my 

affectionate salutations to good Mr. G . 

Assure him, that my silence did not pro- 
ceed from any indifference to his friendship, 
or disesteem for his work ; but I was much 
indisposed. I had nothing to commvmicate, 
and to have written in such circumstances, 
would have been burdensome to me, and 
unserviceable to him. My respectful com- 
pliments attend Mrs. O — — , your spouse, 
and yourself ; and I entreat your united 
I)rayers for, dear sir, your sincere friend 
und brother in Christ, &c. 



P S. — ^The enclosed collection of scrip- 
tural promises, are a little present which I 
make to my people. "They are intended to 
be pasted, one at the beginning, the other 
at the end, of religious books. Perhaps 
some of your friends may not disdain this 
spiritual nosegay, because, though little, it 
is culled from the garden of God. 



LETTER CXXXIL 

Wednesday Morning. 

Dear Sir, — I was lately favoured at 
Weston with a visit from the Reverend 
Mr. Walker of Truro, who is indeed a 
most excellent man, much of a gentleman, 
and seems well to deserve the character he 
bears : there is something in him very en- 
gaging, yet very venerable. During our 
conversation, I felt a kind of reverential 
awe on my mind, blended with more than 
fraternal affection. How old is he ? By 
his looks he appears to be past forty. What 
a reproach is it to our men in power, nay, 
to the nation itself, that so valuable a per- 
son should at this time of life be no more 
than a country curate ? But he, good man ! 
disregards the things of this world. That 
time which too many of his brethren spend, 
to the disgrace of their function, in worldly 
compliances, and hunting after church pre- 
ferments, he employs as a faithful labourer 
in the vineyard of Christ ; and pays all due 
obedience to the apostle's important in- 
junction, " Redeem time !" How would 
some of tlie primitive bishops have sought 
after a man of his exemplary piety, and 
have given him every mark of their real 
esteem ! Sed tempora mutantur, et nos mU' 
tamur in illis. 

T am much pleased with the account of 
the religious society at Truro, of which Mr. 
Walker is the founder and present director. 
It is an admirable plan ! I would have en- 
deavoured (had my health permitted my 
attendance) to have formed one of the same 
kind at Northampton. I heartily v/ish so 
useful an institution was more known, and 
well established in all the principal towns 
in this kingdom ; as I am persuaded such 
a society must be productive of great good, 
and in some degree revive the drooping in- 
terest of Christianity, wherever it was pru- 
dently managed. We had in this neigh- 
bourhood a religious assembly, of which I 
myself was a member;* but no one could 
be admitted who did not understand Greek, 
as the chief design of that meeting was to 
improve each other in scriptural knowledge, 



* The Rul s .ind Orders of the Assembly here men- 
tioned, are inserted p. /i?. 



858 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



and consequently could be of little use com- 
paratively with Mr. Walker's plan.* 

I have lately read Mr. Wharton's edition 
of Virgil, and much approve the printing 
the Latin on one side, and his poetical 
translation on the other : he is a clever man ; 
but I think he might have enriched his 
notes with many more observations on the 
beauties and masterly strokes of the poet. 
I would not for my own part give a straw 
for the most accurate disputations upon a 
chronological or geographical nicety ; but I 
would applaud and thank the critic who will 
assist me to see the art and address, to feel 
the force and fire, and to enter into the spirit 
and delicacy of such an author as Virgil. 
I am, dear sir, with great respect, your ob- 
liged and very humble servant, &c. 



LETTER CXXXIIL 

Saturday morning. 

My dear Friend, — I have read over, 
again and again, the corrected copy of your 
little tract which you intend for the next 
edition, and have examined it with my best 
attention : not able to make any amend- 
ment that is considerable, I have only sug- 
gested some slight alterations. Elegance 
you do not covet in such a composition ; 
plain and neat is the proper array for such 
an address. 

I am surprised to read the letter which 
the popular gentleman from Durham writes 
against your book. Never fear, my friend ; 
our writings, as well as our lives, are in the 
hand of God Almighty : if he will spread, 
what shall obstruct them ? if he will work 
by them, who shall disannul his design ? O 
may we cry to him, cleave to him, and live 
by faith on him ! for " not by might, nor 
by power," not by eloquence of composition, 
nor by interest of patrons, " but by my 
Spirit, saith the Lord." 

Pray, take a little pains with my Theron 
and Aspasio ; you can scarcely imagine 
what inquiries are made after it, and what 
a demand there is for it, even before pub- 
lication. It makes me rejoice with tremb- 
ling. All-wise, all-gracious Jesus, be jea- 
lous for thine honour ! Let me not, O let 
me not cloud its brightness, or obstruct its 
progress, by any injudicious touches of my 
pen. — I now feel the loss of our valuable 
friend Dr. Doddridge, to whose judgment 
I ever paid the highest deference ; but since 
he is gone, and we can have no more of his 
personal counsels, let us redouble our at- 
tention to his writings. 

I expect you will tell me my manuscript is 

* For the Rules and Orders'of the Truro Society, 
Bee p. 719. 



very prolix ; but I designedly made it m, 
that my friends might judge what is proper 
to be omitted. It is easier, you know, to 
expuHge than to compose : I wish they 
would with a leaden pencil enclose in a 
parenthesis what they would have dropt ; 
I hope to retrench one-fourth of the copy. 
May the God of wisdom direct, and the 
God of mercy prosper, all our undertakings I 
I am yours very sincerely, &c. 



LETTER CXXXIV. 

Saturday morning. 

Thanks to my dear friend for the enter- 
tainment he has given me, by Hanway's 
account of Nadir Shah ;* an illustrious vil- 
lain indeed ! he spread firebrands, arrows, 
and death. May we be conformed to his 
image, who went about doing good ! 

If you have Voltaire's Life of Louis 
XIV., be pleased to give me the perusal of 
it ; I fancy, his reign in France was some- 
what like the Augustine age in Rome. 
Periods of politeness both ! but what are 
those to heaven ? the world where dwell- 
ETH righteousness ; consummate righteous- 
ness and everlasting happiness ? Do you not 
long, more and more, for those courts of 
the living God ? Do you not love him more 
and more, who, (after he had overcome the 
sharpness of death) opened the kingdom of 
heaven to all believers ? 

Warburton, I hear, has published two 
volumes of sermons, octavo ; in which, it 
seems, he has decried experimental religion, 
disregarded the peculiarities of the gos])el, 
and treated the operations of the Spirit as 
mere enthusiasm. If this be the effect of 
his great learning, then, good Lord, deliver 
us all, sny I, from such an attainment. If 
you either have, or can borrow them, just 
let me peep on them. Do not buy them 
to gratify me ; I can relish nothing bat 
what is evangelical. 

Your friend's Dissertations were put into 
my hands ; very pure diction, but that is all 
— all to me at least. There was the bone, 
but the marrow was gone ; Jesus Christ, 
my portion and yours, was forgot. How 
dififerent his strain from St. Paul's resolu- 
tion, " I am determined to know nothing 
but Christ Jesus, and him crucified," which 
happened to be the subject of my exhorta- 
tion to my family last night. Lord, reveal 
I thy adorable Son, the all-sufficient Saviour, 
in our hearts ; and the more others neglect 
him, so much the more let us, my dear 
friend, be zealous to honour him. 

I have looked into the manuscript you 
sent me : there seem to be many lively and 

* See riahway's Travels, vol. ii. page 255. 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



859 



spirited sentiments in it, but surely it is de- 
fective in the main point. St. Paul, t am. 
apt to think, upon a perusal of the treatise, 
VAOuld say, the author has good sense, may 
be no bad moralist, but being " ignorant of 
God's righteousness, and going about to 
establish his own righteousness, he has not 
submitted to the righteousness of God,'- 
Rom. X. 3. Lord, give us an understand- 
ing, that we may know him that is true ! 
Then we shall see Christ Jesus, the God- 
man, to be, in the grand affair of salvation, 
like the meridian sun ; and all other things 
like the stars at noon-day. 

Did you ever read Mr. Whalley's Re- 
marks upon Shakspeare ? If you have not, 
I will send you the pamphlet. They are 
very ingenious, and well deserve the notice 
of the public ; particulurly of yours, who 
are such an admirer of Shakspeare. 

When you can spare Francis's translation 
of Demosthenes, (I suppose it is the same 
Francis who translated Horace,) favour me 
with a sight of it. A sight of this will 
coiiient me ; but God s word, that inesti- 
mal.ile book, which shows me the way of 
salvation, I would cleave to, I would dwell 
upon. And would not you, my dear 
frieJid, do so too ? Ev tutu; ttx'h. 

My text on V/edne&day evening will be 
a complete description of a Cliristian ; viz. 
" We are the circumcision which worship 
God in the spirit, and rejoice in Christ Je- 
sus, and have no contidence in the flesh," 
Phil. iii. 3. A line subject for your medi- 
tation : Why should I not add for your 
conversation also ? Ever yours. 



LETTER CXXXV. 

Dear Sir, — I here send you part of my 
manuscript copy of Theron and Aspasio : 
if you think it worth your while to bestow 
any corrections upon them, well ; if not, 
this also is well. For my own part, so 
very languid are my animal spirits, I am 
more and more indifferent about them ; I 
see so much weakness in my mind, and so 
many imperfections in my compositions, 
that I am afraid to venture upon the stage 
of observation again. An obliging letter 
from Mr. H r, informs me of his wil- 
lingness to peruse and correct any literary 
attempt of mine ; and discovers, I think, 
still more the integrity, simplicity, and 
piety of his heart. 

I prefer both South's and Delaime's 
sermons to the Bishop's, for soundness of 
doctrine. The first might be crabbed in 
his temper, and the second voluptuous in 
his life ; yet both are more evangelical in 
their sentiments than he is. Those who 
can read such kind of moral essays as the 



Bishop's (very improperly called sermons) 
as guides to heaven, and as good comforters 
while on earth, will one day I hope form a 
bettei judgment, and be enabled, in a clear- 
er manner, to discern the things which are 
excellent. 

On Dr. Stonehouse's recommendation, 
I have lately read Dr. Watts' treatise on 
" the love of God, and its influence on all 
the passions ;" which is indeed a most ex- 
cellent book, happily calculated for useful- 
ness. If you have never seen it, you have 
a pleasure yet to come, and I would by all 
means advise j'ou to get it. The love of 
God is indeed the source and soul of reli- 
gion ; and what can produce it, what can 
cherish it, but a sense of God's love to us 
manifested in his dear Son ? by whom we 
are fully assured, that he has forgiven us all 
trespasses, and will give us life eternal. 

Present my affectionate compliments to 
your family, and believe me, as I really am, 
most cordially yours, &c. 



LETTER CXXXVL 

Weston, Jan. "25, 1755. 
Dear Sir, — I really forget whether I 
acknowledged your last favour. If I did 
not, let your own candour be my advocate ; 
and my important business, under the most 
enervated constitution, be my plea. I have 
been, since I wrote, in the physician's 
hands, and debarred from the pulpit. 
Blessed be the Lord our healer, I am now 
restored to my usual state, and am enabled 
to speak a word on the Lord's day, and 
preach in my church on Wednesday even- 
ing, which is my lecture day, for the hon- 
our of my Master, and, I hope, for the edi- 
fication of his people. O that this privi- 
lege may be coeval with my life ; and my 
preaching voice, and my vital breath, be 
stopt together ! — I wish you, dear sir, 
many new years, much of the new man, 
and an abundant entrance into the New 
Jerusalem. Your most obliged, and truly 
aflfectionate friend. 



LETTER CXXXVH. 

March 4. 

My dear Friend, — Do not hurry the 
return of the Dialogues. Take your time, 
that you may examine them thoroughly : 
none knows how far they may spread, or 
how long they may live. Oh that the God 
of wisdom may enable you to judge aright, 
and correct their mistakes ! 

I am Sony to hear your account of our 



860 



A COLLECnON OF LETTERS. 



friend at . I wish he could be per- ' 

suaded to look upon his mystic writers as 
his chamber-counsel ; converse with them 
in his study, and leave them there. 1 was 
visited yesterday by a gentleman who would 

be a darling with Mr. H ; quite fond 

of mystics, but does not go any great 
lengths ; nor espouse, at least not avow or 
propagate, their extravagant peculiarities. 

Your old acquaintance Mr. came in, 

and sat with us, I believe, two hours. The 
gentlemen happened to refer to Isaiah vi. 
and desired I would read the beginning of 
the chapter : glad of this overture, I readi- 
ly embraced it, and fixed the discourse to 
this noble, this alarming and comfortable 
Scripture. Oh ! let us attend, with assi- 
duity and delight, to the holy, precious 
word of God : the apostle calls it a^okov 
lyxXa, pure, unmixed, unadulterated, as 
though every composition had some im- 
proper tincture, was some way or other 
adulterated. " My son," says the God of 
heaven, (and it is a most important advice, 
a most endearing exhortation,) " attetid to 
my words, incline thine ear unto my sayings. 
Let them not depart from thine eyes, keep 
them in the midst of thine heart. For 
they are life unto those that find them, and 
health to all their flesh." 

As to Eph. iv. 16. does not ervvxpfioXoya- 
f/,ivov refer to the orderly and exact arrange- 
ment ? crvfA^iSa^ofitvov to the uicc and strong 
coimexions ; but where is the beauty or 

propriety of war^jj a(p>i; t»j ZTi^op'/iyta; ? 

Why, " that which every joint supplieth ?" 
Is there any peculiar fund of nutriment 
lodged in the joints ? Would not an ana- 
tomist have said, by that which every vessel, 
or every ramification of a vessel, supplieth ? 

I sincerely pity poor 's case ; I will 

give him two guineas ; and hope the God 
whom he serves will raise him up other 
friends : " He that spared not his own Son, 
but gave him up for us all, how shall he 
not with him also freely give him all 
things ?" Tell him this from me, though he 
knows it already ; the Lord may make it a 
word in season. Charge him to say no- 
thing of me and my mite, but as much for 
me to his God and Saviour as he pleases. 
I hope you will, when opportunity serves, 

strengthen Mr. H in the faith of the 

gospel, and in the ways of the Lord. Let 
us provoke one another to love and to good 
works ; and so much the more as we see 

the day approaching. Yesterday Mr. 

of Cambridge called upon me : our conver- 
sation was not so edifying as I could wish ; 
it degenerated into dispute. Mr. — — , 
who is very much talked of, was the sub- 
ject. I do not thoroughly know his scheme, 
but am inclined to suspect that his op- 
ponents will find it a difficult matter to 
maintain their ground. However, I shall 



not attempt to make myself fully master oi 
the controversy. To know Christ and 
him crucified, hoc nobis palmarium. This is 
the desire and prayer of, ever yours, &c. 

p. *S. — The Latin prayer you sent me 
for my opinion, seems to be composed by a 
mystic. Not a word of Christ ! Access 
through his blood is neglected ; acceptance 
through his righteousness is forgotten ! 
The grand error of the mystic divines, who, 
wholly intent upon what God is to do in us, 
most unhappily disregard what he has done 
for us, in the person of his beloved Son. 



LETTER CXXXVIIL 

Weston- Fav ell, March 19, 1755. ' 

My dear Friend, — A good while ago 
I received your kind letter, and this week 
your valuable parcel. I confess myself 
obliged to your candour, as well as to your 
judgment, for excusing me, though I have 
not absolutely acquiesced in all your re- 
marks ; as well as for giving me many ex- 
cellent corrections, which I have most 
thankfully adopted. I hope what I have 
written concerning faith, will occasion some 
calm and friendly debates ; I want to have 
that subject sifted, cleared, and stated. I 
must own, I am strongly inclined to side 
with our reformers ; I cannot but think 
they adhere to the simplicity of the gospel. 
Christ died for me, seems to be the faith 
preached and taught by the apostles. I 

have not had time to peruse Mr. , nor 

your manuscripts : you can hardly imagine 
how my time is engrossed, and my weak 
spirits almost overborne, partly by revising 
the work for a new edition, which is put to 
the press ; partly by answering a variety 
of letters, sent to me on occasion of the 
publication ; some of which censure, some 
approve of the performance. 

I have read, with great pleasure, your 
short chronicle ; have sent it to Mr. Moses 
Browne, and received it again : hope you 
can spare it till I peruse it a second time. 

I have lately been presented with a mag- 
nificent and costly Hebrew Bible, in four 
volumes folio, published by Father Houbi- 
gant, with which he has intermixed the apo- 
cryphal Greek books, styled by him Deu- 
tero-canonici. Have you seen this work, or 
heard its character ? The author has sub- 
joined notes to each chapter, which are em- 
ployed chiefly in vindicating his alterations 
of the text. He is a bold enterprising 
writer, takes great liberties with the sacred 
text, and makes very many alterations, often 
without the authority of any manuscript, 
purely from his own critical judgment, or 
critical conjecture. If at any time you have 
a mind to know his opinion upon any diffi- 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



S61 



cult text, I will either transcribe it in his 
own words, or give you the substance of it 
in English. 

His interpretation of Gen. xxii. 14, puts 
me in mind of an expression in your short 
chronicle. " It is my opinion, Abraham 
had never so clear a sight of the day of 
Christ as at this time." I fancy you will 
not be displeased with a copy of the learned 
Jesuit's criticism. " Vocavit nomen loci 
ejus ' lEUE IRAT,' Dominus videbitur. 
Non videtur ne ab futuro ' cah,' aberre- 
mus. Non videbit, non modo quia non 
additur quid fit Deus visurus, sed etiam 
quia in tota ilia visione, hominis est videre, 
Domini videri ; propter quam causam Deus 
locum istura mox nomine visionis insignie- 
bat. Nimirum Deus Abrahamo id osten- 
dit, quod Abraham vidit et gavisus est, seu 
Filium promissionis unigenitum pro humano 
genere victimam olim futuram. Atque hoc 
illud est, quod memoriae seinpiternae Abra- 
ham consecrabat, cum ita subjungeret, Ho- 
die in monte Dominus videbitur; illud ho- 
die sic accipiens, ut accepit Paiiliis apostolus 
illid Davidis, Hodie si vocem ejus audieri- 
tis ; quod hodie tamdiu durat, quamdiu 
sascula ilia durabunt, de quibus apostolus, 
donee hodie cognominatur. Errant, qui 
sic interpretantur, quasi Moses renarret 
usurpatum suo tempore proverbium. Nam 
si sic erit, non jam docebit Abraham , cur 
huic loco nomen fecerit, Dominus videbitur ; 
quam tamen nominum notationem in sacris 
paginis non omittunt ii, quicumque nouiina 
rebus imponunt. Quod contra plane doce- 
bit, Abraham, si de eo Moses sic narrat, 
vocavit nomen loci hujus, Deus videbitur ; 
nam dixit, In monte Deus videbitur." This 
is a truly grand and delightful sense ; would 
bid fair for preference, if it could be suffi- 
ciently established. But, besides other 
things which might be objected to this in- 
terpretation, it seems probable that the 
Lord did not appear to Abraham, only call- 
ed to him " UKEDA." Christ says of Ab- 
raham, that he saw, not his person, but his 
day ; «(£4£ga signifies, I suppose, much the 
same " iderut ruru," the remarkables, to, 
iviffYif^x, in any one's life. He saw by faith 
his incarnation, obedience, death, all satis- 
fying atonement, &c. Is not this the mean- 
ing of our Lord ? 

Now I am upon the subject of difficult 
texts and exact interpretations, let me desire 
your opinion of Isa. xxx. 18. I have ge- 
nerally looked upon it as a declaration and 
a display of God's infinitely free grace, and 
profusely rich goodness. The great Vi- 
tringa considers it in quite a different light. 
" Moram trahet ' ihebe,' Jehovah (are his 
words) in gratia vobis facienda." For 
which sense he adds the following reason ; 
" quia delicti gravitas repentinam gratiam 
non ferebat, secundum rationes justitias di- 



vinae." The next clause he thus explains ; 
Proptera, "iRUM,"i. e. exaltabitur judici et 
justitia, antequam gratiam in vos exerceat. 
— Houbigant, on this verse, does nothing 
more than offer a small alteration, for " ire- 
KIM" he would read " mEZUi" prcBstolabi- 
tur, that this verb m.ay correspond with the 
preceding " iekeh." 

I proposed to have closed the plan of 
Theron and Aspasio with an explicit and 
pretty copious treatise on evangelical huli- 
iiess, or obedience ; and to have shown my 
true believer in his dying moments. If 
your thoughts should happen to take such a 
turn, be so good, dear sir, as to suggest 
what you think the most advisable and ad- 
vantageous way of managing this important 
point. This would most effectually stop 
the mouths of Arminians, and be the best 
security against the abuses of Antinomians. 
I could wish, if it were the Lord's will, that 
I might live to furnish out one more volume 
of this kind, and then, manum de tabula. 

As the new edition is partly finished, and 
the press proceeding at a great rate, and as 
there will be some few emendations, you 
will give me leave to present you with a 
set of what, I hope, will be least imperfect. 
Till this edition is finished, let me be your 
debtor in point of promise ; and in point of 
affection and gratitude, I will be your debtor 
so long as I am, &c. 



LETTER CXXXIX. 

May 21, 1755. 

Dear Sir, — My letters to you must al- 
ways begin wiih thanks, and will generally 
close with inquiries. 

I am quite a proselyte to your guarded 
and sober method of using the Hebrew 
manuscript : though I talked some time 
ago with an adept in the sacred language, 
and most devout student of God's word, 
who would not so much as hear of altera- 
tions, fi'om any authority, or on any ac- 
count whatever ; corrections in an inspired 
book, were to him little better than sacri- 
lege. The present copy of the Bible, he 
apprehended, was in no degree, not even 
a single jot or tittle, wrong. I subscribe 
your reasons for rejecting Father Houbi- 
gant's, and in not admitting Mr Kennicott's 
exposition of the Hebrew adagy, " ithue 

IRAE." 

I shall treasure up your remark on the 
relative "asher," and wish you had the 
designing or the superintending of the cuts, 
which the printer of Mr. Stackhouse's His- 
tory of the Bible says, cost eight hundred 
pounds. I am delighted with your inter- 
pretation of Isaiah xxx. 18. What a 
charming representation it gives us of the 



862 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



Divine long sufferijig, tender mercy, and 
profuse goodness ! O that I nnight live 
under the clear manifestation of these lovely 
perfections ! 

In Psalm xxxvi. 1. Houbigant would 
read " lebu," instead of " lebi," and thus 
translates the clause, " Loquitur impius 
juKta; improbitatem duae est in medio 
cordis ejus." 

Instead of « ziuu," Psalm exxxiii. 3, he 
would introduce " shiau," and justifies his 
alteration from Deut, iv. 4-8. Did you 
ever observe this passage, and compare it 
with the text under consideration ? 

Psalm Ixviii. 16. for " ersheni" he would 
substitute " eredshu," " mons pinguis ;" 
which alteration he thus explains, and thus 
vindicates : " Est mons Dei, mons Sion, 
in quern asportatur area foederis ; qui mons, 
collatione facta cum caeteris montibus, 
quorum laus est pinguedo sive ubertas, 
laudatur ob ejus pinguedinum ; ex quo, 
videlicet, tempore eum montem habitat ille, 
qui pinguem fecit domum Obed-edom. 
Mons altitudinum, altero in membro, est 
attributum montus Sion, caeteris circum 
montibus altioris. Itaque mons Basan 
nihil hie ad rem ; praesertim cum de monte 
Sion ea hoc in psalmo dicantur, propter 
quae ille mons sit monti Sion longe ante- 
ponendus. Gen. xx. 16, Ego dedi fratri 
tuo argenti mille potido, erit id tibi pro vel- 
aininibus oculorum, seu tui tibi aderunt, 
sen casteri quicunque homines, ne forte te 
coiicupiscant. ' Ugebetheth,' verbum pro 
verbo, nam concupiscilibus es ob tuam 
])ulchritudinem ; ex ' necet,' Arabic, ver- 
bo, ducere uxorem vel ejus matrimonium 
arabire." Do not you think this method of 
deducing the sense of Hebrew words from 
the present Arabic is precarious? If we 
knew the precise signification which Arabic 
words bore in the days of Moses, and what 
words were commonly used in that early 
age, there would be surer ground to proceed 
upon. But I apprehend the Arabic lan- 
guage has undergone great alterations, and 
received great improvements, since that 
period ; that Golius's Lexicon is no more 
the Arabic used in the time of Moses, than 
Johnson's Dictionary is the English spoke 
in the days of Chaucer. 

My best thanks for your plan. I propose 
to follow the track of Mr. Marshall in his 
book entitled *' The Gospel Mystery of 
Sanctification." You are acquainted, I 
presume, with this valuable piece of spiritual 
and experimental divinity ; This, and Mr. 
Erskine's sermons, led me into those no- 
tions of faith which are delivered in Dia- 
logue xvi. If you have that treatise, (Mar- 
shall's I mean), I should be much obliged 
for your opinion of it. You ask how Hou- 
bigant reads Gen. xi. 32. Thus, " Ferunt- 



^ut' dies Thare annoru:n qu;i 



mta qui 



% 

que supra centum." This, he says, is ac* 
cording to the Samaritan copy ; and adds : 
" Cui scriptioni adhasrendum esse, notat 
Sam. Bochartus ; aliter enim cum Hebraeo 
cod. pugnantia dicturum Stephanum dia- 
conum. Acts vii. 4. Quod sic probatur : 
diciim fuit, ver. 26. Thare fuisse annorum 
70, cum gigneret Abraharaum : Infra dice- 
tur, (cap. xii. ver. 4.) Abrahamum fui.sse 
annorum 75, cum ex Haran in Canaan 
profectus est. Ex quo efficitur ut Thare, 
tempore illius profectionis, atmum ageret 
145, atque adeo ut Thare, si quidem vixerit 
annos 205, fuerit totos annos 60 huic pro- 
fectioni superstes. Quae cum ita sint, non 
jam intelligitur, quare Stephanus dixeret 
Abrahamum fuisse, mortuo jam Thare, in 
Canaan profectum. Aut fallitur Stephanus, 
aut statuendum cum Sam, codice, non plus 
vixisse Thare, quam annos 145. Nam per 
eum numerum, libri Genesis cum Stephano 
discordia conciliatur. — Erroris fontem ape- 
ruit Bochartus, in litera ' k' 100, pro 
' m' 40, exarata. Erroris fons eo mani- 
festior, quod in codicibus Germanicis litera 
' k' pede hoc modo decurtato, ' e' fere 
similis est literae * m.' " 

His marginal reading of Exod. xii. 40. 
is thus : — According to the Samaritan text, 

" ISHRAEL BENI UMISHN METZRIM INAHO 
CENOI GARO ISHBU ASHER UANUTHM." 

While he thus translates (for his Hebrew 
text is conformed to the common standard, 
and only in the translation his corrections 
are introduced), " Commoratio autem fili- 
orum Israel, et patrum eorum qui in terra 
Canaan et in terra .^gypti habitarunt fuit," 
&c. In his note on this passage, he refers 
the reader to his prolegomena; where, after 
he has proved that, by admitting the Sa- 
maritan reading, difficulties, otherwise inex- 
tricable, are cleared up and removed, he 
takes to task Grotius, Le Clerc, and Bux- 
torf. You will perhaps be willing to see 
his manner, which on many occasions is 
like the scelerata sinapis, sharp as mustard. 
" Non incommode, inquiebat, Grotius, sic 
exphcatur : Exiiium illud iEgyptiacum du- 
rasse usque ad annum 430, ex quo Deus 
Abraham© praesignificaverat. In qua Gro- 
tiana explicatione Grotium desidero. Num 
exiiium erat Egyptiacum, turn cum Deus 
Abrahamo praesignificabat ? Vel cui per- 
suadebat Grotius, Mosen haec verba, ex quo 
Deus Abrahamo praesignificaverat, cum 
dicere veliet, omisisse? Quae verba cum 
suo marte Grotius ; et sacra pagina invita, 
inferciat, num huic potius credemus, ut ea 
verba omiserit Moses, sine quibus intelL'gi 
non posset, imo secum ipse pugnaret, quam 
Samaritanis, quorum diligentia commone- 
mur Judceos scribas fuisse negligeiites ? 
Sed audiendus Joaiuies Clericus. Miihrn, 
ijKjuit, a^-.v^oXoyiav in Masoretico codice ag- 
noscer(>, quam mendam. Vigilas, Cleiice, 



A COLLECTION 

cum ha;G loqueris ? Negas Hebr. in vol- 
umine esse mendam, hoc est, errorcm a 
scribis Jiidteis profectum ; eo potiiis incli- 
nas, ut sit ocKug^oXoytt/, hoc est, Mosis ipsiiis 
in tennporibus notandis indiligentia ? Eg- 
regiam profecto indiligentiam, ut Moses 
scripserit annos 430, cum scribere debuisset 
annos 215, eo prsesertim loco, in quo tem- 
pora tam dil'genter notat Moses, ut non 
inodo annos computet, sed ipsum etiam 
ponat anni mensem, mensisque ipsum diem. 
Quid Buxtorfium dicemus, non modo, ut 
caeteri interpretes hie tergiversantem, sed 
etiam plane negantem, fuisse hie quidquam 
a Judseis scribis omissum ? Heus tu, 
Buxtoifi ! Illamne fuisse Mosis scriptionem 
putas, qua Moses Mosi contradicat,et aperte 
mentiri videatur ? Videatur sane, inquit ; 
sed nihil quidquam amplius Mosen scrip- 
sisse mihi quidem constat. Quonam igitur 
pacto, Buxtorfi, Mosen cum Mose concili- 
abis ? Non conciliabo, inquit, si non po- 
tero, sed veto in hodierno cod. Heb. quid- 
quam addi et suppleri. Quid ita? Quia, 
inquit, codices Heb. omnes hie consen- 
tiunt, et illud additamentum ignorat. Quod 
si autem scribae alicujus lapsu, vel etiam 
plurium excidisset, non potuisset id fieri in 
omnibus exemplaribus. Sed Buxtorfium 
nunc linquimus, Buxtorfianasque nugas, 
quoniam eas sum us non multo post confu- 
taturi." I intended to have laid before you 
a specimen of his very bold, and, I fear, 
rash attempts upon the sacred texts; but 
these I must defer till I have the pleasure 
of subscribing myself on another paper, 
your most obliged and truly affectionate 
friend. 



LETTER CXL. 

Dear Sir, — Herewith I send you the 
new edition of Theron and Aspasio. It 
desires your acceptance and your prayers, 
that it may be for the praise of the glory 
of God's grace in Christ, and for the edifi- 
cation of his people in faith and holiness. 

You will find Dialogue xvi. somewhat 
altered, and rendered, I hope, less incor. 
rect than in the former editions. It con- 
tains the genuine sentiments of my heart. 
But if they recede a hair's breadth from the 
unerring standard, if they differ in one jot 
or tittle from God's holy word, in that jot 
or tittle I most earnestly wish the world 
may not receive them, and that I myself 
may have grace to retract them. What you 
meet with that appears contrary to the 
Xoyof vytns, ctKoiltx.yyu^'o;, freely point out. 
This will please, this will profit ; and there- 
fore this will oblige, dear Sir, your affec- 
tionate friend, &c. 



OF LETTERS- 863 

P. S. — You will permit me to keep your 
manuscripts a little longer ; one of them, 
the Scriptural Chronicle, a person is tran- 
scribing. May the blessed Jesus transcribe 
his word and his image on our heart. 



*LETTER CXLL 

My poor Fellow- Sinners, — I received 
a letter from you, and should have visited 
you ; but my health is so much decayed, 
and my spirits are so exceedingly tender, 
that I could not well bear the sight of your 
confinement, your chains, and your miserable 
circumstances, as- I can hardly bear the 
thoughts of your approaching execution, and 
your extreme danger of everlajsting destruc- 
tion. But, because I cannot come in person, 
I have sent you the following lines, which I 
hope you will consider, and which I be- 
seech the God of all grace to accompany 
with his blessing. 

You have been already condemned at an 
earthly tribunal ; you are also condemned 
by the law of God, for thus it js written, 
" Cursed is every one that continueth not 
in all things that are written in the book of 
the law to do them," Gal iii. 10. If every 
violation of the divine law exposes you to 
a curse, what a multitude of curses are 
ready to fall upon your unhappy souls ! 
And remember this is not the curse of a 
mortal man, but of the great, eternal, in- 
finite God. If it was dismal to hear an 
earthly judge command you to be hanged 
by the neck till you are dead, how much 
more terrible to hear the Almighty Judge 
denounce that unalterable sentence, " De- 
part from me, ye cursed, into everlasting 
fire, prepared for the devil and his angels !" 
Matt. XXV. 41. Had you committed but 
one sin, this would have been your deserved 
doom : " The wages of sin," of every sin, 
" is death," Rom. vi. 23. How much more 
of those manifold sins and multiplied trans- 
gressions of which your consciences must 
accuse you. You are soon to suffer the 
punishment of the gallows, and you are 
liable ,to the vengeance of the most high 
God ; for thus saith the holy word, The 
wrath of God is revealed from heaven against 
all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men," 
Rom. i. 18. If against all and every in- 
stance of ungodliness, then how much more 
against your crimes, which have been of the 
most abominable and horrid kind ! " The 
wrath of God !" Tremendous word ! who 
knoweth the weight and terror of his 



* This letter was wrote from Weston-Favell to two 
condemned malefactors in Northampton gaol, (name- 
ly, James Smart and Joseph Browne) 'about the middle 
of JulyirJK 



S64 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



wratli ? At his rebuke the rocks melt hke 
waK, the earth is shaken out of its place, 
and the pillars of heaven tremble. How 
then can you endure the furiousness of his 
wrath, and the severity of his vengeance ? 
and that not for a day, a month, or a year, 
but through all the ages of eternity ! Yet 
this is the doom of " them that know not 
God, and obey not the gospel of our Lord 
Jesus Christ. They shall be punished with 
everlasting destruction, from the presence 
of the Lord, and from the glory of his 
power." What can you do in this distress- 
ed condition? What, indeed! If you had a 
thousand years to live, you could not atone 
for one offence. How then can you make 
satisfaction for millions of provocations in 
the space of a few days ? Alas ! you are 
lost, utterly lost, in yourselves irrecoverably 
. ost. May the God of all power make you 
sensible of your undone state ! sensible that 
you are upon the brink, the very brink of 
an amazing, an unfathomable downfall. Per- 
haps you may say. Is there no hope then ? 
is the door of heaven shut, and without any 
possibility of being opened to us ? Must we 
sink into unquenchable burnings ; and is 
there not so much as a twig for us to catch 
at? Yes, my poor fellow-sinners, there is 
not only a twig, but a tree, even the tree of 
life, a sure support, which if the Lord ena- 
bles you to lay hold on, you may yet, even 
yet, be saved. Oh ! beg of his wonderful 
goodness to accompany what you are going 
to read with his Holy Spirit. 

Christ, the all-glorious Son of God, 
pitied the deplorable case of such sinners. 
He not only pitied, but resolved to succour 
and relieve them. For this purpose he came 
into the world, and was made man. Nay, 
more, he came into the place, and stood in 
the stead of sinner's. Because we had 
broke the commandments of the law, he ful- 
filled them in all their perfection. Because 
we deserved the punishment of the law, he 
sustained it in its utmost extremity. He 
became poor, and had not where to lay his 
head, though heaven and earth were all his 
own. He submitted to scorn and reproach, 
though all the angels of God are bidden to 
worship him. Nay, he was condemned to 
death, the most shameful and tormenting 
death, far more shameful, and unspeakably 
more tormenting, than the death which you 
must shortly undergo. He suffered un-- 
known pangs in his body, and inconceivable 
anguish in his soul, from the indignation of 
God. In a word, he suffered all that shame, 
all that torment, all that vengeance, which 
the unnumbered sins of the whole world 
deserved. Here then is your door of hope. 
Sins are borne by Christ ; and though there 
be much iniquity, there is no condemnation 
to them who are in Christ Jesus, Rom. 



viii. 1. Wrath is borne by Christ, so that 
siimers, who deserve eternal vengeance, are 
reconciled to God, and saved from wrath 
through him, Rom. v. 9, 10. A righteous- 
ness is wrought by Christ, a perfect and 
everlasting righteousness, such as bi'ings in- 
comparably greater honour to God's law, 
than all our transgressions bring disho- 
nour. By all this, he has merited and 
obtained, a full deliverance, and a complete 
redemption. Are you not ready to cry out, 
O blessed Saviour ! O precious redemp- 
tion ! What a happiness, if we might be 
interested in this Saviour, and partake of 
this redemption !' Millions of worlds for 
such a blessing ! Yoil need not give mil- 
lions of worlds, no, nor any individual thing. 
These blessings are given freely, without 
money, and without price, without any de- 
serving qualifications in us. All that are 
justified, are justified freely through the re- 
demption that is in Christ Jesus. But we 
are sinners, vile sinners ; we have not on- 
ly nothing good, but much and grievous 
guilt. The Lord convince you of this 
more and more ! Yet remember for whom 
Christ died ; *' he died for the ungodly." 
What says St. Paul ? " In due time Christ 
died for the ungodly, Rom. v. 6." He died 
for the unjust. What says St. Peter? 
" Christ hath once suffered for sins, the 
just for the unjust," 1 Pet. iii. 18. What 
says our Lord himself? " The Son of man 
is come to save that which was lost." Are 
you not ungodly men? Are you not unjust 
persons ? Are you not lost creatures ? For 
such, even for such, the divine Jesus died. 
Wonderful love ! adorable compassion ! 
The Lord enable you to lay hold on this 
hope set before you ! Perhaps you may say, 
We are not only sinners, but the chief of 
sinners. O that you were convinced of 
this ! To be the chief of sinners makes you 
unpardonable before men ; but this is no 
difhculty with Christ, and should be no 
hinderance of your coming to Christ. 
Christ's merit and righteousness are infinite. 
They are as able to satisfy for a debt of ten 
thousand talents, as for *a debt of a single 
farthing. Hear what the Scriptures saith 
upon this subject : " This is a faithful say- 
ing, and worthy of all acceptation, that 
Christ Jesus came into the world to save 
sinners, of whom lam chief," 1 Tim. i. 15. 
He came, not to save sinners only, but the 
very chief of sinners. And he is " able to 
save them to the v^ery uttermost." But our 
sins are heinous, they have been often re- 
peated, and long continued in. What says 
the apostle ? "She blood of Jesus Christ 
cleanseth from all sin." Another apostle de- 
clares, " By him," by the divinely excellent 
Redeemer, "all that believe are justified 
from all things j" from all accusationSj be 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



they ever so numerous ; from all iniquities, 
be tiiey ever so enormous. Nay, so won- 
derfully efficacious is the power of his death, 
that, through his great atonement, sins 
which are as crimson, are made white, white 
as snow, Isa. i. 18. But will Christ vouch- 
safe his great salvation to us ? Hear his 
own words, " Him that cometh to me" 
for pardon and salvation, " I will in no 
wise cast out." Be his guilt ever so great, 
this shall be no bar. I will not on any con- 
sideration reject or deny his suit. Only let 
him come as a poor undone creature, and he 
shall find me willing and mighty to save. 
Nay, he invites you to come. These are his 
gracious words, " Come unto me, all ye 
that labour, and are heavy laden," heavy 
laden with sin and misery, " and I will give 
you rest," Matt. xi. 28. I will deliver you 
from going down into the pit ; I will de- 
liver you from the vengeance of eternal 
fire. All your sin shall be upon me, and all 
my righteousness shall be upon you. Go 
to a great man on earth, beg of him to use 
his interest in your behalf ; he would scorn 
to take notice of you. But your dear, ten- 
der, compassionate, most condescending 
Saviour, invites you to come to him, and 
assures you he will not abhor nor cast you 
out. Go to your earthly judge, entreat him 
on your bended knees to pardon you : He 
perlaaps cannot, must not : the laws forbid 
him. But it is not so with Jesus Christ : 
he has made a full satisfaction for sin ; he 
has made an infinite atonement for sin ; 
and were your sins ten thousand thousand 
times greater than they are, before the 
power of his death they would all vanish 
away ; by the washing of his blood they 
would all be as though they had never 
been. 

This then should be the one desire of 
your soids, your incessant prayer to God, 
that you may come to Christ, that you may 
believe in Christ, that you may be found in 
Christ : then you will not perish, though 
you deserve it, but have everlasting life 
through his name ; then you will have just 
the same foundation for your hope, as I must 
myself have when I shall depart this life. 
When I shall be summoned to the great 
tribunal, what will be my plea, what my de- 
pendence ? Nothing but Christ ! Christ, 
would I say, has been wounded for my sins, 
therefore they will not be punished in me. 
Christ has fuliilled all righteousness in my 
stead, therefore I trust to be justified when 
I am judged. 1 am a poor unworthy sin- 
ner ; but worthy is the Lamb that was 
slain, worthy is the Lamb that was slain, 
for whose sake I shall receive both pardon- 
ing mercy, and everlasting glory. This is 
my only hope, and this is as free for you as 
it is for your friend and fellow-sinner, &c- 

P,S. — What I have u'ritten, 1 shall beg 



of God to bless ; and will attend you wi 
my prayers, though I cannot visit you in 
person. 



LETTER CXLH. 

Weston-Favell, Sept. 10, 1755. 

My dear Friend, — You may justly 
wonder that I have not acknowledged the 
favour of your last, long before this. Do 
me the justice to believe, that this is not 
owing to the least disesteem of your cor- 
respondence, or any insensibility of your 
kindness. I hope my heart is, though sadly 
depraved, yet sincerely grateful ; and I am 
sure, I esteem your letters as treasures. 
Though I destroy almost all I receive, 
every one of yours is preserved. Let me, 
therefore, earnestly beg that you will not 
follow ray example, but suffer your letters 
to be much more speedy in their arrival 
than mine. You would more easily excuse 
me if you knew me. The grasshopper is a 
burden to me. Every blast blows me 
doMTi, or my continual indisposition and 
inconceivable languors pierce through me. 
I now hang a swelled face over my paper ; 
occasioned only by taking the air yesterday 
in m.y chair, and finding a sharper atmos- 
phere than for many weeks I had been ac- 
customed to. Pray for me, dear sir, that, 
established in Christ, and strong in his 
faith, I may be looking for, and hasten to 
the coming of the day of God ; when this 
poor, enervated, crazy body, will (to the 
everlasting glory of free grace) be made 
like unto Christ's glorious body. 

I live with my mother and sister. Our 
method is, every morning at nine, when we 
breakfast, to read a verse or two from the 
Bible, and make it the subject of our con- 
versation. The other day, we were reading 
in Psalm Ixxxiv. 4. Immediately a doubt 
arose in my mind, how the fact, which is 
here affirmed, could possibly happen. 
Could the sparrows and swallows build 
their nests, lay their eggs, and hatch tlieir 
young, on God's altar, which was every 
morning and eveising statedly, .and 1 sup- 
pose many other times in the day occasion- 
ally, surrounded by crou ds of worshippers, 
on which the sacred fire was constantly 
burning, and which was in a manner co- 
vered with flame and smoke, whenever the 
sacrifices were offered. Now to have birds 
lay aside all their fear of man, their greater 
dread of fire, and make such an altar their 
house, is strange, is scarce credible, and 
must, if true, be miraculous. Consulting 
Houbigant, I find he was sensible of the 
difficulty, and solves it, not from any rna- 
nuseript, but from his own invention, thus : 
" Nos vero, ne oratio trunca maneat, sup- 
3 K 



866 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



plemus ante hsec duo verba, Ego vero 
quando tandem, tacito verbo, adero ad, 
quod solet reticeri." 

I have met with other bold strokes in 
this commentator, which I want to submit 
to your examination. But these let me 
postpone, in order to desire your opinion 
concerning the plan of my new work; 
which, with a weak hand and a desponding 
heart, I have sketched out, determined to 
try, (though with very little hope of being 
enabled to execute), resting satisfied in this 
persuasion, that the issue of things is in 
the hand of the Lord, and he will frustrate 
or accomplish, as he knows to be most ex- 
pedient. 

The Plan of the Supplement to Theron and 
Aspasio. 

Pleasure and happiness of Christ's re- 
ligion ; (for I am of the same mind with 
Mr.. Marshall in his Treatise on Sanctifica- 
tion, namely, that we must partake of the 
comforts of the gospel, before we can prac- 
tise the duties of the law.) Theron op- 
pressed with fears, on account of his nume- 
rous sins. Discouraged with doubts, on 
account of his imperfect obedience. The 
cordials of the gospel re-administered, with 
some additional spirit and strength. Ob- 
jections to assurance of faith, stated, dis- 
cussed, answered. Vital holiness ; its na- 
ture, necessity, excellency. Its grand effi- 
cient, the blessed Spirit. Its principal in- 
strument, true faith ; mixed with which, 
the Scriptures, the Lord's supper, prayer, 
the divine pi'omises, are powerful and effec- 
tual means ; disunited from which, they 
areadead letter and insignificant ordinances. 
The evangelical principles of holiness, such 
as, " I beseech you by the mercies of God 
— Ye are bought with a price — Ye are the 
temples of the living God," &c. ; all these 
privileges, though not hereditary, yet inde- 
feasible ; or the final perseverance of the 
believer. Our friends part ; renew their 
correspondence ; Theron desires to glorify 
the God of his salvation, asks advice con- 
corning the best method of family worship, 
educating children, instructing servants, 
edifying acquaintance. On each of these 
particulars Aspasio satisfies his inquiry, 
enlarges on the subject of education, espe- 
cially of daughters ; as that seems to be 
most neglected, or the proper way of con- 
ducting it least understood. Letter on the 
covenant of grace, comprising the substance, 
and being a kind of recapitulation of the 
three foregoing volumes. Aspasio seized 
with a sudden and fatal illness ; his senti- 
ments and behaviour in his last moments. 

If, dear sir, you see any thing in this plan 
that is improper, correct it ; any ihing that 
is defective, supply it ; and if any thoughts 
occur on any of the topics, be so kind as to 



suggest them. Pray have you ever seen' a 
book, lately presented to me, and entitled, 
The Marrow of Modern Divinity, with 
notes by Mr. Boston? If you have seen 
it, you will not dsny me the satisfaction of 
knowing your sentiments concerning it. 
Yesterdav a learned minister (a stranger) 
called upon me, and, among other subjects, 
we talked of that remarkable passage in 
Isaiah, " She hath received of the Lord's 
hand double for all her sins." What do 
you think is the exact meaning of the pro- 
phet? " Gekelim" is a peculiar word 
Houbigant translates the clause, *' Post- 
quam pro peccatis suis multis dedit Domino 
duplices poenas ;" and supposes the two 
captivities, Assyrian and Roman, to be the 
double pimishment. My pious visitant 
referred it to the satisfaction made by Jesus 
Christ. I objected, that God, not the 
church, received this. To which he replied, 
That the church receives the benefit of the 
satisfaction ; and the expression might be 
synecdochical, the thing purchased for the 
thing purchasing. This interpretation, I 
fancy, would have been clearer and less 
exceptionable, if he had used the word 
punishment, instead of satisfaction. Then, 
as Christ and the church are one, his suffer- 
ings might be called hers, and his righteous- 
ness is reckoned hers. Vitringa gives a 
future signification to the verb "lakethe 
She shall receive, not double punishment, 
but double blessings, agreeably to that doc- 
trine taught by St. Paul, " Where sin hath 
abounded, grace shall much more abound." 
I shall be glad of your opinion on this 
point ; glad of your assistance in my pur- 
posed work ; and, above all, glad of your 
fervent prayers for, dear sir, your obliged 
and faithful friend. 



LETTER CXLIIL 

Friday evening. 
My dear Friend, — As to the matter of 
defending me, I think non est tanti. I am 
ten thousand times more for your conversing 
like a Christian on every occasion. Take all 
proper opportunities of glorifying your divine 
Master, and be spreading abroad the savour 
of his blessed name. It would bring dig- 
nity to your character, I am persuaded, and 
would command reverence even from gain- 
sayers, if you was sometimes to make a 
frank declaration on this head, and act ac- 
cordingly. Do not scruple to bid yom- pa- 
tients seek to God for a blessing ; when 
they are recovered, remind them of their 
obligations to the Almighty Physician : 
they are restored to health, not for the poor 
purposes of eating and drinking a little 
more, but to acquaint themselves with 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS; 



867 



Christ Jesus, to prepare for eternity, and 
make their salvation sure. This would be 
truly graceful, might do much good ; and 
should any one find fault with this practice, 
he must not pretend to the piety of a 
Christian ; he has not the religion of a 
heathen. Such a one should remember the 
conduct, and consider the sentiments of 
your brother lapis. 

Non hffic humanis opibus, non arte magistra 
Proveniunt ; neque te ^nea, mea dextera servat ; 
Major agit Deus, atque.opera ad majora remittit. 

ViRG. Ma. lib. xii. 

No mortaUwork is this ; no cure of minej; 
Not art's efiFect, but done by hands divine ; 
'Tis God ^neas to the battle sends ; 
'Tis God preserves his life for greater ends. 

Thanks for your advice about what I 
recommended to your consideration, and 
about my own health : God has been better 
to me than my apprehensive heart expected. 
O that, so long as I have breath, it may be 
employed to his honour, who forgiveth all 
our sins, and healeth all our infirmities, and 
when he heals them not, will make them a 
blessing. 

Do, my dear friend, persist, in a prudent 
way, to bear your testimony for a Master, 
who has bought you with his very life, and 
intends to make you partaker of his ever- 
lasting kingdom. If this does you or yours 
any real harm, reproach me with it when 
we shall both stand in the presence of the 
vi^hole world, and before the tribunal of our 
Judge Ever yours, while, &c. 

F. S. — You tell me, that " your busi- 
ness has lain so wide, and you have been 
so much hurried this sickly time, that you 
have scarcely had a quarter of an hour to 
yourself for these last three weeks." O, 
my dear friend ! how much soever you may 
be hurried by the distance and the multi- 
plicity of yom- avocations, do not forget to 
pray for that vv^isdom which is profitable 
(or useful) to direct us (Eccl. x. 10.) even 
in the smallest mattters, much more in all 
great and weighty affairs. You who move 
in so conspicuous a sphere, so large a field 
of action, must have very particular occa- 
sion, very pressing necessity for divine 
direction ; and therefore that important 
ejaculation, Direct me, O Lord, should 
ever be uppermost in your thoughts. " Take 
ye heed, watch and pray ; this is the kind 
admonition of the blessed Jesus, who well 
knows the human frame, and sees how very 
liable we are to be drawn aside by a variety 
of temptations with which we are daily sur- 
rounded. 



LETTER CXLIV. 

Dear Sir, — As the interval between 
the hour of om* dissolution, and the day of 



resurrection, will, in all probability, be very 
considerable, much longer than the time of 
our continuance on earth ; it is a very rea- 
sonable and important inquiry to examine 
into the circumstances of this state. The 
Scripture, our infallible director, which is 
(so copious upon all the grand articles of 
religion, and) silent upon nothing that re- 
lates to the true happiness of mankind, has 
not left us \vithout information in this par- 
ticular : Whereas all other writers grope 
in the dark ; not one of them has been able 
to draw back the curtain, or give us (any) 
the least insight into the invisible world ; 
it is to them, and in all their systems, an 
absolute terra incognita. A few of the 
scriptural discoveries may be seen in the 
answer to the follovvTing queries. 

\st, When the souls, the souls of the 
righteous, depart from the body, by whom 
are they received ? By holy angels. The 
angels were ministering spirits to them in 
the days of their flesh, and wiU be their 
^uard and their convoy when they relinquish 
the earthly tabernacle. When Lazarus died, 
he was carried by angels. What a com- 
fortable privilege is this ! not to be left 
solitary and desolate, like a shipwrecked 
mariner on some unknown coast; but to be 
under the guidance and protection of those 
benevolent beings ! 

2(Ei/, In what place are they lodged? 
This is described, not from om- ideas ot 
locality, or any properties of space, but 
from the society and enjoyments. It is 
not very material whether they are above 
or below, in the heaven of heavens (which, 
I think, is most probable) or in some sepa- 
rate mansion. A disembodied spirit, if 
under the wrath of God, must eveiywhere 
be extremely miserable ; if surrounded with 
his favour, will everywhere be exceedingly 
happy. To such a spirit, that has no longer 
any connexion with sensible things, God's 
smile must be heaven, God's frown must 
be hell. Wherever this region lies, we 
are sure it lies under the beams of the Sun 
of Righteousness ; Chiist is there, and 
where he is present, happiness cannot be 
absent. " Thou shalt be with me," is his 
promise to the penitent thief. Abraham is 
there, the friend of God, and the father of 
the faithful. Lazarus, we are told, was 
carried into Abraham's bosom ; and where 
he resides, where all the children of God 
and heirs of glory dwell, there must be 
pleasures ; such pleasures, that the place is 
called paradise ; " Thou shalt be with me 
in paradise." The delightfid garden of 
Eden, which the Lord himself planted, and 
which innocent man inhabited, was incom- 
parably the finest, noblest spot in this sub- 
lunaiy world ; and this is used to give us 
some faint representation of those blessed 
abodes, where the souls and spirits of the 



868 A COLLECTION 

righteous remain till the shout of the arch- 
angel and the trump of God summon them. 

Sdly^ How soon are they lodged in this 
desirable situation ? Without delay. I find 
no mention of any intermediate purgation, 
or of any period for inactivity and forget- 
fidness : " To-day shalt thou be with me," 
is our Lord's expression ; and it is observ- 
able, that the Jewish day was very near 
closing, when our Saviour gave up the 
ghost ; nearer still when that converted 
malefactor expired. " T have a desire to 
be dissolved," says St. Paul, " and to be 
v/ith Christ he speaks of his release from 
clay, and his introduction into the Redeem- 
er's presence, as instantaneous. No sooner 
does the former commence, but the latter 
takes place. What an encouragement is 
this to fight the good fight of faith, and 
finish our course with alacrity and diligence, 
since we are not to wait in wishful but dis- 
appointed expectation ! No, the very mo- 
ment our warfare is accomplished, our re- 
ward begins! Which reminds me of an- 
other inquiry. 

Athly, What is the condition of holy 
souls, in this separate state ? 

L They rest from their labours; from 
all the disorders that afflicted their bodies, 
from all the temptations that disquieted 
their souls. They are no longer ridiculed 
and persecuted by ungodly men. They 
havent) mjTe confiict with the powers of 
darkness and their own corruptions ; sin 
and sorrow cease eternally. They are freed, 
entirely freed, from every evil. 

2. They enter into peace. They have 
then peace with God, peace in their own 
thoughts, peace with fellow-saints, which 
passeth all understanding. Peace implies 
a positive happiness. Peace, in the Scrip- 
tural language, denotes all manner of bless- 
ing, and such is its import in the preceding 
passage. In this large extent will it be 
made good to the righteous. When they 
relinquish the earthly tabernacle, the scales 
of ignorance fall from their understandings ; 
their will is wonderfully conformed to 
Christ's I every weight drops off from their 
affections ; and their holiness is exceedingly 
confirmed. They are honoured with nearer 
approaches to God, they are favoured with 
clearer manifestations of his glory, they feel 
richer emanations of his love, and are more 
and more transformed into his image ; 
every doubt vanishes, and they rejoice in 
the prospect, the assured and refreshing 
prospect of receiving all the fulness of their 
everlasting felicity. 1 said fulness ; for 
though the felicity of the soul upon its dis - 
mission from mortality is great, is high, is 
to us inconceivable; yet it will not be com- 
plete till the body is reunited to it, reani- 
mated by it. i hen that will not only be 
rescued from corruption, but made like unto 



OF LETTERS. 

Christ's glorious body, will be dignified with 
divine approbation, and that before the 
largest assembly of men and angels ; they 
will receive a crown of righteousness ; they 
will sit on thrones, and judge the apostate 
angels ; they will then possess the kingdom 
prepared for them from the foundation of 
the world. 

What is said of the righteous may lead 
us to some proper coficeptions with regard 
to the wicked and their state ; the one is 
the reverse of the other : as they were quite 
dissimilar in their life, in their death they 
are equally different. If the righteous are 
committed to the care of benevolent angels, 
the wicked, it is very probable, are aban- 
doned to the insults and rage of malevolent 
spirits. If the righteous are admitted jnto 
mansions of bliss, the wicked are consigned 
over to the places of horror and torment, 
where is all the misery which is expressed 
by weeping and wailing ; all that self-con- 
demnation and anguish, which is expressed 
by gnashing of teeth. If the righteous en- 
joy the calm of uninterrupted tranquillity, 
and the light of perpetual sunshine, the 
wicked are reserved in chains of darkness 
unto the judgment of the great day ; wear- 
ied by their own ungovernable passions, 
stimg by eager but unsatisfied desires, 
haunted by a stern upbraiding conscience. 
In a word, while the righteous are looking 
for that blessed hope, and the glorious ap- 
pearing of the great God, and their Saviour 
Jesus Christ ; they are trembling under the 
dismal apprehensions of that dreadful day, 
when Jesus Christ shall be revealed in 
flaming fire. 

I add only a remark on that text of St. 
John, to which we are so much obliged in 
this inquiry, " Blessed are the dead which 
die in fthe Lord," &c. The Lord must 
certainly signify the Lord Jesus Christ. 
To die in him, must, I think, imply dying 
in his faith, so as to be one with him ; in- 
terested in his mercy, renewed by his Spi- 
rit, and conformed in some prevailing de* 
gree to '^his image. May this be the state 
of our souls, while we five here, and when 
we depart hence. Then that will be ful- 
filled, to our unspeakable and eternal com- 
fort, which is spoken by another apostle, 
" To me to live is Christ, and to die is 
gain." I am, dear sir, yours sincerely. 



LETTER CXLV. 

Weston, Saturday morning. 
My dear FniEND, — I thought of you in 
a particular manner on Thursday, being the 
sad anniversary on which your late excellent 
lady resigned this life ; and at the same 
time I thought on those tender lines, 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



F69 



jamque aies, ni fallor, adest ; quem semper acerbum, 
fciemper honoratum, sic Dii voluistis, habebo.* 

Virg. Mn. lib. v. 

I cannot but take notice of the wisdom and 
piety of my favourite poet ; he teaches his 
hero to resolve all afflictive and dark dispen- 
sations into the gracious will of God, and to 
derive his consolation from this belief. 
Sic Dii voluistis, is a sort of imitation of the 
good old priest Eli, " It is the Lord, let 
him do what seemeth him good." It is not 
much unlike the exemplary acknowledgment 
of the patriarch Job, *' The Lord gave, and 
the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the 
name of the Lord !" 

I am thankful for your present of Vani- 
erii prcedium Rusticum. It is a very beauti- 
ful piece : uni Virgilio secundus ; the most 
elegant and correct Latin composition that 
I have met with among the moderns. 

I have no fault to find, and no alteration 
to offer, with regard to the little tract that 
you submit to my correction. But what 
shall I say to my dear friend himself ? Oh 
tvhat opportunities of doing good, substan- 
tial and immortal good, do you lose, do you 
squander away ! Opportunities, that are 
flying from you upon the swiftest wings of 
time ; and when once gone, are never to be 
recovered. I do not so much as think of 
your neglecting business ; but do let the 
world see, that business may be managed, 
great business managed, and yet Christ and 
eternal ages not forgot. Let men see, that 
the comforts of Christianity, the privileges 
of the gospel, are so truly delightful, as to 
be the most effectual sovereign refreshment 
under the fatigues of a burdensome employ. 
Thus doing, you would be a credit and high 
recommendation to religion ; and blessed 
would you be, if your Master, when he 
Cometh, should find you so doing. You 
will excuse my freedom ; and in return, I 
will not cease to pray, that the "love of 
Christ may constrain you," 2 Cor. v. 14. 
I am, &c. 



LETTER CXLVL 

Tuesday morning. 
My dear Friend, — Well might Dr. 
Doddridge say, " that in Saurin's sermons, 
the excellencies of Demosthenes and Cicero 
were united." Never did I meet with any 
thing equal to the passages which the Doc- 
tor was so obliging as to translate, purpose- 
ly to give me some ideas of this celebrated 
writer. He seems to have understood the 
gospel well, and all the powers of oratory 



* The English of which is, " Now the day, if I 
mistake not, is at hand, which (such has been the 
will of Heaven) I shall always account a day of sor- 
row, a day to be honoured." 



were combined in him. 1 dare say he 
preached from his heart, and the grace of 
God accompanied his words. If I have 
been so much affected, merely by this de- 
sultory translation, how much more should 
I be transported, was I (like you) sufficient- 
ly skilled in the French language to read the 
original itself! Saurin, it seems, was a 
Protestant; and I am told, that in Hol- 
land, where he exercised his ministry, the 
streets were so crowded for several hours 
before the service began, that it was very 
difficult to gain admission. Is it not aston- 
ishing, that the sermons of so popular a 
preacher, and so eminent a writer, should 
not as yet have been put into an English 
dress ? But this I presume is owing to 
the difficulty of doing justice to an author 
of his extraordinary genius. I am well 
aware, that few are equal to such an under- 
taking ; but if there v^^as a [spirited transla- 
tion of these animating sermons, published 
in weekly numbers, they would be well re- 
ceived, and might, through the divine bless- 
ing, be the means of doing much good to 
the community. 

I have been enabled, blessed for ever be 
God ! to perform my office, and preach to 
a crowded congregation. " Jesus said the 
third time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou 
me ?" was the text. O that it may be the 
power of God to the salvation of the hear- 
ers ! I hope, my disorder in my head, and 
pain in my teeth, are not increased, though 
I felt the cold air breathe upon my face ; 
for the church was so thronged, that it was 
not practicable to shut the door. O for 
faith in the Almighty Guardian, the Al- 
mighty Physician ! 

This, I presume, will find you safely re- 
turned from London to your own habitation ; 
but though come back to your resting-place, 
yet more and more sensible that we are but 
strangers and pilgrims on the earth. 

I hope ere long to see you at Weston ; 
for I can assure you, my dear sir, that 
amongst the many, many friends that dearly 
love you, no one can have a more affection- 
ate regard for you than, yours unalterably, 
&c. 



LETTER CXLVIL 

Sept. 25, 1755. ~ 
Dear Sir, — I lately received a letter 

from my very valuable friend Mr. , an 

extract of which I here transcribe, as he 
has made some just remarks on Mr. Burn- 
ham's blamable behaviour, in refusing the 
help of a physician. I believe you can an- 
swer for me, that I shall never be guilty of 
that fault ! as I think altogether with the 
wise son of Sirach, that " the Lord hath 



870 A COLLECTION 

created the physician, and that such are to 
be regarded for the uses we may have of 
them. The Lord likewise hath created 
medicines out of the earth, and he that is 
wise will not abhor them," Eccl'us. xxxviii. 

" I have," says my correspondent, " been 
reading Burnham's Pious Memorials, as it 
was published with a recommendatory pre- 
face by you, in behalf of his distressed wi- 
dow. The dying behaviour of Dr. An- 
drew Rivet, page 212, and Dr. Peter du 
Moulin, page 263, charms me exceedingly. 
Every word has its weight, and shines like 
a well- set diamond hi a ring ; or, as Solo- 
mon expresses it, like an apple of gold in a 
picture of silver. Mr. Burnham was un- 
doubtedly an excellent man, but he does 
not seem to come up to these in divine 
knowledge. Methinks I do not so well 
approve of his refusing the help of a phy- 
sician, page 431, and the slight with which 
he treated such a proposal. It does indeed 
shew, that he lived quite above the fear of 
death ; but at the same time it shews great 
weakness of mind. Life and health are 
mercies in the esteem of Heaven ; and the 
dying Christian ought to esteem every thing 
as God esteems it. Suppose such a one 
desires to die, yet still he ought to use 
every lawful means to live, to make the 
will of God his own, and to be willing to 
continue even out of heaven, as long as his 
heavenly Father pleases. The same we£:4j:- 
ness of mind appears in his desiring his 
friends not to pray for his life, and in his 
being sorry that they made so much ado, 
page 433. Had he requested them to pray 
for him importunately, yet in humble sub- 
mission to the will of God, and to be sure 
to acquiesce in it, whether for life or death, 
methinks it had been better. An earnest 
desire of a speedy dissolution has led some 
pious martyrs, and some dying Christians 
too, into a mistake, which it is proper to 
take notice of, but more proper to avoid." 

How do you approve of the following 
method, in conversing with the survivors 
after the loss of a dear child or friend ? It 
is merely a sketch ; yet a due regularity is 
preserved by the three divisions ; and some 
of the heads in each division are to be en- 
larged upon or omitted, and others added 
occasionally. The use of such sketches 
may be seen in the Preface to Mr. Rich- 
ard's " Hints for Religious Conversation 
with the Afflicted ;" whose plan, though 
some of his hints are not sufficiently adapt- 
ed to the case described, I highly approve ; 
as it cannot but be serviceable to every 
Christian who is desirous of entering into 
spiritual discourse ; and more particularly 
to young clergymen, who would do well to 
transcribe, study, and improve those hints ; 
as they are too often at a loss how to ex- 
hort, admonish, or comfort, as various dis- 1 



OF LETTERS. 

positions and circumstances require. Wb( 
you send me your opinion, m.ake such alter- 
ations as occur to you. 

The Consolation. 
It is God's will ; who still continues 

many comforts to us. 
His will always wise, good, best. 
We are his creatures. He has a right to 

us, as we have to our cattle or lands. 
It is the Lord's ' doing. This was the 

support of Eli, Job, Hezekiah. 

Tlie Improvement. 

" For us men sicken, and for us they 
die." (Dr. Young's Night Thoughts.) 

To wean our hearts from the world. 

To set our affections there where true 
joys are to be found. 

To excite us with greater diligence to pre- 
pare for our own great change. 

Our own Preparation. 
The only preparation is to secure the fa- 
vour of Christ, and an"^ interest in his 
merits, by which we are pardoned and 
justified. 

A participation of the Spirit of Christ, by 
which we are made fit for heaven. 

I hope you remember, not without a 
pleasing mixture of gratitude and joy, your 
divine, yet bleeding Lord. I hope you feel 
a more comfortable trust, that your sins 
are done away through that all-atoning 
blood ; and that you pray wdth a more 
steady faith for that most blessed Spirit, 
which was sealed to our enjoyment in the 
holy sacrament, of which we were so lately 
partakers. 

I desire you would enter into some spiri- 
tual conversation with the bearer, whom I 
have recommended to you ; you will then 
see the more than rocky hardness of the 
human heart, and the absolute need of 
prayer and almighty grace, in order to make 
it susceptible of saving impressions. I 
dare say you will draw several useful con- 
clusions from this interview, though your 
attempts for his benefit I fear will prove 
ineffectual. 

A gentleman yesterday told a story, well 
attested, which you will be pleased to hear, 
as it shows in a very strong light the use 
of those passages of Scripture which the 
unthinking are too apt to consider as use- 
less. A certain libertine, of a most aban- 
doned character, happened accidentally to 
stroll into a church, where he heard the 
fifth chapter of Genesis, importing that so 
long lived such and such persons, and yet 
the conclusion was, they died. Enos lived 
905 years, and he died ; Seth 912, and he 
died ; Methuselah 969, and he died. The 

i frequent repetition of the words he died, 
(notwithstanding the great length of years 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



871 



they had lived,) struck him so deeply with 
the thought of death and eternity, that it 
changed his whole frame. He attended 
the remaining part of the divine service 
with the utmost seriousness ; went home, 
and prayed earnestly to God for forgiveness, 
and the assistance of his Holy Spirit ; and 
became, from an infamous libertine, a most 
exemplary Christian. By this chapter we 
see, how soon youth, health, and all world- 
ly delights must end. This, to a worldly- 
minded man, casts a damp upon all these 
desirable things ; but to a soul acquainted 
with Christ, and an affection removed from 
hence already, no thought is so sweet as 
this. Enos died, Seth died, Methuselah 
died, and (blessed be God for the privilege 
of death) so shall I. It helps much to 
carry us cheerfully through wrestlings and 
difficulties, through better and worse. We 
see the land of promise near. We shall 
quickly pass Jordan, and ^ be at home- 
There will be an end of the many vexations 
of this life, an end of sin, an end of tempt- 
ations, nay, an end of prayer itself; to 
which will succeed new songs of endless 
praises. Oh, let us often reflect on what 
St. Peter advances, " The end of all things 
is, therefore, at hand ; be ye sober, and 
watch unto prayer," 1 Pet. iv. 7. 

I hope you will well weigh this, and in- 
troduce spiritual discourse whenever a fair 
opportunity presents. Set your face as a 
flint amongst the great. Establish your 
heart as a rock ; and let nothiug, nothing 
divert you from furthering the interest of 
Christ, wherever you yourself have any in- 
terest. It is like plunging into cold water 
perhaps at first, but afterwards comes a 
glow all over you. Remember what I now 
say, should you live thirty or forty years 
longer, yet when you come to die, take my 
word for it, you vi'ill vvish you had con- 
versed more on and for Christ. 

I am satisfied from the sacred oracles, as 
clear as light, concerning the origin of evil. 
And if any one, without having recourse to 
revelation, can satisfactorily solve that 
question, erit mihi magnus Apollo. My 
dear friend, let the word of Christ dwell in 
us richly. 

Thanks for the use of Wharton's and 
Pitt's Virgil. All the Syrens sing in 
his lines, but the joyful sound is no- 
where heard. Was the ear of our soul 
tuned aright, there would be more music in 
this one sentence from the King of heaven, 
*' I have called you friends," (John xv. 15.) 
than in aU the Iliad and all the MweiA. 
I am ever and affectionately yours, &c. 



LETTER CXLVIH. 

Weston-Favell, Sept. 20, 1755. 
Dear Sir, — You threaten to put my 
patience to the trial, by a very long letter 
of scriptural criticisms. I shall only reply, 

that my patience may support all other 
trials with the same complacency and cheer- 
fulness, as I am persuaded it will support 
itself under this ! Your observations 1 
very much value, and take a singular plea- 
sure in reading. The Lord Jesus enable 
you to multiply them, and me to profit from 
them ! and help us both to love his holy 
name, ever more and more ! 

I am entirely of your opinion with 
regard to the worth, the inestimable worth, 
of the present life ; especially when there 
is a comfortable prospect of being useful in 
our generation. This state affords the only 
opportunity of doing good to immortal 
souls. The dead serve not their Lord in 
the work of the gospel. The living, the 
living only, are intrusted with the precious 
office of turning sinners from darkness to 
light ; therefore the living should value this 
distinguished prerogative at a high rate. 
Perhaps you think that I was the writer 
of Mr. Burnham's life. From a question 
proposed to me very lately by a clergyman, 

1 fancy that others think the same ;* but 
I neither was the author, nor do I know 
the author's name. 

I have sent you the third edition of The- 
ron and Aspasio ; you will observe, that I 
have made some alteration in Dialogue xvi. 
and that I still adhere to my first opinion 
with regard to faith. I assure myself you 
can bear with me, though I should continue, 
in this particular point, to vary somewhat 
from your way of thinking. I shall be 
truly glad and thankful, if you will examine 
me with the rigour of a critic, and muster 
up against my doctrine the strongest ob- 
jections you can conceive ; for I do earnestly 
wish, and frequently pray, that not any no- 
tion of mine, but the holy truth of God 
may prevail. You will also observe, what 
advantage I have made of your remark on 
Vitringa's interpretation of Isaiah xxx. 18. 

I shall expect your animadversions on 
Mr. Marshall with eagerness ; and though 
he is my counsellor, my comforter, and my 
favourite, I trust I shall not be blind to his 
faults, nor refuse to see his mistakes. May 
the wisdom of Heaven guide, direct, and 
teach, dear sir, your affectionate and oblig- 
ed friend, &c. 



* Mr. Hervey was solicited to v/rite the preface 
Burnham's Pious Memorials, which he complied 
with as an act of compassion to the widow, who 
thought his name might promote the sale of the 
book for her benefit, bee this preface, p. T W. 



872 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



LETTER CXLIX. 

Weston-Favell, Oct 23, 1755. 

Mv DEAR Friend. — I have received, and 
am very much obliged for your remarks on 
Mr. Marshall's treatise of Sanctification. 
They are truly judicious ; and several of 
them command my assent. You will won- 
der to see, how strongly I have recom- 
mended this book in the second volume of 
my Theron and Aspasio. It has been emi- 
nently blessed to my own soul : there is no 
religious treatise I read, which does me 
moi'e good. Pray be so kind as to execute 
what you proposed. Shew me how Mr. 
Marshall's method may be improved ; for 
I would gladly tread in his steps, on this 
account, as well as on others, that I may 
have an opportunity of acknowledging his 
mistakes, and cautioning my reader. 

Downhame's Christian Warfare, against 
the devil, the world, and the ilesh, I will 
immediately endeavour to procure. I should 
be glad if you would point out other excel- 
lent books. I am sometimes asked to give 
a friend or a student a catalogue of the most 
excellent authors, (particularly of religious 
authors). To do this, seems to be a valu- 
able piece of service, especially as it is so 
unhappily neglected by the conductors of 
our youthful studies. 

Youi- last paragraph is particularly kind 
and obliging ; but however your benevo- 
lence may regard and represent it, I shall 
always esteem and acknowledge it as a 
singular favour to receive your critical ob- 
servations ; in which, as in the threads 
made of silk and gold, there is always a 
most agreeable mixture of learning and 
devotion. 

Pray v/hat do you apprehend to be the 
meaning of St. Paul, 1 Cor. ix. 26. as 
atnXas. Dr. Doddridge translates the passage 
thus : " Not as one who is to pass undis- 
tinguished." In the same chapter, verse 23, 
another difficulty occurs, ivos aufkotvuvos avrs 
yivwizdi. I'Cor. xii. 31. Z'/^X^n'Ss Ta,^a^KTy.cc]a 
Tct K^itlrova, Dr. Doddridge understands as a 
reprehension> not as an encouragement. He 
translates the words, " Ye contend earnestly 
about the best gifts ;" and interprets the 
clause, " envying, and, it may be, detract- 
ing from the superior endowments of 
others." Is this right? See chap, xiv. 1. 
I am at some loss to make out the pro- 
priety of Ta '/ifiit/v ^(t^oyctifov, Col. ii. 14. 
How is the hand- writing of ordinances said 
to be contrary to us ? The ceremonial 
law, which I suppose is meant by loyf/.a.ffiv, 
was not contrary to, but promotive of the 
comfort and peace of the Jewish worship- 
pers. The moral law indeed spoke terror, 
and nothing but terror, to impotent man. 
But the law of sacrifices and washings 



brought the glad tidings of atonement and 
purification, which must be very consola- 
tory. What is the precise signification of 
i^a.Xii'i^a.s, '/i^ftiv ■z7^otn]>^M(ra,s ? Do they refer 
to any usages customary and current in 
those times ? 

Let me now submit to your examination, 
a very singular criticism or two of Father 
Houbigant's. On Isa. ii. 22, he says, " Non 
dubitamus, quin fuerit olim scriptum, ' hua 
NESHEB BENEMAH BU,' Nam altitudinem flatu 
dejicit. Homo, cujus spiritKS est in naribus 
ejus, est ipse filius hominis, Messias, de 
quo in toto hoc capite vaticinatur Jesaias. 
Quern Messiam Judsei, nisi violare timent, 
monet eos non impune laturos. Quia Mes- 
sias, homo factus, volvit naribus ventos et 
tempestates, qiiibus ipsorum et urbem et 
rempublicam sit eversm-us." Again, chap, 
iii. 10, he says, " * amodu zadok Pleri- 
que, post Vulgatum, dicite justo, qua in- 
terpretatione peccant dupliciter. Nam 1. 
legitur ' ZADOK,' justus vel justum, non 
' LEZADOK,' justo. 2. Parum ad rem tcr- 
ribilibus minis, quse antecesserunt et quae 
sequuntur, interseritur iste sermo ad justum 
habitus. Nobis satis est * aseku' pro 
' atedu.' Nemque erat futurum, ut Judsei 
justum ligarent, Romanisque vinctum tra- 
derent ." His version is, " AUigant justum, 
qui bonus est." You will begin to think 
that our author is extremely fond of the 
spiritual sense, and desirous to find Chi'ist 
or Christian sentiments in every place. 
But he is seldom (however it has happened 
in the aforecited texts) liable to err on this 
side of the question. Hear what he re- 
marks on Isa. xxxiii. 24. " ' Oin jjethnes 
HAHUNESHEB TOM HELAH.' Agitur prseda 
exercitus Assyriorum, post eorum fugam, 
dividenda inter eos, qui vicinis in locis ha- 
bitant. Nihil ad eam prsedam iniquitas : 
Nihil etiam ad antedicta, qm habitat in ea. 
Nam ea, de qua habitatione dicatm-, nesci- 
tur. Nihil denique ad rem * Ti hel,' aegar 
sum. Non promiserat Deus, nullos fore 
in regione segrotos, aut in lecto jacentes 
tum, cum dividenda esset prseda. Sed 
omnia plana et commoda erunt, si pro 
' heleth' legas * belithi,' prohibitus 
sum ; si pro ' beth bem,' in eis, si denique 
pro ' oin' legas ' oden,' praedam suam, 

' KESHA KOM HASHEB DOM KOLIAH SHEBEN 

lASEK LEKUBEL.' Nou dicet vicinus, prohi- 
bitus sum ; populus qui habitabit apud eos, 
toilet praedam suam. Quibus verbis prae- 
nunciatur, praedam de Assyriis fore tantam, 
ut omnes licentiam habituri sint praedandi, 
et abducendi domum praedas suas." 

Hos. vi. 3. " ' UBEDOH' et cognosca- 
mus. Parum commode cognoscamus, ubi 
sequitur, et persequamur cognitionem. 
Propterea non dubitamus, quin Osee scrip- 
serit ' REKuoDAH' et conveniamus, ut deinde 
apte veniat, et sequarnur, sive curramus ad 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



873 



cognoscendum Dominum." The next verse 
he thus translates : " Quid faciam tibi, 
Ephraim, quid faciam tibi Juda, ut adsit 
vobis misericordia, velut matutina nubes, et 
ut res quae mane eifunditur ? Certe ego, 
quod volui, feci prophetis tuis ; interfeci 
eos per verba oris mei, et ex judiciis de te 
meis lux orietur." He changes ' hobetu' 
into ' HESOTU.' 

I was not a little puzzled about Jer. 
xviii. 1 4. Houbigant, according to his cus- 
tom, first alters, then interprets ; thus he 
would read the passage : " ' Udemu kedos 

MOM UJ3MESHON AM LEBBANON SHUDSHELEG 

TOSEK TOZEB GUZELUM.' An deserit calx 
paetram, vel nix Libanum ? An relinquant 
aquae scaturientes defluxus currentium aqua- 
rum ?" 

When you have leisure and inclination 
for critical studies, I shall be greatly obliged 
for your opinion on these points ; as I am 
for your very friendly and very solid defence 
of me in the London Magazine. May the 
King of saints prosper the works of your 
pen, and return the acts of your kindness 
into your own bosom ! Let me once more 
beg of you to direct me to the most improv- 
ing books you have met with. No longer 
ago than yesterday a young clergyman, whom 
I had never seen before, made me a visit, 
and attended a lecture which I gave my 
parish in Weston church on a Wednesday 
evening, at seven o'clock. An amiable 
gentleman truly ! He seems mighty well 
inclined ; wonders that his brethren do not 
make edifying subjects, such as justification, 
and sanctification, the favourite topics of 
their discourse. Now I do not know what 
more substantial service I could do such a 
person, than to recommend to his study 
some proper books. The tidings therefore 
of a judicious evangelical author, with a 
little sketch of his character and distin- 
guishing excellency, might be a blessing to 
others, and a blessing to myself. A favour, 
a welcome favour, I am very sure, it would 
be to, dear sir, your much obliged, and 
truly affectionate friend, &c. 



LETTER CL. 

Westo7i.FaveU, Dec. 13, 1755. 
My dear Friend, — I received your 
last valuable favour in due time. I should 
have made my acknowledgments sooner, 
but 1 staid to get the enclosed little pamph- 
let,* which I want much to have you per- 
use, and to have your opinion concerning it. 
There seems to me to be much good sense 
and solid argument, much more than, 1 ap- 

* A little pamphlet on the Marks and Evidences 
of Faith, wrote by Mr. Cud worth of Norwich. 



prehend, could have been produced on the 
occasion. I read your remarks with great 
attention, and I humbly trust that God will 
execute the office, and accomplish the bless- 
ing mentioned in the portion of Scripture 
which gave a relish to our breakfast this 
morning. 

" Doth adam hemlamad."— Psalm xciv 
10. 

I read the passage in a small Hebrew 
Bible without points ; and the first word in 
the verse seemed to me, not " tisek," but 
" HE-iSED," which, in my opinion, yields 
the best sense : He that " made, upholds, 
establishes the nations," &c. I have con- 
sulted Houbigant, but he makes no altera- 
tion. 

Indeed we have need of divine teaching. 
Amidst the variety of opinions which ever 
did, and perhaps ever will subsist in our im- 
perfect state, he only who is the wonderful 
Counsellor possesses the unerring clue. A 
letter from Dimfermline in Scotland, re- 
ceived by the last post, and written by a 
stranger, informs me, that upon the doc- 
trine of sanctification there is a standard 
book ; and this standard book, he adds, is 
Marshall's Gospel IMystery. Mr. Moses 
Browne tells me, he is publishing a little 
piece of poetry, entitled Percy Lodge, the 
Duke of Somerset's seat ; [wrote at the de- 
sire of the late duke and duchess, in the 
year 1749. Had they lived, poor Browne 
would have met with the encoiu-agement he 
deserves. They loved him, and fully in- 
tended to have served him.] When it 
makes its appearance, I will desire you to 
accept of a copy. I am, &c. 



LETTER CLL 

Dear , This letter will come to 

your hands, as the blessings of the everlast- 
ing gospel are offered to our souls, without 
money and \Aathout price. 

Be under no concern about the report you 
mention ; it gives me not one moment's 
uneasiness. We have acted, I trust, as 
faithful stewards of our Master in heaven ; 
and if he approves, how very insignificant 
is the censure of men ! And what, ah, what 
is a little misrepreseutation, or a few lashes 
from tattling tongues, compared with those 
cruel mockings which our divine and dying 
Redeemer bore ! 

You are, I find, as I too often am, in poor 
Peter's condition, when om* Lord addressed 
him with that tender rebuke, *' O thou of 
little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt ?" 
Wherefore indeed do we doubt? Is he not 
an all-sufiicient Saviour? Is not his death 
a complete atonement, sufficient to take 
Avay the sins of a whole world ? Is not his 



874 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



righteousness a perfect righteousness, able > 
to justify even the most ungodly ? Does 
not his Godhead impart an infinite dignity 
to both ? rendering them more powerful to 
save than millions, unnumbered millions of 
sins are to destroy ? 

Is he not a vv^illing Saviour ? How will- 
ing was Joseph to give the good of the land 
of Egypt to his aged father ! How willing 
was Jonathan to screen his beloved David 
from Saul's wrath ! How willing is an in- 
dulgent parent to deal out bread to his hun- 
gry child ! Equally willmg, abundantly more 
willing is Christ to give himself to our 
souls, to reconcile us to his Almighty Fa 
ther, to fit us for his kingdom, and take us 
to his glory. A parent does not choose to 
die for his child ; Jonathan never spilt his 
blood for David, nor did Joseph lay down 
his life for that good old man Jacob. But 
this, all this, the Lord Jesus Christ freely 
undertook, freely underwent for us. What 
could he do more to assure us of his love ? 
Let us contemplate the story of his bitter, 
bitter passion. Let us view him prostrate, 
in an agony of sorrow, on the cold ground ; 
extended, with racking torture, on the ac- 
cursed tree ; laid, all pale and mangled 
with wounds, in the gloomy sepulchre : 
And sure we shall have a stronger proof of 
Christ's willingness to save us, than the tes- 
timony of ten thousand ministers preaching 
on earth, or of ten thousand angels speak- 
ing from heaven. 

Is he not a faithful Saviour? Having 
loved his own, he loveth them even unto the 
end. As his eyes never slumber nor sleep, 
so his care for his people is never intermit- 
ted ; he has written their names on the 
palms of his hands, and their eternal inte- 
rests are ever before him ; he will never, 
never, never leave nor forsake them ; no, 
not in any circumstance, nor on any ac- 
count. They are his peculiar treasure, and 
the ransom of his own dear life ; they are 
the recompense for all his suflferings, and 
are to be the jewels in his mediatorial 
crown ; therefore they shall never perish, , 
neither shall any pluck them out of his 
hand. Neither life, nor death, nor things 
present, nor things to come, shall be able to 
separate them from his love, from his bo- 
som, ;from his heart. " Happy art thou, 
O Israel ! who is like unto thee, O people 
saved by the Lord ? who is the shield of thy 
help, and the sword of thy excellency. 
The eternal God is thy refuge, and under- 
neath are the everlasting arms ; surely then 
thou mayest dwell in safety." Deut. xxxiii. 
27, &c. Are we unworthy sinners ? We 
readily own it, and oh that we may deeply 
feel it ! But did not Christ choose to con- 
verse with publicans and sinners ? Did he 
not come to seek and to save that which was 
lost ? The same spirit which actuated him 



on earth he retains now he is exalted into 
heaven ; let not therefore our deplorable 
vileness be our hinderance, but our incite- 
ment to apply to the ever-gracious Friend 
of sinners. Indeed, if we were not sinners, 
we should not be proper objects for the 
Saviour. " They that are whole need not 
a physician, but they that are sick ;" for 
such he made his soul an offering, and for 
such he brought in everlasting righteous- 
ness ; he makes intercession, not for the 
righteous, but for transgressors ; and those 
that are afar off, in rebelhon and apostasy, 
are bi-ought nigh ; nigh to God, and home 
to heaven, by the blood of Christ. 

May these considerations sink into our 
hearts, and be made the seed of a lively, 
growing, and joyful faith ! And " may 
the Lord direct" us both (as we both groan 
in this tabernacle, and are burdened) " into 
the love of God, and the patient waiting for 
of Jesus !" when this languishing, this cor- 
ruptible body will lie down in peace, and 
rest in hope ; and the soul, delivered from 
every conflict, cleansed from every stain, 
will be ever, for ever with the Lord. 
Amen and amen, says yours, &c. 



LETTER CLIL 

Weston-Favell, Dec. 15, 1755. 

My dear Friend, — I return you my 
best thanks for sending me a copy of so 
smart and sensible a letter, which came to 
me very a-propos ; and which [ think is so 
likely to do good in this disputatious age, 
that I wish it was printed in some of the 
magazines and public papers. I am much 
obliged to you for your kind caution against 
my being drawn into a controversy, parti- 
cularly by the very warm and overbearing 

Mr. , who is now grown impatient of 

the least contradiction, and far from being 
a desirable companion or correspondent. 

Controversy is as much my aversion as 
it can be yours ; for where that begins, re- 
ligion too often ends ; and I shall not enter 
the lists, I promise you, with any one, un- 
less I am absolutely necessitated to it. 
But if I am compelled to appear in print 
on such an occasion, I shall endeavour to 
pay due regard to Solomon's excellent ad~ 
vice, viz. " A soft answer turneth away 
wrath, but grievous words stir up anger," 
Prov. XV. 1. Instead of exasperating my 
adversary by cutting reprehensions, I will, 
if possible, constrain him, by a candid and 
respectful treatment, to moderate his tem- 
per ; and, by a coercive propriety of argu- 
ments, persuade him to relinquish such 
tenets as I think erroneous. 

God grant that I may never behave with 
an indecent resentment, how great soever 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



873 



inay be the provocation of my gainsayers ; 
but that, in all my writings and conversa- 
tions, I may avoid the hasty spirit, lest I 
injiure my own peace of mind, and disgrace 
my profession as a Christian and a mi- 
nister. 

It is a mle with me always to speak well 
of the good qualities even of bad men, 
especially when others are censuring them 
with an unmerciful severity ; and I could 
wish that every controversialist would learn 
so much candour, as to put the best con- 
struction on his opponent's book, and to 
embrace what was in general good in it, 
however he might doubt or censure some 
particular opinions of the contending au- 
thor. 

To live peaceably with all men is my 
earnest desire and my daily prayer ; and, 
in order to do this, I am more and more 
convinced of the necessity of candour, 
humility, and a conscientious regard to the 
example of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ. 1 am, my dear friend, affectionate- 
ly and inviolably yours. 

A Copy of the Letter above-mentioned, never 
before Printed. 

Dear Sir, — I have a strong and settled 
aversion to all matter of dispute, in things 
that relate to a message of perfect peace 
and love. The kingdom of God is no 
more opinion, than it is meat and drink ; 
and argumentation can have little to do 
where a new heart, and a right spirit, is 
the business or work to be performed. 

If we prevail in our disputes, (though I 
believe there is not a single instance in 
which either of the antagonists ever con- 
descended publicly to own himself in the 
wrong,) our adversaries then become baf- 
fled worldlings ; if they prevail, then they 
become worldlings triumphant. 'WTien we 
deal much in disputes, we soil our souls, 
and endanger the temper of meekness and 
love, which we are so frequently enjoined 
to cultivate, and which are the very badge of 
Christianity. 

As for amicable disputes in religion, it is 
as errant cant as an amicable suit at law. 
A dispute about the sacrament as naturally 
removes the mind out of its state of perfect 
charity, as a quarrel about a whore. The 
subject alters nothing ; it is the temper of 
mind wherewith we handle these matters 
that defiles the man ; and it is morally im- 
possible to meddle to any purpose, without 
having the mind disordered. 

St. Paul was plainly of the same opinion, 
when he wrote thus to Timothy ; " If any 
man consent not to wholesome words, even 
the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and 



to the doctri])e which is according to godli- 
ness, he is proud, knowing nothing, but 
doting about questions and strifes of words, 
whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, and 
surmises, perverse disputings of men of 
corrupt minds, and destitute of the truth, 
supposing that gain is godliness : from 
such withdraw thyself. " 1 Tim. vi. 
3—5. 

This is the constant case of all the dis- 
puters in the gospel itself. The more they 
argued, the further they were always from 
the point ; insomuch that even those who 
are said to believe on Christ, at the begin- 
ning of the chapter of dispute, before the 
end of it take up stones to cast at him. 

In short, till a man be a Christian in 
som.e measure, he has neither ability, nor 
any right in nature to talk about it. It is 
more absurd than a controversy between a 
fish and a fowl, about the best and most 
commodious element to breathe in. 

The peace and purity of our own minds, 
is of more value than of every other endow- 
ment. For ray own part, 1 had rather be 
able to bear patiently the nickname of fool, 
or madman, than to become famous for all 
the wisdom and prudence which the world 
knows how to connnejid and esteem. 

In this poverty of spirit, I would heartily 
entreat all my friends earnestly to seek 
after that love and peace, which is only to 
be found in the face or similitude of our 
dear Master, the Lord Jesus Christ. The 
want of this most amiable and Christian 
disposition in some eminent professors, for 
I never admired a rough and boisterous 
zeal, has often startled and shagrined him 
who is, dear sir, yours very sincerely, 

R. W. 

P. S. — We may talk what we will about 
religion, it is nothing less than a divine 
temper. What is short of this is prating 
about religion, and that is all. I meet 
with many doctrinal Christians, who are 
very dabs at chapter and verse, and yet very 
bond-slaves to earth and self. Spiritual 
Christians (which are the only true ones) 
are almost as scarce as phoenixes. 



LETTER CLIIL 

Saturday morning. 
My dear Friend, — Let me exhort you 
to live as on the borders of eternity, and 
often to reflect where the late fall from 
your horse might have hurried you. Eter- 
nity is at hand. " He that cometh will 
come, and wiU not tarry." O that your 
soul may prosper ! for without that, what 
are all the riches, pleasures, and honours of 
this earth ? But it cannot prosper, unless 



876 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



the world be under foot, and your affec- 
tions fixed on Jesus. What besides him, 
my dear friend, deserves a thought ? And 
how tenderly laas he dealt with us, not- 
withstanding all our ingratitude and pro- 
vocations ? I can say no more than I 
have said to you ; but I pity you, and I 
pray for you, that you may conquer this 
fear of man. I wish you would every day, 
for the next month, read some part of Pro- 
fessor Franck's Nicodemus, or, The Fear 

of Man. Dr. told me he had a great 

regard for you, and wished you v»'^ould set 
your face as a flint ; exert your lively ta-^ 
lents to promote the gospel, and confess the 
Lord Jesus boldly before men on every pro- 
per occasion : and when they talk obscenely, 
or take the Lord's name in vain, you ought 
genteelly to reprove them, or leave the 
company. This would be acting like a 
Christian ! But while you are thus silent, 
meally-mouthed, stand so much upon your 
politeness, and have such a fear of being 
censured by worldly-minded people, you 
may take my word for it, you will do very 
little good, and be a stranger to the com- 
fort and peace which others, who stick 
closer to Christ, daily experience ; that 
comfortable peace of God, which (as Arch- 
bishop Seeker finely observes, page 132 of 
his Nine Sermons) is that sense of being 
in friendship with him, that feeling of com- 
fort and joy flowing from him, which pass- 
eth all understanding ; exceeds the concep- 
tion of those who have not experienced it, 
and will exceed hereafter the present con- 
ceptions of those who have. Adieu, my 
dear friend. Think well on what the 
Archbishop has so pathetically described, 
and then meditate on this alarming text, 
and reconcile it with your own pusillani- 
mous conduct, which you miscall prudence : 
" Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and 
my words in this adulterous and sinful ge- 
neration, of him also shall the Son of man 
be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory 
of his Father with his holy angels," Mark 
viii. 38. Once more adieu ! Remember 
that this is the declaration of the Lord who 
bought us with his blood, and suffered the 
unknown agonies of crucifixion to save you, 
and yours very sincerely. 

p. ^, — When people come to visit 
me, they expect to hear of Christ; and 
few come to Weston but those to whom 
such discourse is agreeable, nor do I desire 
the company of any others. Talking of 
Christ is my touchstone, to see whether a 
person is worth my acquaintance. If you 
was once to take this method, you will tell 
me, perhaps, that such and such a one will 
abuse you, and all the principal gentlemen 
>vill ridicule and forsake you. And what 
then ? You are much better without them. 
In their stead you will have the esteem and 



friendship of those who love our Lord 
Jesus in sincerity ; and Christ himself vidll 
be in the midst, who has laid up for you, 
and all such as love his appearing, a crown 
of righteousness. Has this consideration 
no weight with my dear friend ? Do not 
let me apply to you what saint Paul says of 
Demas to Timothy, chap. iv. 10. " De- 
mas has forsaken me, having loved this pre- 
sent world." Read the cxixth Psalm, and 
see v.'hether you and your worldly-wise 
company have the spirit of the Psalmist. 
He, though a king, delighted to talk of 
God, He not only talked of him, observe, 
but delighted to do it ; and it was pain 
and grief to him to forbear. Psalm 
xxxix. 3. 



LETTER CLIV. 

Saturday morning. 
Dear Sir, — In reply to your question, 
" Why so many learned and very clever 
men in all worldly affairs should treat reli- 
gion with so much indifference, and remain 
unaffected by every argument that can be 
urged to rouse them from such a state of 
delusion ?" I send you my opinion in a few 
words, viz. " Because they do not pray for 
the assistance* of the Holy Spirit." And 
I send you an answer more at large, ex- 
tracted from a book of the celebrated Dr. 
Bates, which I was lately reading, entitled, 
" The sovereign and final happiness 
OF man, with the effectual means to ob - 
tain it."t 

" The efficacious influence," says the 
Doctor, '* of the Holy Spirit, is requisite 
to change the will, that with a free and 
full consent, our will may desire and pro- 
secute the spiritual, eternal good. Without 
this, the conviction of the mind is not pow- 
erful enough to convert the soul from the 
love of the world to choose heaven. There 
may be an enlightened conscience without 
a renewed heart. Though the judgment 
assents that God is the supreme good ; yet 
till the heart be circumcised, and the sen- 
suality of the affections taken away, divine 
love (which directs our life to God as our 
blessed end) can never possess it. 

" If men had a sensible and strong as- 
sm-ance of the eternal state hereafter ; if all 
those who lived godly in a visible manner 
ascended with Elias to heaven ; and if all 
who continued in their sins visibly descend- 
ed into hell (as Corah and his company 
were swallowed up alive by the earth before 



* See Christ's own words, Luke xi. 13, which the 
generality of mankind disregard ; no wonder, then, 
the world should lie so much in darkness, and be thus 
dead to vital religion. 

t.See Dr. Bate's Works, folio, p. ■aJG. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



877 



tlie Israelites) ; if men could hear the joy- 
ful exultatious of the saints above, and their 
high praises of God; then hear the despe- 
rate cries and deep complaints of the damn- 
ed ; nay, if one, according to the desire of 
the rich man, was sent from the doleful 
regions below, and Avith his fiery tongue 
should preach a sermon on those torments, 
not describing them at a distance, but by 
a sensible demonstration in himself ; yet 
THIS ALONE would not be sufficient to draw 
off men's hearts from the deceitful and 
transitory happiness of this world, and to 
fasten them on the perfect and eternal hap- 
piness in the next. Indeed, they could not 
then indulge their vices so securely; but 
yet they would be strangers to the life of 
God, such an inveterate alienation of heart 
is in men from real holiness : for till the 
quickening Spirit of God (by a directing 
persuasive light, that represents the truth 
and goodness of spiritual things) transforms 
the soul, and makes it spiritual in its valua- 
tions and affections, it is inwardly averse 
from grace and glory. 

" How earnestly therefore ought we all 
TO PRAY, that this Holy Spirit may direct 
our hearts to the love of God, and to the 
patient waiting for of Christ Jesus, when he 
shall come to be glorified in his faithful ser- 
vants, and admired in all them that believe!" 

In another place, Dr. Bates expresses 
himself in these very momentous terms : 
" Worldly men, when death is near, are not 
so much affected with the loss of the crown 
of glory, and the kingdom of heaven, as 
with their leaving the present world, and 
its vanities. This makes death intolerably 
bitter. In short, till the love of God in- 
flames and purifies the heart, the fruition 
of his glory is not esteemed nor desired." 

Your question will be still further an- 
swered, by considering thoroughly two 
tracts, wrote by Professor Franck ; one of 
which is entitled, A short Introduction to 
the practice of the Christian Religion ; and 
the other is entitled, Nicodemus, or, A 
treatise against the Fear of Man ; wherein 
the causes and sad effects thereof are briefly 
described, with some remedies against it, 
dedicated to the honourable society for re- 
formation of manners. 

And now having mentioned Professor 
Franck, and his treatise against the fear of 
man, I cannot conclude without observing, 
that I think him one of the most eminent 
Christians, and most extraordinary men I 
ever heard of, as his Pietas Hallensis, which 
I read with admiration and deep humility, 
sufficiently demonstrates ; and had I been 
a member of the society for reformation of 
manners, when the dedication of his Nico- 
demus had been presented to them, I should 
have made a motion to have had an hundred 
pounds expended in a proper distribution 



of that most important book, as there can 
be no material reformation till the fear oi 
man is removed ; and as nothing can be 
better calculated to extirpate such fear, and 
promote all the other laudable ends of the 
society. I am, dear sir, yours, &c. 

P. S — The title of the book I recom- 
mended to your son, please to tell him, was 
Henry's Pleasantness of a Religious Life. 
The author designed it particidarly for 
young people ; and in my conversation with 
them, I generally mention it. Indeed, I 
am the more solicitous of having it put into 
their hands, as they are too apt to look 
upon religion in a gloomy view, considering 
it as destructive of every enjoyment. 



LETTER CLV. 

Wesfon-Favell, Feb. 22. ^ 
My dear Friend, — The three volumes 
of Theron and Aspasio desire you first to 
accept them, then freely to animadvert upon 
them ; and above all, to implore the bless- 
ing of God for them. I think, when peo- 
ple's sentiments differ so excessively as Mr. 
's and mine, it is best to be at a dis- 



tance. O may we all be kept close to our 
divine Head ; and, in a little time, that 
which is imperfect will be done away. We 
shall see him as he is, and know as we are 
known. I hope you prosper in your health, 
and are blessed in your ministerial labours. 
The book you inquire after, which Mr. 

saw in my study window at Weston, 

and described to you as a well thumbed 
Lilliputian of two or three inches high, 
was written by one Mr. Bogatzky, a Ger- 
man ; in which language it passed nineteen 
editions, from which it is now translated, 
and entitled, " The Golden Treasury for 
the Children of God, whose treasure and 
hearts are in heaven ;" containing select 
texts of the Bible, with practical observa- 
tions in prose and verse, for every day in 
the year. It is pretty well thumbed, for 
there is rarely a day passes that I do not 
make use of it ; and particularly when I am 
so languid as to be incapable of attending 
to my usual studies. The author very 
properly calls it " A Golden Treasury for 
the Children of God," who esteem the 
word of God more than gold, and much 
fine gold, and from which they may be daily 
supplied with proper advice and relief in 
all manner of spiritual necessities, as thou- 
sands have happily experienced already. 
The verses are elegant, and edifying on 
most of the subjects ; and it was his earnest 
desire and prayer, that the Lord, in his 
infinite goodness, would please to bless his 
endeavours to the good of many souls, and 
to the glory of his holy name. Mr. Bo- 



878 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



ga.t?iiy observes judiciously, tliat it is not 
to be expected that a performance of this 
Ktilure will suit the taste of those who un- 
happily mistake mere outward morality for 
true Christianity, and go no farther than 
natui al reason and strength will carry them : 
but such as either have, or desire to have, 
a real experience of the kingdom of God 
in their souls, will find much in it to the 
awakening, comforting, and encouraging 
their hearts in the right way. 

That we may know, and ever continue 
in that right way, is, my dear friend, the 
frequent and ardent prayer of your affec- 
tionate brother in Christ. 



LETTER CLVL 

Wednesday morning. 

Dear Sir, — The grievance you com- 
plain of, is, like many other grievances, 
irremediable ; for, according to the old 
proverb. What is every one's business, is 
no one's. It is the same in numberless 
instances. How many turnpikes are erect- 
ed, where the money taken will scarce de- 
fray the expense of the gates ; and where 
the roads neither are, nor ever will be mend- 
ed, and consequently they are nuisances 
instead of benefits ? yet our nobility and 
members of parliament pass frequently 
through such turnpikes, complain of the 
but take no pains to redress it. 
And even in an affair of the highest con- 
sequence, how negligent is the community ? 
I mean, in the long expected reformation 
of our Liturgy ; in which, excellent as it is 
upon the whole, there are some passages 
so justly exceptionable, that every bishop 
in the kingdom will tell you he wishes to 
have them expunged ; and yet, I know not 
for what political or timid reasons, it con- 
tinues just as it did. Had our first refor- 
mers been thus indolent, we still had been 
papists. Our laws are daily complained 
of, and might most certainly be abridged to 
the great benefit of the nation ; this is al- 
lowed by every individual ; but the parlia- 
ment, you see, will not exert themselves in 
bringing this important affair to pass. 

I have often wondered, that in this age 
of humanity, (for such with all its faults it 
certainly is), while infirmaries are erecting 
in different parts of the kingdom, public 
bridges building, and large collections mak- 
ing for charitable uses, there should be no 
isocieties established for redressing griev- 
ances. To found such kind of societies, 
would be truly laudable and highly benefi- 
cial. May God of his infirdte goodness 
and unerring wisdom, put it into the hearts 
of the active, the benevolent, and the 
powerful, to set in good eaniest about the 



institution of societies for the redressing ouf 
grievances, some for public andothers for pri- 
vate grievances. Were such once established, 
what a world of good might be done ! 
Then the fatherless, the widow, and the 
injured, would have substantial friends al- 
ways at hand, who would rescue them from 
their oppressors, by taking them under their 
own protection, and defending their cause 
out of the subscription fund. From these 
funds likewise, the expense of procuring 
useful acts of parliament, or of getting inef- 
fectual ones amended or repealed, might be 
defrayed, 

I know you will be pleased to hear that 

Mr. has lately wrote very seriously to 

Mr. about his religious concerns, and 

pressed him strongly " to determine (as 
his expression was), and set about religion 
in good earnest." " Pray, dear sir," said he 
in one part of his letter, " take care, and 
do not hurry avray life. Give that affair a 
serious thought ; 1 am sure it is worth it. 
I wish you well, (sorry am I to say I think) 
better than perhaps you wish yourself. I 
should be glad to be mistaken. Would to 
God I could persuade you resolutely to fall 
in love with religion, and espouse its cause 
with all your interest, and with all your 
might. Was that once and thoroughly to 
be the case, what an instrument might not 
YOU be, in the hand of God, to rouse men 
from their lethargy ; to animate them in 
the pursuit of their own eternal welfare ; 
and to encourage their zeal for that of 
others ? Oh ! sir, a man with your capa- 
city, your fojtune, your opportunities, what 
could there be too hard for him, except 
himself? By your irresistible arguments 
and spirited behaviour, you knock down 
others on every occasion, and carry almost 
every point you undertake ; why do not you 
knock down yourself? Aude sapere, incipe, 

" What conscience dictates to be done. 
Or warns you not to do. 
This, as your hell, with horror shun. 
That, as your heaven, pursue." 

Pope's Universal Prayer. 

In another part of his letter he thus in- 
terrogated Mr. — " Will not every 

wise man frequently ask himself some such 
questions as these? Am I, or am 1 not in 
the right road ? How long shall I halt be- 
tween two opinions ? Is not to-day certain, 
and to-morrow uncertain? Am I ashamed 
i of being religious ? Have I courage to stand 
j it out against God and not against the 
I world ? Do I take proper care of my chil- 
! dren's religious principles ? If I destroy 
! myself, shall I destroy my offspring too, 
I and eternally ?" 

Towards the conclusion he added, " You 
\ have recommcTided several books tome, let 
me recommend Rymer's Representation of 
; Reverded Religion to you, though, if I wa« 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



879 



to advise Mr. , it should not be to 

READ, but TO DETERMINE ; I'esolutely atid 
unalterably to determine to be a religious 
man. You want no instructions, and the 
time of life with you is gone a gi-eat way. 
Some ])eople, 1 can tell you, suspect you 
for a Deist ; if you are so, I then ask, Do 
j'ou act devoutly on your own principles ? 
Do you pray to God daily ? This every 
Deist will allow to be necessaiy ; and, till 
you have habituated your mind to prayer, 
I shall have little expectations of doing you 
that important service, which you must be 
sensible by my writing this letter I am very 
desirous of doing, as far as in me lies. The 
rest must be left to a superior agency, I 
mean the operation of God's Holy Spirit 
on your heart," 

No answer has yet been returned by Mr. 
— — to this letter. I believe he is puzzled 
how to act. He cannot well pass it by in 
silence ; and to give any thing under his 
hand on so interesting a subject as religion, 
will be to a man of his turn very ineli- 
gible. 

You see by the papers, that our great wit 
is dead. Is it not a little remarkable, that 
so long before his death he should be de- 
prived of his senses ? deprived of them at 
the very time he was about writing a most 
pernicious book, which, I am told, he in- 
tended to have published with this ludicrous 
title, viz. " The Memoirs of the Rev. Mr. 
Jephtha Quixote, Saint- Errant ; the true 
and undoubted son of the renowned Don 
Quixote, Knight-Errant ; who inherits all 
his father's virtues." The design of which 
was to burlesque things sacred, and to set 
in a ridiculous light some of the most exem- 
plaiy Christians, under the notion of saint- 
errantry. This would have been a most 
malicious piece of wit ; and being the pro- 
duction of so celebrated a genius, would 
have spread like wildfire, pregnant with in- 
finite mischief ; for, as Horace has justly 
remarked, 

For ridicule shall frequently prevail, 

And cut the knot when graver reasons fail." 

Francis' Hor. 

When you reflect on this and other at- 
tempts to discourage good men, and to ren- 
der religion contemptible in the eyes of 
worldlings, are you not apt to say with the 
Psalmist, " The Lord that dwelleth in 
heaven shall laugh them to scorn ?" Psal. ii. 
4. He, though unseen, directs the whole 
by his wise providence ; turneth men's 
hearts as seemeth good unto him ; and in 
his hands are the appointments of life and 
death. To his guidance and to his protec- 
tion I commend you, my dear sir, and yours 
very sincerely. 



LETTER CLVH. 

Weston, 1756. 
Dear Sir, — I confess I am covetous, 
and, like covetous people, imreasonable ; I 
was in hope of receiving another favour 
from your pen, before I troubled you with 
a fresh solicitation. But an affair has lately 
happened, or rather a project has started in 
my mind, which I will lay before you. On 
Sunday last a neighbouring clergyman sent 
me for my perusal, a sermon preached by 

Dr. T , before the House of Commons, 

on the late* public fast. When I perused 
it, and saw not a single mention of Christ, 
nor a single hint of an evangelical nature, I 
was surprised and grieved ; and so much 
the more, as it was preached by one of the 
most celebrated divines in the kingdom, and 
before the whole kingdom convened in their 
representatives. I thought it was a pity, 
that such a notorious slight, put upon our 
most glorious Redeemer, should pass 
without animadversions. I could not for- 
bear wishing that the Lord would enable 
me, even me, (the least and weakest in my 
heavenly Father's house,) to bear my testi- 
mony for Jesus who was crucified. I 
therefore conceived some thoughts of pub- 
lishing a sermon preached at Weston, upon 
a subject somewhat similar to his ; for 
though mine is designedly plain, and desti- 
tute of the polite Doctor's embellishments, 
yet it has more of Christ and his gospel. 
I also apprehend, if to this were prefixed or 
subjoined some remarks upon the Doctor's 
performance, it might not be unseasonable 
nor unprofitable. Now, my dear friend, if 
you approve the design, would you draw up 
some remarks upon the Doctor's discourse, 
while I am endeavouring to retrieve my 
sermon from a few hints, which I happened 
on that occasion to put down in short- 
hand ? I will own to you, my heart almost 
trembles at the prospect of appearing in 
print against so eminent a man. And if 
you do not think it proper to be my helper 
and abettor, I must drop the design. May 
the Lord Jesus, whose honour is concerned, 
whose blood and righteousness, whose spi- 
rit and grace have been disregarded, and 
treated as ciphers ; may he direct your de- 
termination, fructify your invention, give 
you all knowledge and all utterance ! What 
think you of this method of proceeding ? 
Making remarks upon the evangelical pas- 
sages ; pointing out the places where an 
opportunity offered of enlarging upon gos- 
pel topics ; exemplifying this gospel man- 
ner, and showing that it would be no pre- 
judice, but give infinite weight and force to 
the argument. But I leave all to the bless- 



* The public fast in February 175C. 



680 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



ed God, and my dear friend. Your last, I 
think, is a most masterly piece of contro- 
versy, for which I am your debtor. May 
you now be enabled to outdo yourself. 
The subject and the occasion are of the 
last importance : if you are inclined to ex- 
ert yourself, pray let it be in the courtly 
manner. Your last pen was dipt in vinegar, 
let this be dipt in oil. 

My sermon was on that text, Ezek. xviii. 
27. I shall wait, with incessant prayer to 
him whose name is Wonderful, Counsel- 
lor, till I receive your answer ; and am 
most affectionately yours, &c. 



LETTER CLVIIL 

[Mr. Hervey's friend, on considering the proposal in 
the preceding letter, wrote the following, and ad- 
dressed it to Dr. T , the preacher of the fast 

sermon in 1756, on Jer. xviii. 1, 8. It is here 
printed, as the observations therein contained may 
possibly be in some measure productive of the 
good which Mr. Hervey intended by such like 
remarks.*] 

Reverend Sir,' — Some time ago was 
put into my hands a sermon of yours, on 
Jer. xviii. 7, 8, preached before the ho- 
nourable House of Commons on the day of 
the late public fast ; wherein I thought I 
saw some very material omissions and mis- 
takes, which I feared might hinder the suc- 
cess of your ingenious performance ; and 
therefore, as I would neither have you to 
labour in vain, nor the best use of such 
alarming calls of Divine Providence neg- 
lected, I could not but give you the trouble 
of a letter upon this occasion. 

Nothing can be more proper, at such 
seasons, than serious discourses upon re- 
pentance and reformation. Times of afflic- 
tion are most likely to be times of reflec- 
tion ; and when it pleases the Most High 
thus to open the heart, it is then the time 
for his servants to sow the good seed of his 
word. To prepare men for this, God's 
judgments fly swift as the light. To pre- 
pare men for this, he hews by his prophets, 
and slays by the word of his mouth : and 
happy, eternally happy, are those who are 
influenced thereby to return from their evil 
ways, and to make their ways and their 
doings good : for thus rims the divine pro- 
mise, " At what instant I shall speak con- 
cerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, 
to pluck up, and to pull down, and to de- 
stroy ; if that nation against whom I have 
pronounced this, turn from their evil, I will 
repent of the evil that I thought to do unto 
them," Jer. xviii. 7, 8, 

Such is God's gracious declaration, which 
no gospel minister can read, but it must 
remind him of two things : First, that this 



* See.PreCace to the Letters, p. 729. I 



promise is made in Christ Jesus, and there- 
fore can belong to none but those who for- 
sake their sins, and return unto God by 
him : Then, this return from evil must be 
accomplished through the grace and Spirit 
of Christ. And, 

First, The mention of this, and every 
other promise in the book of God, must 
remind the gospel minister that it is made 
in Christ Jesus. St. Paul hath assured 
us, that " all the promises of God in him 
are yea" (made), "and in him amen" (con- 
firmed) ; and if all the promises of God are 
made and confirmed in him, then this, as 
one, must be made in him. The Redeemer 
himself has informed us, that " he is the 
way, and the truth, and the life," and that 
" no man can come unto the Father but by 
him." But to turn from evil, and to come 
unto the Father, are terms of the same im- 
port. Besides, we know that it is only 
through Jesus Christ that we have peace 
with God, and that it is only through Jesus 
Christ that God has reconciled the world to 
himself. Can two then walk together ex- 
cept they are agreed ? Can God sheath 
the sword of his justice before he is recon- 
ciled to us ? If not, how can he repent of 
the evil that he thought to do unto us? 
And if he repents not of the evil which he 
thought to do unto us, where is our interest 
in the promise ? . But what need of any 
more words, when it is most evident that 
it is the Son of God who here speaks by 
the prophet? The same person promises 
mercy, who had threatened to destroy with 
the severest judgments : Now we know 
that " the Father judges no man, but has 
committed all judgment to the Son ; that 
all men should honour the Son, as they 
honour the Father." It is very plain then, 
that all who return from evil, must return 
by Christ ; they must return with his price 
in their hands, and his robe upon their 
backs ; and then, and not till then, they 
are safe, safe for time and eternity. 

Again, when the gospel minister reads 
this gracious promise, he will remember 
that such a returning from evil must be ac- 
complished through the grace and Spirit of 
Christ. How can we, who are not suffi- 
cient of ourselves to think a good thought 
of ourselves, think of returning to God and 
holiness? Can the captive, who is in love 
with his chains, long for liberty ? Can the 
sinner, who is fond of his sins, desire to 
relinquish them ? No ; it is as possible for 
the Ethiopian to change his skin, or the 
leopard his spots, as for us, who are accus- 
tomed to do evil, to learn to do well. Kay, 
far more possible ; . for to accomj)lish this, 
they need only to change their hue ; but 
before we can attain to holiness, we must 
change our nature ; we must " make our- 
selves a new heart and a new spirit," Ezek. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



881 



xviii. SI. ; we must quit the grave, and 
arise from the dead, and who is sufficient 
for these things? Therefore the Master 
says, " No man can come unto me, except 
the Father, which has sent me, draw him." 
And again, " Ye have not chosen me, but 
I have chosen you, and have ordained you 
to bring forth fruit, and that your fruit 
should remain : For without me ye can do 
nothing." And his apostles assert, that 
by grace we are saved through faith, and 
that not of ourselves, it is the gift of God ;" 
that every grace is the fruit of his Spirit, of 
whose fulness we have received, and grace 
for grace ; and that " we are created anew 
unto good works, which God had before 
ordained, that we should walk in them." 

Now, sir, are these the true sayings of 
G,od ? are these the very words of our Lord 
and his apostles? Then, undoubtedly, to 
refuse them is to refuse him who speaks 
from heaven : and if so, how comes it to 
pass, that you have unhappily forgot to take 
notice of these things upon this solemn oc- 
casion ? God promises security to all who 
forsake their sins, and return unto him in 
Jesus Christ ; and yet Jesus Christ is ne- 
ver mentioned in your sermon. Without 
divine grace, and the sanctifying operations 
of the Holy Spirit, we can do nothing ; and 
yet there we hear nothing of divine grace, 
or the Holy Spirit. Joab, ready to take 
Rabbah, the royal city of the Ammonites, 
so ordered the campaign that his master 
David might have the honour of the vic- 
tory; but here is a Christian minister, who 
attacks a citadel of human corruption, and 
never so much as once thinks of Christ, 
through whom he must conquer. Here is 
a Christian minister, who, leaving the lively 
oracles, undertakes spiritual wickednesses 
with the carnal weapons of a Tully and De- 
mosthenes. Mistake me not, I speak not 
against oratory as such ; but if a Roman or 
a Greek philosopher, who had never heard 
of Christ, can say as much against the vices 
of the age, as you can, who have from your 
infancy been educated in the Christian re- 
ligion ; what say you more than others ? 
Is not this too much to slight that bleeding, 
dying Lamb of God, who alone can take 
away the sin of the world ? 

But the Slight put upon our Master's 
words is not all : your not taking notice of 
these things has unhappily led you into 
mistakes that are utterly inconsistent with 
his undertaking. You call upon us, " by 
everv act of humiliation and repentance, to 
deserve the protection of Heaven ;" and 
throughout your whole discourse you labour 
hard to fix our hopes upon this basis, and 
our after obedience- But can the sincerest 
repentance, or the deepest humiliation, de- 
serve the favour of God, and the remittance 
of punishment? If so, then fallen Adam 



might have broken in pieces the chains of 
eternal death, in which he was holden ; and 
then, what need of shedding the blood of 
the promised seed ? what need of such a 
sacrifice to appease God, if he was already 
appeased, or could be appeased by the re- 
lentings of man ? Briefly, if the death of 
Christ was necessary to purchase eternal 
redemption for us, then our repentance 
and humiliation can never deserve the di- 
vine favour. 

Nor can our after obedience procure such 
protection. Perfect obedience is a debt 
continually due from every creature as such ; 
and the payment of a debt due now, can 
never be a compensation for the non-pay- 
ment of arrears : nor can the most exact 
payment of what is due from one's self 
be esteemed the least part of payment of 
what is due from another ; and there - 
fore, where the debt is obedience, as all 
creatures are bound to obey at all times, 
none but a God can pay off the score of 
any one delinquent. This is a tremendous 
consideration, even supposing true repen- 
tance, and a thorough reformation, were 
wholly in our own power ; but when, as sin- 
ners, we are entirely " without strength," 
Rom. v. 6, 8 ; when (as I have already ob ■ 
served) these gifts are perfectly dependent 
upon grace, and the good Spirit of God ; 
surely to talk of deserving the favour of 
Heaven by them, must be extremely ab- 
surd. Nor is it only extremely absurd, but 
extremely dangerous j as it places the merit 
of^works higher than ever the Papists 
placed it, and is utterly inconsistent with 
the humble genius of the Protestant reli- 
gion; 

But your neglect of taking proper notice 
of these things, not only leads you to dis- 
regard the express sayings of our Lord, and 
to nullify his work, but to heal the wounds 
of the daughter of God's people slightly. 
You complain of our " profaneness and im- 
morality ; of our profligacy and unjust op- 
position to lawful authority j of our disre- 
gard to decency and good manners, as well 
as to the laws of our country ; of that lui- 
lawful pursuit of pleasure, that luxury and 
extravagance, which insensibly preys upon 
the constitution, debases the sense, and 
corrupts the morals of our people." And 
these are evils that you ought to complain 
of ; they are the sure signs of a declining 
consumptive state, and can never be enough 
lamented. But then, you never touch upon 
that root of bitterness, which bears this gall 
and wormwood ; you say nothing of our 
■unbelief, which keeps us at a distance from 
God, from whom we must receive every 
g-ood and perfect gift ; you say nothing of 
faith, without which it is impossible to 
please him, to turn from evil, or return to 
him. Nor do you take the least notice of 
3 L 



882 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



our enmity to the blessed Jesus, and his holy 
gospel ; of that proneness to rebellion and 
naughtiness of heart, from whence proceeds 
every evil thought, and word, and work. 
These things you ought to have remember- 
ed, and not to have forgotten the other. 

Had you remarked upon these evils, in 
the moral view you have tijken of our na- 
tional vices, it would naturally have led you 
to point out suitable remedies. You must 
then have persuaded us to labour after an 
union with Christ, the fountain of grace, 
by faith ; and this radical union with him 
would have produced a moral union, and 
have transformed us into his likeness : where 
faith had been implanted, love would have 
flowed ; and where love had flowed, there 
must have been ready and cheerful obedi- 
ence ; for the end of the commandment is 
charity, out of a pure heart, and faith un- 
feigned. But without these gracious habits 
internally wrought, what will all the out- 
ward reformation in the world do for us ? 
Have you not read of the Pharisees ? Did 
not these people keep clean the outside of 
the cup and the platter ? Far from being 
guilty of any scandalous immorality, they 
prayed in the streets, made broad their phy- 
lacteries, fasted twice a-week, and gave 
tithes of all that they possessed : yet were 
their inward parts so filthy, that they finally 
became obnoxious to a judgment ten thou- 
sand times worse than what has befallen the 
unhappy inhabitants of Lisbon. Let us 
not deceive ourselves ; neither outward re- 
formation nor outward morality are suffici- 
ent ; neither outward professions nor out- 
ward duties ^vill make a man a Christian. 
The king's daughter is all glorious within, 
as weU as without ; and if we belong to the 
Redeemer, we must be sanctified by him 
both in soul, and body, and spirit. 

If you would reform the world, preach 
THE GOSPEL. The gospel contains the only 
motives that can possibly prevail upon any 
to embrace it. People may talk of the am- 
iableness of the divine Being, and the 
charms of virtue, thereby to aUure us to return 
to the one, and to embrace the other ; but 
without a true faith in the promises of par- 
don and acceptance, true repentance can 
never be attained ; and a free and, gracious 
pardon and acceptance is nowhere promis- 
ed, but in the Lord Jesus Christ. The 
goodness of God freely oflfering pardon and 
peace, must lead us back to him, or we ap- 
proach him no more. Earthquakes, famine, 
pestilence, or any other evils, have their 
use only as they discover to us our present 
condition, and greatly enhance the offered 
kindness : but we love God, because he 
first loved us ; we love Jesus Christ, be- 
cause he obeyed and died for us ; and his 
great love, thus manifested, does not urge, 
but constrain us to love him again ; " be- 



I cause we thus judge, that if one died for 
all, then were all dead ; and he died for 
all that they which live, should not hence- 
forth live unto themselves, but unto him 
which died for them, and rose again." These 
are " the cords of a man, and the bands of 
love," wherewith we are drawn to our hea- 
venly Father. " Herein is love, not that 
we loved God, but that he loved us, and 
sent his Son to be the propitiation for our 
sins and if God so loved us, surely we 
ought to love him again, and to testify our 
love by a suitable obedience. When no 
creature (as I have hinted) could furnish a 
righteousness that might be imputed to us, 
who can but stand amazed, that the Father 
should send his only begotten Son to obey 
in our stead? When no creature could 
bear the wrath of an offended God, and by 
dying overcome death, who can but stand 
amazed, that the Son of God should be sent 
to sufi'er and to die, that we might live 
through him ? Who can but stand amazed, 
that the Son of God should take our nature 
upon himself, that he might thus obey and 
die for us ? How can we behold him 
thus dying for us, and not die to that sin 
for which he died ? When love so impre- 
cedented speaks so loud, who can but hear, 
and wonder, and return to the Lord ? 

What I have said, I think, plainly shews 
that your discourse might have been far 
more evangelical ; and as plainly shews 
what superior motives to repentance and re- 
formation would have occm-red, if it had 
been so. So that, humbly recommending 
my remarks to your serious consideration, 
I might here have concluded my letter : but 
as you allow that the late earthquakes " have 
hitherto been the merciful warnings of a 
kind and good providence, to dispose us to 
bear the rod ; and to consider, with that 
awe which becomes us, the hand which 
hath appoir.ted it a few eclaircissements 
upon one of the lessons which you have ad- 
vanced under that head become absolutely 
necessary, lest, by mistaking the case, we 
should lose the benefit of our neighbours' 
afiiictions. 

You recommend upon this occasion, 
" our guarding ourselves against any hard 
censures, which a reflection upon these ex- 
traordinary calamities encourages in minds 
too readily disposed to judge with severity 
and conclude, " that it is certain that we 
have'no right to determine what are the par- 
ticular intentions of Providence in this dis- 
pensation." But certainly we have a right 
to determine that such punishments are in- 
flicted because of sin : else how do they (in 
your own words) " speak to us the lan- 
guage of the divine displeasure ?" else how 
can they be considered as punishments to 
correct some, and to warn others ? else hov/ 
can they be considered as the louder calls 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



883 



of anger ; or of what use to bring us home 
to ourselves ? This you must grant, or you 
pull down all that you have^before builded, 
and^make yourself a trespasser, r .allow that 
we have no right to conclude these unhappy 
people to be greater sinners than ourselves, 
because of their greater sufferings. This 
would lead us pharisaically to cajole our- 
selves in our iniquities, rather than to take 
warning by others ; yet we are allowed to 
look upon them as very great offenders. 
Our Saviour does not reprove his disciples, 
for thinking those Galileans, whose blood 
(Luke xiii. 2.) Pilate had mingled with 
their sacrifices, to be very great sinners ; 
but for thinking them to be greater sinners 
than themselves, which is indeed a temper 
of mind utterly inconsistent with true re- 
pentance. 

We are allowed then to suppose the 
Portuguese to be great sinners, and that the 
Lisbon earthquake was a punishment in- 
flicted for sin ; and if we can discover any 
thing in their conduct that might tend to 
bring down this divine judgment upon them, 
it will be our wisdom to take w^arning by 
it, and carefully to avoid it, as a fatal 
mare ; and surely we may see some things 
in them, which God has, in all ages, punish- 
ed with the most seveie chastisement. As — 

Fi7'st, Idolatry. It is impossible but 
that you, sir, must have heard of the stupid 
profaneness and idolatry of these people ; of 
their mock processions, and barbarous mi- 
micry of their Redeemer's sufferings, such 
as was a scandal to human nature, and such 
as never tarnished the most profane rites of 
Heathenism, Such fopperies, this hor- 
rible punishment should caution us carefully 
to avoid ; and to avoid every means that 
would lead us into them. It should make 
us carefully abide by the gospel of Christ, 
which is the power of God to salvation to 
every one that believes ; and wherein is re- 
vealed the righteousness of God from faith 
to faith. It should make us carefid to live 
up to it, lest, for neglecting so great sal- 
vation, God should give us up to strong 
delusions, to believe such lies, and to wor- 
ship and serve the creature more than the 
Creator, who is blessed for ever. 

Secondly, Persecution. "We all know, 
that at Lisbon the barbarous Inquisition 
reigned in all its horrors, and that thousands 
have there fallen a sacrifice to it, whose 
blood has long cried aloud for vengeance ; 
and we know that persecutors have been 
most severely punished in all ages ; so that, 
taught by this dreadful judgment, we 
should carefully avoid this crime — a crime 
of so deep a dye, that in its highest stage, 
when it strikes at the truth as such, it be- 
comes irremissible, and can never be for- 
given either in this world or in that which 
is to come. I allow, that these people are j 



connected to us by every tie but that of re- 
ligion ; but this of itself constitutes so vast 
a difference, that whenever we are disposed 
to speak most favourably of their failings, 
and attribute them to the prejudices of 
education, or the weakness of human judg- 
ment, we should still remembei\ that we 
are protestants and they were papists ; and 
indeed, to us, as protestants and Christians, 
there is something in this divine judgment 
so very remarkable, that, if rightly con- 
sidered, it may greatly confirm us in both. 

As protestants, we all look for the de- 
struction of antichrist and his kingdom ; 
and here we behold a city, whose unequalled 
trade in gold, and silver, and precious stones, 
was a proper type of that spiritual merchan- 
dise so many hundred years vended by her 
mother Rome; like whom, she was built 
upon seven hills ; like whom, as a most 
obedient daughter, she was a nest of idola- 
ters and persecutors ! And as she was so 
like her mother in every thing, we have all 
the reason in the world to think, that 
Rome, like Lisbon, shall one day be pu- 
nished. Most remarkable it is, that on the 
day which she had abused to rob the eter- 
nal God of his honour, and to give it to the 
whole host of heaven ; on the day which 
she had abused in shedding the blood of 
thousands ; on that very day God came 
down to hold his auto da fe, and her own 
blood was required. Thus, when her mo- 
ther Rome shall say, " I sit as a queen, and 
am no widow, and shall see no sorrow ; in 
that very day shall her plagues come, death, 
and mourning, and famine ; and she shall be 
utterly burnt with fire, for strong is the 
Lord God who judges her." « 

As Christians, we all look and wait for 
the coming of our Lord unto judgment, and 
therefore should pay a special regard to 
every token of his approach. He himself 
has told us, that, before his coming, " there 
shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, 
and in the stars, and upon the earth, distress 
of nations with perplexity, the sea and the 
waves roaring, men's hearts failing them for 
fear, and for looking after those things 
which are coming upon the earth ; for the 
powers of heaven shall be shaken." When 
therefore we see any such things come to 
pass, we should lift up our heads, for our re- 
demption di-aws nigh. Nor need we to fear, 
if Christ dwells in our hearts by faith, if 
we are rooted and grounded in love, though 
the heavens and the earth fly away, and 
their place be found no more ; for the Lord 
of Hosts is with us, and Jesus Christ is our 
refuge. In whom I am, reverend sir, your 
sincere well-wisher, &c. 

LETTER CLIX. 

Dear and Reverend Siii, — You iiocvl 



884 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



110 apology for delaying your answer to my 
letter. You have a precedent to plead, 
which must, if not satisfy, yet strike me 
dumb ; but I propose, if the Lord assist, to 
be more punctual for the future in acknow- 
ledging the favours I receive from my va- 
luable and valued correspondents ; among 

whom I shall always reckon Mr. 

I am much obliged for your very just and 
very important remarks. They give me 
such an idea of your knowledge in the things 
of Christ, and your acquaintance with ex- 
perimental religion, that I must beg leave 
to lay before you the plan which I have 
sketched out for my Treatise on Gospel 
Holiness ; with an earnest request, that you 
will rigorously examine it, and freely pass 
your judgment upon it; suggesting, where- 
ever it is improper, the means of rectifying 
it ; wherever it is defective, a method for 
completing it. 



THE PLAN. 

Pleasure and happiness of Christ's reli- 
gion. We must partake of the comforts of 
the gospel, before we can be fitted to prac- 
tise the duties of the law. Theron oppress- 
ed with fears on account of his numerous 
sins, discouraged with doubts on account of 
his imperfect obedience, the cordials of the 
gospel are readministered with some addi- 
tional spirit and strength. Holiness, gospel 
holiness, its nature, necessity, excellency. 
The endowments necessary to fit us for the 
practice of holiness ; a persuasion of our 
reconciliation to God, the hope of everlast- 
ing happiness, and an assured expectation 
of grace sufficient for us. The grand effi- 
cient of holiness, the blessed Spirit ; the 
principal instrument, faith. This renews 
the dispute concerning the assurance of 
faith. Objections to it stated, discussed, 
answered. Holiness more particularly de- 
lineated in its several branches, and deduced 
from, or founded upon evangelical principles ; 
such as, " I beseech you by the mercies of 
God : Ye are bought with a price : Ye 
are the temples of the livhig God : God 
hath forgiven you," &c. All these privileges, 
though not hereditary, yet indefeasible ; or 
the final perseverance of believers. This 
eminently conducive to holiness. The 
Scriptures, prayer, Lord's supper, when 
mixed uith faith, are effectual means of 
holiness. Our friends part, and renew 
their epistolary correspondence. Theron, 
desirous to glorify the^ God of his salyation, 
asks advice concerning the best method of 
family worship, educating children, in- 
structing servants, and edifying his ac- 
quaintance. On each of these particulars 
Aspasio satisfies his inquiry ; enlarges on 
the subject of education, especially the edu- 



cation of daughters, as that seems to be 
most neglected, or the proper manner of 
conducting it least understood. Letter on 
the covenant of grace ; comprising the sub- 
stance, and being a kind of recapitulation of 
the preceding volumes. Letter on the way 
of living by faith in the Son of God, or the 
way of reducing all the gospel doctrines to 
smtahle practice. Aspasio seized with a 
sudden and fatal illness. His sentiments 
and behaviour in his last moments. 

This, dear sir, is my rough draught. Ap- 
ply the compasses and plummet ; examine 
it with your rule and line. Improve my 
plan ; assist me, with your advice and pray- 
ers, to execute the work ; and may the great 
Master-builder enable me to bring forth the 
top-stone, for the honour of his holy name, 
and for the edification of his chosen people. 
I am, dear sir, with unfeigned affection, your 
brother in Christ. 

N. B. — As Mr. Hervey did not live to 
finish his plan, and as he was himself appre- 
hensive that he should not, he desired, in 
his preface to Marshall on Sanctification, 
that Marshall might be considered as a sup- 
plement to Theron and Aspasio, and as a 
kind of substitute for what he intended to 
write on the same subject, according to the 
plan here proposed. His words are, " I do 
by these presents depute Mr. Marshall to 
supply my lack of service." See Recom- 
mendatory Letter, p. 619. 



LETTER CLX. 

February 12. 

My DEAR Friend, — I will take a hun- 
dred of Jenks's Every Man's Ready Com- 
panion ; for my mind is not altered since I 
promised this, nor my charity purse drained. 
It is a useful book to give away. 

I am glad Jenks's Meditations sell, and 
I hope the Lord will make them a blessing 
to the reader : it is pity they cannot be 
comprised in less than two volumes octavo. 

Does Mr. — — want amusement ? Let 
him take your friend Dr. Young's advice : 

Retire and read his Bible to be gay. 

Does Mrs, want it? You should 

teach her to delight in God, and to rejoice 
in Christ Jesus. A certain gentlewoman 
in Miles'-lane, whom you once reproved, 
has been taught to find her consolation, not 
in the entertainments of the stage, but in 
the assured hopes of heaven. 

Have you giv^en so and so to the poor? 
Ask your heart, whether you gave out of 
love to your dying Saviour ? Was this the 
ihotive ? It would then be universally in- 
fluential ; and you would think you could 
never do enough for his honour. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



885 



If an earthquake should happen, ask Mr. 
, (that advocate for the theatre), if he 
would like to be found in the play-house, 
and go from the boxes, or pit, to the great 
tribunal ? Indeed, indeed, the stage is inde- 
fensible. 

Thanks for delivering my message. I 
wish you a safe return, and the continual 
guidance of Heaven. Yours most cordially, 
&c. 

My messenger waits, pardon haste. 



LETTER CLXL 

Madam, — I am pleased not a little to 
hear a lady of your fine sense and blooming 
years declare, That an inquiry relating to 
everlasting salvation " has taken up much 
of her thoughts." Let me entreat you to 
go on, and imitate that excellent woman, 
whose panegyric is uttered by wisdom and 
truth itself ; *' Mary hath chosen that better 
part, which shall not be taken from her." 

You inquire, " Whether the elect of God 
have not an inward assurance that they shall 
be saved ?" Your casuist takes leave to an- 
swer the question, by asking another : Why 
should not you and I, madam, have this 
assurance ? Is it not a blessing intended for 
Christians in general? " We know," says 
the apostle, " that we are passed from death 
unto life." He says not, I and some emi- 
nent saints, but, " we including those 
believers to whom he wrote, those among 
whom he preached, and all those who here- 
after should believe through his word. 

Is not this a most desirable knowledge ? 
On the other hand, can any thing be more 
afflicting than a state of suspense with regard 
to this all-important affair ? To be in sus- 
pense whether my final lot will fall in the 
regions of endless misery, or the mansions 
of eternal gloiy ? Insupportable ! Can it be 
the will of our most indulgent Creator, that 
we should spend our days in this sad uncer- 
tainty, and distressing anxiety ? Impossible ! 

But have we a warrant for this assurance ? 
We have the best of warrants, the gift of 
God. If your papa gives you a pair of 
diamond ear-rings, or, (which, rightly im- 
proved, will be much more ornamental) a 
neatly printed Bible ; do not you look upon 
this as a sufficient warrant to call these 
presents your own ? Do not you rest fully 
assured, that, by virtue of your parent's gift, 
they are^ your unquestionable property ? 
Perhaps "^you will say, Where has God 
Almighty done any thing like this ? where 
has he given salvation or life eternal to me ? , 
Be pleased to consult 1 John v. II, and 
you will find an answer, which, I hope, will 
prove perfectly satisfactory, and highly de- 
lightful. 



Is this spoken to me ? To you, madam ; 
to the young ladies of your acquaintance, 
and to every one that reads it. Life eternal 
is given, just as the manna was given in the 
wilderness. The manna, that each hungry 
Israelite might gather and eat it : Life 
eternal, that every poor sinner may receive 
and enjoy it — But I have no merit, nothing 
to deserve it. Then you have just as much 
as the all-gracious (jod requires. Without 
money and without price, is his bountiful 
declaration. Freely, and abstracted from 
all deserts, are his gracious terms. You 
have no merit, madam, and I have less than 
none. But has our divinely excellent Re- 
deemer nothing meritorious ? For his sake, 
this magnificent and glorious gift is con- 
ferred. Not we ourselves, but Jesus Christ 
the righteous has obtained eternal redemp- 
tion for us. 

May I then assmedly believe, that God 
gives eternal life to me ? May you glorify 
God's truth ? may you glorify his grace ? 
may you glorify the death and obedience 
of his beloved Son ? If so, then you may, 
you ought, it is your privilege and your duty 
to believe, that God Almighty freely gives 
to you eternal life 

When you receive this gift, look upon it 
as your portion ; live in the most comforta- 
ble expectation of it ; relying on nothing 
valuable in yourself, but depending entii'ely 
upon the faithful promise of him who cannot 
lie. Then you will feel your heart inclined 
to love your most adorable Benefactoi-, then 
you will study to please him in all your 
conversation, then you will be truly holy. 
All which is, with great sincerity, wished 

by, amiable Miss , your most obedient 

servant, &c. 



LETTER CLXIL 

Dear Sir, — I keep Mr. E 's sermon 

for no other reason, than to prevent its 
going into other hands. I am ashamed, and 
sorry to see, that so celebrated a college as 
should send out such a teacher of divi- 
nity. However, I must acknowledge one 
excellence in this gentleman. He acts pru- 
dently at leasts in not overloading his pages 
with quotations from Scripture. Those 
stubborn pragmatical things might, perhaps, 
have risen up, stared him in the face, and 

confronted his notions. Mr , he rightly 

judges, will serve his turn much better than 
St. Paul. Who is Philalethes Cestriensis? I 
see nothing valuable in his work, but what 
comes from the paper-mill and the printing- 
press ; the paper and type are indeed very 
beautiful. What a wild proposition is that, 
page 124, namely, " That by faith in Jesus 



886 



A COLLECTIOiN CF LETTERS. 



Christ, we understand the persuasion of the 
mind, that Jesus Christ was sent from God 
to redeem and to instruct mankind ?" At 
this rate, the very devils are endued with 
the Spirit of oiu: God : They believe with 
this pereuasion of the mind, that the Chris- 
tian revelation is true. Amidst so many 
palpable errors, who shall lead us into 
truth ? He that is our gracious Master, and 
our wonderful Counsellor. Dear sir, let us 
look unto him, that he may, according to 
his promise, "guide us continually." Next 
to the holy word of God, let us study 
Marshall on Sanctification. For my part, 
I am never weary of reading that incompar- 
able and most comfortable book. 

Are you, dear sir, always thinking how 
good may be done ? I say with David, 
" The Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, and 
of Israel, our fathers, keep this for ever in 
the imagination of the thoughts of the heart 
of his servant !" 1 Chron. xxix. 18. 

As the public service of our church is 
become such a formal lifeless thing, and as 
it is too generally executed by persons so 
dead to godliness in all their conversation, 
I question whether it will be opera pretiuni 
to publish the exhortations to ministers, and 
to a devout attendance on the church ser- 
vice, which you propose. I should much 
rather see from your pen two or three lively 
and animating forms of morning and even- 
ing prayer, with clear and short directions 
how to pray aright, and a proper method 
of daily self-examination. This, printed in 
a halfpenny pamphlet, we might give away 
to any body, indeed to every body. And if 
one in twenty, or even one in fifty proved suc- 
cessful, our pains and expense would be abun- 
dantly recompensed. We should also hereby 
have some handle to lay hold on hypocritical, 
self-deceiving souls.- We might say, Neigh- 
bour, have you got those prayers by heart? do 
you constantly use them, and examine yourself 
daily by those questions ? Indeed, indeed, 
the exhortations you propose v/ould only ex- 
asperate the clergy. It is dangerous to 
meddle with them or their proceedings. 
You are, I hope, in the way of duty, and 
that k the way of peace and safety. You 
may do much good, by dropping a word 
for Christ on proper occasions. You do 
not know how your words are by the gen- 
erality regarded ; and it is impossible for 
tongue to tell how kindly our condescending 
Master will take the least attempts which 
proceed from the love of his name. 

I intend soon to return Dr. Watts on the 
Love of God. I wish it was reprinted. 
Pray did you ever read Dr. Delaune's 
Sermons ? he was president of St. John's 
College, Oxford, and famed, I am told, for 
being a most accomplished gentleman. He 
really has more of the truth of the gospel in 
his twelve sermons, that in all the polite 



sermons I ever read in my life. For my 
part, I set no store by our modern dis- 
courses ; nay, I can hardly bear to read such 
insipid unevangelical harangues. Much ra- 
ther would I read an oration in Tully, or a 
dissertation of Seneca's. 

When you can spare the Rev. Dr. 
Browne's Estimate, and likewise his two 
sermons preached at the cathedral church of 
Carlisle in 1746, just favour me with a 
sight of them. I presume they will not 
tell me of Jesus which was crucified, there- 
fore I shall soon be satisfied with their com- 
pany ; for though I may find some amuse- 
ment from his fine style* and striking senti- 
ments, yet I can find no consolation in any 
name, nor in any thing, but only in the 
grand propitiation and everlasting righteous- 
ness of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. 
Thanks for Dr. Akenside's Ode to the 
country gentlemen of England. He wrote 
this with a very good intention, and he is 
certainly a man of genius ; but to me this 
ode reads somewhat flat ; I fear it will not 
rouse and animate like the poems of Tyr- 
taeus.* 

This probably will find you returned in 
safety from your journey. When the jour- 
ney of life is over, I hope we shall sit down 
together in everlasting rest ; and see his 
glory, who endured the cross, and despised 
the shame. Till then, and then much more, 
shall I be most aifectionately yours, &c. 



LETTER CLXIIL 

Thanks to my dear friend for the peru- 
sal of Dr. Glynn's poem, entitled. The Day 
of Judgment. It is not void of elegance 
and spirit ; but methinks it wants that 
energy and pathos, which, on so interesting 
and solemn an occasion, should awe, trans- 
port, and agitate our souls. But the great 
deficiency is, the neglect of Jesus Christ. 
Ha is, indeed, slightly mentioned, just at 
the close ; but he should have made the 
distinguished figure throughout the whole 
piece. St. Paul calls the day of judgment, 
tlie day of Christ. We must all stand be- 
fore the judgment-seat of Christ ; then 
shall we behold the glorious appearing of the 
great God, even of our Saviour Jesus 
Christ. But not a glimpse of this is seen 
in Dr. Glynn's poem. 

Do you ask what I think of the polite 

's sermon ? It is a mere moral essay, 

not a sermon ; it wants the light of Christ. 
To speak the truth, I think it an errant 
Cyclops. 



* Tyraeus was a poet of Athens, who, by his poem 
pronounced at the head of the army, inspired the 
Spartans with so much courage and contempt of 
death, that they obtained a glorious victory. 



A COLLECllON OF LETTiiRi% 



887 



Monstnim l orrenfluin, cui lumen ademptum. 

Virgil, M7i. B. iii. 
A hideous, eyeless monster. 

From such preachers, and such sermons, 
good Lord deliver us ! Is any remedy for j 
sins comparable to the blood, the righte- 
ousness, the intercession of a divine Re-{ 
deemer? Pity, ten thousand pities, so great 
a man (for so the author really is) should 
not know, or should totally overlook the 
grand peculiarity of the gospel. It grieves 
me to think such unchristian doctrine 
should be thus propagated. If a fair op- 
portunity offers, I would gladly bear my 
testimony against such enormous perver- 
sion of the gospel of Christ. 

I cannot think the manuscript sermon 
which you have now sent me is of such 
distinguished excellence as to deserve a 
publication. It does not seem calculated 
either to alarm, to comfort, or impress. 
There is nothing of the orator, no search- 
ing application, no striking address. The 
preface is not so judicious as I could wish ; 
it anticipates what is said under the follow- 
ing heads, and renders some part of them 
tautological. The text is not exhausted. 
Of several emphatical words no notice is 
taken, /say unto you, ye shall in no case; 
of the kingdom of heaven, nothing particu- 
lar is said. Indeed, there is a hint or two 
in the conclusion referring to this subject ; 
but too rambling, indistinct, and not with 
such a similarity to the text as might be 
observed. The preacher supposes all his 
hearers to be of the same character, and 
ranks them all in one class. A practice 
which discerning people will not admire, 
and which is hardly consistent with the 
apostolical rule, rightly dividing the word 
of truth ; or with our Lord's direction, to 
give each his portion suited to their respec- 
tive states. I love Mr. E, as a worthy 

good man, but I decline the office of re- 
vising his sermon, because I am sensible I 
could not make it such as I should choose to 
see printed. However, if it is printed, 1 
heartily wish the blessing of the Lord may 
attend it ; that true religion may be promot- 
ed, and immortal souls edified. 

When the Pope is installed he is re- 
minded of this most weighty truth, Sancte 
Paler, dies ccternitatis cogita. Let me say, 
Vir dileciissime, dies ester nitatis cogita. We 
were all pleased with your last conversation. 
It was like your book, and like yourself. 
Remember, my dear friend, when you are 
in company, that you have written a pious 
book, and do not invalidate all your exhor- 
tations to others by forgetting them in your 
own conversation. It is this, ah! it is this 
that destroys what we build, confirms peo- 
ple in lukewarmness, and does unspeakably 
more mischief than can be enumerated in 
this letter. " Let no corruj)t communica- 



tion proceed out of your mouth," says St 
Paul, " but that which is good to the use 
of edifying, that it may minister grace to 
the hearers." 

The paper you inquire after is lost in the 
immane barathrum of my loose papers. If 
ever it emerges, it shall be restored. May 
my friend's soul be not as the present state 
of the pastures and meads, but as a water- 
ed garden whose waters fail not ! 

I have perused Mr. Witherspoon's Essay 
on Imputed righteousness : may we every 
day experience that sanctifying efficacy on 
which his discourse turns. " Sanctify 
them," saith our Lord, *' by thy truUi." 
I thank you for your admonition. I will 
bear it in my memory, and may our divine 
Master enable me to observe it ! 

Oh for a candid spirit ! It gives grace- 
fulness to our cause ; it diminishes not the 
weight of our argument ; and surely it does 
honour to the Christian character. 

Thanks for Mr. Mason's* Odes. Po-^ 
lished performances ; but not equal, in my 
judgment, to his Isis, or his Monody on 
Pope. I think I could point out a defect 
or two in these poems, but nothing defective 
could I discern in those. It is a j)ity but 
gratitude to the supreme Benefactor actuat- 
ed our hearts and guided our pens. The 
rich benefits of memory displayed by the 
elegant Mr. Mason ; and not one acknow- 
ledgment to the blessed Author of all ! The 
poet shines, but where is the Christian ? 
I am ever yours, &c. 



LETTER CLXIV. 

Tuesday r/}orHi/tg- 

Dear Sir, — I should think my bit Dii- 
ship very weak, and quite unfledged, if I 
could be offended with the freedom for 
which you apologize. Those who were 
anciently united in the bonds of Christian 
friendship had this generous sentiment for 
their motto, " Amicoruin omnia cmmmmia, 
prceter uxores. "f 

I I'ejoice with you in the hopeful young 
gentleman's recovery ; a pledge, I trust, of 
his eminent proficiency and extensive use- 
fulness in the gospel cause. 

I acquiesce entirely in Dr. C 's rea- 
sons ; perhaps if there was much of the 
pure evangelical peculiarity in the recom- 
mendatory verses, it might be a forbidding 
circumstance to some readers. 

Mr. is very obliging ; his cautions 

are very friendly. I will not speak so 
plainly to Mr. W. as to him. I wish, if it 



* Odes on Memor}^ Independency, Melancholy, 
and the Fate of Tyranny, 
t Fiiciids have every thing in con:imon, except 

their wives. 



888 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



be God's gracious will, that your little 
treatise may be like Dr. Doddridge's works, 
acceptable to every reader. You see by 
the expressions I have taken the liberty to 
underline, that Mr. — — sees the great 
truths of Christianity inverted, just as we 
see objects in a concave speculum. The 
good works, according to his scheme, are 
the recommending cause, and the blessed 
Redeemer only like the master of the cere- 
monies, merely to introduce them with a 
good grace. No, we have not so learned 
Christ ; he is our righteousness, as well as 
our sanctification. We are accepted in the 
beloved : " In him shall all the seed of 
Israel be justified, and in him shall they 
glory." This is the epidemical mistake ; 
but I hope God will send out his light and 
his truth, and rectify our misapprehensions. 
I dare say that amiable and accomplished 
gentleman, that exemplary and shining 
Christian, that very zealous and successful 
preacher, Mr. T n, will be highly pleas- 
ed to receive the present of your little trea- 
tise ; his good heart will exult to see your 
open acknowledgment of the Saviour whom 
he so dearly loves. I hope to see you, or 
hear from you, before you take your jour- 
ney; and am, with increasing esteem and 
affection, mdst cordially yours, &c. 



LETTER CLXV. 

My dear Friend, — Your very kind 
present is come to our hands, and has made 
its appearance. You give me, as Theron 
says, ixoTio/icSot imetQoiwv. 

All I can say is, May the Lord supply 
your every need (both bodily and spiritual), 
according to his riches in glory by Christ 
Jesus ! 

I am sorry my brother wrote so warm a 

letter to Mr. A y about his attempt to 

purchase the closes at Weston, which lie 
so commodious for us. The world's maxim 
is, Catch as catch can : But our Saviour's 
direction is, " Be anxious for nothing." 
Never fear but we shall make a shift without 
these closes to pass through the wilderness, 
and arrive at the heavenly Canaan. Were 
not your thoughts upon that eternal home 

when you attended Mr. L 's corpse to 

the tomb? One of the texts to which 
I directed my people on Sunday was 2 
Cor. V. 1, and which, I hope, the omni- 
present God is now impressing on their 
consciences, and mixing with faith. 
\ The elegant Paterculus I here return; 
and the evangelical Marshall I recommend 
to your repeated perusal. I wish you studied 
him more ; for then you would like him 
better than you seem to do at present : you 
own there are many excellent directions in 



him ; and those parts which you now think 
obscure would not appear so on a more 
intimate acquaintance with the author. 

I am glad to hear such a character of Mr. 

I hope you will be an instrument 

in our Lord's hand of improving his valuable 
dispositions, of ripening the man of honour 
into the servant of Christ. I think Dr. 
Akenside* has, if not spoiled his ode, much 
injured the dignity and beauty of his senti- 
ments, by writing in Spenser's measure, 
and sometimes in his drawling style. " While 
he doth riot's orgies haply share." For an 
ode, where we expect all the harmony of 
numbers, and the highest polish of language, 
this manner surely is improper. I keep it 
a little longer, perhaps it may please better 
on the second reading. 

I wish you and your lady much joy at 
Christmas, or rafher all joy in Christ. He 
is come, he is come to judge the earth ; to 
do that for enslaved and ruined mankind 
which the heroic judges of old did for Israel, 
to deliver them from bondag'», and establish 
them in peace. Is not this the sense of 
Psalm xcvi. 1 1 — 13 ? Ah ! what pity that, 
while so many heroes are celebrated, "Jesus, 
the desire of nations," and " the brightness 
of his Father's glory," should be totally 
disregarded. Thou high and holy One, 
since authors of genius withhold the tribute 
of praise, glorify thy name by a worm, by 
impotence, by, &c. 



LETTER CLXVL 

Weston, June 7, 1756. 

Reverend and dear Sir, — Do you not 
take it amiss that I have answered your 
last kind letter no sooner ? I have such a 
multiplicity of epistolary engagements, and 
such a poor pittance of strength, that 1 
cannot be so punctual in my acknowledg- 
ments as my friends may expect, and as I 
myself wish. 

You desired to see Mr. Boyse's letter 
to me. I here enclose it ; and it should 
have been sent to you earlier, but I could 
not find it amidst the confused heap of my 
papers till yesterday. I am very sorry to 
hear he is so ill, as there is little probability 
of expecting any thing further from his mas- 
terly pen. I really think his little poem 
entitled Deity, (in which he is not unmind- 
ful of the great Redeemer), is as useful and 
fine a piece of poetryt as most in the Eng- 
lish language. I so much admire it, that I 
have insensibly as it were got it by heart. 
God grant that it may be influential on 
every reader. 



* See Letter CLXII. 
t See Letter XXXIX. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



8B9 



1 was reading the other day a curious 
book, written by Mr. Fleming, and entitled, 
The fulfilling of the Scriptures complete ; 
in which I met with a valuable quotation 
from Luther's letter to Melancthon, who 
was then in much anguish on the apparent 
hazards of those times. " If this," says 
Luther, " be the cause of God, and not of 
man, then all the burden should be cast on 
him. Why dost thou afflict and torment 
thyself, seeing God hath given his Son for 
us ? Why do we tremble or fear ? Will 
he forsake us in smaller things, who has 
given us so great a gift ? Is Satan stronger 
than God? Should we fear the world, 
which Christ has overcome ? If the cause 
we contend for be not the truth, let us 
change ; but if the cause be holy and just, 
why do we not credit the promise and faith- 
fulness of God? It is certain Satan can 
reach no farther than this present life ; but 
Christ reigneth for ever, under whose pro- 
tection the truth now is ; he will not fail 
to be with us unto the end. If he be not 
with us, I beseech you tell me where he 
shall be found ? If we be not of his church, 
do you think that the bishop of Rome and 
our adversaries are of it ? We are indeed 
sinners, but Christ is true, whose cause we 
have in hand ; which he has hitherto main- 
tained without our counsel, and so he will 
do unto the end." Mr. Fleming then just- 
ly observes, that Luther rested on Christ, 
when all visible props broke imder him. 

What animating considerations are these 
under all the discouragements we may meet 
vf ith in our ministerial labours ? How does 
the work of the Lord prosper in your hand ? 
May you be in this respect as a fruitful 
bough by the wall ; may your people sit 
under your shadow with great delight, and 
your fruit be sweet unto them. I am yours, 
&c. 

Hie following is a genuine copy of Mr. 
BoYSE's Letter to Mr. Hervey.« 

Reverend anjj dear Sir, — For your 
tender admonitions and excellent advice, I 
am truly indebted to you ; as they discover 
a generous and compassionate concern for 
my better part. I bless God, I have reason 
to hope that great work is not to do ; for 
of all the marks of infatuation I know 
amongst men, there can be none equal to 
that of trusting to a death-bed repentance. 

I do not pretend to vindicate my own 
conduct ; nor can I ever forget the very 
Christian sense of my condition and misfor- 
tunes, which (notwithstanding all my mis- 
behaviour) you have so pathetically ex- 



* Mr. Boyse died soon after he wrote this letter to 
Mr. Hervey. His poem, entitled Deity, has passed 
through ^e^ eral editions. 



pressed. The follies of my youth have 
furnished a plentiful harvest of reflection 
for my latter years. As I have been now 
for a long time in a manner buried from the 
world, so it has been my endeavour to spend 
that time in lamenting my past errors, and 
in pursuing a course of life void of offence 
towards God and man. 

I have learned to trust in God as my only 
portion ; to bless him for his fatherly correc- 
tions, which have been much gentler than 
my demerit, and by which I have been 
taught to know him and myself ; his infinite 
mercy and goodness ; my own ingratitude 
and unworthiness : so that I may truly say 
with the returning prodigal, " Father, I 
have sinned against heaven, and against thee, 
and am not worthy to be called thy son." 

My health is in a very precarious state ; 
and the greatest hopes of recovery I have 
(which are very small) arise from warm 
weather and the country air. I thank God 
I am absolutely resigned to his holy and 
blessed will. I have seen enough of the 
vanity and folly of earthly things, and how 
insufficient they are to satisfy the desires of 
an immortal soul. I am sensible of my own 
wretchedness and nothingness, and that my 
only hope of salvation is through that bless- 
ed Redeemer, who died to save lost sinners. 
This is my rock of hope against an ap- 
proaching eternity. 

May you long, sir, taste those true and 
unfading pleasures, which attend the prac- 
tice of religion and virtue ; and may you, by 
your shining example, be a means of turn- 
ing many to righteousness. This is the 
sincere and ever-grateful wish of your most 
obliged and faithful servant, S. Boyse. 



LETTER CLXVIL 

Dear Sir, — The following is an extract 
of a letter, wrote by a young creature labour- 
ing under an incurable distemper, and lan- 
guishing in the near approaches of death. 

" I am at this time more happy' than 
tongue can express. Never did I feel so 
much of the love of Christ shed abroad in 
my heart, as now. He has given me full as- 
surance that he has, out of love to my soul, 
cast all my sins behind his back, Isaiah 
xxxviii. 17. And oh ! why need I fear 
death, when the sting is taken away ? No ; 
though I am a sinner, yet I have an advocate 
with the Father : and though, while I con- 
tinue in this vile body, I fear I shall too 
often grieve him, yet is his love still the 
same ; which makes me abhor myself, that 
ever I should sin against so kind, so com- 
passionate a Saviour." 

See by this how the poor receive, how the 
poor believe, and how the poor adorn the 



890 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



gosj)e} of God ou\- Saviour. This has in- 
deed no great authority to dignify it, no 
flowers of eloquence to recommend it ; no- 
tiling but the transparent sincerity and the 
native suUiniity of its piety. It breathes, 
however, the very spirit which I long to 
attain ; and though it comes from a person 
in low life and of no education, yet I believe 
very few, even amongst the names of highest 
distinction for wit, genius, and learning, will 
be able, in the same circumstances, to exer- 
cise the same magnanimity of mind. — I am 
yours, &c. 



LETTER CLXVIir. 

Weston- Favell, Aug. 13, 1756. 

Dear Sir, — Yesterday I received the 
favour of your letter ; was surprised to find 
you so near me, and grieved to hear of the 
occasion. Oh ! that both of us may be en- 
abled to cast all our care upon the Almighty ! 
for surely he v/ho gave, not an archangel, 
not a world, but himself, his most blessed 
self, for our sins, surely he careth for us. 

Yes, dear sir, I think from my very heart, 
that the grand controversy which the King of 
heaven has with our nation, is for our pre- 
vailing contempt of his most adorable Son 
Jesus Christ ; a gift, compared with which 
every thing in earth or sky, is lighter than 
dust upon the scale ; a gift, by which an 
omnipotent and eternal God not only de- 
monstrates, but commands his love. Match- 
less then and unspeakable must it be ! See 
how the prophet Isaiah exults and triumphs 
in this glorious gift. With an ardour of 
gratitude, and with a transport of delight, he 
cries, " To us a Child is born ; to us a Son 
is given ;" in whose person is a dignity, and 
in whose righteousness an efficacy, infinitely 
surpassing the power of thought. And 
should not such a gift be the darling topic 
of our conversation ; be the avowed glory 
and the general joy of our nation ? Yet, 
strange to tell ! afflictive to observe ! this 
divinely excellent gift is forgot, is rejected, 
or treated with the most cold indifference. 
"Where are the people who mention it, or can 
heav to hear it mentioned in their company ? 
Instead of being in raptures at the sound, 
are they not disgusted and chagrined ? And 
does not God behold all this ? Did he ever 
receive so horrid an affront, or is it possible 
for his creatures to act a more contiunelious 
and disdainful part ? But whither am I 
running ? Pardon me, dear sir, pardon my 
full heart, my wounded heart, which has con- 
curred to aggravate this crying iniquity. Oh ! 
that its invariable language, for the future, 
may be, " God forbid that I should glory," 
or rejoice, or confide, " save in the cross of 
Christ Jesus my Lord:" in him I hav.e 



pardon of my sins ; in him I have peace with 
God ; in him I have eternal life. There- 
fore, " Him first, him last, him midst, and 
without end,"* will I remember, acknow- 
ledge, celebrate. 

Now you are come so far, could you not 
make a little farther excursion ? Could you 
not favour us with your company at Wes- 
ton ? where you would find a plain liouse 
and a faithful heart open to receive you. I 
have no news from the literary world ; and 
my orders to my bookseller are few. But 
having occasion to write, not long ago, to 
Amsterdam, I sent for all my favourite au- 
thor's works : Witsius I mean ; the polite 
and pious Witsius. My bookseller is re- 
printing in two volumes, at my desire, Jenks's 
Meditations ; which I propose to recommend 
by a prefatory address to the public. Let 
me soon hear from you, if I cannot see you. 
And may your letter be in every sense an 
evangelist. — Ever yours, &c. 



LETTER CLXIX. 

Weston-Favell, March 2, 1756. 

Dear Sir, — In a preceding letter, I beg- 
ged your solution of some scriptural difficid- 
ties. As you always used even to prevent 
my expectations, in a free and speedy com- 
munication of your valuable sentiments; 
and as I have not enjoyed that pleasure for a 
long season, I am under some apprehensions 
that either you are visited with sickness, or 
my despatches have met with a miscarriage. 
I hope, after the receipt of this, you will find 
some way to relieve me from my perplexity. 

Reading yesterday, Exod. xiv. methought 
there was some appearance of tautology in 
verse 7, Heb. If in either of the clauses we 
might render the word " bcc," by horsemen, 
this seeming impropriety would be avoided. 
It would also more exactly agree with dcb 
VTDSHM," the 28th verse. Is not our me- 
thod of translating verse 20, somewhat for- 
ced, and hardly reconcilable with the ge- 
nius of the original language ? 

Hab. lit. 5, " ltgv ld." This sentence 
also embarrassed me a little. How does it, 
as translated in the English Bible, agree 
with the history ? Is there any account, or 
any hint, that the pestilence went before 
the Lord, when he descended on Mount Si- 
nai ? There went indeed a wonderful word 
" DBD," ro ^iai-ikXoju,tvov (prnm p'/i[A.afuv^ Does 

this passage refer to the plagues inflicted on 
the Israelites for their murmuring and rebel- 
lion ? 1 think not, because the sacred hymu 
appears calculated for the encouragement of 
the people, whereas this circumstance would 
rather depress their spirits. Does it point 



* Milton. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



891 



at the plagues and the vengeance executed 
on the Egyptians ? This, I believe, is most 
probable, and perhaps affords us the true 
meaning of the passage. Pray, favour me, 
if you have health and leisure, vi^ith youi- 
opinion, which, I assure you, is highly valu- 
ed, and always thankfully received by, dear 
sir, your obliged and affectionate friend, &c. 

What precedes was written before the re- 
ceipt of your last. 

I thank, you, dear sir, for your letter, and 
thank you doubly because it is long. I re- 
ceived it on coming from my Wednesday's 
evening lecture : have read one sheet, and 
entered upon the second, but am now called 
down to family prayer, I shall add no more, 
only let me desire you to favour me with 
the criticisms you mention. I beseech the 
blessed God to establish your health, and 
prolong your life, that you may enrich me 
and others with many of your letters, and 
much of your knowledge. 



LETTER CLXX. 

Saturday morning. 
DEAtt Friend,— I congratulate you 
on the acceptance of your little tract, and 
the uncommon demand for it. Inest sua 
gratia parvis, is a maxim of more wis- 
dom and weight than we easily apprehend. 
May the blessing of our Lord Jesus Christ 
accompany it, always and in all places ! I 
must desire you to excuse my waiting upon 
you. The season is so rigorous, I am afraid 
to stir abroad. I question whether I shall 
have courage to venture to CoUingtree to- 
morrow. You know I am one of the snail 
kind, both in travelling, reading, and writ- 
ing. My thanks to Mr. Fenwick ; I have 
just peeped upon his work : * I fear it will 
be thought by the world too finely spun. 
You once asked my opinion concerning Dr. 
Grey's last words of David, divided accord- 
ing to the metre. I had not then read it 
with due attention. 1 lately perused it veiy 
carefully, and am charmed with the import- 
ance of his correction and the beauty of the 
passage, as it stands amended by that judi- 
cious critic ; though, I must own, I do not 
admire the alteration suggested by Bishop 
Sherlock, in his letter to Dr. Grey. " A 
sun shall rise as the morning," seems to have 
very little spirit, and less propriety. Is it 
not bordering upon idem per idem ? What is 
the morning, but the rising of the sun ? ask 
your accurate friend's opinion. If the other 
passages of Scripture, mentioned by Dr. 
Grey in the front of this little piece as what 



* Thoughts on the Hebrew Titles of the Psalms, 
endeavouring to discover their meaning, and point 
o\it their use. 



he soon intends to publish, ap». as valuably 
restored, and as elegantly interpreted as this, 
the suppression of them will be a great loss. 
I will, on your encouragement, go on with my 
book in my piddling way. Happy if my 
own heart may be impressed with the evan- 
gelical truths, even though they should reach, 
as handled by this pen, no farther. I had 

like to have forgot Mr. 's letter ; and if 

I had forgot it, you might justly wonder at 
my stupidity. What a man is he ! sure the 
age does not produce a more genuine copy 
of his divine Master. What a letter has he 
wrote ! what dignity of sentiment ! what 
true greatness of soul ! what openness of 
heart ! what boldness of speech, and just- 
ness of reproof, sweetened with what love ! 
tempered with what humility ! How I love 
the excellent man ! Was not your soul asham- 
ed while you read it ? and did not your heart 
bum within you, as the disciples' did when 
talking with Christ in their way to Em. 
maus ? 

I am really afraid to read Spenser's Fairy 
Queen. He is in fancy superior, perhaps, 
to every poet, yet so luscious in some of his 
representations, which 1 have casually dip- 
ped upon, that it is im.possible, for me at 
least, to advert to them without catching 
contagion. His pictures of this sort are 
drawn with a good design. He makes his 
heroes victors of the soft allurements. But, 
I believe, few minds are so case-hardened 
against sensual pleasure, as not to receive 
disadvantageous impressions. I am there- 
fore determined never to look into it again, 
never to gather the honey of poetry from 
the briers of contamination. *' Flee temp- 
tation," is the advice of an inspired apostle, 
and I will pay the due regard to it. I am, 
dear sir, with great respect, your most ob- 
liged, and very affectionate servant, &c. 



LETTER CLXXI. 

Wesfon-Favell, Dec. 6, 1756. 

Sir, — I received your obliging and valu- 
able present of the Scriptural Poems wrote 
by an American. It is an extraordinary 
performance, considering the disadvantage- 
ous circumstances under which the author 
laboured. A spirit of zeal and devotion 
animates the whole. There are, too, some 
elevated thoughts and fine lines in it, parti- 
cularly in that part of his poems he entitles 
" Man's fall and exaltation, or the Chris- 
tian triumph." 

I hope the sale of it will answer your ex- 
pectation ; and recompense the cost you 
have bestowed in printing it so elegantly, 
and on so fine a paper. But be that as it 
may, you have my best wishes that it may 
, become the darling of the public ; and you 



892 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



have at the same time the sincere 
of, sir, your obliged humble servant. 



LETTER CLXXIL 

Dear Sir, — Tell our ingenious friend 

at , if I did not give a direct answer to 

his question, it was because he had stated it 
improperly. His manner was like making 
a raw apothecary's apprentice the proper 
judge of a doctor's bill. If such a chap 
should take upon him to say, Doctor, your 
language is unintelligible, your recipes are 
injudicious, what answer would you make ? 
Some such answer must be made, even to 

Dr. C — - and Mr. O , if they or Dr. 

C ■ - maintain, or would insinuate, that 
the mystery of sanctification, as delineated 
by Marshall, is unintelligible and injudici- 
ous, merely because they do not immediate- 
ly discern its propriety. I own the third 
and fourth direction of Mr. Marshall seem 
obscure ; but this does not arise from any 
improper manner of treating the subjects, 
but from the mysterious nature of the sub- 
jects themselves. 

This, says Dr. C , is my firm faith, 

" that, if we do well, we shall be accepted 
through the merits of Christ." I might 
ask the Doctor whether he does well ? 
Dare he avow this, even before me his fel- 
low-worm, and fellow- sinner ? How then 
will he maintain the pretension before that 
infinitely =pure God, in whose sight the very 
heavens are unclean ? But I choose to 
ask him, (what may seem less offensive,) 
*' has he never read of the righteousness of 
faith?" Rom. x. 6. Of being " wiade 
righteous by one man's obedience ?" Rom. 
V. 19. Of " righteousness imputed with- 
out works ?" Rom. iv. 6. Now I should 
be glad to learn, what the Holy Spirit 
means by these expressions ? And if our 
worthy friend pleases to show, how his 
faith can be made conformable to any one 
of these texts, I will undertake to demon- 
strate the conformity of my faith to them 
all. Ah ! why should we hug a despica- 
ble rag, and reject a suit of beautiful ap- 
parel ? The Lord Jesus enable us all to 
discern the things that are excellent ! 

Let me this Christmas wish you and 
Mrs. all joy and peace in Christ Je- 
sus. These are the true compliments of 
the season, and therefore sent by your true 
friend, &c. 



LETTER CLXXIIL 

Weston, Saturday morning. 
Much I loved, and much I esteemed my 
dear friend before ; but now^ mcthiiiks, I 



love and esteem him more on account of 
his kind acceptance of my free admonitions. 
Do, my dear friend, let us remember how 
important the hours of our present life, 
and the moments of social intercourse are. 

Dr. W of Worcester, who has a fine 

taste for painting, can, though engaged in 
great business, paint, and talk now and 

then, upon paintings; Dr. C of St. 

Albans, who has a fine genius for poetry, 
though amidst a variety of employs, can 
write, and give his sentiments on poetry; 

and why should not Dr. S , though in 

an equally large sphere of action, edify his 
acquaintance by his tongue and pen with 
some religious hints ? This, I think, is his 
distinguishing talent ; and, when he pleases, 
I am sure no man knows how to introduce 
Scripture better, or to converse in a more 
striking manner. Oh ! that a stricture of 
it may run through, brighten, and dignify 
his temper, his business, his whole conver- 
sation. 

You are perfectly right in esteeming 
those authors whose piety beams through 
all their pages. And for this very reason 
I esteem, admire, and embrace Jenks' 
Works, Marshall on Sanctification, and 
Witherspoon on the Imputed Righteous- 
ness of Christ; because nothing has so 
efficacious and benign an influence on true 
piety as their doctrines ; nothing so sweetly 
calms the conscience, so thoroughly refines 
the affections, or, to say all in a word, so 
effectually sheds abroad the love of God in 
the heart. 

I wish you and Mrs. S abundance 

of comfort in Miss Sophia. It was said of 
one, Nabal is his name, and folly is with 
him, 1 Sam. xxv. 25. So I say of your 
infant daughter, Sophia is her name, and 
may wisdom be with her ! even the jj avaStv 
ffo(pt!i, " the wisdom from above," which 
St. James so charmingly describes in chap, 
iii. 17, and not with her only, but with her 
parents, and with their truly affectionate 
friend. 



LETTER CLXXIV. 

Weston-Favell, July 26, 1756. 
Now, my dear friend, I have procured 
your favourite author, Downham's Chris- 
tian Warfare against the Devil, the Worid, 
and the Flesh. He is indeed a pleasing* 
perspicuous writer-, the language, as you 
observed, remarkably pure and correct ; he 
is very experimental, and enters into 'the 
distresses of tempted souls ; many things 
are sweet, comfortable, charming. Some- 
times, I think, he diaws a little veil over 
the grace of God, not suffering it to bhize 
out in its full lustre and glory. Do not 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



893 



you think he is somewhat inaccurate in 
stating the nature of justification ? Lib. ii. 
chap. 50. " Justification," he says, "con- 
sisteth in two parts : the first, remission of 
our sins for the full satisfaction of Christ 
by his death and sufferings ; the other, the 
imputation of his habitual and active right- 
eousness." Should it not rather be, Jus- 
tification consists of two parts : the first, 
remission of our sins ; the second, being 
perfectly righteous in God's sight : and 
both these spring from the imputation of 
Christ's righteousness to the poor sinner. 

I find from your manuscript it is your 
opinion, that the antediluvian sacrifices were 
slain by the sword of the cherubim planted 
and waved at the entrance of Eden- This 
is a very remarkable and very awful cir- 
cumstance ; and, if true, very worthy of 
particular notice. But what reasons have 
you, dear sir, for the support of this senti- 
ment ? Be so kind as to mention them at 
your leisure. 

Mr. P , about a week after his return 

to Northamptonshire, gave me your letter. 
I fear he wUl become a prey to the allure- 
ments of the world. 1 believe he is not 
very zealous for the gospel of Christ. I am 
pretty sure he does not love the servants of 
our Lord ; therefore I expect that, from 
this quarter, my character will soon be put 
under an eclipse ; nor shall I be much 
disappointed if, by this incident, my new 
friend is put away from my sight. Thanks 
for your hint concerning my conduct; it is 
very seasonable, and shall be observed. 

1 have sometimes thought that the best, 
strongest proof of a future state of happi- 
ness occurring in the Old Testament, is 
deducible from the history of Enoch. 
" Enoch walked with God," was high in 
his favour, and had much communion with 
him ; it is recorded as a singular reward of 
his holy and exemplary life, that " he was 
not, for God took him." Now, if the an- 
cient people of God had no notion of a 
future state of happiness, what strange 
apprehensions must they form concerning 
this instance of the divine procedure ? At 
this rate, Jehovah must appear to punish 
in the most exemplary and dreadful manner 
his first and greatest favourite. Whereas, 
suppose them rooted in the belief of a much 
happier condition succeeding the present 
life, and the case is plain, and God is jus- 
tified in his doings. Please to give me 
your opinion as to this argument. 

I hope you are thinking of yoin- new ver- 
sion of Psalm civ. which will be very agree- 
able, and, I hope, not a little edifying, to, 
dear sir, your much obliged and affectionate 
friend, &c. 

P.S T here send you Mr. Moses 

Browne's almost literal translation of Lu- 
ther's most comfortable hymn, which is in 



I very considerable esteem in the German 
church. Zimmermannus de cognitionis Christi 
eminentia, is a comment on it, and is now 
translating by Mr. Browne at my desire. 

LUTHER'S HYMN. 

IN EIGHT PRACTICAL RULES. 
I. 

'Tis not too arduous an essay. 
To tread resolved the gospel-way ; 
The sensual instinct to control. 
And warm with purer fire the soul. 
Nature may raise her fleshly strife. 
Reluctant to the heavenly life; 
Loath in a Saviour's death to share. 
Her daily cross compell'd to bear : 
But grace omnipotent, at length. 
Shall arm the saint with saving strength ; 
Through the sharp war with aids attend. 
And his long conflict sweetly end. 

See Zimmermannus, page 5, 

IL 

Act but the infant's gentle part ; 
Give up to love thy willing heart: 
No fondest parent's melting breast 
Yearns, like thy God's, to make thee blest : 
Taught its dear mother soon to know. 
The tenderest babe his love can show ; 
Bid thy base servile fear retire, 
This task no labour will require. 

Zimmermannus, page IL 

in. 

The Sovereign Father, good, and kind. 
Wants but to have his child resigned ; 
Wants but thy yielded heart (no more !) 
With his large gifts of grace to store. 
He to thy soul no anguish brings. 
From thine own stubborn will it spring-s : 
That foe but crucify, (thy bane !) 
Nought Shalt thou know of frowns or pain. 

Zimmermannus, pa^e 17- 

IV. 

Shake from thy soul, o'erwhelmed, deprest. 
The encumbering load that galls her rest; 
That wastes her strength in bondage vain :— 
With courage break the enslaving chain. 
Let prayer exert its conquering power ; 
Cry in thy tempted trembling hour, 
'* My God, my Father ! save thy son !"— 
'Tis heard, — and all thy fears are done. 

Zimmermannus, page 32, 

V. 

Yet if (more earnest plaints to raise) 
Thy God a while his aid delays. 
Though you don't now his kind hand feel. 
Thy grief let lenient patience heal. 
Or if corruption's strength prevail. 
And oft thy pilgrim footsteps fail ; 
Pray for his grace with louder cries, 
So shalt thou cleansed and stronger rise. 

Zimmermannus, page 4.?. 

These next lines within brackets, do not 
belong to Luther's hymn, but are used by 
Zimmermannus, page 52, as an illustration 
of the preceding stanza. 

[The faster hold my faith on Jesus takes. 
His brighter glories on my spirit breaks. 
If then to heaven I lift my votive hands, 
Love's strongest flame my raptured soul expands. 
Thee, Lord, she loves, and would with zeal forego 
A thousand worlds, love dear as thine to know j 

Then Luther's hymn proceeds thus : 

VI. 

If haply still thy mental shade. 
Dark as the midnight gloom be made. 
On the sure faithful arm divine 
Firm let thy fastening trust recline. 
The gentlest sire, the best of friends. 
To thee nor loss nor harm, intends : 
Though tost on a tempestuous main. 
No wreck thy vessel shall sustain. 



894 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



Should there remain of rescuing grace 
No glimpse, no footstep left to trace; 
Hear thy Lord's voice:— 'Tis Jesus' will, 
" Believe, thou poor dark pilgrim, still." 

Zimmertnannus, page 55. 

VII. 

Then thy sad night of terrors past, 

(Though the dread season long may last,) 

Sweet light shall, from the tranquil skies. 

Like a fair dawn, before thee rise ; 

Then shall thy faith's briglit grounds appear, 

Thine eyes shall view salvation clear. 

Be hence encouraged more, when tried, 

On the best Father to confide: 

Ah ! from thy mind extirpate quite 

The sickly films that cloud her sight. 

See ! of how rich a lot, how blest. 

The true believer stands possest ! 

2inimermannus, page 68. 

These lines within the brackets, do not 
belong to Luther's hymn, but are used by 
Zimmermannns as an illustration of the 
preceding stanza. See page 74. 

Loose from hard bonds, my God ! a mind 
n chains too fast, too strait confineil : 
I'm heal'd ! set free ! from sin made pure ! 
Thy blood, my C;hrist, has wrought the cure. 
I feel a power my will control ! 
Quench thy long drought, my thirsty soul ! 
The living fountain now I've found, 
Difi'using balmy streams around.] 

Then Luther's hymn concludes with this 
eighth practical rule. 

VIIL 

Come, backward soul ! to God resign ; 
Peace, his best blessing, shall be thine: 
Boldly recumbent on his care, 
Cast thy felt burdens on i.y there. 

Zimmennannus, page 88. 



LETTER CLXXV. 

My dear Friend, — This morning I 
wrote to my bookseller, and therein told 
him, that I think he need not be much 
concerned at the scurrilous treatment which 
the reviewers have bestowed on my edition 
of Jenks's* Meditations. It will injure 
their own character, and lessen their own 
credit ; not depreciate the works of that 
excellent man. I do assure you, it gives 
me not the least concern. I do not covet 
reputation. I desire every day to be more 
and more dead to the hoir our that cometh of 
men. Yet it is my sincere opinion, that 
such very foul and very abusive language, 
would awaken in the generous reader a spi- 
rit of resentment. As a ])roof, I enclose 

a letter from Mr. P , a very ingenious 

young clergyman, whom I some time ago 
mentioned to you under this character. The 
letter, I think, will do him as much honour 
as it does me ; it is fit to appear in print ; 
but I would on no account take any such 
freedom with a private epistle. I would 
not have our friend in London give himself 
any manner of trouble to prevent any future 



* See Mr. Hervey's preface to tliis took, p. 724. 



instances of this kind of benevolence from 
the reviewers. I depend not on tlieir fa- 
vour, but on him whom heaven, and earth, 
and hell obey ; who constrained even Ba- 
laam to say, " How shall I curse whom the 
Lord hath not cursed ?" We are all obliged 
to my dear friend for interesting himself in 
our behalf ; but we desire him not to take 
the trouble of vvriting on Tuesday, because 
it will be too late. The little closes are to 
be put up for sale on Monday, and A — — , 
will, I suppose, outbid my brother ; yet, if 
disappointed in this, blessed be God for a 
treasure in heaven that faileth not ! an in- 
heritance that is not perishable, but lasting 
as eternity ; not tarnished, but free from 
every circumstance of alloy ; not fading, but 
always in the fullest, freshest bloom of 
perfection, glory, and joy. 

Poor Mr. H r, I am informed, has 

almost lost his sight, is extrem.ely ill ; his 
life, it is thought, will follow his sight. 
Lord, that he and we may see by faith the 
Lord's Christ ! Blessed be God, in Christ 
all fulness dvrells, all fidness of merit 
and righteousness, of grace and salva- 
tion ; and this is for the imworthy, for 
sinners, " for whoever will ;" therefore, for 
my dear friend, and for his ever affectionate, 
&c. 



LETTER CLXXVL 

Weston- Favell, Monday morning. 
My dear Fiuend,—! am much obliged 
to you for your generous donation of thirty 
shillings to purchase five hundred of an Ear- 
nest Invitation to the Friends of the Estab- 
lished Church, &c.* I have put the money 
into the hands of one who loves the Lord 
Jesus in sincerity, and who will take care 
that the pamphlet is properly dispersed ac- 
cording to our desires. It is an excellent 
design. I daily beg of God to bless it ; for 
what he vouchsafes to bless, will be blessed 
indeed. 

Enclosed I send you a form of prayer, 
founded on the plan laid down in the Ear- 
nest Invitation, &c. It was transmitted to 
me last night, by a very pious clergyman, 
who, I believe, was himself the author of 
it. You may get one of your sons to tran- 
scribe it, if you have not leisure enough 
to do it yourself; and permit such serioiis 
persons to take copies as you think will 
make a proper use of it. 

I wish you that promise for your coun- 
sellor, which we read this morning, at break - 



* An Earnest Invitation to the Friends of the Estab' 
lished Church, to join with several of their brethren, 
clergy and laity, in setting apart one hour in the Sun- 
day of every week for prayer and sup]iiir"tion, espe- 
cially during the present troublesome times. 



A COLLECTION 

fast, in Isaiah, (chapter Iviii. II.) "The 
Lord shall guide thee continually." I am, 
my dear friend, ever yours, while, &c. 



[A solemn act of confession and intercession, suited to 
the plan of those London clergy, and other friends 
to the Established Church, as specified in the Ear- 
nest Invitation, &c., requesting all the well-disposed 
Christians (laity as well as clergy) throughout this 
nation, to join with them in a solemn act of humi- 
liation for one hour every Sunday evening, viz. 
from eight of the clock till nine, on account of their 
own sins and the sins of this nation, especially du- 
ring these calamitous times, viz. in IJjT-] 

1. O Blessed Loud, let the words of my 
mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be 
at this time acceptable in thy sight as the 
incense, and let this now lifting up of my 
bands be a sweet-smelling sacrifice ! Lord, 
hear my prayer, and let my cry cume uiito 
thee. 

O most great and glorious God ! just 
and terrible in thy judgments to all obsti- 
nate and rebellious sinners, but of infinite 
mercy to such as, with true sorrow and hear- 
ty repentance, turn unto thee ; look do'.vn, 
I beseech thee, with mercy and compassion 
upon me, now presenting myself before 
thee, owning that I am not worthy so much 
as to lift up my eyes to the throne of thy 
glorious Majesty. O Lord, my sins are so 
many and so great, that it is owing to thy 
mercy alone that I have not been long since 
consumed, but yet have another opportuni- 
ty of humbling myself before thee, and beg- 
ging mercy for my own soul, who have so 
grievously sinned against thee. I confess, 
O Lord, what thou knowest already, but I 
confess it to manifest thy justice, and to 
glorify thy mt-rcy, which has spared me so 
long. I confess and acknowledge, O Lord, 
that I brought a depraved and sinful nature 
into the world with me, from whence ali 
my actual sins have flowed and proceeded, 
as impure streams from a polluted fountain. 
O blessed God, I beseech thee, for thy 
dear Son, Jesus Christ's sake, to humble me, 
and that greatly, for this my original cor- 
ruption ! Lord, let me see it in the strong- 
est light ; and never give me rest and peace 
till from my soul I cry out for, and rely up- 
on, the unsinning obedience of my dear 
Redeemer, Jesus Christ ; and the assist- 
ance of the Spirit for deliverance from it; 
and grant that this precious balm may be 
my cure, and restore me again to the image 
of ray God ! 

O Lord, I have sinned against thee by 
wilful and actual sins ; I have left undone 
those things which I ought to have done, 
and have done those things which I ought 
not to have done ; — particidarly by such 
and such a sin. 

["As it is taken for granted, that every one who uses 



OF LETTERS. 895 

this prayer has first of all strictly examined him- 
self, and wrote dovm all the notorious sins, both of 
commission and omission, which he could recollect 
that he had been guilty of during the whole course 
of his life, it would here be proper for him to read 
over that catalogue of his oft'ences very deliberate- . 
ly , that he may be deeply humbled, and truly peni- 
tent] 

O blessed God, I can give but a wretched 
account of myself. I cannot rem-ember, I 
fear, the ten thousandth part of my offences. 
Lord save, or I pei'ish ; my crimes are in- 
tolerable and shameful, and my omissions 
as well as my commissions are innumerable. 
Oh, what shall I say unto thee, or what 
shall I do ? Oh, thou preserver of men ! 
I am so vile, that I cannot express it ; so 
sinful, that I am hateful to myself, and 
much more abominable must I needs be in 
thy sight ! 

Oh, 1 have sinned, I have sinned ! my 
sins are grown shameful, and aggravated to 
amazement ! Lord ! I can say no more ; I 
am ashamed, I am confounded in thy pre- 
sence ! 

But yet, O God, thou art the healer of 
our breaches, and the lifter up of our head ; 
and I must not, I dare not despair. Thou 
hast opened a fountain for sin and for un- 
cleanness, and therefore I am sure thou de- 
lightest not in the death of a sinner ; and 
though my sins are great and niunberless, 
as the sand which is upon the sea-shore, 
yet they are infinitely less than thy mercies, 
which thou hast revealed to all penitent and 
returning sinners in Jesus Christ ! 

For his sake, therefore, be pleased to 
look down into the dust, and lift up a poor 
helpless sinner from the dunghill I for 
Christ's sake, let me not perish in my folly, 
nor be consumed in thy heavy displeasure ! 
for Christ's sake, give me time and space 
to repent, and give me also power to do it 
by the assistance of thy blessed Spirit ! 

Support me with an holy hope ; confirm 
me with an operative and lively faith ; and 
kindle a briglit and burning charity in my 
soiU ; give me patience in suffering, and se- 
verity in judging, and in condemning my 
sins ! that judging myself, 1 may not be 
condemned of thee ; that moiu-ning for my 
sins, I may rejoice in thy pardon ; that de- 
stroying my sins, I may live in righteous- 
ness ; that denying my own will, 1 may al- 
ways endeavour to perform thine ; and that, 
by the assistance of thy blessed Spirit, I 
may overcome all carnal and spiritual wick- 
edness. May I walk in thy light ; may I 
delight in thy service ; may I perfect my 
obedience ; be w^hoUy delivered, as well 
from the power of sin, as punishment of it ; 
and so be for everpreserved from thy w-rath, 
and at last pass on from a certain expecta- 
tion to an actual enjoyment of the glories 
of thy kingdom, through Jesus Christ my 
blessed Lord and Saviour ! Amen. 

2. And now. Lord, as I have been con- 



890 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



fessing my own sins, and humbling myself 
before thee as a private and particular per- 
son, I think myself bound, in humility and 
duty, after the example of thy servant Da- 
niel, to look upon myself in a still farther 
sinful light, viz. as an inhabitant of a pro- 
fligate and rebellious nation ; and so, like 
Daniel also, to confess the sins of my 
people ! May I feel the concern of the 
Psalmist when he exclaimed, " Rivers of 
tears run down mine eyes, because men 
keep not thy law," Psalm cxix. 130. And 
oh ! that my supplications, and the suppli- 
cations of all those who at this appointed 
hour have agreed solemnly to seek thy face, 
and to confess their own sins, and the sins 
of the people of this land ; O that they may 
meet with the same gracious acceptance 
with thee as Daniel did ! O that the com- 
mandment may come forth at the beginning 
of our supplication, " to make an end of 
our sins, and to make reconciliation for our 
iniquities, that thou mayest once more be 
our God, and v»^e thy people !" 

Let thy merciful ears, O God, therefore 
be open unto our prayers, and spare all 
those who confess their sins unto thee ! 
that they whose consciences by sin are ac- 
cused, by thy merciful pardon may be ab- 
solved, through Jesus Christ our Lord ! 

" O Lord, the great and faithful God, 
keeping covenant and mercy with them that 
love him and keep his commandments !" 
(Deut. vii. 9.) we have sinned, O Lord, we 
have committed iniquity, and have done 
wickedly, and have rebelled, by departing 
from thy precepts and from thy judgments ; 
neither have we hearkened unto thy servants 
the prophets, nor to thy Son Jesus Christ, 
nor to his apostles, who in thy holy word 
have spoken unto our fathers and the people 
of the land. 

O Lord, righteousness belongeth unto 
thee, but unto us confusion of face as at 
this day, to our kings, to our princes, to our 
fathers, and to ourselves, because of the 
trespasses which we have trespassed against 
thee ; yea, we have all as one man trans- 
gressed against thee, by departing from thee, 
and not obeying thy voice ; therefore the 
curse is poured out upon us, and thou hast 
confirmed the word which thou hast spoken 
against us ! Thou hast brought upon us 
many and sore evils, yet made we not our 
prayer before thee, that we might turn from 
our iniquity and understand thy truth. 

But, O blessed Lord, to thee belong 
mercies and forgiveness, though we have 
rebelled against thee. O Lord, we confess 
our wickedness and are sorry for our sins ; 
we beseech thee, therefore, according to all 
thy righteousness and all thy gracious pro- 
mises, and for the sake of thy dear Son Je- 
sus Christ, let thine anger and tlry fury be 
turned away from us ! Bow down thine 



ear, O Lord, and hear ; open thine eyes, O 
Lord, and see, and behold our miseries and 
our desolation ! for we do not present our 
supplications before thee trusting in our 
own righteousness, but in thy manifold and 
great mercies, and of the truth which thou 
hast shewed of old time to us thy servants : 
But thou' art the same, whose property is 
always to have mercy ; have mercy up- 
on us, therefore, have mercy upon us, 
most merciful Father, for thy dear Son our 
Lord Jesus Christ's sake ; forgive us all 
that is past, and grant that we may ever 
hereafter serve thee in newness of life, to 
the honour and glory of thy name ! And 
let the consideration of oiu- sinfulness and 
unworthiness, and of thy manifold warnings 
to us, and long-sufferings towards us, in- 
crease in us true repentance, that iniquity 
may not be our destruction ! and increase in 
us also more and more a lively faith and 
love, fruitful in all holy obedience, that thou 
mayest still continue thy favour, together 
with the light of thy gospel, to us and our 
posterity ! and this we beg for thy dear Son 
Jesus Christ's sake, our only Mediator and 
Advocate. 

3. And now I have here confessed to 
thee my own sins, and the sins of the people, 
I desire farther to offer up my prayers in 
behalf of all mankind, that both Jew and 
Gentile may believe in, and glorify thee, 
the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom 
thou hast sent ! Protect and prosper thy 
holy catholic church ; preserve it pure in 
doctrine and worship ; root out of it what- 
ever is a scandal to thy most holy religion ; 
unite its professors and enlarge its borders ; 
especially bless that part of it in these na- 
tions to which I belong ^ and as, in thine 
infinite mercy, thou hast been pleased to 
vouchsafe us abundant illumination of thy 
gospel, be pleased to grant that by our sins 
we may not extinguish the light of it. 

Inflame the ministers and stewards of tliy 
mysteries with a lively and burning zeal for 
the conversion of souls. Impress it deeply 
upon them, that cursed is he that doth the 
Avork of the Lord deceitfully ; and be pleas- 
ed, O Lord, to assist them with thy blessed 
Spirit, and to direct them to the use of 
such means as may be effectual to bring 
about, and accomplish that desirable and 
happy end. 

Be pleased likewise to bless all those our 
dissenting brethren, of what denomination 
soever they be, who love the Lord Jesus 
Christ in sincerity ! Reconcile our hearts 
to them, and theirs to us ! grant that there 
may be an end of those animosities, and 
bitter disputes, which have so long and so 
sadly disturbed the peace, and hindered the 
union of Protestants ! a)id grant also, that 
there may be only thits one holy contention 
between us, whether the ministers out of 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



897 



the established church, or they that are in 
it, shall labour most for the glory of our 
common Master, and for the salvation of 
those souls committed to their care, and 
for whom he shed his blood. 

Bless, likewise, our sovereign lord King 
George, and all his royal family ! make 
them pure and holy in their lives • raise up 
an active and vigorous spirit in their hearts, 
for the punishment and rooting out of wick- 
edness and vice, and for the encouragement 
and maintenance of true religion among us. 

And be pleased, O Lord, to give the 
spirit of wisdom to all his counsellors, and 
to the magistrates of all ranks through the 
nation, that they may be enabled faithfully 
to discharge that great trust which is re- 
posed in them, to thy honour, and to the 
benefit and advantage of his majesty and 
the nation ! 

Be pleased likewise to go forth with our 
fleets and armies ! bless all their endeavours 
against our enemies, and give them success 
in the day of battle. 

Have mercy upon all the afflicted mem- 
bers of thy church, whether in mind, body, 
or estate ! Pity their condition, O Lord ! 
pity it, and lay no more upon them than 
they are able to bear, but give them deliv- 
erance in^thy good appointed time, if it be 
thy blessed will ! Have compassion upon 
all that are in error, but sincerely seek the 
truth; on all that are engaged in sinful 
courses, and led captive by their lusts, that 
they may have grace and strength to break 
their bonds ; and on all those who never 
pray for themselves ! Open their eyes, O 
Lord, and melt their stony hearts ; awaken 
them, though it be even with thunder, to a 
sensible feeling of their sad condition ; and, 
for thy mercy's rake, suffer them no longer 
to sit in darkness, and in the shadow of 
death ; may they see before it be too late 
the danger and madness of thus living with- 
out God in the world. 
/ 4. Finally, O Lord, I desire to return 
thee my unfeigned praises and thanksgivings 
for the manifold expressions of thy goodness 
and loving-kindness to me and to all man- 
kind ! I bless thee for my creation, preser- 
vation, and all the blessings of this life, and 
for all the helps and advantages which thou 
hast vouchsafed me for the obtaining a bet- 
ter ; but above all, for thy astonishing love 
to mankind in Jesus Christ, for all that he 
hath done and suffered for us, and continues 
still to do for us by his powerful interces- 
sion at thy right hand ! humbly beseeching 
thee, that I thy servant, together with all 
those who have lived and died in the faith 
of his holy name, may follow the example 
of his heavenly life, that finally with them 
I may be made a partaker of the merits of 
his obedience and death, in a joyful resur- 
rection to everlastii.g life ! 



All these confessions, prayers, supplica- 
tions, interc^sions, and thanksgivings^ I 
humbly put up to the throne of grace, in 
the name and words of our Lord and Savi- 
our Jesus Christ, who, in compassion to 
our infirmities, hath taught us thus to pray : 
" Our Father," &c. 

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
&c. 

N. B. — The above prayer may be en- , 
larged and improved as time and occasion 
shall offer ; and it may not be improper (o 
remind every Christian, that the first time 
he makes use of it, he ought to set apart 
at least half an hour for self-examination, 
and writing down the sins of which he 
finds himself guilty. The following Sun- 
days he will reconsider what he has written, 
and thereby form a judgment what is his 
progress in, or deviation from, the path 
which leads to heaven. After having spent 
some Sunday evenings in this devout exer- 
cise, he should be upon his guard lest he 
be tempted to leave it off. O may he never 
be tired of such a good work ! the more he 
prays, the more he will have strength to 
persevere. It is humbly hoped, that all 
who read this will immediately purchase the 
Earnest Invitation, &c. the price of which, 
as has been before observed, is no more 
than a penny ; and then, after having 
weighed it with the attention which a mat- 
ter of this importance deserves, they will, 
to use the author's own words, "judge 
whether it be not a seasonable and a safe 
measure which we would persuade you to 
take ; and you will take it, if you are in- 
deed a friend to our present happy establish- 
ment in church and state. Your love for 
them will put you upon the doing every 
thing that lies in your power to serve them ; 
and here you have a fair opportunity, of 
which, if you make use, it cannot but do 
you service, and may be a blessing to them. 
Pray for them at the appointed hour, (name- 
ly from eight to nine every Sunday evening.) 
Determine, through God's assistance, that 
nothing shall hinder you from joining us. 
Break through all engagements, all hinder- 
ances, to meet at the throne of grace the 
Lord's people. [Consider that Godknow- 
eth his secret ones, and will reward them 
openly.] And moreover, for your encour- 
agement, remember, that he who sitteth 
upon the throne is the God who heareth 
PRAYER, and who has invited you (Psal. 1. 
15.) to call upon him in the day of trouble; 
so will I hear thee, says he, and thou shalt 
praise me." What a comfortable promise 
is here to animate eveiy one to make part 
of this praving congregation ! 



3 M 



898 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



LETTER CLXXVIL 

My dear Friend, — I truly sympathize 
with you in all your calamities ; but to be 
afflicted more or less, is the common lot of 
God's people ; and it is frequently their 
fate to be exercised with frowning provi- 
dences in a remarkably grievous manner. 
Under such circumstances we should sug- 
gest soft hints of admonition, with the same 
friendly intention as actuated the prophet 
Jeremiah, when he addressed this exhorta- 
tion to his countrymen, " Let us search and 
try our ways, and," if we are found delin- 
quents, " turn again unto the Lord," Lam. 
iii. 4. We should likewise comfort each 
other by observing, that God, who heareth 
prayer, has bowels of everlasting compas- 
sion, and does not willingly afflict the sons 
of men ; that this adorable God has given 
his all-glorious Son to be a bleeding sacri- 
fice for our sins ; and that if he wthheld 
not his Son, his only Son, but delivered him 
up for us all, how shall be not also with him 
freely give us all things? all things that 
pertain to life and godliness ; to subsistence 
here, and salvation for ever. Prompted by 
the infinite benignity of his nature, and en- 
gaged by his inviolable promise, he never 
faileth those that seek him. O how ready 
is he to give his Holy Spirit ! to give all 
happiness to those that with an humble 
sincerity will apply to him ! infinitely more 
ready than we are to give our children a 
morsel of bread to save them from perishing 
with hunger. These are indeed comforta- 
ble considerations, and are the strongest 
reasons why we should continually be mak- 
ing our requests known unto him. 

I fear Mr. Sm — h is a very bad man, 
and too justly deserves the name you give 
him. Labourers, I am told, are distressed 
by his neglecting to pay them ; which I 
can assure you very much grieves me, nor 
is it in my power to redress them. I wish 
it was ; they should soon see what it is to 
have to do with one "who nameththe name 
of Christ," 2 Tim. ii. 19. 

Please to lend me Dr. Squire's Indiffer- 
ence for Religion Inexcusable. I mightily 
like the title of it. He bears so good a 
character, both as a scholar and a man, that 
I hope it will be an antidote against the 
fashionable and growing indifference to re- 
ligion. 

Did you ever see a shilling poem, en- 
titled the Battle of the Sexes ? It is wrote 
in the spirit of Spenser, and is indeed one 
of the prettiest things I ever met with. 
But it is very evident that the author has 
taken his plan from Fletcher's Purple 
Island.* The celebrated Pitt of New 

» See Letter CCVI. 



College, who translated Virgil and Vida, 
has wrote a complimentary copy of verses, 
which are prefixed : a specimen of which 
I have here selected to show you the na- 
ture of it. 

What muse but yours so justly could display 
The embattled passions marshall'd in array ? 
Bid the ranged appetites in order move. 
Give hcst a hgure, and a shape to love ? 
To airy notions solid forms dispense ! 
And make our thoughts the images of sense ! 
Discover all this rational machine, 
And show the movements, springs, and wheels ' 
within ? \ 

As I was looking yesterday at my pre- 
face to the new edition of Jenks's Medita- \ 
tions, I observed, in the catalogue of his' 
works, that, either through my ov/n or the 
printer's negligence, two little pieces are 
omitted : one of them is his Serious 
Thoughts on the Yv^ onderful God ; which 
is very useful in assisting us to form pro- 
per notions of the divine perfections ; the 
other is his Glorious Victory of Chastity, 
exemplified in Joseph's hard conflict, and 
happy escape. It is a pity that this little 
piece is not more regarded by parents, as it 
is perhaps the best thing of its size ever 
wrote on the subject, and ought to be put 
into the hands of all young people ; for as 
St. Augustine justly observes, " Inter om- 
nia certamina Christianorum duriora sunt 
praelia castitatis ; nam ibi continua pugna, 
et rara victoria."* 

If another edition of Jenks's Medita- 
tions should be demanded, and if it should 
please God to take me to himself before 
that time, I here desire the favour of you 
to see that these two little tracts be insert- 
ed in the catalogue of Mr. Jenks's writ^ 
ings, given in the preface to that book by 
your ever affectionate, &c. 



LETTER CLXXVIIL 

Weston-Favell, April QS>, 1757. 
What has my dear friend been speaking 
for the honour of him, who saved his life 
from destruction ? How are you ? how is 
your lady, after your great fright,-|- and 
greater deliverance ? Calm now, I trust. 



* The meaning of which is : " Amidst all the va- 
rious and.sharp encounters in the Christian warfare, 
the attacks on our chastity are perhaps the most 
formidable, as the combat is strenuous and lasting : 
a complete victory being rarely obtained." 

t The gentleman was driving his wife m a one- 
horse chaise, when the horse suddenly took fright, 
and flung his hinder leg over one of the shafts, just 
by the side of a very deep ditch : being thus en- 
tangled, and a high-mettled horse, he kicked writh 
all imaginable fury, and several times his hoofs 
came within a hair's breadth of their heads. They 
called in. vain on their servant, who had loitered 
behind; and they must both have inevitably been 
dashed to pieces, had not the horse, by the violence 
of his kicking, broke the harness, bar, and shafts, 
and thus fortunately disentangled himself. 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS 



890 



and no emotions in yoin- mind but of grati- 
tude to the great Preserver of men, who 
kept all your bones, so tbat not one of them 
is broken. 

Now, I hope you will be steadily and 
uniformly serious. You see, God warns 
you, yet spares you. To others he has 
appointed such dangers as befell you yes- 
terday, to be the messenger of death ; to 
you he has designed them only as an admo- 
nition of love ; hear then your Preser- 
ver's voice. Trifle no longer witli Christ 
and his salvation ; be zealous, I mean dis- 
creetly zealous, for your Saviour, and for 
that gospel, which you understand better 
than most of our clerg}TOen. How can 
you refuse to speak boldly for such a Mas- 
ter, and to devote yourself to his service 
in earnest, who forgives all your backslid- 
ings, watches over you with such ten.der 
compassion, and tcaits, yea, waits to be 
gracious loito you ! 

My dear friend, may the Lord Jesus 
turn us both to himself, who is our refuge, 
our salvation, and all our hope ; who 
should be our boast, our triumph, and all 
our joy. 

I long to see your amiable friend the 
Reverend Mr. Dyer's poem on the Fleece. 
I suppose he will make you a present of 
it. When you have done with it, please 
to send it me. I hear it is to be sold at 
five shillings, wliich I cannot afford to give 
for it. 

In your last letter you asked me for two 
guineas out of my charity purse, for our veiy 
deser\ang and very distressed friend. Indeed 
it is quite exhausteb ; nay I do not think I 
have a single guinea in the world, even for my 
own use ; though I forbear every unneces- 
sary expense, and want many of the little 
conveniences of life, that I may be enabled 
to siiccoui- the worthy servants of Christ. 
I have agreed to go halves with Rivington 
in the profits of my book : and 1 always 
make it a maxim, not to give till I have 
gotten. Be just before you are generous, 
is your own rule too. If the Lord pleases 
to prosper my work, I will very readily 
comnumicate to the comfort of such worthy 
objects as you may think proper to recom- 
mend to the charity of, my dear friend, 
yours very alfectionately. 



LETTER CLXXIX, 

Dear Sir, — Mr. Moses Brov.Tie* has, 
I think, thirteen children. One is settled 



* The Rev. Mr. Mcsts Browne, (ilie auihcr of 
Sunday Thoughts, and various other pieces,) is new 
vicar of Ohiey in Buckinghamshire, the revenue of 
which is about fifty pounds, being his only income, 
and he above fifty years old. 



in the world; arid a friend of his has taken 
another for his clerk, gratis. We propose 
to put out one of his daughters to some 
decent business, by which she may have 
the means of getting her livelihood. He 
has been at a great expense, poor man ! by 
the sickness of his family. Your contri- 
bution on this occasion will be acceptable. 
Dr. has offered to augment the col- 
lection ; and Mr. , I am sure, will 

readily a:!d his charitable assistance, espe- 
cially if j^ou recomm.end the case. 
' Y/e are in daily expectation of our friend 
H — — . I wish you could make up the 
irittmvirate of the guests- At all our social 
interviews, our news is fetched from the 
Bible ; Christ is the monarch, and heaven 
the country, on which we discourse. O 
that I may be enabled to improve these pre- 
cious opportunities ! not be like Pharaoh's 
lean kine, destitute of growth, though cram- 
med with plenty ! My flock would have 
been peculiarly delighted to have heard 
your voice in the pulpit ; they would have 
hung on your lips ; and, I verily believe, 
the words would not have been in vain in 
the Lord. There is no expedient so effec- 
tual to warm our hearts, as an unremitted 
endeavour to awaken the love of a bleed- 
ing Saviour in the breast of others. 

I am truly grieved at the account of 
yourself. You know who has said, " I 
will heal their backslidings, and love them 
freely ;" and dare we, by giving way to un- 
belief, make the God of truth a liar ? 
Hear the words of the Lord, spoken by 
Jeremiah, chap. iii. 12. " Return, thou 
backsliding Israel, and I will not cause 
mine anger to fall upon you ; only ac- 
knowledge thine iniquities which thou 
hast transgressed against the Lord thy 
God." 

Recommend Jenks's Victory of Chasti- 
ty to Mr. , and tell him, that though 

the lusts of the flesh are inveterate ene- 
mies, yet three methods may be presciibed 
for a victoiy over them. 1. A believing 
application of the Redeemer's death. The 
saints in glory, once men of like passions 
with ourselves, overcame through the blood 
of the Lamb. He " bare our sins in hi.s 
own body on the tree, that wo, being dead 
unto sin, might live unto righteousness." 
2. An habitual reliance on the Spirit of 
God. *' If ye, through the Spirit, do mor- 
tify the deeds of the body, ye shall live." 
Christ by his Spirit acts on our depraved, 
polluted hearts, as a refiner's fire, and as 
fuller's soap. .3. An improvement of the 
divine promises. God " has given unto 
us exceeding great and precious promises ; 
that by these we might be pas takers of a 
divine nature, having escaped the corrup- 
tion that is in the world through lust." 

These, tell Mr. to lay up in his 



900 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



memory ; on these let him meditate ; and 
plead them before our heavenly Father in 
frequent, frequent prayer. And let him 
be of good comfort, the blessing of Gad 
will be his portion. " Gad, a troop shall 
overcome him, but he shall overcome at 
the last." See Gen. xlix. 19. 

Our dear friend presents his love ; and 
wishes you may be very zealous for the 
Lord God of hosts. You have constantly 
an interest in my best prayers, but I am 
utterly unworthy to approach the immacu- 
late purity and infinite holiness of the 
great God; yet blessed be his adorable 
name for Jesus Christ. Oh let us fly to 
Christ ! " Turn ye to this strong-hold, ye 
prisoners of hope." Let us cast our every 
burden upon the Lord Redeemer; have 
access into the holiest through his precious 
blood ; and trust in his ever-acceptable in- 
tercession ; for he intercedes, delightful 
truth ! he intercedes for transyressors. I 
am, dear sir, &c. 



LETTER CLXXX. 

Dear Sir, — ^Mr. Hayward and Mr. 
Pike's Cases of Conscience are printed in 
two volumes, the first of which I here 
send you. I return you SmoUet's History 
of England, and West's Pindar, with thanks. 
How empty all these polite pieces appear, 
compared with the sacred page ! May this 
delight our taste, for this alone can comfort 
our heart. What I proposed to write re- 
lating to the subject of Visiting on Sun- 
days, (see p. 703) was executed the be- 
ginning of last week ; yet, to say the truth, 
I am in some measure backward to propa- 
gate and enforce it ; because, till people 
begin to taste something of the love of God, 
and find delight in Christ Jesus, such truths, 
I doubt, will only startle, and make them 
dread religion as burdensome. 

Thanks for the venison. We cannot 
dress it to-day. All my family are to be 
at court this morning. The King of heaven 
has sent positive orders, and will not excuse 
either man-servant or maid-servant. Will 
you not give us your company in the after- 
noon ? When Mr. performs the whole 

service at my church, I fancy you will not 
be disappointed nor unedified : he seems to 
have a ready utterance, a very good voice, 
and a fervent zeal for the honour of Christ : 
may the arrow of the gospel go forth from 
his lips as the lightning ! I hope you will 
bring your wife with you ; such lively 
preaching as I expect, may be a blessing to 
both of you. O that Christ may guide us 
with his counsel, and warm us with his 
love ; make us useful in our generation, 
and meet for his heavenly kingdom ! 



Why does our friend talk of not accept- 
ing , because it is a paltry living? 

Surely he would not reckon that a paltry 
thing, which gave him an opportunity of 
preaching Christ, and winning souls. If 
he did, he would not be able to say, with a 
certain minister now in glory, " I seek not 
yours, but you." The blessed hope of that 
glory is enough, is enough : Lord, strength- 
en it, brighten it, increase it, ever more and 
more. O that ministers may work for their 
dying Lord, while they have health ; re- 
membering, that sickness may confine them 
to their chamber, and death will imprison 
them in the grave. God Almighty give 
us courage, that we may fight the good fight 
of faith ; and prudence, that we may not 
dishonour our high calling. Ere long, eter- 
nity receives us, and then we rest from our 
labours ; then we forget our transient toil, 
amidst innumerable ages of perfection, and 
glory, and joy. For all this, not imto us, 
O Lord Jesus, not unto us, but unto thy 
love, thy righteousness, thy intercession, be 
the praise ! 

What say you to my late well-meant ad- 
monition ? You are not offended, I hope. 
We must be faithful to each other, or else 
how can we expect to meet with comfort 
at the great tribunal ; to meet with trans- 
port amidst the angels of light ? 

I have not heard from Biddeford ; as 
soon as I receive information, it shall be 
communicated to you. And may the Lord 
fulfil that promise to us both ; " I will in- 
form thee, and teach thee, in the way where- 
in thou shalt go." 

Pray have you got Dr. Armstrong's 
poem on Health ? It is highly extolled by 
Mr. Wharton, the translator of Virgil, as 
a most correct, and (which with him seems 
to comprehend all excellency) a classical 
performance. I should like to peep upon 
it by way of amusement ; for as to the bless- 
ing it celebrates, I expect it not, till this 
vile body is made like unto Christ's glori- 
ous body. Blessed be God for this delight- 
ful hope : may it eveiy day be brighter in 
you, and brighter in your most affection- 
ate, &c. 



LETTER CLXXXL 

My dear Friend, —Sincerest thanks 
for your benevolent offices; may they, 
through our great High Priest, and in the 
incense of his atonement, go up as a me- 
morial before God ; not as a demand, (we 
may observe), not as a bill drawn upon 
heaven, but only as a memorial. 

I had a very restless night, tore almost to 
pieces by my cough. Strange ! that these 
flimsy vessels can bear such violent strain- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



901 



i!ig ! that none of them will burst, and let 
the battered soul slip away to her eternal 
rest in Christ ! 

Here are two sets of the Meditations, 
with which you may gratify some of your 
acquaintance. The Lord Jesus Christ 
grant that they may promote his glory. Do 
not you often wish, often pray, that the 
same blessed effect may be produced by your 
book ? We authors should not be like the 
ostriches in the wilderness, cruel and for- 
getful of their young, Lam, iv. 3. 

If you have Dr. Grey's translation of 
Hawkins Browne's Latin poem on the Im- 
mortality of the Soul, favour me mth the 
sight of it : it is a grand subject ; it is a glo- 
rious subject ; and, when considered in con- 
nexion with Jesus Christ, it is a delightful 
subject. Oh ! that it may incite us to aim, 
not at the things which-are seen, for they are 
t-emporal ; but at the things which are not 
seen, for they are eternal. 

I have found the little treatise, entitled. 
Recovery from Sickness. It is one of the 
most pertinent and rational, the most ani- 
mating and encouraging, that I have seen 
on the occasion. Few properer pieces, I 
think, can be put into a sick person's hand. 
May the Lord God, omnipotent and gra- 
cious, accompany it with his blessing ! 

I am always complaining; complainuig 
of my poor body ; but, I trust, more and 
more resigned to the unerring and gracious 
will of my Lord. 

I beg, I entreat you, if you value the ho- 
nour of the gospel, that you will dissuade 
those polite persons you mention, from 
coming to hear me to-morrow. My spirits 
sink more and more. I am visited with 
some returns of my hacking cough, perhaps 
I shall not be able to speak at all. Such 
disagreeable circumstances will only expose 
me, and create in them very unpleasing ideas 
of what I shall deliver. My imagination is 
gone. l am sensible my sermons are flat, 
and my voice spiritless. Why therefore 
should you bring persons of taste to see 
the nakedness of the land ? The poor coun- 
try people love me tenderly, and therefore 
bear with my infirmities ; else I should no 
longer attempt to preach even before them. 
I am now unfit to appear in the pulpit. 

I hope Dr. Swan's journey will be bless- 
ed to the restoration and establishment of 
his health. I wish I may never forget the 
text on which he heard the minister of Wes- 
ton preach ; I wish we may all enjoy the 
blessing comprised and promised in it : "I 
will pray the Father, and he shall give you 
another Comforter, that he may abide with 
you for ever." Do not you, my dear friend, 
think of such things ? talk of such things 
to your lady, and instruct your children in 
such tilings ? O ! let us remember the 
Judge is at the door, and eternity is near. 



I heartily wish Mrs. a speedy reco- 

very, and a sanctified improvement of her 
afiliction. See, my dear friend, how all 
flesh is grass ; but Jesus and his great sal- 
vation endureth for ever ; here is indeed an 
everlasting possession. The text particu- 
larly fit for me and for you to meditate on, 
(viz. Heb. i. 2, 3.) I will preach on next 
Sunday. Can any be more grand in itself, 
or more consolatory to us sinners ? 

How go you on ? do you see any opening 
in the affair we last talked about ? are you 
come to any determination ? Remember 
him who sees, this very moment, all the 
consequences of every step we take ; and 
who hath said, in tender compassion to our 
ignorance, " The Lord shall guide thee con- 
tinually." Pray, beware of precipitate re- 
solutions ; festina lente. Whatever we do, 
whithersoever we go, may we say with the 
Psalmist, " This God is our God for ever 
and ever ; he shall be our guide even unto 
death." ]\Iy weak state of body dispirits 
my mind, and enervates my hand. Oh that 
I may be strong in faith, joyful through 
hope, and rooted in charity ! and not I 
only, but my dear friend, whose I am cor- 
dially and inviolably, while, &c. 



LETTER CLXXXIL 

Dear Sir, — I should be glad to suggest 
any thing, either for your improvement or 
consolation. But what can I suggest while 
you entertain such hard thoughts of Christ, 
and will not be persuaded out of this 
strange notion, " That the curse of God 
has lighted on you, and will follow you to 
the grave ?" Such a thought (and it must 
be taken up without any real foundation) 
not only renders you extremely miserable, 
but will blast all your future usefulness. 
Suppose you had rebelled against God, 
even in a more extraordinary degree than 
even your own imagination can paint ; and 
suppose you was rejected by him at the 
present ; yet what says the apostle St. 
James ? chap. iv. 10. " Humble yourself 
in the sight of the Lord, and he will lift 
you up." 

As to the quotati ons from Mr. 's 

letter to you, wherein he observes, with a 
kind of triumphant malignity, " That the 
devil had taken an advantage of you, in rela- 
tion to som e imprudent management in the 

affair at , &c. Src. &c. and dragged you 

(as he expresses it) through a horse-pond, 
dirtied and wet, to the great diversion of 
the spectators ;" I ask, of what spectators ? 
Of the worldly-minded only, and the en- 
vious, to whom your former flourishing 
state, as a first-rate Christian, was a con- 
stant and visible reproach ; yet Christ 



902 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



(thougli you are now thus depressed) is 
still your friend, and will break Satan's 
teeth ; and though dirty, will cleanse you ; 
though wet, will receive and warm you. 

Now let me put a question to you : 
Would you reject your child, because, when 
dressed in its best clothes, he had met with 
a like misfortune ? Or suppose he had 
rambled out in the snow, and scratched 
himself with briers, and come to you bleed- 
ing and cold, would you turn him ©ut of 
doors, when he claimed your pity ? We 
do not know Christ well enough. How 
kind ! how good he is to us ! What is my 
kindness and compassion for you (on which 
you seem to place so high a value) in com- 
parison of Christ's? Have I been naileH 
to the cross for you ? Oh pray earnestly 
to Him ; for 

— — To Him, to Him, 'tis given. 
Passion, and care, and anguish to destroy ; 
Through Him, soft peace and plenitude of joy 
Perpetual o'er the world redeem'd shall flow. 

Prior's Solomon, 

He has satisfied God for all your sins ; he 
is your advocate, and has procured for you 
the inestimable gift of the Holy Spirit to 
subdue your iniquities. Cultivate the love 
of God in your heart, and he will make 
your path of duty plain before you. I dare 
say, God will make you more abundantly 
useful than ever. Oh bring your mind off 
from this destructive notion, " That the 
curse of God follows you." This is a sug- 
gestion of Satan's to prevent your useful- 
ness ; but remember that text, " The Lord 
knoweth how to deliver the godly out of 
temptation,^' 2 Pet. ii. 9. ; and he will cer- 
tainly deliver you out of this, and restore 
you to his wonted favour. 

Do not select such terrifying texts for 
your meditation, as in your letter you tell 
me you have done. It is as improper, as if 
you should eat the coldest melon, or use 
the most slight covering, when shivering 
with an ague. Choose, the morning after 
you receive this letter, (by way of antidote 
to the texts of your own selecting,) the 
following for your meditation ; " His mer- 
cy is greater than the heavens," Psalm 
cviii. 4. " His mercy endureth for ever," 
Psalm cxviii. 1. Put together these two 
expressions^, and see whether they do not 
amount to more than either your impru- 
dences or your distress. You have, to be 
sure, done amiss, and dealt foolishly in the 

matter of God forbid I should 

justify your conduct ; but oh ! let it not be 
said, let it not be once surmised, that it is 
beyond the reach of God's unmeasurable 
goodness to pardon, or of Christ's immense- 
iy rich merits to expiate. The Lord loves 
you with an everlristing love ; and take, if 
you please, the latter part of the xxxth of 
Isaiah, ver. 18. for your contemplation , 



the words are, " For the Lord is a God of 
judgment ; blessed are they that wait for 
him." 

None can tell, none can think, what 
mercy there is with the Lord ; with incon- 
ceivable tenderness his bowels yearn to- 
wards the weakest, frailest believer in his 
dear Son. We have dishonoured his holi- 
ness, and violated his law ; but let us not, 
to accumulate our follies, derogate from the 
boundless riches of his mercy in Jesus 
Christ, to all those who seek and entreat 
it. There is a wide difference between 
humiliation and despair. Draw near to 
Christ with an humble boldness. 

May you see many, many years on earth ; 
and when the earth shall be no more, may 
you be received into the New Jerusalem ; 
where dwelleth righteousness, consummate: 
righteousness, and everlasting happiness. 
This, my dear sir, is my earnest wish and 
my fervent prayer for you, and for myself; 
who am, with great compassion and true 
regard, your obliged humble servant and 
friend. 

P. S. — My favourite author Liborius 
Zimmermannus, whispers to me on this 
occasion the following passage : " Said I 
not unto thee, If thou wouldst believe, 
thou shouldst SEE the glory of God, and 
experience his goodness, when least de- 
served, or rather notoriously forfeited?" 
Hence may we be convinced, that his lov- 
ing kindness is unbounded, is unwearied, 
is infinite ; as much surpassing all our fol- 
lies and all our thoughts, as the world of 
waters exceeds the drop of a bucket. Oh 
for a spirit of steady faith, to live under 
the continual belief of this precious, pre- 
cious truth. 



LETTER CLXXXm. 

Saturday/ morning. 

Dear Sir,— -I am sorry to hear that 

Mr. should think my doctrine tends 

to the introduction of licentiousness. Far, 
very far from it ! Mine is the genuine 
doctrhie of the Scriptures ; and the only 
doctrine tc reclaim mankind, as it encou- 
rages sinners not to continue in their sins» 
but to turn unto their injured Lord, and 
receive salvation at his beneficent hand. 

Him that cometh to me, I will in no 
wise cast out," are our blessed Master's 
own words ; and all my writings, preach- 
ing, and conveisation, are founded on that 
comfortable declaratioH to my lost, undone 
fellow- creatures ; that tender invitation to 
those, in whom there is no health. 

But Mr. is offended at this. He, 

like the Egyptian taskmasters of old, re- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS, 



003 



quires men to make brick without straw. 
" Let us (says he, unmindful of our im- 
potence) make ourselves tetter, and then 
go to Christ, who will receive us favour- 
ably for our works' sake." But in this 
view, our works, even if we could perform 
them without the grace of Christ, would 
be ineffectual ; Luke xvii. 20. Are these 
capable of expiating the guilt of a polluted 
race, and of procuring salvatioji ? If our 
works coidd do this, then these and not 
Christ would be our Saviour, If we had 
a right to demand a recompense for our 
works, even on a supposition they were 
perfect, then a Redeemer and his death 
would be useless. Surely, therefore, Mr. 

's notions are contrary to the whole 

tenor of the gospel ! May the divine Spirit 
open his eyes, and incline his heart, to dis- 
cover that Christ offers himself to all who 
will come. The vilest of men have just 
the same right to Christ and his merits, as 
the best of men ; a right founded not on 
their awakened desires, not on any thing 
in themselves, but purely, solely, entirely 
on the free grant of a Saviour. We are 
all sinners, though in a more or less degree ; 
and v/e must all flee to Christ for spiritual 
blessings, not as deserving, but as guilty 
creatures ; — a sad mortification this to the 
proud worldlings, or to the self-righteous 
moralist, whom it is the design of the gos- 
pel to humble. 

Mr. (as I dare say you have often 

heard him) speaks of heaven made easy, 
** upon condition of obedience to the gospel 
commands."* This would not be very easy 
to me, whatever it might be to Jiim. But if 
heaven and eternal life be " the gift of God 
through Jesus Christ," and given us on ac- 
count of his obedience unto death, then it 
is easy indeed. What love is here ! Well 
might the apostle Paul say, that " the love 
of Christ constraineth us." Christ makes 
us free ; and those whom He makes free, 
are free indeed, John viii. 36. This is the 
way of salvation pointed out to us by the 
wisdom of the Almighty. May our eyes 
be enlightened to see this way, which many 
wise men overlook, at which many great 
men are offended ! 

I wish. Mr. would study his Bible 

more, and the classics less. There is little 
good to be got by reading the Scripture 
carelessly ; but he who humbly applies to 
God for direction, and exercises himself 
therein constantly and conscientiously, will 
find such an efficacy as is not to be found 
in any other book whatever ; and therefore 
t is called, by way of pre-eminence. The 



* Mr. Hervey had seen so bad an use made by the 
Socinians of conditions and requisites, in opposition 
to the doctrine of free grace, that he could by no 
means allow even faith, much less our obedience, to 
be called a condition. 



BIBLE (or The BOOK) ; importing, 
that as this, and only this, is a divine v/ork, 
no other books can be compared, or even 
so much as named, with it. It is the book 

of books ; the Book of God. Mr 

however neglects this book, I fear ; and 
indeed, if I may speak my sentiments to 
you freely, I look upon him to be so puffed 
up with pride, and the conceit of his own 
abilities, that his passions run away with 
him, and he fires at every thing which 
thwarts any of the notions he has imbibed. 
Is not such a one disqualified for friend- 
ship ? Can a man of his disposition attend 
coolly to arguments against his preconceived 
opinions, how modestly or forcibly soever 
such arguments may be urged ? This surely 
is not the spirit of the gospel ; nor are these 
the qualities of one who professes himself 
a disciple of that Master, whose exhortation 
is, " Learn of me, for I am lowly and 
meek." I have no hopes of doing Mr. 
— — any good ; and as we think so very 
differently, the less we have to do v/ith one 
another perhaps the better. He really is 
not now fit even for a companion, much 
less for a bosom friend. No man can be 
a proper associate (as a vi^riter of no small 
penetration has judiciously remarked) in 
whom these or such like infirmities are pre- 
dominant ; namely, 

1. If he be reserved, or be incapable of 
communicating his mind freely. 2. If he 
be haughty, and proud of his knowledge, 
imperious in his disposition, and fond of 
imposing his own sentiments on us. 3. If 
he be positive, and will dispute to the end, 
by resisting the clearest evidence, rather 
than be overcome. 4. If he be fretful and 
peevish, ready to take things in a wrong 
sense. 5. If he affect wit on all occasions, 
and is full of his conceits, puns, quibbles, 
jests, and repartees. These may agreeably 
entertain and animate an hour of mirth, but 
they have no place in the search after truth. 
6. If he carry about him a sort of craft and 
cunning, and disguise, acting rather like a 
spy than a friend. Have a care of such a 
one as will make an ill use of freedom in 
conversation, and immediately charge you 
with shocking tenets, when you happen to 
differ from those sentiments which authori- 
ty or custom has established. 7. In short, 
avoid the man who practises any thing that 
is unbecoming the character of a sincere, 
free, and open searcher after truth. And, 
above all things, pray and work against all 
evil qualities in your own breast. 

I had a letter lately from our old ac- 
quaintance in the West, who complains 
grievously of his burdens, as he calls them. 
It seems he has ten children ; and is hipped 
to death lest he and his family should be 
reduced to beggary. His income, to be 
sure, is scanty and precarious ; but I con- 



r:04 A COLLECTION 

jured him not to be diffident of Providence, 
reminded him of our blessed Master's 
charge (Matth. vi. 25.,) against being too 
anxious about our subsistence in this life ; 
and I sent him likewise the following pas- 
sage from a poem of the Rev. Mr. Onely's ; 
assuring him, at the same time, that if he 
would have a due concern for the things 
that are God's, then God would also be 
careful of him and his. 

But daughters, sons, alas ! thy weakness scan ; 
Know prescience never was design'd for man. 
Their wants you dread, some able hand supplies ; 
Their wealth you build, some accident destroys. 
From thee some mites, and honest fame be given ; 
The rest from virtue, and the care of Heaven. 

He says, If he had not been deprived 
OF FORESIGHT, he had never married ; and, 
by way of explanation, sent me an odd 
quotation, which I have here transcribed : 
" I cannot but admire the wisdom of nature, 
in denying to men and women that foresight 
when they are young which they acquire at 
a greater age ; for without that, I believe 
the world could not subsist above fourscore 
years, and a new creation of men would be 
wanted once every hundred years at least ; 
since the inconveniencies of marriage are 
experimentally known to overbalance the 
conveniencies. This young folks will not 
believe, and thus the world is peopled." 

Your friend Colonel has made a 

present of Steel's Christian Hero to all his 
officers. I wish, when he had been in such 
a disposition, that he had given to all the 
common men. Dr. Woodward's Soldier's 
Monitor. This book was wrote by the 
command of Queen Anne, as I have been 
told, and delivered to every soldier at the 
government's expense. The Sailor's Mo- 
nitor, wrote by the same hand, was given to 
every sailor. And I think it very impoli- 
tic in the government to discontinue so 
well-judged a donation. If I was chaplain 
to a regiment, I would preach before the 
soldiers on this text -. " I have set the Lord 
always before me ; because he is at my right 
hand, I shall not be moved." Psalm xvi. 8. 

Your reflections on seeing the skeleton 
at Oxford, and on your near view of Death 
(in the emblematical shape of a skeleton 
with an hour-glass and a dart) advancing 
towards you in your late sickness, have such 
a siniilarity with those of a worthy friend 
of mine, as I think will both surprise and 
please you. " Oh ! my dear sir," says he, 
" to talk of death, and to enter in earnest 
upon dying, are two different things. To 
view the messenger, who comes from the 
Judge of all, as actually approaching with 
his open commission in one hand, and his 
uplifted dart to execute it in another, (an 
expecting grave, and an eternal judgment 
in his immediate train), is as different as 
to view a painted lion, who is only terrible 



OF LETTERS. 

on canvass, and actually to see him with 
his rolling eyes, and really to hear his tre- 
mendous roar." 

Have you seen the Rev. Mr. Adam's 
Practical Lectures on the Chtnch Cate- 
chism ? He is an experienced Christian, 
and a spirited performance it is. The 
same gentleman wrote the preface to Mr. 
Walker's (Truro) heart-searching sermons. 

Dr. S made me a present of it ; and 

wrote in the blank leaf before the title-page, 
" What betwixt the frenzy of anger, the 
ague of hopes and fears, the fever of love, 
the consumption of envy, our distempered 
minds are kept under a continual disease, 
against which these lectures are a certain 
specific." Mr. Adam is rector of Win- 
tringham in Lincolnshire ; and has made, 
I am told, an amazing reformation amongst 
the people in that neighbourhood, who, 
before his settlement amongst them, were 
remarkably dissolute and ignorant. He 
spares no pains in discharging his minis- 
terial duty. His congregations are very 
large, I hear ; and men, women, and chil- 
dren, come ten or a dozen miles to attend 
his preaching. 

A gentleman lent me the otlrer day Dr. 
Leland's View of the Principal Deistical 
Writers ; amongst which is one Morgan, 
who styles himself a moral philosopher, 
a character which is of late grown very fa- 
shionable amongst our modern Deists ; but 
they might, with equal propriety, call 
themselves miraculous healers ; for they 
could as soon heal a decayed body by their 
moral philosophy, as they could cure the 
sin- sick soul by it. Miserable teachers 
are all such, who thus pretend to reform 
either themselves or mankind. He only 
can cast devils out of the soul who can say 
to the leper, " Be thou clean," and to the 
storm, " Be thou still." He only can heal 
the decayed body who hath said to the pa- 
ralytic. Take up thy bed, and walk." 

I am, dear sir, with great respect and 
much esteem, your most obliged and very 
humble servant, &c. 

P.S. — I have a particular reason for de- 
siring you would give me your well-weighed 
opinion of the amiable Dr. Watts' Ortho- 
doxy and Charity United. It is wrote with 
an excellent design. The gentleman who 
persuaded me to purchase it is a person of 
great candour, learning, and piety. He is 
so fond of this book, that he has recom- 
mended it to all his distant acquaintance, 
and rarely goes into any company without 
introducing it in the conversation ; he extols 
it in the strongest terms as a piece which 
no Christian ought to be without, since its 
grand end is to promote charitable senti- 
ments and practices towards one another, 
amidst the numerous follies and errors of 
the time. Would to God our religious 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



905 



differences were properly settled on a sure 
foundation, that the contending parties 
were reconciled in love, and that " all we 
who call ourselves Christians might hold 
the faith in unity of spirit, in the bond of 
peace, and in righteousness of life." Amen, 
and amen. 



LETTER CLXXXIV. 

Weston-Favell, Nov. 4, 1757. 

Dear Sir, — You wonder at my delay in 
answering your very friendly letter. This 
is the true cause : When I received your 
favour, I was very busy in dispatching to 
the press my three fast sermons lately pub- 
lished. By some accident your letter was 
mislaid, and could not be found. This day 
it came to light ; and the moment I looked 
upon the date, it struck me with a painful 
regret, a regret almost equal to the pleasure 
I enjoyed in your edifying conversation. 

Your lady has shewn the most welcome 
complaisance to me, and to the rose ;* to 
me, in accepting what is less than a trifle j 
to the rose, in putting it to such a use. 
Could that poor vegetable be sensible, it 
would rejoice to be a remembrancer of its 
most amiable Creator. The prophet calls 
upon the whole creation, inanimate as it is, 
to exult and triumph in the grace of our in- 
carnate God. " Sing, O heavens ; be joy- 
ful, O earth ; break forth into singing, ye 
mountains; O forests, and every tree," 
whether cultivated or wild ; " for the 
Lord," by his incarnation, blood, and right- 
eousness, " has redeemed Israel, and glori- 
fied himself," most magnificently displayed 
all his divine perfections, in the salvation of 
Jacob. 

I heartily wish that Mrs. may be- 
come, every day, more and more acquainted 
with the Rose of Sharon ; that his loveli- 
ness, riches, and glory, may be revealed in 
her heart by the Holy Ghost. Happy the 
souls in which this flower of heaven blos- 
soms ! which are charmed with its beauty, 
and refreshed with its odours. Their hap- 
piness will not fade as a leaf, but like the 
merit and mercy of their Lord, will be new 
every morning, new every moment, new 
through eternal ages. 

I wish I could gratify your benevolent 
temper, by giving you a comfortable account 
of my health. But nothing administered 
for its succour and restoration succeeds. It 
seems to be the will of our great Physician, 
that my strength should be labour and sor- 



row. May his holy will be done ! only may 
my faith in his blood be strong, and my lore 
of his name be warm. Then I shall meet 
you, ere long, amidst the innumerable com- 
pany of angels, and no more complain, 
" My head, my head no more say, " I 
am sick." 

How shall I recompense my generous 
doctor, for prescribing without a fee ? By 
wishing, that he may never want the aid 
which he so kindly tenders to his aflfectionate 
friend and brother in Christ, &c. 



* When this gentleman was at Weston, Mr. Hervey 
(as he walked with him in the garden) plucked a 
rose, and desired him to present it to his wife, to put 
her in mind of the Uosk of Sharon. She paid that 
rcj^ard to the giver and the gift, as to put it into a 
frduic With a glass. 



LETTER CLXXXV. 

Dear Sir, — Upon a repeated review of 
your sketches for instructing your family on 
Sunday evenings, I really do not know how 
to improve them. I think they are well 
digested ; but when you exercise your talent 
in speaking from those sketches, do not for- 
get to implore a blessing on what you are 
going about. Stir up the gift of God which 
is in you by a zealous use of them, and you 
yourself will improve them better than I 
can for you. I shall only suggest, that as 
soon as you have finished, set down, as fresh 
heads for another occasion, what new 
thoughts occurred to you while you was 
speaking. Oh let us work while the day 
lasts ! My dear friend, the Judge is at the 
door, and eternity at hand. May we watch 
and pray always, that we may be found wor- 
thy to stand before the Son of man at his 
coming. 

I enclose part of a letter, sent by a clever 
man and no mean scholar. 

" This with infinite pleasure I can inform 
you, that I am now brought to a sense of 
my duty, to which I was an entire stranger 
till lately. Glory be to God, I have now 
some concern upon my mind, some serious 
thoughts of a future state ! How amazing 
is it, that a person should arrive at my 
years, without knowing any thing of the re- 
ligion he professes ! strange as it is, this 
was my case ; for, till within these six 
months, I was as much in the dark as to 
spiritual aflfairs, as one that had never heard 
the name of Christ. The Bible was to me 
the same as an unknown language, and all 
my pretensions to religion were nothing but 
a mere lifeless formality. Oh that the in- 
expressible marks of the love of my God 
and his goodness to me, may increase the 
love I owe to him more and more every 
day !" 

Our friend Mr. H , who you know 

is a great favourer of the mystic writers, has 
desired me to read Mr. Law's Spirit of 
Prayer, and Spirit of Love, which is an ap- 
pendix to it. I shall ask him, whether he 
designed it to puzzle or edify me ? I am 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



906 

sure it has done the first to me ; may it do j 
the latter to him. Oh, what need have we 
to pray for that blessed Spirit which may 
lead us into all truth ! 

I begin to be weaned from human writ- 
ings, even from the most applauded. The 
pure milk of the divine word my soul co- 
vets. Do not you relish its sweetness, and 
taste its power more and more ? The apostle 
enjoins us " in every thing to give thanks, 
for this is the will of God," 1 Thess. v. 18; 
and if we are to thank him for every thing, 
how ought we to thank him, how can we 
sufficiently thank him, for such a treasury 
of blessings as the Holy Bible contains for 
us ; and yet, is it credible ? there are, there 
are those, who neglect these gracious tid- 
ings of a reconciliation with God, through 
the mediation of his own Son Jesus Christ, 

But whatever be the conduct of others, 
let you and I, dear sir, esteem it as it de- 
serves, and say with the Psalmist, " I will 
delight myself in thy statutes, I will not 
forget thy word- Make me to understand 
the way of thy precepts, so shall I talk of 
thy wondrous works." David, you see, 
prayed to God for illumination, and talked 
of divine things. That this may be accom- 
plished in us, and that we may follow Da- 
\dd's example, I dare say you will add an 
amen, to the amen of, dear sir, yours very 
sincerely. 

P.S. — I am told, and grieved I am to 
hear it, that the once zealous Mr, — is 
grown quite indolent, (no very laudable 
character for a clergyman,) and has entirely 
laid aside his translation and improvement 
of the elegant Dr, Stearne, De visitatione 
infirmorum. He showed me a specimen of 
it some months ago. The translation was 
spirited, and the notes well calculated to 
supply the author's deficiencies. Nothing 
perhaps is more wanted, or would be more 
useful (especially to the clergy,) than a ju- 
dicious treatise on visiting the sick, in a 
neat pocket volume ; but I am sensible 
there is nothing equally difficult to execute, 
I never yet saw one to my mind. The 
Clergyman's Companion, as it is called, is 
little more than a collection of prayers, with 
the order of visitation of the sick, out of 
the common prayer, the communion service, 
•and the office of public and private baptism, 
if, methinks, such a man as Mr. Walker 
of Truro could find time to set about it, it 
would be done effectually, because he is a 
most experienced Christian, and has long 
been accustomed to the chambers of the 
sick, and would write from facts, and his 
own knowledge of the human mind. I 
would not give a rush for a junible compiled 
from different authors : That is the labour 
of the head, and not the feeling of the 
heart, and can never produce the effects I 
wish to see. 



LETTER CLXXXVL 

Weston'FaveIi,Jan. 8, 1757, 

Dear Sir, — Many thanks for your last 
letter ; indeed it delighted and edified me. 
Think no more of making me any present 
from your collection of books. It is in your 
power to ^give me a greater gratification, 
from the good treasure of your heart. 

I am particularly delighted with your in- 
terpretation of "LCU ATH TZDC." Your 
sense is grand, and inexpressibly important,' 
and without your sense, methinks the 
whole translation is like a magnificent por- 
tal, without a hinge to turn upon. I am 
edified and comforted with your analysis of 
the whole verse. A most encouraging, and 
truly evangelical representation of . the co- 
venant of grace ! I am sorry you are di- 
verted from enlarging upon so excellent a 
subject. Let this work not be laid aside, 
but only postponed. 

I am much pleased with your remarks 

on Dr. 's sermon. I saw it some time 

ago, and thought with you, that he entirely 
mistook the meaning of his text ; that his 
views of the gospel were very dim, and his 
account of that miracle of grace, salvation 
by Christ, very lame. I had also the hap- 
piness to be thoroughly of your opinion 
with regard to his injudicious outcries 
against reason. 1 declare, I look upon my 
religion to be reason in its highest refine- 
ment. My reason says, " Prove all things, 
admit nothing without a satisfactory proof; 
and when any thing is proved to be reveal- 
ed hy God, receive it as an oracle." I 
cannot but think likewise, that every part 
of our religion (though absolutely undiscov- 
erable by reason) is, when discovered and 
understood, perfectly rational : as it com- 
ports with the attributes of the Godhead, 
suits the state of man, and is most admira- 
bly adapted to display the divine glory, and 
redress human misery. Whatever is form- 
ed with such a tendency, to this my reason 
most readily subscribes, and pronounces 
worthy of all acceptance, 

I hope by the time of the arrival of the 
enclosed frank, you will have a freight rea- 
dy for the vessel ; and to me, I assure you> 
it will be more precious than the merchan- 
dise of silver, or the gain of fine gold. 

You have taken an effectual method to 
make me (enervated as my arm is, and 
languid as my spirits are) more punctual 
for the future in my correspondence. If 
this hand hath strength to hold a pen, it 
shall not be tardy in executing this office, 
or rather in discharging this debt any more. 

I am entirely of your opinion with re- 
gard to the aspect of the times; there 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



907 



seems to be a black cloud hanging over the 
Protestant world. I fear we have abused 
our privileges. Now, perhaps, the Lord is 
going to take his fan in his hand, and 
thoroughly purge his floor. Prepare us, 
blessed Jesus ! be our strength in an hour 
of trial ! be our light in a day of darkness ! 

I have had some thoughts of publishing 
a couple of sermons, preached on the two 
preceding fast-days, relative to this import- 
ant point; one upon Ezek. xviii. 27, the 
other upon Heb. xi. 28. Of these two 
discourses, contrary to my usual method, I 
happened to take notes. They pretend to 
nothiiig refined or extraordinary; they afi'ect 
neither soaring sentiments nor lofty style ; 
they are studiously plain ; only I think they 
enlarge more upon Christ our sanctification, 
our redemption, our only refuge, than most 
of the discourses which I have seen written 
on that occasion. Will you give me your 
advice, and put up a prayer for the divine 
direction. 

I long for the arrival of your precious 
cargo ; to me it is peculiarly precious, as it 
makes evident, that life and immortality 
were known in ancient times, and revealed 
in the ancient Scriptures. It seems to me 
a strange, and worse than an useless attempt 
to controvert, and endeavour to overthrow 
this truth. May you, dear sir, have much 
of the spirit of wisdom and understanding, 
to discover the truth ; much of the spirit of 
counsel and of might, to display, defend, 
and establish the truth, even the truth as 
it is in Jesus. Yours affectionately and 
gratefully, &cs 



LETTER CLXXXVn. 

Saturday morning. 

Dear Sib, — I find by the papers, that 

your old friend Dr. , the physician, is 

dead. What a call to us to get our lamps 
trimmed, and our souls ready for their exit ! 
what a /orcible admonition to do good to 
immortal souls, while we have opportunity ! 
May the God of glory be ever with you, 
and bless you with all spiritual blessings ! 

I greatly wish that those in the practice 
of physic would study St. Paul as well as 
Hippocrates, and^ attend occasionally to the 
religious wants of their patients, when they 
are consulted as to their bodily disorders. 
This would be acting the part of Christian 
physicians. This would be endeavouring 
to copy after the compassionate Physician 
of mankind, who, while he cured the body, 
cured the soul. 

Being totally and continually silent at 
the patient's bedside, is, I think, in some 
measure, denying or being asham.ed of the 
divine Redeemer, who bought us with' his 



blood. Is it not, as it were, refusing to em- 
bark in his cause ? How many sick might 
be improved and comforted by a physician, 
without any hinderance to his prescriptions, 
detriment to his character, or loss of his 
time ? Oh that these masters of the heal- 
ing art, would set the Lord always before 
them, and then he would direct their paths. 

I was looking the other day into the life 
of Sir Philip Sidney, who wrote the Arca- 
dia, in Queen Elizabeth's time ; and I find 
it recorded of him, that " being shot in the 
thigh in encountering the Spaniards near 
Zutphen in Holland, and parched with 
thirst, a bottle of liquor was procured for 
him ; and just as Sir Philip was about 
drinking it, a poor soldier in the same con- 
dition, bleeding and ghastly, was jcarried 
along by him, and cast up his dying eyes at 
the same bottle ; which Sir Philip perceiv- 
ing, took it from his own mouth, and gave 
it to the poor man with these words. Thy 
necessity, honest friend, is yet greater than 
mine." He told the surgeons when they 
cut him, " that they had indeed a man un- 
der their hands of a sensible and delicate 
nature, yet one to whom the great Redeem- 
er had given power above himself, either to 
do or siiffer ; and therefore desired that 
they wouid not throw a blemish on their 
art, through over tenderness." 

His last words were, " Love my memory, 
cherish my friends : their fidelity to me may 
assure you they are honest ; but above all, 
govern your own will and affections by the 
will and word of your Creator and Saviour; 
in ME beholding the end of this world, and 
all its vanities." I will warrant you, the 
soldiers remembered these words of their 
general ; and so would the sick, in like 
manner, long remember the words of their 
physician, if he would now and then intro- 
duce a few religious hints, and drop occa- 
sionally a striking sentence or two, with 
propriety and seriousness. 

Worldly craftiness is a bad giiide ; I wish 
you may have religious discretion for yours, 
as Teleraachus had the discreet Mentor, and 
that you would begin (instead of paying 
court to the great) to court souls for the 
everlasting Bridegroom. This is your true 
interest, and will avail you when every 
worldly consideration will be found ineffec- 
tual. 

As soon as I had read Mr. — — — 's 
letter, I burnt it, according to your desire. 
"^Vho can now retrieve the syllables, sen- 
tences, and words ? Thus are the sins, all 
the sins of them that believe in the divine 
Jesus, done away. What a privilege ! what 
a blessing ! should not our souls exult^in it? 
should not our discourse dwell upon it ? 

Adieu ! dear sir ; and believe me, with 
great respect, and hearty wishes for your 
present and eternal welfare, yours, &c. 



908 A COLLECTION 

LETTER CLXXXVIH. 

Weston- Favell, April 16, 1757. 

Dear Sir. — Believe me, your letters are 
far from fatiguing me ; they refresh me even 
under my greatest weakness. They tell 
me of Jesus which was crucified, the only 
cordial for my drooping soul. 

What do you think is the meaning of, 
" But tills shall be with burning and fuel 
of^fire?" Isa. ix. 5. Is maclth a sub- 
stantive ? I should rather take it for an 
adjective, agreeing with sha. Let the in- 
terpretation of this place fill the case of 
your letter. 

I am raised indeed from my bed, but not 
released from my chamber, after a violent 
fever. The two preceding Sundays I have 
been enabled to officiate for myself ; and 
my disorder has left upon me so grievous a 
cough, as makes my days, especially my 
nights, become labour and sorrow. Pray, 
favour me with the continuation of your 
thoughts. They cheer and comfort me in 
my languid state. The two sermons were 
transcribed before this sickness seized me. 
And, since I have your encouragement, 
they shall soon (if my life is prolonged) be 
put to the press. I propose to entitle them, 
The Time of Danger, and The Way of 
Safety.* The Lord God omnipotent ac- 
company them with his blessing ! Mean 
they are, as the stones from the shepherd's 
sling ; but I remember it is written, " They 
shall subdue with sling stones." In this 
word do I trust, in this word do I comfort 
me. May our Lord Jesus Christ himself, 
and God even our Father, give you, dear 
sir, everlasting consolation, for all the kind- 
ness you have showed to your truly affec- 
tionate friend. Yours, &c. 



LETTER CLXXXIX. 

Weston-Favel, May 19, 1757. 

My dear Friend, — Accept ray best 
thanks for your welcome and valuable letter. 
It found me just released from the chamber 
of sickness ; the fever removed, the cough 
abated, but my strength like the bruised 
reed. And now my mind is a fellow-suf- 
ferer with my body ; this being enervated, 
that is enfeebled. 

However, as I am delighted with your 
criticisms, give me leave to propose another 
text to your consideration, which puzzled 
me much as I was reading yesterday ; you 
will find it in Zech. xiv. 6, 7. The Heb- 
rew of the sixth verse seems to be uncom- 
monly difficult. 



* See these Sermons, p. 643. 



OF LETTERS. 

A sermon or two I am still inclined to 
publish. In this, and in all our ways, may 
the God of all wisdom direct us, and the 
God of all grace prosper us, through Jesus 
Christ ! 

I have not the honour of Lord D 's 

acquaintance, but I hear that he is full of 
grace, and valiant for the truth ; a lover of 
Christ, and an ornament to his gospel. 
Lady F — — . is alive, and full of good 
works, and I hope grows up in him in all 

things who is the head. Dr. S (whom 

you inquire after) still resides at N ; is 

in high repute as a physician, and, I trust, 
does not forget or neglect the one thing 
needful ; __though the world, the smiling 
world, is a syren. Lord, stop our ears 
against its enchanting song, and let our eyes 
be blind to its inveigling charms. Mr. 
Moses Browne executes his ministry at 
Olney with much acceptance, lam informed, 
and with a good deal of success. About 
ten days ago Mr. P took a family- 
dinner with me. Our conversation turned 
partly upon points of literature, partly upon 
evangelical subjects. O that we may taste 
the sweetness, feel the energy of the latter, 
and count all things as dross in comparison 
of their transcendent excellency ! Is not 
your interpretation of Zech. xiv. 6, 7. 
rather too forced ? Is not the following 
somewhat more natural and easy, if not 
more just? 

" It shall come to pass in that day, there 
shall not be light," full and strong, in oppo- 
sition to the gloom of night ; but now efful- 
gence and clearness of vision, anon obscu- 
rity and dimness of vision : " Yet it shall 
be one" real, determinate " day ;" whose 
duration, whose properties, and all whose 
circumstances, are known to the Lord. 
Thus much he hath graciously revealed by 
his prophet, that, during the first periods, 
the morning and the noon of this wonder- 
ful dispensation, it shall not be entire day 
nor entire night, but a mixture or inter- 
change of both. Sometimes grace triumph- 
ant, sometimes sin rebelling in the hearts 
of believers. Sometimes calamity darken- 
ing, sometimes prosperity brightening the 
state of the church. However, at the even- 
tide, when such an appearance is least ex- 
pected, it shall be unmixed, prevailing, per- 
fect light. Then " the light of the moon 
shall be as the light of »the sun, and the light 
of the' sun as the light of seven days. Then 
the earth shall be filled with the knowledge 
of the Lord, and his people shall be all 
righteous." 

Freely censure, solidly correct this inter- 
pretation, if you think it improper ; and 
give me leave to expect, according to your 
own appointment, a monthly letter for the 
comfort and edification of, dear sir, your 
very affectionate friend and servant, &c. 



A COLLECTION 



OF LETTERS. 



S09 



LETTER CXC. 

Weston-Favell, Aug. 6, 1757. 
My dear Friend, — I have been too 
tardy in acknowledging the receipt of your 
letter, which was very valuable, and de- 
served thanks as speedy as they are sincere. 
The true cause of my delay is this : I have 
been preparing two or three sermons for 
the press, which to my enervated hand is 
really a work of toil. Yesterday I sent 
them to London, and I hope to see them in 
print within the space of a fortnight. I 
purpose to have some upon neat paper, for 
the use of the gentry, if God shall incline 
the hearts of any such persons to look into 
them ; and others upon worse paper, for the 
benefit of the poor, and the conveniency of 
giving away. As soon as they appear, you 
will give me leave to send you a copy ; and 
if you should like to give them among the 
poor, I will send you a considerable number. 
With them I intend to put into your hands 
a treatise lately published, under the title 
of Letters on Theron and Aspasio, in two 
small volumes. The author is a Scotsman, 
I presume, because they were printed at 
Edinburgh, and he gave orders for a set to 
be sent to me from Edinburgh. He con- 
ceals his name, and none that I am acquaint- 
ed with are able to discover whose work it 
is.* There are some strictures on my 
performance ; but by far the greatest part 
of the book is very wide from this mark. 
Some things are truly excellent, and some 
animadversions upon me are perfectly just ; 
but others, (if I mistake not) are unfair 
and disingenuous. The manner of writing 
is by no means despicable, rather elegant 
and spirited than coarse or dull. But there 
is such an implacable bitterness of spirit, 
and such an unchristian virulence of cen- 
sure, against many of the best men that 
ever lived, and best authors that ever wrote, 
as much surprises and greatly offends me. 
( think I never saw a notion of faith more 
lax, nor an idea of grace more exalted, than 
in this book. However, I will not forestall 
your judgment, but will desire your accept- 
ance of the piece, and your remarks upon 
it. 

If yoiu- account of the ancient believers, 
and their knowledge of Christ be right, 
then the opinion of the generality of di- 
vines is wrong : they suppose, that the 
devout Jews saw in their sacrifices, not 
barely a nobler sacrifice to be offered up by 
the Saviour, but the Saviour himself suf- 
fering, bleeding, and dying. Ho^v will 
you reconcile with your scheme St. Paul's 
declaration, " The gospel was preached 

* The author was Mr. Robert Sandeman, a con- 
gregational preacher at Edinburgh, a disciple of Mr. 
John Glass. ' / 



unto them," explained by his definition of 
the gospel, " Christ died for our sins ?" 
Heb. iv. 2. 1 Cor. xv. 3. — You say, *' Does 
IKRUAH anywhere signify effulgence ?" In 
Job xxxi. 27, you will find iker bearing 
this signification. Yet, I must confess, 
I am not thoroughly satisfied with my own 
intei-pretation, it is too low and restricted ; 
for the prophet is evidently fortelling a 
state of things and a stock of knowledge 
greatly superior to any thing enjoyed un- 
der the Jewish dispensation ; and to this 
last, I think my exposition is most suita- 
ble. I hope you have a long letter ready, 
and will not punish my delay according to 
the rigour of the law of retaliation. I am, 
with unfeigned gratitude, and cordial affec- 
tion, yours, &c. 

Pray favour me with your Dissertation 
on Job, his time, his country, and religion. 
They are very curious subjects, and you 
will enrich them with evangelical truths. 



LETTER CXCL 

Weston-Favell, Sept. 3, 1757. 
My dear Friend, — Many thanks for 
your last ; I shall read it, and read it again ; 
and the Lord give nie a right understand- 
ing of that most precious and important 
chapter. 

I hope you will accompany my sermons 
with your prayers to God for a blessing on 
them, the reader, and the writer ; and I 
shall be truly thankful for the communi- 
cation of any remarks, corrections, or im- 
provements that may occur in your perusal 
of them. This, and any other of my Act- 
ings, I should be glad to have rectified 
where they are wrong, enriched where they 
are impoverished ; because, though such 
improvements may come too late to take 
place while I live, they may, when I am 
dead, be admitted, and enable me to speak 
more usefully. 

What think you of the method taken by 
a modern critic, to interpret Psalm Ixviii. 
30 ? " Hoc in loco, fera arundinis, coetus 
robustorum, et juvenci, simt leones, tauri, 
pecudesque lascivientes, sive t)Tanni fe- 
roces insolentesque : quibus, continuata 
translatione, addit psaltes kesep ' beretzi 
methedotem' hoc est," [here a word is 
wanting in the original, and not knowing 
what author is referred to, we could not 
supply it from thence], " que de industria 
concidcantes et turbantes argenteos rivos, 
ardentes nimirum et vastantes vicinorura 
Judaeorum bona." The author queries, 
whether " detz" from detz currere, may, 
consistently with the propriety of the He- 
brew language, be interpreted a river? might 
he not also query, whether mekop is ever, 



910 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



among the Hebrew writers, and by way of 
adjective, used to describe the colour of 
the waters ? Homerj I remember, has 

. UorafAos KCcXXt^^oog m^yv^ottvni' 

But I am not certain that any such expres- 
sion gained admittance into the school of the 
prophets. Your sentiments upon this cri- 
ticism will entertain, instruct, and oblige, 
dear sir, your truly affectionate friend and 
servant. 



LETTER CXCII. 

Saturday morning. 

My dear Friend, — How fares it with 
you ? Overwhelmed I find with business ! 
but still, I trust, remembering Christ and 
eternal ages. 

I think you reason well, and very strong- 
ly, on what you propose. May the Wis- 
dom, from which nothing is hid, direct 
you in all your undertakings ; may the 
Power, to which nothing is impossible, 
prosper your prescriptions for my benefit, 
and that of others ! I assure you I shall 
steadily persevere in the use of them, and 
intend to begin very soon ; though a con- 
tinued cold, and an unexpected journey, 
have hitherto unfitted me from taking any 

medicines of this sort. Mr. , of whom 

you inquired after me yesterday, told me 
you imputed to the journey my neglect in 
not having yet sent your prescription to 
the apothecary's ; and I am obliged to your 
candour for ascribing it to that cause, and 
not to any disregard of your advice : for I 
am persuaded, 

Si qua pergama dextra 

Defendi possent, etiam hac defensa fuissent. 

VlUG. i il. 

I have just been reading Gerhard's 
Christian Support under all Afflictions; 
and a most excellent book it is. If your 
medicines have not the desired efifect, I 
must seek relief from him : From Him, 
do I say? From a fellow- mortal? Ah ! 
what are all the consolations that all the 
creatures in the universe can afford, in 
comparison of that grand consolation of 
our condescending Lord's, " Ye are my 
friends!" John xv. 14. *' Come and in- 
herit the kingdom prepared for you," ?.latt. 
XXV- 34. ; " where the inhabitants shall no 
more say, I am sick," Isa. xxxiii. 24 ; 

" and where there shall be no more death 

nor sorrow," Rev. xxi. 4. 

I am, my dear friend, with great esteem, 

and under a due sense of many obligations, 

most affectionately and most sincerely 

yours, &c. 



LETTER CXCIIL 

Satttrday morning. 
My dear Friend,— If you have any 
law books by you, I wish you would look 
into the indexes, and see what laws have 
been made to secure the Lord's day from 
profanation. It is pity that these** should 
be unknown to the com.mon people ; and 
still a greater pity, that our justices of 
peace should not exert themselves vigor- 
ously in an affair of such consequence to 
the present and eternal welfare of their 
fellow-creatures. I wish a spirited pamph- 
let was judiciously drawn up and published 
on this occasion ; setting the sins of omis- 
sion in a true light- It grieves me to 
think how much good might be done, es- 
pecially by gentlemen who have leisure 
and abilities to plan schemes for the pub- 
lic benefit ; but so far are they from apply- 
ing themselves in good earnest to promote 
religion, that they too generally ridicule 
or discourage any attempts of this kind. 
Ah ! how little do they reflect, that the 
night is coming on apace, when no man 
can work, John ix. 4. ; and that for all 
these things God will bring them into 
judgment. 

Can you tell me who was the author 
of The Duty of Reproof? The most 
material objections against reproving are 
there considered; some cautions and di- 
rections are added, and in such a manner 
as may facilitate the successful discharge 
of this duty. A duty too much neglected, 
though enjoined us by no less authority 
than the Scripture itself, which is profita- 
ble for reproof. " Reprcve one that hath 
understanding," says Solomon, " and he 



* All persons, who profaiie the Lord's day, are 
liable to the following penalties ; and it is much 
wished that the magistrates would determine to put 
these laws in execution with the utmost strictness. 



By doing "or executing 
any business or work of 
their ordinary callings 
on the Lord's day, or 
atiy part thereof, 
(works of necessity and j 
charity only excepted) ; 
under which head is in- 
cluded shaving on Sun- 
days, which is a most 
shameful and notorious 
custom., 

By publ 
posing 
wareS; 

By idhng, or wandering 
in time of divine ser-< 
vice. t 



im.. L 
blic crying, or ex- ( 1 
ig to sale any^ 
3,merchandize, &c. i 



Alehouse keepers, vint- 
ners, innkeepers, per- 
mitting tippling in 
their houses. 



By the 29th Car. IL cap. 
7, persons convict here- 
of by view of a justice 
of the peace, confession 
of the party, or wit- 
nesses, are to pay five 
shillings, or be put in 
the stocks two hours, 
licensed houses besides 
forfeit their licenses. 

By the same act it is for- 
feiture of goods so ex- 
posed to sale. 

By the same acts, 5s. or 
stocks two hours. 

By 1st Jac. L cap. 9. if 

convict of such per- 
mission, aretopaylOs. 
and if convict of drun- 
kenness, disabled . to 
keep an alehouse, for 
three years, by 21st 
Jac I. c?.p,7. 



A COLLECTION 

will understand knowledge," Prov- x'tx. 25. 1 
And the apostle Paul urges Timothy to 
*' reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with all 
long-suffering and doctrine," 2 Tim. iv. 2. 
Indeed, my dear friend, you are very de- 
ficient in this duty of reproof, though you 
have so many opportunites of doing it with 
the utmost propriety. Pray read this lit- 
tle pamphlet over and over again. Weigh 
it thoroughly. You will then, through the 
grace of God, be zealous in reproving 
others, and will readily pardon the free- 
dom I have occasionally taken in reproving 
you whom I so much love and value. You 
remember Sir George Lyttleton's lines, 

Some merit's mine to dare to be sincere. 

But greater your's sincerity to bear. i 

Dr. Sherlock's Defence and continuation 
of his discourse concerning the knowledge 
of Jesus Christ, and our union and commu- 
nion with him, was put into my hands the 
other day ; but, in my opinion, it is far 
from being a satisfactory defence- Anti- 
sozzo* is an unanswerable book ; and Dr. 
Sherlock never was so gravelled in all his 
life as he was by the publication of that 
witty, keen, and solid performance. 

Do you know any one who has got 
Schmidius's Greek Concordance to the 
Greek Testament? I am told it is well 
executed, and it must be very serviceable, as 
it shows at one view in what sense the same 
word is used in different passages. I will 
buy it, but should be glad to see it first, if 
you can borrow it for me. 

Bishop Patrick on Contentment and Re- 
signation, I here return you ; as likewise 
Dr. Barrow on the same subject. 

Baxter on Universal and Special Re- 
demption I must beg to keep a little longer, 
especially as you tell me your sentiments 
and his are nearly the same. Our friend 

Mr. highly esteems this book ; and he 

has sent me Baxter's Aphorisms on Justifi- 
cation, which he has desired me, as they 
are explanatory of each other, to read at the 
same time. Baxter in these pieces, he tells 
me, steers a middle course between the 
Scylla of Arminius's system and the Cha- 
rybdis of Cah in's. When I have read them 
with due attention, I shall, without re- 
serve, communicate my remarks to you. 

Oh ! my dear friend, what need have we 
for prayer to be guided aright amidst so 
many different opinions, even of good and 
great men. Arminius, Calvh), Baxter, all 
excellent men in their way, yet how divided 
in their notions ! But Jesus, that eternal 
source of love, will, I would charitably 
hope, bless ail who sincerely desire to mag- 
nify his holy name, notwithstanding their 
different apprehensions on these points. 
God, of his unerring wisdom, assist us in 



* See Letter CCVII. 



OF LETTERS. 911 

all our determinations ! God. of his infi- 
nite mercy, defend us from all error, and 
grant that we may be true followers of our 
Lord and Saviour, who is " a light to 
lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of Is- 
rael !" What a comfortable consideration 
is it, that there is such a light for my dear 
friend, and for his, most affectionately and 
most inviolably, &c. 



LETTER CXCIV. 

Wednesday morning. 
My dear Friend, — I thank you for re- 
membering me before the throne of grace. 
Let yom- prayers be for my cheerful resig- 
nation to the di\nne good pleasure, and for 
clear manifestations to me of Jesus Christ. 
My life has long been a burden to myself, 
and is now become unprofitable to others. 
Your intention to visit me is kind ; but I 
am not fit for company, unable either to 
carry on or relish conversation ; best when 
alone ; therefore do not give yourself the 
trouble of coming ten miles. I accept the 
-will for the deed. As to your translation 
of Zimmermannus De eminentia cognitionis 
Christi, I will, if my languid spirits can bear 
the task, carefully read it over, which I have 
never been able to do since I saw you in 

London. I lent it to Mr. . When he has 

done with it, desire him to convey it to me ; 
you shall then have (if the Lord will) the 
result of my renewed perusal of that piece, 
which I formerly was so desii ous of having 
translated by you. May the Lord of all 
power make you strong to labour in his sa- 
cred service, and crown your labours with 
abundant success. I am your truly affec- 
tionate brother in Christ, &c. 



LETTER CXCV. 

Saturday morning. 
My dear Friend, — I have no heart to 
take any medicines. All but Christ is to 
me unprofitable : blessed be God for pardon 
and salvation through his blood. Let me 
prescribe this cordial for my dear friend. 

May your health be renewed as the 
eagle's, though mine has long been fading 
as a leaf ! and may w^e both from our hearts 
adore the dispensations of our God and Sa- 
viour, which, though to us-ward very diffe- 
rent, are in all respects very good. 

We were drinking tea yesterday ; and I 
heard one of the company say, to whom 
you had given Bishop Wilson on the Sacra- 
ment, This is Dr. S 's gift. Oh that 

God may give him to eat the fiesh and drink 
the blood of Christ ! and to live by faith on 



912 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



the unsearchable riches of a Redeemer ! 
Theji we shall, ere long, eat bread and drink 
new wine together in the kingdom of our 
Father. 

I have not yet wrote to Biddeford ; but 
the affair you desired me to inquire about 
shall not be forgot when I next write thi- 
ther. Can you excuse my dilatory proceed- 
ing? Business, to my languid spirits, is 
like the sons of Anak (Numb. xiii. 28,) to 
the Israelitish spies, so forbidding and so 
formidable. 

The reasons you urged I have consider- 
ed ; I really know not hovi^ to act. May 
the unerring God vouchsafe to guide a poor 
sinner ! Now, where is my faith in that 
divine promise, " In all thy ways acknow- 
ledge him, and he shall direct thy paths?" 
It is scarcely so much as a grain of the 
smallest seed : Blessed Jesus, increase it in 
lis both ! 

Do you, as you formerly did, commit 
your way unto the Lord, and beseech him 
to bring it to pass ? My dear friend, let 
us look more unto God, for we have a 
Friend in the court of Heaven ; we have 
an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ 
the righteous. Ever and inviolably yoiu-s, 
&c. 



LETTER CXCVL 

Wtsio?i Fcwell, Jan. 3, 1758. 
Dear Mr. , I received your wel- 
come valuable letter in due time ; but al- 
most as soon as I received it I was seized 
with a violent illness,— so violent, that the 
current report was, " Hervey is dead." 
Near to death I certainly was : and God 
Almighty knows I am, according to human 
appearance, not far* from it even now ; but 
pray let me, if I live, expect the continua- 
tion of your remarks. Your letters are such 
as I should delight to read even in my last 
moments. 

I wish you many a happy new year on 
earth, and at the last an abundant entrance 
into the New Jerusalem, where the voice 
of joy and health is perpetually heard. 

Weak I am, very weak, and much out of 
order ; insomuch that I have not been able 
to go to church ever since Christmas. But 
your writings refresh and delight, instead of 
fatiguing me ! Your fourth paragraph has 
most exactly stated the difference which 
subsists between yourself and Aspasio re- 
lating to faith. The forbearance and can- 
dour with which you treat this difference 
does not give up a jot or tittle of your own 
opinion, yet it tends very much to conciliate 
favour and esteem in its behalf. 

Your Vision is very grand, and quite 



» Mr. Hervey died the December following. 



striking : I love such strokes of imagina- 
tion, they keep attention awake, and im- 
part pleasure together with profit. Aspa- 
sio is doubly obliged to your pen, formerly 
for correcting, now for defending his work. 
You observe, My enemy is yours. He has 
attacked your generous vindication. In re- 
ply to this attack you have spoke my very 
sentiments.* 

Mr. Wesley, you will find, is angry with 
me on the opposite score, for speaking too 
much, and, as he thinks, too openly on the 
side of election and particular redemption. 
Pray favour me with your free opinion, 
and wherever you think he charges me 
justly, or I have expressed myself impro- 
perly, spare not to speak the naked truth. 
He has lately published a large book, price 
six shillings stitched, on the doctrine of 
Original Sin ; great part of which is an 
abridgment of Dr. Watts' Ruin and Re- 
covery, and of another treatise wrote by 
Mr. Hebden. In this he takes occasion 
to quote two or three passages from Theron 
and Aspasio, one from Volume II. which 
he thus introduces: " To explain this a 
little farther in Mr. Hervey's words, By 
foederal head I mean, what the apostle 
teaches, &c. That as Adam was the first 
general representative (of this kind, says 
Aspasio, but Mr. Wesley makes him say) 
of mankind, Christ was," &c. " Far from 
resting upon a single text," &c. he goes on 
to the bottom of the page, then turning 
back to the upper part, represents me as 
forming a conclusion in these words : "All 
these expressions demonstrate, that Adam 
(as well as Christ) was a representative of 
all mankind and that what he did in this 
capacity, did not terminate in himself, but 
affected all whom he represented." This 
is a very injurious representation. One sen- 
tence is a palpable misquotation. t Would 
it be proper to take any notice of it ? I 
am sometimes apprehensive that he would 
draw me into a dispute about particular re- 
demption, 1 know he can say startling 
and horrid things on this subject ; and this, 
perhaps, might be the most effectual method 
to prejudice people against my principal 
point. 1 am, dear sir, with much gratitude 
and true affection, yours in Christ. 



LETTER CXCVIL 

Weston- Favell, June 23, 175S. 
My dear Friend. — I little though 
when I put Mr. Wesley's manuscript into 



♦ This refers to the remarks (made by the gentle- 
man to whom Mr. Hervey here writes) on the Scotch 
author (Mr. Sandeman) who wrote the Letters on 
Theron and Asi)asio. 
I t See Aspasio Vindicated, p. 485, Lett. 2. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



913 



your hand, that I should see it in print so 
soon. I took very little notice of it, and 
let it lie by me several months, vdthout 
giving it an attentive consideration. It 
seemed to me so palpably weak, dealing 
only in positive assertions and positive de- 
nials, that I could not imagine he would 
adventure it into the world without very 
great alterations. But it is now come 
abroad, just as you received it, in a two 
shillings pamphlet, entitled, A Preservative 
from Unsettled Notions in Religion. Of' 
this pamphlet, what he has wrote against 
me makes only a small part. Now then 
the question is. Whether I shall attempt 
to answer it ? Give me your opinion, as 
you have given me yom assistance; and 
may the Father of mercies give you an in- 
crease of knowledge and utterance, of peace 
and joy in the Holy Ghost. Ill I have 
been, and ill I am ; torn almost to pieces 
by a cough in the night, which admits of 
no remedy ; whatever is taken to assuage, 
exasperates it. Of all men living, that are 
not absolutely confined, surely I am the 
weakest. If by such weakness the Lord 
Jesus will vouchsafe to glorify his name, 
how transparent, how effulgent will be the 
glory of his power ! I have not seen Mr. 

P this many a day, no, nor tliis many 

a month ; how I fear lest the world has 
beguiled him ! Blessed be the Lord, for 
setting our affections on a happier state ; 
blessed be his grace, for giving us some 
knowledge of Jesus, as the way to immor- 
tal mansions ! There we may be citizens, 
here only sojourners. I am, with true gra- 
titude, and sincere affection, yours in Christ 
Jesus. 



LETTER CXCVIIL 

Weston-FaveU, Feb. 22, 1758. 

Madam, — I received the favour of your 
letter, and found no small pleasure in per- 
using its contents. It gave me a singular 
satisfaction to see a lady of such fine sense, 
and in the very bloom of life, mindful of 
the things which belong to her eternal 
peace. May this happy disposition increase 
with your increasing years ! and it will be 
the greatest blessing that you can enjoy, 
or your correspondent wish. 

If my writings have afforded you any 
entertainment, or been the means of ad- 
ministering the least improvement, I desire 
to adore and bless the all-gracious God : 
For he, madam, teaches to profit ; his Spirit 
commands success ; and all our good comes 
wholly from his heavenly benediction. 

I am pleased to find this, among your 
other valuable expressions : " I want to 
have all those heavenly- consolations." 



You consider religion in a right view. It 
is not a vexatious burden, or an irksome 
task ; but it is intended to be the comfort 
of our lives, and the joy of our hearts. God 
is the God of all comfort, Christ is styled 
" the Consolation of Israel," and the Holy 
Ghost is called " the Comforter." The 
gospel is the niost comfortable report ima- 
ginable : It is glad tidings, and the joyful 
sound : It assures poor sinners, that God 
has laid all their iniquities, both great and 
small, on his beloved Son ; that Jesus 
Christ has brought in a most perfect and 
everlasting righteousness, whereby they may 
be justified ; and that our first, our great, 
our leading duty is, to believe all this in 
our own behalf, for our own benefit. 

By the comfort and peace resulting from 
these blessings, it woidd win our hearts to 
love the God who is so immensely amiable 
and gracious to us ; to be studious of doing 
his pleasure, who has made such unspeaka- 
bly rich provision for our happiness. The 
apostle prays for his Thessalonian converts, 
that the Father of everlasting compassions 
would first comfort their hearts, and then, 
and thereby, establish them in every good 
word and work. 

I should make no scruple to send my 
fast sermon for your perusal, if I had one. 
But it has pleased the divine Providence 
to visit me with a violent fever, which has 
confined me for many weeks. I am still 
the prisoner of this disease, so that I was 
incapable of going abroad on the fast-day. 
And indeed; if it had been otherwise, I 
should scarcely have been able to gratify 
my own inclination, by complying with your 
hints ; because I never write my sermons, 
having accustomed myself to preach with- 
out notes ; and it was owing to a particular 
incident, that those three discourses which 
I published were committed to writing. 

Permit me, madam, to wish, that you 
may be steadfast and immoveable in your 
present turn of mind, which is so truly wise 
and noble ; that by him who sitteth in hea- 
ven, and beholds all the children of men, 
it may be said of Miss , as it was for- 
merly said of another excellent person 
" Mary has chosen that good part which* 
shall not be taken from her." 

To these wishes, allow me the additional 
pleasure of being, madam, your most obe- 
dient humble servant, &c. 



LETTER CXCIX. 

Weston-FaveU, March 4, 1758. 

Dear Mr. , I have a long letter, 

containing two or three sheets, from I\Ir. 
Wesley. It consists of animadversions on 
my Dialogues and Letters, whicii I siiouiJ 
3 N 



914 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



be glad if you would peruse, ajid favour me 
with your opinion. He wrote me one be- 
fore, more stinging and sarcastic than this. 
I have taken no notice of either, being very 
unwilling to embark in controversy ; but for 
your judgment on the last, which is written 
with candour and temper, I should be much 
obliged, and have an additional reason to 
be, dear sir, your affectionate friend, &c. 



LETTER CC. 

Weston-Favell, March 11, 1758. 

Madam, — I am much obliged for your 
benevolent wishes relating to my health. 
By way of return, permit me to wish, 
that your soul may prosper, may flou- 
rish, may blossom as a rose ; that you may 
grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our 
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. 

From this passage we may observe, that 
the way to advance in true holiness of heart 
and life, is to advance in the knowledge of 
Christ. It is for want of knowing Christ, 
that the generality of mankind are so capti- 
vated by trifles, and enslaved to transient 
gratifications : It is for want of knowing 
Christ more thoroughly, that many Chris- 
tians have so little peace and joy, and many 
go mournfully in their way to eternity. 

" By his knowledge shall my righteous 
servant justify many." By giving them the 
knowledge of himself, of his divine dignity 
and inestimably precious work — of that 
grand price which he paid for the redemp- 
tion of sinners, which delivers them from 
the wrath to come, and entitles them to 
the inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and 
that fadeth not away." 

" The divine power," says St. Peter, 
*' has given us all things pertaining to life 
and godliness." How ? " Through the 
knowledge of him who has called us to glory 
and virtue ;" through the knowledge of 
Christ, as calling us to the enjoyment of 
eternal glory, which he has procured for us 
by his blood j and thereby most sweetly 
leading and engaging us to the exercise of 
every virtue. 

1 hope Marshall on Sanctification will be 
blessed to your consolation and edification. 
If it is not at the first reading, it may at the 
second, or it may at the third. I would say 
to the reader of this excellent treatise, as 
the prophet Elijah said to his servant, who 
went to the sea in order to make observa- 
tion, but found nothing worthy of notice, 
" Go again, seven times." 

I have seen Dr. Glynn's poem, entitled. 
The Day of .Judgment. It is not without 
elegance and beauty, but it wants that ener- 
gy and pathos, which, on so grand and in- 
teresting an occasion, should alarm, trans- 



port, and awe our souls ; but its chief de- 
ficiency, in my opinion is, that it neglects 
to ascribe proper honour unto Christ. He 
is indeed very slightly hinted at in one cho- 
sen line, but be should have made the most 
distinguished figure throughout the whole 
piece. All judgment is committed to him. 
It is Christ who will come in the clouds of 
heaven • we must all appear before the 
judgment-seat of Christ. This to the be- 
liever is a most comfortable and delightful 
consideration ; " My Redeemer is my 
Judge. He who died for me passes the 
final sentence. Look how great is his ma- 
jesty and glory ! So great is my atonement 
and propitiation." 

Should I ever come to London, I will be 
sure to do myself the pleasure of waiting 

upon Miss — - In the mean time, what . 

she mentions by way of caution, shall be 
observed with aU punctuality due to a com- 
mand, by her most obedient humble servant 



LETTER CCL 

Weston-Favell, May 13, 1758. 

Madam, — I have too long delayed to ac- 
knowledge the favour of your last. The 
reflection gives me uneasiness, but the oc- 
casion gives you an opportunity of exercis* 
ing indulgence. If you please to ascribe 
my silence to much business, and little 
health, you will do justice to my proceeding 
and to your own candour. 

You inquire after the best week's prepa- 
ration for the sacrament. I cannot say that 
I much admire any of those books; They 
are, I think, loose, rambling, indistinct com- 
panions : they tend rather to bewilder than 
inform the judgment. For my own part, I 
prefer the little account of this ordinance in 
Mr. Marshall on Sanctification, to all those 
prolix treatises. It begins page 298 of the 
sixth edition, to which I wrote a recom- 
mendatory preface. 

If you should want a collection of prayers 
suited to this solemnity, or to any other oc- 
casion, there is none, in my opinion, better 
than Mr. Jenks's Offices of Devotion, 
(which has passed thirteen editions.) I 
should far sooner choose to read his two vo- 
lumes of Meditations, than the New Whole 
Duty of Man. Jenks has written another 
little treatise excellently good, and truly 
evangelical ; it is entitled, Submission to 
the righteousness of God. It was one of 
the first books that gave me an insight into 
the truth of the gospel ; or the way of sal- 
vation by the infinitely glorious obedience 
of our surety, Jesus Christ. 

The word Amen has two significations. 
It denotes an ardent wish, — Lord, let it be 
according to my humble petition. It de- 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



915 



Jaotes likewise a firm faith, — Lord, I am 
persuaded that thou wilt fulfil thy promise 
to grant my petition. 

If you love entertainment, my next shall 
recommend a book, that is as entertaining 
as a novel* or a play, yet edifying as a ser- 
mon. I believe, madam, you would have no 
reason to repent of the purchase, if you was 
to buy Mr. Boston's Human Nature in its 
Fourfold State ; of which, as I have given 
a character in the second volume of Theron 
and Aspasio, I need not say any thing more 
in this place. 

As God is sending forth his word, and 
renewing the face of material natui e ; so 
may he send forth his blessed Spirit, and re - 
veal Christ, and renew the state of our 
souls ! This will make us to diflfer from 
our former selves, as much as the present 
bloom and verdure of the creation differ 
from the rugged desolations of the winter. 

I wish you, madam, the continual pre- 
sence of this divine Comforter, and am your 
most obedient humble servant, &c. 



LETTER CCIL 

Weston-Favell, Aug. 5, 1758. 

Dear Sir, — Herewith I send two other 
sheets of my intended work. Be so good 
as to examine them with rigour, and correct 
them with freedom. 

I am afraid lest the weakness of the ad- 
vocate should injure the blessed cause. I 
am the more solicitous, because the unex- 
pected acceptance of my fast sermons will 
probably open a pretty wide door of admis- 
sion for this piece. Besides six thousand 
printed in London, an edition was printed 
in Scotland, which was speedily sojd oif ; 
and I was desired, by a society established 
for giving away religious books among the 
poor, to grant them leave to print an im- 
pression for this purpose. In Ireland they 
have been printed ; into Dutch they aie 
franslated ; and a letter received last week 
trom some pious and ingenious stranger in 
Amenca, informs me, that they have been 
reprinted there, and found much accep- 
tance : all this will be a kind of recommen- 
datoiy preface to this projected piece. The 
good Lord grant I may speak and write 
sound words, such as cannot be reproved ! 
My prayer is, that you may be of quick un- 
derstanding in the fear of tlie Lord, always 
and on all occasions, and more especially 
when you are sifting and improving the 
writings of, dear sir, your truly affectionate 
and much obliged friend. 



« Thfc book here meant is De Fee's Family In- 
structor. 



LETTER CCIIL 

Weston-FaveU, Sept. 4, 1758. 
Madam, — Be so good as to present my 
very affectionate compliments to your excel- 
lent friend Mr. Kennedy. Inform him that 
my intended work has for a long season, on 
account of my great infirmities, been like 
the sun in Gibeon, and like the moon in 
the valley of Ajalon. I shall be particu- 
larly pleased and thankful to receive his 
thoughts on that important subject, the as- 
surance of faith. ]\line are much the same 
as ]\Ir. Ebenezer Erskine's, in his valuable 
sermons, and as Mr, Boston's, in his most 
judicious notes on the Marrow of Modern 
Divinity. 

Pray, madam, favour me with a long 
extract from Mr. Kennedy's * letter : I do 
assure you, I admire his writings ; they have 
a beauty which is quite natural and artless ; 
joined with a piety which is very affecting 
and edifying. 

A book has lately appeared, in two small 
volumes, entitled. Letters on Theron and 
Aspasio. I cannot say I would recommend 
it to your perusal, but I should be glad if 
you would mention it in some conversation 
with your learned and devout visitants, in 
order to know their opinion. For my own 
part, I can hardly tell what opinion to 
form. The author conceals his namejf 
and it seems difficult to discover his prin- 
ciples or his aim. Some things are excel- 
lent, written with spirit, and in a strain 
truly evangelical ; in some things I stand 
corrected by him, I kiss the rod, and far 
from being displeased, am thankful for his 
animadversions ; though in some instances 
he has acted a disingenuous part ; not con- 
sulting the most correct edition of my book, 
not adverting to my own explanation of my 
meaning, and making me approve the whole 
of a person's works where I only commend 
some partic'ulai- part. But what gives me the 
greatest disgust, and will, I believe, offend 
every candid reader, is a bitter vein of con- 
tempt and invective against some of the 
best men that ever lived, and some of the 
best authors that ever wrote. I once 
thought the apostle James's question im- 
plied an impossibility ; but it seems to be 
reduced to real fact by the pen of this critic, 
and in the Letters on Theron and Aspasio, 
u here the " fountain sends forth" at the 
same place, in the same performance, 
" sweet water and bitter." J 

I hope you will not act with Mr. Ken- 
nedy according to the exact rules of retalia- 



* Mr. Kennedy, whom Mr. Hervey so highly and 
justly respected, was minister of the Scots church in 
Rotterdam, fonnerly minister at Cavers in Scotland. 

t See Letter CXC. 

$ See Sermons and Tracts, p. G74, note. 



916 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



tion ; but though he has been slow to write, 
you will be swift to answer, that he may 
the more speedily improve and delight 
yourself, madam, and your very humble 
serrant. 



LETTER CCIV. 

Friday night. 
Deah Sir, — I have sent you the follow- 
ing letter for your inspection, and shall 
make no remarks on it myself, lest I mis- 
lead your judgment. The gentleman who 
wrote it means well, and is desirous of pro- 
moting the interest of the gospel in the 
way which he apprehends to be right ; but 
he thinks differently from you and me, not 
only in his notions of imputed righteous- 
ness, but of other evangelical peculiarities. 
I have transcribed his letter, and concealed 
his name, that you may communicate your 
remarks with more freedom than perhaps 
you would have done, had I not taken these 
precautions to prevent your discovery of my 
correspondent. 

October 7. 1758. 
My DEA.R Friend, — Witherspoon's Es- 
say on the Connexion between the doctrine 
of Justification by the Imputed Righteous- 
ness of Christ and Holiness of Life, dedi- 
cated to you, was lately put into my hands. 
You know that I have an unconquerable 
dislike to your favourite expression, the im- 
puted righteousness of Christ. I would on 
no account have used it in any of my own 
writings ; and I vidsh it was universally laid 
aside, particularly by every minister in his 
pulpit ; because I apprehend, the notions 
which the generality of people conceive of 
the "imputed righteousness of Christ," has 
done as much mischief, especially amongst 
the lower sort, to the cause of Christianity, 
as the writings of infidelity have done 
amongst those of a higher rank. This is 
my settled opinion. Infidels may be, and 
often have been convinced ; but persons of 
weak minds, habituated to the sound of the 
imputed righteousness of Christ, (a satisfac- 
tory definition of which very few can give), 
are not only steeled against all conviction, 
but are too apt to disregard morality, and 
to censure and despise every preacher and 
writer, who, from principle or any other 
cause, disapproves of this cant term. Par- 
don me, for I really think it so> and there- 
fore cannot call it otherwise ; yet I own 
myself a great admirer of Witherspoon's 
Essay ; I think it the best defence of the 
doctrine of redemption that I have ever 
seen. My principal, and almost only ob- 
jection, is against the phrase " imputed 
righteousness." It appears to me quite un- 



I scriptural to speak of the " righteousness 
of Christ being imputed to us it is liable 
to great abuse, and it is not easily under-^ 
stood : nor am I satisfied to use it, not- 
withstanding all you have said in its de- 
fence, and all that so judicious and excel- 
lent a man as Dr. Doddridge (in his ser- 
mons on Salvation by Grace) has said to 
explain it. I fall in, however, with Wither- 
spoon's sentiments, though I do not use his 
particular phrases : and you will observe, 
he often intermixes others to the same 
purpose : as, page 17, the Saviour's merit. 
Page 21, vicarious suflferings. Acceptance 
of the gospel, page 23. Doctrine of Christ 
crucified, his atonement, page 29. Flying 
to the propitiation of Christ, page 36 ; the 
doctrine of Christ's mediation, &c. &c. By 
these it appears, that it is not the phrase, 
but the thing, justification by Christ alone, 
on which he lays the stress, (see page 70, 
line 47,) and his arguments will be equally 
forcible on any man's principles who is not 
a Socinian. I believe the doctrine, as he^ 
has stated it, page 15, though I should not 
choose to use some of his expressions. His 
remark, page 61, line 18, &c. is, I think, 
very just, and confirmed by many melan- 
choly facts. Pages 6-3, 64, 65, is perhaps 
too strong. The same may be said of other 
systems of morality ; they who embrace 
them, and live unsuitably, are hypocrites, 
page 65, lines 2d and 3d. 

Upon the whole, I heartily wish every 
Christian, especially every minister in the 
kingdom, would carefully read this very 
useful treatise of Witherspoon's, and, act 
accordingly ; and if I had ariy acquaintance 
with him, though I am hopeless of bringing 
you over to my sentiments, I would endea- 
vour at least to prevail on him to abolish 
the phrase imputed righteousness in the next 
edition, and then his book would be [^more 
extensively useful. 

I am, my dear friend, (notwithstanding 
our different opinions in some religious 
points), with much real esteem, most affec- 
tionately and most sincerely yours, &c. &c. 

So far my correspondent, whose letter I 
shall forbear to answer till I hear your sen- 
timents ; which I shall expect by the first 
opportunity. I am sure, if the phrase, im- 
puted righteousness were not strictly defen- 
sible on scriptural grounds, it should never 
more be used, either in the pulpit, or in the 
writings of, dear sir, your obliged friend 
and servant. 



LETTER CCV. 

Weston-Favell, Oct. 24^, 1758. 
My dear Friend, — Let me repeat my 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



thanks for the trouble you have taken, and 
for the assistance you have given me, in 
relation to my controversy with Mr. Wes- 
ley. He is so unfair in his quotations, and 
so magisterial in his manner, that I find it 
no small diificulty to preserve the decency 
of the gentleman, and the meekness of the 
Christian, in my intended answer. May 
our divine Master aid me in both these in- 
stances, or else not suifer me to write at 
all. 

I have just been reading Hab. iii. 13, 
which seemed difficult to clear ; one of the 
metaphors referring to an animate, the other 
to an inanimate structure ; I should be glad 
to know, how you understand, and how you 
would explain the passage. Perhaps, at 
your leisure, you will consider the whole 
chapter; and when I ask for a descant 
upon one, give me an elucidation of twenty 
verses. 

I have certainly a very great esteem for 
Dr. Gill, yet I never could assent to his 
notion of eternal justification. I am very 
much obliged to you for pointing out to me 
the passage in Theron and Aspasio which 
seems to favour, or proceeds upon such a 
tenet. It shall be altered in the next edi- 
tion. 

My dilatory proceedings you will ascribe 
to the real cause, sickness ; then you will 
not deal with me according to the law of 
retaliation, but according to that law of 
kindness, which the grace of our Lord Jesus 
Christ has written upon your heart. 

Indeed, I think your arguments are un- 
answerable. If so, do not you think there 
are some things in my third Dialogue excep- 
tionable ? I wish you would examine it ; 
bring it to the touchstone of your last let- 
ter, and where it is wrong correct it. 

I should like to have Theron object 
something in your way of argumentation, 
and Aspasio frankly confess that he has 
overshot the mark. Such an acknowledg- 
ment endears the character of the speaker, 
and such a circumstance makes the senti- 
ment more impressive on the reader. 

I have often thought the second verse of 
Psalm cxxxi. very difficult, and have been 
at a loss to find out the propriety of the 
comparison. Why composed and quiet as 
a weaned child, when we know, that the 
time of weaning children is always a time 
of disappointment, often of disease? At 
this season they are particularly forward 
and peevish : The very reverse, therefore, 
of that frame of mind which the Psalmist 
seems to be illustrating. This was the 
best solution which occun-ed to my thoughts : 
A child weaned from his mother is dis- 
quieted and fretful. Such is my natural, 
and such would be my habitual temper, was 
I'not influenced and calmed by grace ; but, 
through divine grace, my mind is resign- 



917 

ed and quiet as the weaned child, when 
brought back to the mother, and lulled to 
rest on that soft and warm bosom, where it 
had so often lain with the greatest delight, 
but from which it had been for a season' 
withdrawn. You see I would translate, 
*' in pectus sive gremium matris suae." But 
whether my translation be warrantable, or 
my paraphrase such as suits the tenor of 
the Psalm, I submit to your determination. 

Accept my sincere thanks for your valu- 
able correction of a passage in my sermon : 
such improving animadversions will always 
be more acceptable than the inebriating 
voice of applause, far more acceptable to 
your truly affectionate friend. 



LETTER CCVL 

Wesfon, Oct. 19, 1758. 

My dear Friend, — You sometime ago 
sent me a poem, with which I was much 
delighted, notwithstanding the uncouth 
metre and obsolete words ; I mean Flet- 
cher's Purple Island, to which were sub- 
joined several other of his poetical pieces ; 
one particularly I remember to his brother 
G. Fletcher, on his poem entitled Christ's 
Victory in Heaven and on Earth, and his 
triumph over and after Death. 

I happened to mention Fletcher to a 
gentleman lately, who has since lent me 
this very poem, which I longed to see, as 
the title pleased me so much. He tells me, 
that Phineas Fletcher was not only an ex- 
cellent poet himself, and the son of a poet, 
(namely of John Fletcher, a celebrated dra- 
matic writer in the reign of Queen Eliza- 
beth) but brother to two eminent poets, of 
which this G. Fletcher was one, and a 
young student at Cambridge when he wrote 
this poem. 

I wish any bookseller could be prevailed 
with to reprint the Purple Island, and add to 
it Christ's Victory, &c. in one neat volume. 
I believe it would sell, if properly revised and 
altered. It grieves me to tldnk these pieces 
should be lost to the world, and be for ever 
buriedin obscurity. Ihave folded down seve- 
ral passages in Christ's Victory and Triumph 
for your inspection ; and if they meet with 
your approbation, I hope you will join your 
interest with me, in endeavouring to pre- 
serve the work from perishing. The Pur- 
ple Island is to be sure a superior poem, 
and abounds vnth picturesque, useful, and 
striking sentiments ; but with that you are 
weE acquainted, as it has so long been a 
favourite with you. 

I am now so very ill, that I scarce think 
I shall live to see the approaching Christ- 
mas.* Had I been in perfect health, and 



* Mr. Hervey died ou Christmas day, according tw 
his own supposition. 



018 _ A COLLECTION 

disengaged from other employment, I ques- 
tion whether I should not have retouched 
the poetry, changed several of the obsolete 
words, illustrated the obscure passages by 
occasional notes, and run the risk of pub- 
lishing the whole at my own expense. To 
this I should have been more particularly 
inclined, as there are so few poems of the 
scriptural kind wrote by men of genius ; 
though no subject can be equally sublime 
and instructive, or more entertaining ; wit- 
ness Milton's Paradise lost, and Pope's 
Messiah. 

Could not Rivington get some one to 
make these necessary alterations ? Or if 
he does not care to engage in it, would not 
Dodsley undertake it, who is himself a poet, 
and very capable of abridging it in some 
places, enlarging it in others, and thorough- 
ly correcting the whole ? Do you know Mr. 
Joseph Wharton of Trinity College, Ox- 
ford, who translated Virgil ? He is very 
capable of doing this : and as he is a clergy- 
man, I should imagine he would think his 
time well employed in thus contributing to 
our blessed Master's honour. 

Methinks if a subscription to modernize 
valuable authors, and thus rescue them from 
the pit of oblivion, was properly set on foot 
by some men of eminence, and the propos- 
als well drawn up, it would meet with due 
encouragement. I have often wondered that 
SMch an attempt has never yet been made. 
How many excellent books of the last cen- 
tury are now out of print, whilst such a 
number of useless and pernicious writings 
are continually published ? 

I now spend almost my whole time in 
reading and praying over the Bible. In- 
deed, indeed you cannot conceive, how the 
springs of life in me are relaxed and relax- 
ing. " What thou dost, do quickly," is for 
me a proper admonition, as I am so appre- 
hensive of my approaching dissolution. My 
dear friend, attend to " the one thing need- 
ful." With this I send you my heart, its 
warmest good wishes, and most tender af- 
fections ; and till it ceases to beat, I shall 
never cease to pray for your abundant hap- 
piness, or to be, my dear sir, your sincerely 
affectionate friend, &c. 

Some of the passages .mentioned in the 
preceding letter to have been folded down 
by Mr. Hervey, were as follow. 

In the three following stanzas, the poet 
speaks of man, as destitute of all hope and 
remedy without Clirist. 

Should any to himself for. safety fly ? 
The way to save himself (if any were) 

Is to fly from himself. Should he rely 
Upon the promise of his wife ? what there. 
What can he see. but that he most may fear— 

A syren, sweet to de th ? Upon his friends ? 

Who what he needs, or what he hath not, lends ; 

Or, wanting aid himsCif, aid to another sends ? 



OF LETTERS. 

His strength ? 'tis dust. His pleasure ? caus3 of palw. 

His hope? false courtier. Youth or beauty ? brittle. 
Entreaty ? Fond. Repentance ? late and vain 

Jusrrecompense ? the world were all too little. 

Thy love ? he hath no title to a tittle. 
Hell's force ? in vain her furies hell shall gather. 
His servants, kinsmen, or his children rather ? 
His child (if good) shall judge ; if bad, shall curse his 
father. 

His hfe ? that brings him to his end, and leaves him. 

His end ? that leaves him to begin his wo. 
His goods? what good in that which so deceives him? 
His gods of wood ? their feet, alas ! are slow 
To go to hell/, which must be help'd to go. 
Honour, great worth ? ah ! little worth they be 
Unto their owners. Wit ? that makes him see 
He wanted wit, who thought he had it wanting thee.* 

In another place, repentance and faith 
ai-e thus described : 

Shef- in an arbour sate 
Of thorny brier, weeping her cursed state. 

And her before a hasty river fled. 

Which her blind eyes with faithful penance fed. 
And all about the grass with tears hung down its head. 

Her eyes, though blind abroad, at home kept fast. 
Inwards they turn'd and looked into her head. 

At which she often started as aghast. 
To see so fearful spectacles of dread : 
And with one hand her breast she martyred. 

Wounding her heart the same to mortify ; 

The other a fair damsel^ held her by, 

Which if but once let go, she§ sunk immediately. 

In another place is shewn the sufficiency 
of Christ, and impotency in man. 

What hath man done, that man shall not undo. 
Since God to him is grown so near akin ? 

Did his foe slay him ? he shall slay his foe. 
Has he lost all ? he all again shall win. 
Is sin his master ? he shall master sin. 

Too hardy soul with sin the field to try. 

The only way to conquer was to fly ; 

But thus long death hath lived, and now death's 
self shall die. 

Christ is a path, if any be misled ; 

He is a robe, if any naked be ; 
If any chance to hunger he is bread ; 

If any be a bondman, he is free. 

If any be but weak, how strong is he ? 
To dead men, life he is; to sick men, health; 
To blind men, sight ; and to the needy, wealth ; 
A pleasure without loss; a treasure without stealth. 

Despair, Presumption, Vain-glory, &c. 
&c. are personified in different parts of the 
poem ; but the preceding and following 
stanzas will be sufficient to give the reader 
an idea of it ; and therefore it would be un- 
necessary to quote all the passages to which 
Mr. Hervey had referred. 

Ere long they came near to a baleful bower,n 
Much like the mouth of that infernal cave. 
Which gaping stood all comers to devour. 
Dark, doleful, dreary, like a greedy grave 
That still for carrion-carcasses doth crave. 
The ground no herbs but venomous did bear. 
Nor ragged trees did leaf, but everywhere 
Dead bones and skulls were cast, and bodies hanged 
were. 

Upon the roof the bird of sorrow sat. 
Keeping back joyful day with her sad note. 

And through the shady air the fluttering bat 
Did wave her leathern sails, and blindly float ; 
While with her wings the fatal screech -owl smote 

The unblessed house ; there on a craggy stone 

Cbl^no^ hung, and made a direful moan. 



* Christ, t Repentance. % Faith. § Repentance. 

II The habitation of Despair described. 

^ One of the Harpies. 
Insulse lonio in magno : quas dira Celasno, 
Haipyriceque coluut alias.— Firg-. Mn. iii. 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



910 



Like cloudy moon-shine in some shadowy grove. 

Such was the light in which Despair did dwell; 
But he himself with night for darkness strove. 
His black uncombed locks dishevell'd fell 
About his face; through which as brands of hell 
Sunk in his skull, his staring eyes did glow. 
Which made him deadly look ; their glimpse did show 
Like cockatrice's eyes, that sparks of poison throw. 

Now he would dream that he from heaven fell. 
And then would snatch the air, afraid to fall ; 
And now he thought he sinking was to hell. 

And then would grasp the earth ; and now his stall 
To him seem'd hell, and then he out would crawl ; 
And ever as he crept would squint aside. 
Lest he should be by fiends from hell espied. 
And forced, alas ! in chains for ever to abide. 

Christ's triumph over death, by his suf- 
ferings on the cross. 

A tree was first the instrument of strife. 
Where Eve to sin her soul did i)rostitute ; 

A tree is now the instrument of life. 
Though ill that trunk and Christ's fair body suit ; 
Ah, cursed tree ! and yet, oh blessed fruit ; 

That death to him, this life to us doth give ; 

Strange is the cure, when things past cure revive, 

And the Physician dies to make his patient live. 

Christ's triumph over death by his pas- 
sion in the garden. 

So may we oft a tender father see, 

To please his wanton son, his only joy, 
Coast all about to catch the roving bee. 
And, stung himself, his bu^y hands employ 
To save the honey for the gamesome boy ; 
Or from the snake her rancorous teeth erase. 
Making his child the toothless serpent chase, 
Or with his little hands her swelling crest embrace. 

Thus Christ himself to watch and sorrow gives, 
While dew'd in easy sleep dead Peter lies ; 

Thus man in his own grave securely lives, 
While Christ alive with thousand horrors dies, 
Yet more for ours than his own pardon cries. 

No sins he had, yet all our sins he bare; 

So much doth God for others' evils care, 

And yet so careless men for their own evils are. 

The treachery of Judas is thus repre- 
sented. 

See drowsy Peter, see where Judas wakes. 

Where Judas kisses him whom Peter flies; 
O kiss, more deadly than the sting of snakes ! 
False love, more hurtful than true injuries ! 
Ah me ! how dearly God his servant buys ! 
For God his man at his own bldod doth hold, 
And man his God for thirty pence hath sold: 
So tin for silver goes, and dunghill-dross for gold. 

The spirits of just men made perfect, 
are very poetically described in the fol- 
lowing stanza : 

No sorrow now hangs clouding on their brow ; 

No bloodless malady empales the face : 
No age drops on their hairs his silver snow ; 

No nakedness their bodies does em base; 

No poverty themselves and theirs disgrace ; 
No fear of d.eath the joy of life devours ; 
No unchaste sleep their precious time deflowers; 
No loss, no grief, no change wait on their winged 
hours. 



LETTER CCVIL 



Weston-Favell, Nov. 7, 1758. 
Reverend and dear Sir, — I should 
be very ungrateful, if I did not thank you 
for your late present ; and for the many 
obliging things you are pleased to say of me 



and my writings, in your valuable letter. I 
hope they will be successful advocates for 
the furtherance of the gospel ; and I am 
very sorry to hear by you, as weU as from 
several other of my correspondents in Scot- 
land, that the gentlemen of letters in that 
kingdom are deplorably gone off from the 
simplicity and truth'of the Scriptures, and 
that the Socinian tenets are gaining ground 
apace. I could wish, methinks, at this cri- 
tical juncture, that Alsop's * Anti-Sozzo, 
which made its first appearance in 1675, 
was judiciously abridged, and, in the neat 
Glasgow type, reprinted in a duodecimo vo- 
lume ; though it is almost a pity to abridge 
it, (unless it was weU executed), as the 
whole is so interesting, and might be con- 
tained in two duodecimo volumes, or even 
in one octavo volume, if printed at Glas- 
gow. It is, I can assiu-e you, a very smart 
book, and one of the best defences of the 
evangelical doctrines I ever saw, or ever 
expect to see, even if my life, which now 
draws very near its end, could be prolonged 
to the next centuiy. In short, I think it 
an unanswerable performance ; and dinnes 
of every denomination would do well to 
make themselves thoroughly masters of this 
spirited and entertaining writer, as they 
would then be able to defend the truth as it 
is in Jesus against all kind of opponents, 
how witty, keen, subtle, or malignant soever 
the attack might be. I would, therefore, 
beg you to recommend this book as a spe- 
cific against Socinianism, and use your in- 
terest to have it forthwith reprinted at 
Glasgow. 

Glad I am to be informed, that you are 
so very zealous for the honour and interest 
of our Lord Jesus Christ. What can make 
mankind happy, but his gospel ? What is 
worthy of our sedulous application, but his 
interest ? What will be a substantial reward, 
but his acceptance, favour, and love ? 

I am now reduced to a state of infant 
weakness, and given over by my physician. 
My grand consolation is to meditate on 
Christ ; and I am hourly repeating those 
heart-reviving lines of Dr. Young, in his 
fourth night. 

This, only this, subdues the fear of death : 
And what is this ? Survey the wondrous cure ; 
And at each step let higher wonder rise ! 

I. Pardon for infinite offence ! 2. and pardon 
Through means that speak its value infinite ! 

3. A pardon bought with blood ! 4. With blood di- 
vine 

5. With blood divine of him. I made my foe ! 

6. Persisted to provoke ! 7. Though woo'd and aw'd, 
Bless'd and chastised, a flagrant rebel still ! 

8. A rebel 'midst the thunders of his throne 

9. Nor I alone ! 10. A rebel universe- 

II. My species up in arms ! 12. Not one exempt. 

13. Yet for the foulest of the foul he dies 

14. Most joy'd for the redeeni'd from deepest guilt ! 

15. As if our race were held of hii^hcst rank ; 
And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man. 

* Anti-Sozzo, or against Socinus (Faustus), a na- 
tive of Sienna, whose Italian nam.c was Sozzo. He 
wrote a book about 1.575, entitled, De Jesu Christo 
Servatore, and died 16ul. 



920 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



These amazingly comfortable lines, I dare 
say, you v\all treasure up in your heart ; and 
when you think of them, will think of me ; 
and I hope, dear sir, pray for me, that I 
may not disgrace my ministry, or dishonour 
the gospel of my Master in my last moments, 
by unbelief ! base provoking unbelief ! This 
probably is the last time you will ever hear 
from me : for indeed it is with some diffi- 
culty I have wrote now ; but I shall not fail 
to remember you in my intercessions for my 
friends at the throne of Christ ;^ and I hum- 
bly beg of God Almighty, that the love of 
his Son may sweetly constrain you, and 
that his promises may be ever operative on 
your mind. — I am, with great gratitude and 
much esteem, reverend and dear sir, your 
aifectionate brother in Christ. - 



LETTER CCVm. 

Friday morning. 
Dear Sir, — You ask me what I think 
of you, in case it should please God to take 
you out of the world in the perplexed state 
you have described to me. An answer to 
such a question is much more difficult than 
you seem to be aware of ; and, therefore, I 
must beg leave to decline passing any sen- 
tence. We ministers are to teach, warn, 
comfort, and exhort every man, according to 
God's most holy word ; but after death 
comes the judgment on each of us. For, 
alas ! how little, how very little do we know 
of one another, or of ourselves ! The most 
amazing, perhaps, and one of the most hum- 
bling considerations too, which can well be 
offered to the human mind, is, that though 
we cannot form a tolerable judgment of any 
man's real condition, yet God shall judge 
the world, the whole world, in equity ; not 
so much as one single case, how intricate 
soever it may seem to us, will he mistake. 
He was, is, and ever shall be, omniscient 
and omnipresent. And yet, short-sighted 
creatures as we are, how often do we usurp 
this prerogative, and presume to judge our 
fellow-creatures ? A certain author, whose 
name I forgot, (though I registered to the 
following effect from him in one of my old 
diaries), has observed, " That it is impos- 
sible for us mortals to form an equitable 
judgment of the state of any one individual ; 
because God alone knows all the circum- 
stances he has been, and now is in. He 
alone can be the proper judge of his abili- 
ties and powers ; what opportunities he had 
of improving himself, and of doing good ; 
what were the force of his temptations ; 
what difficulties he had to struggle with ; 
what portion of divine grace was given to 
him ; what natural understanding he had ; 
what acquired knowledge was or could be 



obtained by him ; and, in short, what the 
true state of his case was. Nor will he 
condemn any one unjustly or arbitrarily. 
How comfortable a reflection is this ! espe- 
cially to one who is cruelly persecuted, or 
unjustly censured — that God shall judge the 
world in equity ; and yet what a tremen- 
dous thought is it, that every day we live 
we provoke this Judge of all men, and in- 
crease our heap of sin, which swells into 
such a frightful size, such a stupendous 
mountain of guilt, as will make us one day 
stand amazed at the sight of it ! But ' what 
art thou, O thou great mountain ? before 
Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain,' 
Zech. iv. 7. ' We have an advocate with 
the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous, and 
he is the propitiation for our sins.' Oh! 
that I may have a, devout and lively faith in 
him, as it is by him alone my sins can be 
cancelled. May the cry of his blood drown 
their clamour! — We are, most just God, 
the children of thy w^ath, and he is the 
Son of thy love, who died to save us, and 
through whom thou art willhig to receive 
us. Yet what a distrustful fainting of mind 
comes over me, on the remembrance of for- 
mer transgressions, which neither a reflec- 
tion on God's ineffable goodness, nor on 
the unbounded value of the sacrifice of 
Christ, can effectually relieve ? ' Hear me, 
O Lord God, in this my hour of heartfelt 
distress, nor take thou vengeance of my 
sins ; spare thy creature, O Lord, spare him 
whom thou hast redeemed with thy most 
precious blood; let thy mighty Spirit fit me 
for mercy and acceptance, and be not, oh ! 
be not angry with me for ever.' " 

With this prose quotation, I send you a 
copy of verses on the renovation of a sin- 
ner ; which will, perhaps, at this time, be 
neither unacceptable nor unseasonable. It 
was wrote by a very particular friend of 
mine, and is as poetical as it is instructive 
and consolatory. 

I. 

When, with my mind devoutly press'd. 
Dear Saviour ! my revolving breast 

Would past offences trace 
Trembling 1 make the black review. 
Yet pleased behold, admiring too. 

The power of changing grace. 

II. 

This tongue, with blasphemies defiled. 
These /ee^, to erring paths beguiled. 

In heavenly league agree ; 
Who would believe such lips could oraige. 
Or think my dark and winding ways 

Should ever lead to thee ? 

III. 

These eyes, that once abused their s;ght. 
Now lift to thee their watery light 

And weep a silent flood . 
These ha7ids ascend in ceaseless prayer. 
Oh ! wash away the stains they wear 

In pure, redeeming blood 

IV. 

These ears that pleased could entertain 
The midnight oath, the lustful strain, 
W hen round the festal board ; 



A COLLECTION OF LETTERS. 



92! 



Now deaf to all the enchanting noise, 
Avoid the throng, detest the joys, 
And long to hear thy word. 

V. 

Thus art thou served : in every part. 

Oh ! wouldst thou but transform, my heart. 

That drossy thing refine ; 
That grave might nature's strength control. 
And a new creature, body, soul. 

Be all, be ever thine. 

I transcribed these verses, as I hope you 
will commit them to your memory, and often 
repeat them as you ride or walk, till your 
tongue, lips, eyes, ears, and very heart, are 
subservient to the great end of your salva- 
tion, and that of others. Exert yourself, 
be of good cheer, the clouds that darken the 
face of your affairs, will ere long disperse. 
He that gave his blood for you, and refused 
not to bear the racking agonies of the cross 
ibr you ; he will not leave you, nor forsake 
you. God, who is faithful and just, has 
promised to forgive us our sins through the 
mediation of his Son. Lord, I believe 
this ; help thou our unbelief. — So wishes, 
and so prays, yours very sincerely. 



LETTER CCIX. 

Weston-Favell, Monday morning. 

Dear Sir, — I am much obliged to you 
for the loan of Dr. Square's Inquiry into 
the Foundation of the English Constitu- 
tion. The performance seems to be curi- 
ous, useful, and interesting. But how in- 
teresting soever the subject may be to 
others, it can be very little so now to me ; 
as my indisposition is daily increasing, and 
must, in all human probability, soon put an 
end to my being. 

In spite of the sarcastical reflections you 
say are thrown upon me, I must recommend 
to every one Marshall on Sanctification, and 
Jenks's Submission to the righteousness of 
God. These are with me the two funda- 
mental books ; these teach vital religion. 
Do they who would decry faith, and extol 
their good works, distinguish themselves by 
the practice of them ? If not, I must beg 
leave to say, they are self-condemned. On- 
ly observe for the next month (by their 
fruits you will know them) the conduct of 
those who are such loud advocates for the 
merit, the dignity of man, and the freedom 
of his action ; and of those who rely on the 
active and passive obedience of Christ i and 
then tell me ingenuously, which are the 
people that pay the greatest reverence 
to the word of God ; and in particular, to 
the fourth commandment? Inquire which 
of them use family prayer ? whose con- 
versation is most edifying? which of them 
visit and travel on Sundays ? and which 
of them pass that holy day as becomes 
those who have named the name of 



Christ ? I will be bold to say, that, on an 
impartial examination, the majority will be 
found on the side of those who embrace the 
doctrine of the imputation of Christ's right- 
eousness, and who expect salvation by him 
alone, and not by deeds which they have 
done. Yet I should wonder how men of 
discernment (men who, one would think, 
should be daily sensible of their innume- 
rable failings) could possibly espouse the 
opposite doctrines, had I not too many me- 
lancholy proofs to the contrary. You may 
safely confide in this doctrine ; for this, 
dear sir, is not to be considered as the par- 
ticular opinion of James Hervey, but it is 
the general opinion of our exemplary refor- 
mers ; it is the doctrine of our Articles and 
our Homilies. Will you say that our mo- 
dern moral Christians, if I may so call them, 
are to be set in competition with men like 
these ? I appeal to facts. Mark the effect 
of preaching mere morality, and of preach- 
ing the grace of Christ. But so long as 
the devil is suffered to deceive the nations, 
and so long as the heart is unconvinced of 
sin, we may assure ourselves, the doctrines 
of justification by Christ's righteousness, 
and salvation by free grace, will meet with 
opposition. Therefore St. Paul exhorts 
Timothy, Ayuvt^a tov x.aXov ayuva. rns 
T^ireeoi, " to fight the good fight of faith -." 
it is an address to a combatant, and sup- 
poses a conflict, a noble conflict ; xaXo;, the 
finest word in the most expressive language, 
importing all that is good and great ; let us 
not then be ashamed of the cause. 

My cough is very troublesome. I can 
get little rest ; medicines yield no relief; 
but my never-failing cordial is the love of 
Christ. 

Religion bears my spirits up ; 

A faithful and unchanging God 
Lays the foundation for my hope. 

In oaths,* in promises,! in bIood4 

Watts' Hymj^s, b. i. 

Staynoe (see Let. cxxx.) whom you in- 
quire after, was a good man, a tutor at Tri- 
nity College, Oxford, and afterwards rector 
of St. Leonard, Foster-lane ; and in the 
year 1704, published, in two volumes, octa- 
vo, his treatise on Salvation by Jesus 
Christ. Mine is the second edition. It is 
no contemptible book, though the style is 
rather too prolix, and he has some peculiar 
notions. But who has ever seen a faultless 
book? All writers have their failings, 
more or less. No mortal is exempted from 
them ; not even Homer, Virgil, or Milton 
himself. This ought to teach us candour 
aiid humility in such a state of imperfec- 
tion ; and above all, it should inspire us 
with a reverential admiration of the book of 
God, which alone is free from error ; by 



» Heb. vi. 17. t 2 Pet. i. 4. :^ Rev. i 5. 



922 



which we are guided into all truth ; and in 
which we are promised eternal life, procur- 
ed for us by the righteousness, sufferings, 
and mediation of Jesus Christ. I wish, 
most heartily wish, you may sufficiently re- 
gard this inestimable book ; and then you 
will be like the tree planted by the water- 



BFISTOLA AD C. THAYER. 

side, which bringeth forth its fruits in due 



season ; and like that happy man of whom 
it is written by the Psalmist, " Look ! 
whatsoever he doeth it shall prosper." I 
am, my dear friend, affectionately and unal- 
terably yours, &c. 



JACOBI HERVEY 
DE LIBRO JOBI 

EPISTOLA AD CAROLUM THAYER. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



This epistle was published by John Riv- 
ington, Mr. Hervey's bookseller, in 1766, 
and sold at 6d. The following advertise- 
ment is prefixed to it. 

" The design of this publication is to 
acquaint the reader with the late ingenious 
Mr. Hervey's sentiments on the book of 
Job ; and it is given to the community in 
the language with which it was penned, as 
a specimen of this author's Latin style ; but 
as it has never been corrected, it is presum- 
ed that the candid reader will make proper 
allowances for its defects. 

<« N.B. — The original letter (without the 
least variation) was transmitted to the, 
press by the Rev. Mr- Robert Knight, 
rector of Weston- Favell, in JNorthamp- 
tonshire, who married Mr. Hervey's 
youngest sister ; and it is now deposited 
in the hands of Mr. Rivington, for the 
satisfaction of such as desire to be assured 
of its authenticity." 

The translation of this excellent letter, 
which now makes its first appearance in 
print, was undertaken by the printer, at the 
desire of several gentlemen, who conceived 
that the inserting the Latin copy of it only 
in our author's works, would be of no use 
to the generality of the encouragers of this 
edition. Though the translator does not 
pretend that the translation is any way equal 
to the original, yet he flatters himself he 
has given the author's meaning, which may 
be of use to the unlearned. Those who 
are skilled in the learned languages will 
prefer the original, and cannot be displeas- 
ed that Mr. Hervey is also made to speak 
in English to those who do not understand 
Latin. 



REVERENDO VIRO 

CAROLO THAYER, 
SALUTEM. 

MiROR equidem, vir spectatissime, tan- 
tam tibi linguae non vernaculae, quaeque 
ab hodiernis colloquiis exulat, copiam in 
promptu esse. Ni te jamdudum nossem, 
uberrima ista Romani eloquii penus facile 
me induceret ut crederem, Tusculi * te po- 
tius quam Abingtoniaef habitasse. Quod 
ad me attinet, quum probe sciam, quam 
rudis sim et inexercitatus in hoc scribendi 
genere, paulum abfuit quin silentum mihi 
perpetuum indixissem. Per plurimos dies, 
tenuitatis nostrce conscius, manum de tabu- 
la timidam cohibui. Verum enimvero pu- 
dor reclamavit, animusque ab ingratitudine 
abhorrens stimulos addidit ; atque inde sit 
ut calamus, impar licet et ineptus, ad epis- 
tolare munus jam tandem excitatus est. 

Gratias itaque ago, quantas possum maxi- 
mas, quod plurima mihi notatu dignissima 
de Jobo, Jobique libro, pro singulari tua 
humanitate atque eruditione, ultro commu-. 
nicasti. Versionem imprimis ad examen 
revocas. Nitida ea est, elegantiarum ferax, 
vimque Hebraearum vocum, supra quod 
sperari potuit, vix imminutam tradit. Ad- 
das licet, novam eam esse in plurimis, sed 
quae auctoritatem suam secum aflferat, et 
legentium sufFragia primo statin) ab intuitu 
adsciscit. Notas deinde sagaci percurris 



\ * Tusculum, urbs Italira, iibi villa Ciceroiiis. 
\ \ Abingtonia, oppidulum prope Northantoniam. 



EPISTOLA AD C. THAYER. 



923 



oculo. Quas qui legit religitque, baud fa- 
cile est dicere, utrum plus sit reportaturus 
utilitatis, ex amplissima orientalis erudi- 
tionis segete ; seu potius oblectamenti, a 
dulcissimo illo criticae artis flore. Adeo 
non frivola sunt et futilia quae ubique anno- 
tantur, ut vocabulorum emphasin, argu- 
noentorum pondera, sensuum sublimitatem, 
colloquii denique telam pulcheriimo ordine 
deductam, manu limatissima admota collus- 
trant. Imo tanto affuso lumine collustrant, 
ut vel mihi hebetioris ingenii viro pates- 
cant, et patefacta placeant. Quid multis ? 
eum ipsum, puto, commentatorem nactus 
est Jobus, quern pra omnibus aliis optasset, 
si superstes adbuc inter homines versare- 
tur. 

De Jobi sevo, quo vixit, non constat inter 
doctos, neque opinor constabit unquam. 
Atqui verisimilima videtur quam tu aliique 
tuentur opinio. In vestras partes non in- 
vitus transeo. Illustrem hunc principem 
non nisi post Abrahamum floruisse certo 
certius est. Qui enim nomen terrae dedit, 
quam alter amicorum coluit, Temanitidi, is 
inter Esaui posterns numeratur. Prohi- 
bet porro insignissimum istud encomium 
quo cohonestatur a Spiritu Sancto, ne sus- 
picemur eum diebus patriarcliarum Isaaci 
aut Jacobi vitam trausegisse. Vix potuit 
vere dice " ci ain cthu cading" nisi post 
funera Josephi. Inter hunc igitur morte 
ablatum, et Mosen ex ephebis excessum, 
omnino statuendo videtur eera Jobi. 

De scripto ipso, profluxisse illud ab 
alia quam Jobi manu nuUus dubito. Is 
quippe inter Arabas nutritus, atque Ara- 
bum lingua? assuefactus, vix tanta fuit Hae- 
braicarum literarum peritia imbutus, quan- 
ta opus erat ad res tales tali ver])orum ni- 
tore et concinnitate consignandas chartis. 
Si Mosi authori librum ascribere quis ma- 
luit, quod Anglicana nostra in observati- 
unculis suis margini affixis editio innuit, 
turn demum abritror ante Israelites per 
deserta traductos confectum esse. Legis- 
lator ille celeberrimus dum tanto agmini 
ducem se rectoremque praebuit, vix potuit 
ad historiam poeticam contexendam ani- 
mum appellere. Ingens praeterea rerum 
quotidie agendarum multitudo atque onus, 
ne tale aliquid moliretur, mentem sine du- 
bio abstraherent. Nulla autem ea potuit 
opportunior esse occasio, quae illi obtigit, 
dum exul inter Midianitas commoratus est. 
Rusticabatur tunc temporis ; otiabatur ; 
omnia habuit indulta, quae poetae ingenium 
stimulare atque accendere solent. Huic 
insuper sententiae adstipulatur, quod in eas 
regiones relegatus, omnia quae ad Jobum, 
iinitimae terrae incolam, pertinerent, edis- 
cere potuit uberius. Gnaviter quoque pro 
tali conjectura militat frequentior exotiei 
idiomatis usus, phrasiumque varietas Ara- 
bicam, indolem plane redolentium. War- 



burtonus nostei omni nisu id agit, ut Esras, 
scriptorum sacrorum ultimo, thesaurariuna 
hoc theologiae, philosophiae, atque omni- 
genae fere doctrinae acceptum referamus. 
Quae quidem hypothesis, speciosa licet, et 
rationibus neutiquam contemnendis sub- 
nixa, fidem apud me non optinet. Signa 
enim sunt (ni vanus auguror) et criteria, 
passim per librum sparsa, quae aetatem longe 
antiquiorem subindicant. Ad legem latam 
aut res gestas Israelitarum ne allusum est, 
quod mihi videre contigit, uspiam. Nulli- 
bi vel mentio fit miraculorum in ^gypto 
et per deserta editorum. Que tantum 
cuivis poemati conciliarent decus, tantum 
porro Judseis solamen suppeditarent, ut a 
nemine cordato iiitacta prorsus relinquer- 
entur. Inter alia quae scripsisti pulcher- 
rima, t>jv yv/Knor/Ici toti huic historiae ad- 
struis. Adeo non esse asseris, assertum- 
que probas, fictitium quendam pii ingenii 
iusum, ut omnia e contra revera agerentur. 
Proinde non debere aliquem inter legen- 
dum putare, sibi ante oculos esse ejus solius 
quod fieri potuit figmentum, sed genuinam 
ejus quod fuit narrationem. Me jam an- 
tea huic opinioni accedentem, fecerunt quas 
protulisti rationes, ut ei arctius adhaeream. 
Etsi vero historiae veritatem sibi vindicet, 
dramatici tamen operis lepores prae se fert. 
Voces si spectes, ornatissimae illae cultissi- 
niaeque, non tam enarrant, quam res conspi- 
ciendas ferme exhibent. Sensibus autem 
nihil gravius, grandius, sublimius, Deo in- 
spirante dignius, aut bumano generi magis 
scitu necessarium. Characterum intcrea 
diversitas mira ; quodque artis est summae, 
ad vivum depicti singuli, et sibi invicem 
undique constantes. Altera insuper venu- 
statis specie gaudet .Jobaeis nostra, qute ar- 
tificiosis dramaticorum commentis decori 
est atque ornamento. Non fumum ex ful- 
gore, quod monuit criticus, sed ex fumo 
lucem edit. Sermone pedestri orditur. 
Inde pedetentim progreditur ad altiores di- 
cendi modos. Et cotburno induto, sensi- 
bus quoque assurgit. Rerum major nasci- 
tur ordo. Vehementiores congressus. Ac- 
riora conflictantium certamina. Usque 
dum nihil amplius aut fortius bine illinc 
dici potuit. Tum demum intervenit mo- 
derator. Quae prave dicta sunt utrinque 
subacto pensitat judicio, debitaque repre- 
hensione castigat. Summa, si fieri potest, 
ope nititur, ut fervidos disputantium ani- 
mos componat, litemque diu agitatam diri- 
mat. Sed frustra. Major inest nodus, 
et difficilioris longe solutionis, quam ut 
juveni remonstranti cedat. Deus, ecce 
Deus adest ! quidquamne augustius exco- 
gitari possit ? Qui circuitus coelorum per- 
ambulat, in arenam quasi (constet summa 
reverentia dicto) descendit. Quique astra 
per inane volventia librat, ille ipse con- 
troversiae hujus momenta et pondera aequa 



924 



EPISTOLA AD C. THAYER. 



quasi bilance trutinat. Deo autern orante 
causam, ut ferocientes animi subsidunt ! 
reniti cessant. Manus dant. Obmutes- 
cunt. Jobus ipse, quern lautiores de fua 
puritate tumidique nimis conceptus, ultra 
quam par erat, vexerant, erroris convictus, 
iniquitatis manifestus, pudore sufFunditur, 
arma projicet, ad pedes infinitae misericor- 
diae venerabundus devolvitur. Noscit seip- 
sum ; poenitentiam agitj cedendo vincet ; 
eumque, simul atque se coram Deo hu- 
millime deprimit, calamitatis sortitus est 
exitum, quern nefas esset expectare, dum 
inculpatam sibi iiitegritatem temere nimis 
arrogavit. Omnia sua, non ita pridem 
misere deperdita, cumulatissima manu re- 
ponit, auget, stabilitque numen propitium. 
Palmae ad instar, pressus resurgit ; quam- 
que omnes de felicitate sua conclamatum 
iri arbiti-abantur, tum demum rediviva eva- 
sit, multoque, quam olim, laetius effloruit. 
Quam subitanea atque insperata prorsus 
catastrophe ! quam jucundus malorum finis ! 
quam pulchra coronis toto operi superin- 
ducta ! 

Leviter hsec tetigisse sufficiat. A rebus 
curiosse speeulationis, tuo ductus exemplo, 
ad utiliora longe mentem calamumque verto. 
Quae fidem vacillantem suffulciant, praxim- 
que errabundam nimis gubernatoris solertis 
ritu ad clavum assidue sedentis, corrigant 
dirigantque, ea nunc consideranda occurrunt. 
Quod prudenter mones, de ediscenda animi 
fortitudine ex Jobo affliction um agminibus 
lacessito, nec tamen fracto aut prostrato ; 
de petendis insuper ad patientiam incita- 
mentis ex Jobo mala acerbissima passo, 
atque humiliter se et summisse ferendo oneri 
accingente ; id avide aripio ; memoria de- 
fixum teneo ; Deumque precor ut in ima 
atque intima cordis transeat. Nobilissimum 
illud quod resurrectioni* mortuorum per- 
hibetur testimonium, te eo remittente medi- 
tationes nostras, libenter adeo. Quamque 
aliqui, de re Christiana non bene meriti, 
monumentum istud aere perennius, auro pre- 
tiosus convellere satagunt, pergratam sane 
operam navat interpres noster, dum vali- 
dissimis rationum viribus id sibi stabilien- 
dum accipit Non te latet fuisse inter 
eruditos, qui pulcherriraam banc Jobinae 
fidei confessionem aliorsum detorquere stu- 
dent ; et de fortunis solummodo redinte- 
gratis ut intelligatur velint. Quern quidem 
errorem radicitus avulsum et funditius de- 
letum, non sine gaudio et gratulatione, in 
lucubrationibus hisce accuratissimis con- 
templari datum est. Quod mihi de Re- 
demptore " cali" suggeris, id profecto arri- 
det magnopere, et toto pectore amplector. 
Vellem de quocunque sacrorum voluminum 
Ubro dicere, quod olim Augustinus optime, 
" Sunt Scripturaetuae deliciae meae." Nulla 

* Vide Jqbi, cap. xix. 25. 



est inter codices di vinos pagina, quae non 
aurifodinis sit prsestantior j nulla vel minu- 
tissima inspiratse veritatis portiuncula, quin 
melle Hyblaao dulcior longe. Quae autem 
de Christo vaticinantur j Christum sive 
venturum spondent, sive adventum depin- 
gunt ; Christum, aegris me delam, lugenti- 
bus solatium, vicariam pro sontibus victi- 
mam, mnXvr^ov, avTi^'VXov, ea, apud me, 
infinitum quantum ! palmam praeripiunt. 
Renident ea rnargaritarum instar hinc inde 
coruscantium ; sive, ut cum poeta loquar, 
velut inter ignes luna minores. De his 
colloquia apud aedes privatas, de his pro 
rostro conciones, de his denique contempla- 
tiones domi, foris, instituere gestirum. Imo 
in his totus essem, atque immorarer jugiter^ 
nisi corruptela, proh dolor ! naturae insita 
obstaret ; vagaeque ac instabiles cogitationes 
mentem in contraria identidem deflecterent. 
Haec enim edidicisse, sapientia est ; his 
fidem adhibuisse, salus. Qui haec ad un- 
guem callet, bonus evadet theologus ; quique 
animo penitius imbibit, Christianus. 

At quo feror? In quae spalia efFusus, 
trans limites epistolaris commercii excurro ? 
Reprimo me tandem. Unum duntaxat 
prae aliis eximium, e versione antea laudata, 
locum seligere liceat. Ea erit scriptiun- 
culae hujus nostrae meta, et patientise tuae 
lassae plus satis et defatigatae levamen. 
Verum ibi pristinumque sensum, acerrimo 
ingenii acumine e tenebris erutum, et non 
sine magno sanae doctrinae commodo reposi- 
tum, laetus aspicio. Pericopam, si vacat, 
videre es, cap. iv. 17. Num mortalis a 
(non prce, ut nostras se habet hie saltern 
malefida versio) numine Justus erit ? Hand 
memini legisse me, aut narrando accepisse, 
ab ullo unquam, eo impudentise deventum 
iri, ut justiorem se Deo, perfectionis omni- 
modae fonte ac norma, venditare ausit. Vix 
igitur, imo ne vix quidem operae pretium 
fuisset, tanto cum conamine dictorum et 
pompa refellere, quod in nullius quotquot 
sunt mortalium cogitationes introire potuif. 
Neque aliud quam nugatorem agit scriptor 
divinus, si fidem redditioni receptae babes j 
sin vero Schultensii adraittas, non item. 
Exhibet ista nodum deo vindice dignum. 
Erroreni perstringit jugulatque, quo nullus 
alius exitialior, quive importunius sese in 
mentes nostras ingerit. Speciem omnem 
humani, quod vocatur, meriti tollit, con- 
vellit, conculcat. Neque sinit, ut minima 
vel sanctissimis hominum, aut sua junctandi, 
aut se justificandi, ansa sit relicta. Quin 
omnes omnino, utcunque pietatis puritatis- 
que encomiis per terras nobilitatos, coram 
supremo judice reos etvaTaXoyriry;, sistit. 
Nullos proinde posse a tremendo illo tri- 
bunali poenarum expertes abire, nisi gratuito 
iis condonentur peccata et Christi Media- 
toris justitia iis in salutera imputctur. Ecce 
revera evangelicum ante envangelium ; Qui 



A LETTER TO MR. THAYER. 



925 



non ciitem solatn' oeconomise istiiis saluti- 
ferse invenisset pulpando, sed in ipsissima 
vicera et medullas quodammodo, penetrasse 
videtur. Felices nos nostrosque si eaiidem 
fidem medullitus hausisse detur ! Amo . 
mehercule hominem, qui feliciter commen- 
tandq hsec tam luculenta zvayyiXia. Jobo, 
Christianismo, nobisque etiam, aut iiiscitia 
Hebraicae dictionis aut incuria interpretum 
ablata, instauravit demum ac restituit. Te : 
vero impensius, vir reverende, amo atque j 
colo; dulcissima cujiis amicitia, plus una 
alteraque vice experimento cognita, fecit, 
ut amplissimam ex ea voluptatis atque emol- 
umenti messem sperare, ac mihimet ipsi 
polliceri audeam. Ut vivas, valeasque, ex 
animo optat tibi devinctissimus 

Jacobus Hervey. 

P. S. — Si qua in. re tibi, salute recupe- 
rata, prodesse potero, id ne dicam loges, 
sed jubeas velim. 



Rev. Mr. CHARLES THAYER. 

Respected Sir, — Truly I am surprised 
that you have so ready a faculty of express- 
ing yourself in a 'language which is not 
your mother tongue, and which is banished 
from modern conversation. Unless I had 
been intimately acquainted with you long 
ago, that fruitful fund of Roman elocution 
would easily induce me to believe that you 
had dwelt at Tusculum* rather than at 
Abingdon, t As to myself, well knowing 
my rudeness and want of exercise in this 
kind of writing, I was on the point of im- 
posing a perpetual silence on myself. For 
several days, sensible of my own incapacity, 
I withheld my timorous hand from the 
desk. But indeed shame remonstrated, 
and a mind extremely averse to ingratitude, 
egged me on ; and hence it is that my pen, 
though unequal and ill fitted for the task, 
is now at last excited to give you the trou- 
ble of a letter. 

I render you my greatest thanks for your 
voluntarily communicating to me, out of 
your singular humanity and erudition, many 
remarks worthy of the highest notice con- 
cerning Job and his book. In the first 
place, you bring the version to the touch- 
stone. It is neat, replete with elegance, 
and gives the force of the Hebrew phrases 
in their full strength, beyond any man's ex- 
pectation. Add to this, that though it is 
new in most instances, yet it is what carries 
its authority in its bosom, and gains the 



* Tusculum, a town of Italy, where Cicero's coun- 
try-house stood. 
\ Abingdon, a little town near Northampton. 



reader's assent at the very first sight. Then 
you run over the notes with a sagacious eye. 
Which whoever reads, and reads over again, 
it is not easy to say whether he will carry 
off more profit from that very large crop of 
eastern learning, or rather delight from that 
most agreeable flower of the art of criticism. 
So that the remarks everywhere interspers- 
ed are not trifling or unimportant, as they, 
with great ingenuity and skill, illustrate the 
emphasis of the words, the weight of the 
arguments, the sublimity of the meaning, 
and the thread of the discourse laid out in 
a most beautiful order. Nay, they shine 
with so glaring a light, that they are clearly 
understood even by me, a man of dull ap- 
prehension ; and, being understood, please 
me. In short. Job, I fancy, has got the 
very commentator which he would have 
preferred to all others, if he himself had 
been now living and conversant among 
men. 

As to the age in which Job lived, the 
learned are not agreed, nor I suppose ever 
will. But that opinion which you and 
others maintain seems to be most proba- 
ble. I willingly go over to your side. 
Nothing is more certain than that this il- 
lustrious hero lived after Abraham : For 
he who gave a name to the country which 
one of his friends, the Temanite, inhabited, 
is reckoned among the posterity of Esau. 
Moreover, that very remarkable encomium 
with which he is honoured by the Holy 
Spirit, forbids ais to imagine that he lived 
in the days of the patriarchs Isaac or Jacob. 
It could scarcely be truly said that there 
was none like him in the earth, unless he 
had lived after the death of Joseph. The 
time of Job seems therefore to be truly 
placed between the decease of Joseph and 
the manhood of Moses. 

As to the writing itself, I have no doubt 
that it proceeded from no other hand than 
that of Job. For he being educated among 
the Arabs, and used to their language, he 
had scarce so great skill in the Hebrew 
learning as was necessary for consigning to 
writing such important matters in so neat 
and elegant a style. If any choose to as- 
cribe the book to Moses as its author, as 
our English edition has intimated in the 
notes on the margin, then I suppose it was 
wrote before the passage of the Israelites 
through the wilderness. While that cele- 
brated lawgiver was employed as the guide 
and ruler of so great a company, he could 
scarce apply his mind to write a poetical 
history. Besides, the great number and 
weight of the matters he had to do every 
day, would, without doubt, divert his mind 
from so great an undertaking. And no 
time could be more favourable to him than 
that which he enjoyed while he lived as an 
exile among the Midianites. He dwelt in 



A LETTER TO 

tlie cotinUy at that time, had much leisure, 
and had all conveniencies which use to sti- 
mulate and fire the genius of a poet. What 
further strengthens this opinion is, that be- 
ing banished into those countries, he could 
have full information of every thing re- 
lating to Job, vi^ho dwelt in the neighbour- 
ing land. The frequent use, too, of a fo- 
reign idiom, and a variety of phrases plain- 
ly smelling of the Arabian genius, plead 
strongly in behalf of such a conjecture. 
Our countryman, Dr. Warburton, labours 
hard to prove that we are indebted to 
Ezra, the last of the sacred writers, for 
this treasure of divinity, philosophy, and 
all kind of learning. But this hypothesis, 
however specious, and supported by reasons 
nowise despicable, does not command my 
assent. For unless I guess wrong, there 
are marks and characters scattered every- 
where through the book which denote a 
much more ancient period. There is no- 
where any illusion, so far as I could ob- 
serve, to the pi'omulgation of the law, or 
the exploits of the Israelites. In no place 
is there any mention of the miracles per- 
formed in Egypt or through the deserts, 
which would have given so great a dignity 
to any poem, and afforded so much com- 
fort to the Jews, tbat they could never 
have passed unnoticed by any wise man. 
Among other very beautiful things that 
you have wrote, you establish the genuine- 
ness of this whole history. Consequently 
you do not assert it to be, and prove 
What you have asserted, a certain fictitious 
amusement of a pious genius, but that, on 
the contrary, it was a real transaction : that 
therefore no one, in reading, ought to imagine 
that he has before his eyes a fiction of what 
might have been done, but a genuine nar- 
rative of what actually happened. I was 
formerly of this opinion, and the reasons 
you have brought forth make me adhere 
more closely to it. But although it claims 
the truth of a real history, it displays all 
the pleasant entertainment of a dramatic 
performance. If you consider the words, 
which are most elegant and ornate, they do 
not so much relate, as exhibit to view, the 
several transactions. And nothing is more 
important, more grand, more sublime, 
more worthy of an inspiring God, or more 
necessary for mankind to know. Mean- 
time, there is a surprising diversity of cha- 
racters, and, what is the highest attainment 
of art, they are every one painted to the 
life, and everywhere consistent with one 
another. Moreover, our history of Job is 
distinguished by another species of ele- 
gance, which is a decoration and ornament 
to the artificial romances of dramatic 
writers. He does not bring smoke from a 



MR THAYER. 

flash, as a critic has observed, but light 
from smoke. He begins with prose, and 
then in a trice he proceeds to the higher 
modes of speaking ; and putting on a bus- 
kin, rises up to the senses. A greater or- 
der of things commences ; more vehement 
conferences, more tierce attacks of the dis- 
putants, until nothing more important or 
more forcible can be said on either side. 
Then at last a mediator comes in. The 
perverse sayings of each party he weighs 
with a deliberate judgment, and chastises 
with due reprehension. He endeavours 
with his utmost might, if possible, to calm 
the warm spirits of the disputants, and 
decide a controversy that has been long 
litigated. But in vain. The difficulty is 
greater, and of far harder solution, than to 
yield to the remonstrance of a youth. A 
God, behold a God appears ! Can any 
thing more majestic be contrived ! He 
who traverses the circuits of the heavens 
descends, (let me speak with the utmost 
reverence), as it were, to the sand. And 
he who balances the stars that roll through 
the empty air, he himself weighs the im- 
portance and weight of this controversy, as 
it were, in an impartial balance. While 
God pleads the cause, how do their fierce 
spirits subside ! i They cease to resist. 
They give ^up their weapons. They are 
mute. Job himself, whom too splendid 
and swelling conceptions of his own pu- 
rity had transported beyond due bounds, 
being [convinced of his mistake, and sen- 
sible of his iniquity, is covered with shame, 
throws down his arms, and, in a worship- 
ping posture, faUs prostrate at the feet of 
infinite mercy. He knows himself ; exer- 
cises penitence, overcomes by submission ; 
and as soon as he most humbly falls down 
before God, he obtains an end of his ca- 
lamity, which he could not lawfully have 
expected so long as he too rashly arrogated 
to himself an unblamable integrity. The 
propitious Deity, with a most liberal hand, 
replaces, augments, establishes all his ef- 
fects, which had been not long ago miserably 
lost. Like the palm-tree, being pressed 
down he rises up ; and when all were go- 
ing to congratulate him upon his felicity, 
then at last it revived, and flourished much 
more plentifully than before. How sudden 
and unlooked-for a catastrophe ! How joy- 
ful a period of his distresses ! How beauti- 
ful a conclusion brought to the whole work ! 

Let it suffice to have touched these 
things slightly. Led by your example, I turn 
my mind and pen from matters of curious 
speculation to things of greater utility. 
Those things which support a tottering 
faith, and rectify and direct a practice too 
apt to wander, like a skilful pilot who con- 



A LETTER TO MR. THAYER. 



927 



tinually sits at the liclin, are now to become 
the subject of consideration. What you 
discreetly admonish of, as to learning for- 
titude of nniind from Job teased with a troop 
of afflictions, yet not broken or dispirited : 
as to fetching incitements to patience from 
this man who suffered the most bitter evils, 
and yet prepared himself humbly and sub- 
missively to bear the burden ; that I greedi- 
ly catch at, I hold it fixed in my memory, 
and I pray to God, that it may penetrate 
into the lowest and innermost recesses of 
my heart. I cheerfully proceed, upon your 
remitting my meditations thither, to that 
most noble testimony which is given to the 
resurrection of the dead.* And while 
some who have not deserved well of Chris- 
tianity labour to destroy this monument, 
more lasting than brass, and more precious 
than gold, our interpreter performs a truly 
acceptable service, while he undertakes to 
establish it by the most powerful ar- 
'guments. You are not ignorant, that 
there have been some among the learned 
who endeavour to pervert to a different 
meaning this most beautiful confession 
of Job's faith, and would have it under- 
stood only of the restoration of his estate. 
Which error indeed I observed with no 
small joy and congratulation to be plucked 
up by the roots, and entirely overthrown in 
these your most accurate lucubrations. As 
to what you suggest to me concerning the 
Redeemer, it truly pleases me very much, 
and I embrace it with my whole heart. I 
would wish to say concerning every book 
of the sacred volumes, what Augustine long 
ago said excellently, " Thy writings are 
my delight." There is no page in the 
divine books which is not more excellent 
than mines of gold ; there is not even the 
most minute portion of inspired truth, but 
is sweeter than the sweetest honey. But 
what they prophesy concerning Christ ; 
whether they promise Christ to come, or 
describe his advent ; Christ, medicine for 
the sick, comfort to mourners, a vicarious 
sacrifice for the guilty, a ransom for us, 
giving his life for us — these things, how 
infinitely great ! carry away the prize. 
These things shine like pearls sparkling on 
every side, or, to speak with the poet, as 
the moon among the lesser stars. Con- 
cerning these, 1 would rejoice to hold con- 
ferences in private houses, in the pulpit, in 
my family, and when abroad. Nay, I would 
be wholly employed about them, unless the 
inbred corruption of nature (O grief!) op- 
posed, and wandering and imsettled thoughts 
now and then diverted my mind to contrary 
subjects. For to learn these, is wisdom ; 
to believe them, is salvation. He who un- 
derstands these things exactly, will become 



a good divine ; and he who drinks tiiem into 
his mind, will become a Christian. 

But whither am I carried ? Into what 
excursions, transported, do I run beyond 
the limits of epistolary correspondence ? I 
repress myself at length. Let me be per- 
mitted to select one place at least excellent 
above others, from the version before ex- 
tolled ; which vsdll put a period to this little 
writing of mine, and relax your patience, 
too much tired and wearied out. There 
with pleasure I behold the true and ancient 
meaning, by a very brisk efibrt of genius, 
rescued from darkness, and restored, not 
without considerable advantage, to sound 
doctrine. You may see the defect, if you 
be at leisure, chap. iv. ver. 17. " Shall 
mortal man be just before God?" not, 
more just than God,* as our version, un- 
faithful here at least, has it. I do not re- 
member to have read, or to have received 
by report, that any one ever arrived to such, 
a pitch of impudence, as to dare to boast 
that he was more just than God, the foun- 
tain and rule of all manner of goodness* 
Hardly, therefore, nay, scarcely would it 
have been worth while to confute, with so 
great energy and pomp of words, what 
could enter into the thoughts of no mortals 
whatsoever. Nor does the divine writer 
act otherwise than as a trifier, if you be- 
lieve the received version. But if you admit 
that of Schultens, he acts quite the reverse. 
That version discovers a difficulty worthy 
of a God to unravel. It deciphers and 
destroys an error, than which there is none 
more destructive, or that insinuates itself 
with greater importunity into our minds. 
It takes away, it refutes, it tramples upon 
every species of what is called human 
merit. Nor does it suffer even the least 
handle to be left to the holiest of men, 
either to boast of their own deeds, or to 
justify themselves. Nay, it represents all 
men, however dignified through the world 
by the praises of piety and purity, as wholly 
guilty, and without excuse before the su- 
preme Judge ; and shows that none can go 
away from that tremendous tribunal free 
from punishment, unless their sins are freely 
forgiven them, and the righteousness of 
Christ the Mediator be imputed to them 
for their justification. Behold an evangelist 
indeed before the Gospel ! who by feeling 
found out, not the sum only of that saving 
economy, but seems in a manner to have 
entered into the very bowels and marrow 
of it. Happy we and our people, if it be 
given us to draw forth the same faith from 
the marrow. Truly I love the man, who, 
by such a happy comment, has at last re- 
newed and restored these bright gospel 



* See Job xix. 25. 



* See this passage excellently illustrated by ouv 
author, in his Contemplations on the Night. 



928 CHARACTER OF MR. 



HERVEY'S WRITINGS. 



tidings to Job, to Christianity, and to us 
too, removing either unskilfulness in the 
Hebrew diction, or the carelessness of in- 
terpreters. But, reverend sir, I love and 
respect you the more ardently, whose most 
amiable friendship, which I have experienced 
on trial once and again, has caused me to 
hope from it a more abundant harvest of 
pleasure and advantage than I durst promise 
myself. That you may live and prosper, 
is the hearty wish of your much obliged 
James Hervey. 

P. S. — If upon the recoveiy of my 
health, I can be of any service to you in 
any business, I do not say you should ask 
it, but command it. 



ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. JAMES 
HERVEY. 



On vulgar marks Death long had meanly spent 
His loaded quiver, and his bow full beni ; 
Monarchs, who had been great but for a crown, 
Statesmen and heroes, sons of high renown ; 
When, lo-! in Heaven this awful mandate past, 
" To-morrow's dawn be some famed mortars last !" 
The tidings, to our world officious sent. 
Through Albion's isles on wing of lightning went : 
Impiety, her heart by vipers stung. 
Again blasphemes with loud audacious tongue ; 
Vice stalks abroad, each late retreat forsook. 
With all her bold effrontery of look 
But, ah ! while these malignant tiiumphs show. 
Far other bosoms other feelings know ! 
The muse in vain conceals her v/ee]nng eye, 
And each tear Learning answers with , sigh ; 
Religion starts, though arm'd with tenfold shield. 
And Virtue shrinks, tliough she disdains to yield: 
— The arrow sped, Death took his aim. too well. 
The mitred pontift" lived, and Hjcrvey fell. 



CHARACTER 

OF 

MR. JAMES HERVEY'S WRITINGS. 



The Reverend Mr. James Hervey being 
now dead, yet speaketh to us in his valuable 
writings ; writings which, for importance of 
subject, weight of argument, sublimity of 
thought, justness of sentiment, and ele- 
gance of diction, are ecjiiialled by few, and 
excelled by none. 



His strain is truly evangelical ; his me-- 
thod inviting, entertaining, and edifying I 
calculated both to profit and to please : ani. 
a spirit of meekness, candour, and modesty, 
breathes through and beau^'^es tlie whole. , 

His favourite topic is j righteousness i 
and atonement of the Redtcmer. On this 
he expatiates with inexpressible satisfaction, 
and dwells with raptiurous delight. By this 
he " touches the finest movements of the 
soul, and strikes all the inmost springs of . 
action, with the most persuasive, the most 
commanding energy," and sweetly con- i 
strains to the obedience of love. 

He ransacks the mansions of the dead, i 
turns the grave into a pulpit, and makes t 
putrefaction and mortality preach lessons 
to the living. He surveys, with Newtonian > 
exactness, the starry expanse, and the count- i 
less radiant worlds that roll in the noctur- : 
nal sky : from these he investigates the ; 
glory and perfections of the creating and 
sustaining God ; and from these he en- 
hances the wonders of redeeming love. He 
mounts the believer on the summit of crea- 
tion, as upon a stupendous eminence, to 
enlarge his prospect, and exalt his concep- . 
tions of the majesty and glory of that God, 
who redeemed his church with his own blood. 
When imagination itself, with all the assist- 
ance of science, is lost in the immensity 
and awful grandeur of the works of nature ; 
immediately he contracts the luiiverse into 
a span, and the enormous orbs into fleeting i 
atoms, or the small dust that remains in ' 
the balance, when the works of redemption > 
are brought in view. 

Thus, he unites the most improved phi- 
losopher with the soimd believer; and makes 
reason and natiu'e subservient to faith and 
revelation. Whilst he allows • reason its 
freest inquiry and fullest scope, he gives 
up with none of the peculiarities of the 
gospel ; but holds forth, with the clearest 
light, and in various points of view, those 
truths wherein the offence of the cross con. 
sists. 

May these heavenly doctri. ^'t^^ 
cious truths, which flowed in sucn cu^^^^. 
gladdening streams, from his lips and pen, 
be transmitted pure and unadulterated to | 
the latest posterity ; and may that divine i 
Spirit, which gave them their proper energy 
and influence upon his heart and life, ever 
accompany them to remotest ages ! 



THE END. 



EDINBURGH 

PHINTEl) BY A. BALFOUR ANIJ CO. NIDDRY STBEE 



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